Voldemort's Party of the Year
Part 3: The Party Begins
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor Saturday Night Fever, Air Forces or MTV.
Lord Voldemort put on a disgusted face at the dinner table to pretend he was reluctantly eating the phoenix soup Peter prepared for them. It made Peter feel terrible and Voldemort silently giggle to himself (even Nagini snickered as she drank out of her bowl on the floor).
Soon after they finished their supper, the doorbell rang.
"I'll get it!" volunteered Peter as he raced to the door. He slowly opened the front door ajar, but the person behind it smacked the door open and crushed Peter into the wall.
"Macnair, you've finally come!" declared Voldemort in the living room, as Walden Macnair came in.
"Yeah, it took me a while to find all my old equipment," said Macnair. Walden Macnair used to be a DJ while he executed animals for the Ministry; it wasn't very often animals were executed. "It's sure good to be out of Azkaban."
"That's good to here," said Voldemort uninterested. "You can set up by the dance floor."
At that moment, Peter joined the two dark wizards. "Hey, Peter," greeted Macnair. "Didn't see you when I came in. Could you bring in the cases and boxes I left at the front?"
Peter, covered in bruises and walking with a limp, sighed heavily. "I'll go get them," he mumbled and hobbled back to the door.
"If anyone needs me, then you'll just have to wait," stated the Dark Lord. "I'm getting ready in my room."
As Macnair set up and Peter dragged the equipment in, Voldemort was trying to pick an outfit. He had worn unique clothes to the previous get-togethers. He checked through his wardrobe, took out a few garments he'd worn at other parties and tried some on.
The first outfit he tried was a disco suit from the 70s, very Saturday Night Fever. "Definitely not for tonight," said Lord Voldemort. He burst out into a couple of dance moves, sprouted a few disco steps, the moonwalk and a final crotch-pull (which didn't seem to go as planned). "OUCH! Darn, that thing's been acting up, I need to get that checked..."
He put on another past ensemble, just to get more of the creative juices flowing. This time he tried on what he wore for his Woodstock after-party; tie-dye shirt, floral pants, colourful headband and strings of beaded jewellery. He almost gasped when he looked into the mirror. "And I thought this was fashionable!"
He didn't know why, but he tried on what he wore for the last bash - it was a Halloween costume party. He shook his head as he stared at himself in the mirror in his female Viking outfit, with a blonde braided wig, metal bra and all. "What... was... I thinking..."
After throwing around piles and piles of clothes, an idea for the perfect outfit struck him in the head.
Meanwhile, Macnair and Peter (exhausted and bruised up pretty badly) had just finished setting up. The house-elves and the hors d'oeuvres were dropped by, and everything was set for the party.
"I'm ready!" declared Lord Voldemort. Walden Macnair's and Peter Pettigrew's jaws dropped when they saw their almighty master - a criminal mastermind, evil genius who was powerful and murderous in every way - walk out of his room in baggy jeans, diamond chains (bling-bling), a backwards cap, Air Force sneakers, and a jersey.
"Do you like my outfit?" asked Lord Voldemort.
They were both lost for words, but thankfully they were saved by the doorbell, which rang loudly throughout the house. Peter scurried to the front door, though as soon as he opened it the door slammed him against the wall (again) as a group of Death Eaters walked into the Riddle House.
"Party time!" they all shouted as they ran through the door under the banners saying 'Welcome From Escaping Azkaban' and 'Dumbledore is Dead!'. Voldemort greeted them coolly, though they were taken aback by the ensemble.
"What is up, my homie-wizards?" greeted Voldemort, shaking the hands of his Death Eaters. "Dolohov, don't let anything happen like last time; the stink was in the washroom for a month! - Bella, how are you? Enjoy yourself! - Ah, Severus Snape! My most trusted minion, the killer of the infamous Professor Albus Dumbledore!" Severus Snape, a little paler and more stressed than usual, entered the living room and greeted Lord Voldemort. "How's life on the run treating you?"
