NIGHT TERRORS.
(A/N: Just something that came to me when I was high on green cordial. It's dedicated to my dearest Amykins, she knows who she is. Just a short one shot about our favourite green megalomaniac who just happens to be bald sniggers Nothing against bald people, just on a green, snake like thing laughs.)
Disclaimer: Harry Potter not mine. Duh. If he was, I certainly wouldn't have made him in Gryffindor! Hell, I would've made him die with his parents!
And on with the fic!
Tom was having a nightmare. Yes, that's correct. No typos. He was having a 'night terror'. When I say Tom, I mean the 'person' more commonly known as Lord Voldemort, Moldevort, Moldyshorts, whatever, they're all the same person. Unless he suffers from multiple personality disorder – actually, that could explain quite a lot of stuff. But who knows? It's Lord Voldeshorts we're talking about here. Not anyone else, Voldeshorts – I mean, Voldemort. Yes, Voldemort. Now, where was I? Oh yes.
Tom was having a nightmare. No the usual OMG-I-don't-know-where-Mr-Cuddles-is or the I'm-gonna-kill-Severus-'cause-he-stole-all-the-milk-chocolate-AGAIN nightmare, but a proper one. In it, someone, he suspected Dumbledore from the beard, was holding a wand to his head. Now, this wouldn't be so bad, except for the words that were pouring out of the aged wizard's mouth.
"Now put on the god -dammed suit, ok? Just put it on and no one gets hurt." The psycho wizard said, poking one of Voldeshort's temples with the wand.
Now, I agree whole heartedly, this is hilarious. Especially seeing that the suit that Dumbles so desperately wanted him to put on was one of a large, fluffy, neon pink Care Bear. Again, there are no typos. I watched with delight and an evil smirk gracing my features as the shaking, green, BALD, red-eyed part-human slowly put on the suit, and zipped it up.
Dumbledore's crazed, drug fueled –I always had my doubts about the lemon drops- smile grew until it just was not natural.
"And the head." He said dangerously, sliding the massive, fur covered head across the table that had appeared for that singular purpose. Voldy had a little trouble picking up the bear head with his pink, fur-covered paws, but finally managed and slid the head on.
"There, happy?" He asked, his voice sounding not cold and high-pitched but rather strangled and a little scared. In other words, very odd, especially seeing as it issued from the plastics, neon pink fur covered bear head. The bear like head had a massive, and fake, smile stretched across its face which completely destroyed any resemblance of serious-ness the situation had.
Dumbles cooed in response, clapping his hands, eyes with, of course, that dammed crazy twinkle, "You'll make a perfect present for Harry!" He cried with delight.
Voldy froze, though it was hard to tell considering the neon pink fur and everything, "What the fu-" He began when…
The world went black.
Voldemort sat bolt upright in bed, thin, pale, spidery hands flying to his face to make sure that t was just a dream. "Thank Salazar." He muttered as the fingers felt skin. Un-human skin yes, but skin all the same. Not neon pink fur, or plastic.
"What's the matter?" A voice sounded from his right, heavy with sleep.
Voldy froze, and slowly turned around. There, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, was the bloody Boy-Who-Just-Wouldn't-Die, also known as Harry Potter.
Voldy jumped a foot straight up in the air, and scrambled off the bed, "Wait—what – how – who?" He tried, before taking the easy out and fainting. Yes, the girly fainting. Not the more masculine passing-out, but fainting, his head hitting the stone floor with an audible crack.
Harry smirked, "If I had have known how easy that was I would've done it long ago." He muttered, and kicked Voldy's body.
I smirked, and flipped close my notebook. Oh the things you leant as a wizard psychiatrist.
(A/N: So, what do ya think? Constructive criticism welcomed!)