Author's note: I could not have written this story without the wonderful Rebecca (friartuxshop), my good friend, co-author, beta, illustrator, and her muse Gustov for smacking my Rabbit of Caerbannogh whenever he needed it. I would also like to thank slashygoodness for the wonderful beta job and input (especially when I was having trouble with the last few chapters!).

WARNINGS: Flarnkst (fluff/crack/angst), crossdressing, overuse of Cracked Out Capital Letters, drunkenness, misuse of ordinary household objects

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Voldemort was upset. He returned to his Very Secret Hiding Place in a Very Foul Mood, and had a Huge Temper Tantrum. When normal people have temper tantrums, they throw inanimate objects. But Voldemort was not a Normal Person, he was a Very Evil Dark Lord. And he did not have temper tantrums, he had Temper Tantrums. And Temper Tantrums cannot be satisfied by throwing inanimate objects. No, when the Very Evil Dark Lord had a Temper Tantrum, he liked to throw Death Eaters.

Thus, when he slammed the door of his Very Secret Hiding Place open, the Death Eaters ran for their lives. Literally. For Voldemort, the Very Evil Dark Lord, did not just Throw Death Eaters. He Battered Them to Within an Inch of Their Lives.

"HARRY POTTER HAS GOTTEN AWAY AGAIN!" He roared, and flung the slowest Death Eater against the nearest wall.

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Back at Hogwarts, Harry Potter had just woken up in the hospital wing when his scar started to burn.

"Oh, no," he groaned. "Voldemort's mad at me again. How many times do I have to face him and get away before we finally fulfill that damn prophecy?"

He immediately got out of bed. He knew what he needed. And what he needed was a Cunning Plan to Defeat the Dark Lord. So he did what he always did when he needed a Cunning Plan, and went to talk to Hermione Who Knows Everything.

"Oh, Great Hermione Who Knows Everything," he said, bowing before her. She sat proudly atop her throne that was made to look like Zeus's on Mount Olympus, as she considered herself the reincarnation of Athena on Earth.

"YES, MORTAL?" she boomed. Harry tapped his ear, having gone temporarily deaf. "WHAT BRINGS YOU HERE TO WORSHIP AT MY ALTAR?"

"Um…I need a Cunning Plan."

Hermione Who Knows Everything sighed. "Harry James Potter, you always ask me for Cunning Plans. And you always, without fail, mess them up and end up getting away with it anyway because of your Idiotic Gryffindor Bravery and Unfailing Good Luck! Why should I keep giving you ideas for Cunning Plans when you never use them? I should bestow my knowledge upon someone more worthy!"

"But I'm the Boy Who Lived! I've got to defeat Voldemort! And besides, you're my best friend. Aren't you? I promise this is the last time I'll ask you for a Cunning Plan."

She glowered. "That's what you said last time, and, now that I think about it, the time before that too. When are you ever going to stop asking me for Cunning Plans?"

Harry looked at his feet, and mumbled, "Um…when I defeat him?"

"That's not good enough for me, Mortal." She sighed, and looked at him. He was her best friend, after all…

"Fine. Just let me think for a while. Come back tomorrow."

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Lucius Malfoy was cowering in a corner. He didn't really want to face Voldemort when he was in the middle of one of his Temper Tantrums, especially because the last time he'd had a rather unfortunate encounter with the wall. But he had a Plan, one that he was sure would make him the Dark Lord's right hand man.

"My Lord!" he called out, hoping to say what he wanted before Voldemort got within flinging range.

"RAAAAWWWWWRRR!" was the only answer from down the hall.

"My Lord," he tried again, "I have a Plan!"

"A PLAN?" Voldemort roared, as his latest victim hit the floor with a crunch.

"Yes! A Plan! It is infallible, My Lord! You will defeat Harry Potter once and for all!"

Voldemort stopped in his tracks. "Okay," he said grumpily. "You can have exactly five minutes of my time before I FLING YOU!"

Lucius swallowed. "Well, My Lord, it goes like this…"

"WHAT?" Harry cried. Hermione Who Knows Everything had just disclosed her latest Cunning Plan. "You want me to do what?" he said again, but quieter this time.

"Yes," Hermione Who Knows Everything smirked. "I want you to use your Idiotic Gryffindor Bravery and Unfailing Good Luck. That is your Cunning Plan."

"But that's what I always use when my Cunning Plans fail!"

"Well, then this Cunning Plan should work, shouldn't it?"

"But…what do I do if it fails?"

"What you always do," she said. She was still smirking.

"Ask you for another Cunning Plan?"

"NO, you idiot! Get yourself out of it using your Idiotic Gryff-"

"But that IS the Cunning Plan! What if that fails?"

"Then all hope is lost, Harry," she said solemnly. "I wish you luck." And she dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

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Voldemort was sitting on his throne, stroking an imaginary beard as he thought. This constant motion with his hands was doing horrible things to Lucius's attention span, as he kept staring at the long white fingers and wondering if the Very Evil Dark Lord knew that his chin was completely hairless or not.

"You really think that Draco is capable of this task?" he finally asked.

"Erm- yes, My Lord," Lucius replied. You beardless weirdo, he thought to himself.

"Careful, Lucius. I can read your thoughts, remember? I did have a beard once…"

"Um, really, My Lord?"

"Yes. It was a very nice beard too, brown and well trimmed. I rather miss it, in case you were wondering."

"Well, yes, My Lord, I was-"

"I know," Voldemort said thoughtfully, and continued stroking his chin in a thoughtful silence.

Finally, just as Lucius was beginning to wonder if he was soon going to be following a Faceless Evil Dark Lord, Voldemort stopped stroking his chin and turned to him.

"Very well, Lucius. Send the instructions to your son, and I will put my part into action."

"Thank you, My Lord."

"Wait a moment, Lucius."

"Yes, My Lord?"

Voldemort smiled evilly. "I am a very smart Dark Lord, am I not?"

"Oh yes, My Lord."

"I always find a way out of everything, don't I, even death?"

"Indeed, My Lord."

Voldemort stood up and walked towards him. "Well, then. You may recall that I never actually said that I would not fling you if I liked your Plan. Don't you?"

"Erm, yes, My Lord," Lucius said, beginning to tremble.

And with a Very Evil Smile, the Very Evil Dark Lord picked up his Very Scared Servant and flung him against the wall.