Harry Potter, boy who lived blah-de-blah-de-dah had come to the pinnacle of his rather angry and by and large rather cheerless existence. He'd decided that it was time he actually did his job and wasted Voldemort.
Years of research, thousands of hours of intensive training interrupted only by massive arguments with pretty much everyone he met and a lifetime of other people laying down their lives to him had culminated in tonight.
He crept through the cosily carpeted four-bed-semi in the desirable area of Surrey (one would talk about the price, but it's simply to do so vulgar don't you know) in mild bemusement, muttering in the back of his head. 'What kind of villain has Axminster carpeting for the sake of Pete? And talk about the flock wallpaper and chintz scatter cushions! Sheesh, I thought the neo-gothic dripping multi-dungeoned thing the Malfoys had was evil. This is such a crime against taste it walks through Hell and kicks the devil in the teeth.' He shuddered and groped for a crucifix when he noticed the trio of flying ducks nailed to the wall. Then he remembered he was a wizard and that he didn't carry crosses with him.
He heard creepy snake type noises and for once didn't hear the words behind them. Great, so Voldie's snake was now just hissing at random? He shook his head vigorously, and then retrieved his glasses from where they'd flown across the room under the force of his head-shaking. This was it.
He crept closer and closer, getting to the door and carefully opening it and peering around the edge. There were some generically robed Death Eaters standing around looking bored and trying to work out how to smoke while wearing their masks. It wasn't going well. Meanwhile Voldemort sat in a tapestry upholstered armchair in the centre of the room wearing pink fluffy mule slippers and staring in a rather off-putting at the Death Eater stood next to him.
Harry was sickened by the depravity and taste crimes he saw going on and had to act. Throwing caution to the wind he flung the door open and shouted, 'BOO!'
The Dark Lord, terror of the wizarding world and repeat offender against the taste police leapt to his feet in shock, squeaked and fell over. Harry lowered his wand feeling a bit daft for having learned that millennia old blood and nature magick ritual when it turned out the powers he had that Voldemort lacked were blind luck and idiocy.
The assembled Death Eaters also agreed that this was a bit of an anti-climax and offered him a cup of cocoa to make up for it. He accepted and then arrested them for being incompetent. Oh yes, and for being murdering, Death Eater scum. Then he realised that he was still a schoolboy and couldn't arrest anyone, so they nipped out the back door while Harry tried to wake the auror division up.
Harry then moved to Clacton on Sea where he became a tour guide and fuelled his woodburning on the spam mail the wizarding world sent him.