"It's a challenge, but it is worth it. Master, I would do anything for you," he said, making a low bow.
"Really? That's wonderful! So can you serve at the punch bowl?"
"Uh... excuse me?"
"You said you'd do anything for me, so will you serve the punch for me?"
"Of course," said Snape, surprised at the order. "I'll do whatever you want..."
Severus slowly walked to the punch bowl with a confused frown on his face. Voldemort turned around to welcome more of the guests.
"The Malfoy family, along with Ms. Parkinson! Welcome!" greeted Lord Voldemort as he approached them and surveyed each member: Lucius, Narcissa (with her white hair and pale visage she looked similar enough to Lucius to be his sister, which made him cringe at the idea of incest), and Draco with his arm around Pansy Parkinson (Good thing she doesn't look like Draco!). "Lucius, try and hold your alcohol, we don't want another incident like the previous party!"
"Do not worry, Master," responded Lucius confidently, "I have gotten over my addiction to - ooh, firewhisky!" He swiped up a shot from a house-elf passing by and drank it in one gulp. "I'm sorry, what were we saying?"
"We were talking about what happened last party," stated Narcissa. "That was the night Draco was conceived."
Draco's jaw dropped and his sallow face rapidly turned a shade similar to that of beets, redder than that monstrous pimple on his forehead that the Dark Lord couldn't stop staring at.
"WHAT!" exclaimed Draco in horror. "But I - how could you - in front of... MMMOOOOOMMM!"
"It's what happened! I can't help it if you're uncomfortable about your parents' sexuality," said
Narcissa. That makes two of us, thought Voldemort. "I remember that night so well."
"Really? I can't remember a thing! Odd way alcohol works... Ah, mead!" Lucius left the group to follow a plump house-elf carrying a tray of mead-filled glasses.
"Wow, I suppose it was you making the howling that night?" enquired the Dark Lord. "I thought it was Fenrir Greyback who had sneaked into the house the entire time."
Even Narcissa turned a bit rosy at the comment, and went to find Lucius. Draco was standing silently in front of Voldemort, zit throbbing, clutching to the silent Pansy. He stared at Voldemort shyly.
"Master, I am terribly sorry I did not execute the request you had for me," said Draco meekly.
"Dumbledore died anyway, and you did plan the raid that resulted in his death, therefore I've decided not to kill you," said Voldemort, looking away from Draco as if to demonstrate he was too angry to look at him (when really he didn't want to look at his pimple). "I accept your apology."
"Thank you, my Lord," sighed Draco with a bow. He stood back up and uttered, "You have nice Air Forces, I must say."
"Thank you!" beamed Voldemort. "You're the first one who's complimented. But there is only one thing that may bring you back into my inner circle."
"What is it? I shall do whatever you command."
"You must teach me how to speak gangsta."
"P-Pardon me?"
"Gangsta. You know, to talk like pimps and rappers, such as 'off the heezy' and 'that's sick'."
"Actually, they say 'ill' instead of 'sick' these days," admitted Draco.
"Aren't they the same thing?"
"They are, but 'sick' is considered passé and now everyone says 'ill'."
"Well that's the last time I watch reruns on MTV!"
"And may I make an adjustment to your wardrobe?" Draco gently took his hands off of Pansy and moved them closer to Voldemort's backwards hat, which he turned to the side of his head. "That's how rappers wear hats."
"Ah, thank you!"
"Come on, Pansy, let's go. Good evening, Dark Lord."
"Yes, good evening, Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Parkinson."
The teenage couple left the Dark Lord to go off to meet other young dark wizards and witches. Voldemort took a martini off the tray of a house-elf and observed the partying around him.
"I think this party will turn out quite nicely," muttered Voldemort, sipping his cocktail. "Very, very nicely."
Author's Note: Oh please please please PLEASE REVIEW! The next chapter's coming up, and it's called, "The Hustle, a Dance-off and Much More".