Yo! You guys are just perfectly glorious, you know? ...I had to do it. I'm still riding on the highs of last night's Takeover: Toronto. Have a feeling Survivor Series won't make me feel as good though, unfortunately. Thank you to all readers so far!

Voldemort was feeling quite content at the moment, surprising as it certainly was. His newest plans, after months of preparation, had finally recently been put into action and appeared to be going very well so far.

How wonderful!

Lucius was keeping himself busy at the Ministry, Narcissa was off plotting with the house-elves again, Wormtail was finally out of his hai-face, Bellatrix was in another therapy session with Dr Greyback (that Furby had really traumatized her), the others were actually doing what they had been ordered to do, and he himself was to receive a gift soon.

Yes, all was well.

And that was when the owl arrived.

Voldemort watched the white feathered bird fly around the throne room almost teasingly, his eyes narrowing when he caught sight of a letter, but no sign of a package. The brat hadn't gifted him anything!? Well, that was hardly fair!

When the owl landed on the arm of his throne, he removed the letter, glaring all the while. The bird merely returned the look in stony silence. If she had fingers instead of wings, he was sure she would have been flipping him off right about now.

...Perhaps it would be best if he just read the letter now.

'Voldemort,

First off, because I'm a decent human being, thank you for fixing my eyesight and committing illegal and immoral acts of necromancy to bring my godfather back to life. By the way, he said his mum kicked him out of the afterlife. You wouldn't happen to know something about that, would you? Either way, I'm glad I won't have to worry about the Defence professor trying to kill me for once. It's a fucking miracle!

Second, no, I don't have anything to repay you with just yet. You did this for me as a birthday present, which means you'll have to wait until your own birthday to get something in return. Sorrynotsorry.

Don't worry, December thirty-first isn't that far away, right?

Harry Potter'

"December!? I don't want to wait that long! Damned brat and his Gryffindorish sentimentality." Never mind the fact that he had been the one to gift him on his birthday first.

The white owl hooted at him incredulously, as if telling him that he was a Dark Lord and needed to pull himself together. Or else.

For some reason, Voldemort didn't doubt the threat at all, even though he shouldn't even have understood it. And if Nagini slithered into the room a moment later, and told him he was pouting like a petulant child, well, no one else was there to call him out on it.

"Enough of this," he muttered to himself, pushing the thoughts to the back of his mind for the time being. He slid to his feet and made his way through the manor and over to the study, summoning a few of his Death Eaters to him as he did so.

He had a raid to plan in an appalling neighbourhood, and three very unfortunate Muggles to capture, interrogate, and torture. Though, perhaps not in that exact order, if he had any say in it, which, seeing as he was the Dark Lord, he obviously did.

Dumbledore and his obnoxious Light fools had begun to underestimate him again, and it was time to remind them that there was a reason why he was the Darkest Dark Lord since the last one. ...That didn't sound particularly menacing, did it? Well, no matter. He would make it sound menacing.

Now he just needed to find a big enough box…

That's it for now. Looking forward to reviews! Laterz!