Yo! Thank you to all readers so far!

It was mid-July and Voldemort could certainly feel it in the air. It didn't bother him like it did some of his Death Eaters, Severus, mainly. The Dark Lord rather liked the heat, actually.

Tipping his head back, Voldemort slowly fingered his wand, gaze passing over each masked face impassively. They were droning on, one at a time, about things he could have figured out in mere minutes if he'd had any interest in taking care of them himself. Now that he thought about it, he probably should have. Then he wouldn't have to deal with all of this incompetence.

He sighed, prompting the Death Eater who was speaking-good 'ol whatshisface, to freeze mid-sentence. Whenever the Dark Lord sighed in the middle of a meeting, someone always ended up getting tortured, and it wasn't always the person who had been talking.

And that was why there were multiple sighs of relief when a white feathered owl flew into the room through the large open wood doors, distracting Voldemort from any potential torture, much to the pleasure of all possible victims-and there were quite a few of them indeed.

The bird flew in circles through the room before landing on the arm of the large, ornate throne. Voldemort found himself staring again, but this time, he knew exactly who the owl belonged to. Red eyes narrowed. "That menace," he muttered irritably.

Choosing to ignore the owl momentarily, he returned his attention to continuing his meeting. Though much to his dismay, he found his interest fading fairly rapidly, his gaze constantly wandering back to the bird that remained on the arm of his throne, staring at him intently with those amber eyes. "Dismissed!" he called out abruptly.

Catching the ire in their Lord's voice and not wanting to be on the receiving end of it, the Death Eaters scarpered. And this left Lord Voldemort alone with Harry Potter's owl.

Oh, joy.

It was his own fault, he knew. He'd been the one to respond to the brat's first letter. Perhaps if he hadn't, this wouldn't be happening right now. He should have-should just ignore it...right?

Annoyed at himself, he took the letter from the bird, who had yet to look away. Strange. Did all owls behave in such an odd manner? He couldn't recall.

'Voldemort,

It's your fault because you're the Dark Lord, and I'm the Chosen One or whatever. And hey, if I have to suffer, then you should too.

Anyway, as for the whole clown thing, you really shouldn't have given me that mental image. Now I can't stop picturing you with a poofy green wig, big yellow shoes, and a round, red rubber nose, squirting water at everyone with a fake flower.

...Actually, where would the clown nose even go? It has nothing to hold on to! The wig would be easy, since you have no hair, and I don't remember you wearing any shoes, so there's that.

Maybe I'll bribe my cousin into drawing a picture of it. I promise to send you a copy if he does!

Harry Potter'

For a very, very long moment, Voldemort stared at the letter, unable to believe what he had just read. A vein twitched in his temple as he told himself not to dignify this with a reply.

Do not... Do not... Do not...

"Wormtail!"

That's it for now. These short ones are so much easier to write! Looking forward to reviews! Laterz!