Disclaimer: I don't own anything, if I did I could afford to quit school. Well I probably wouldn't because then I would be bored but that's beside the point.
Author's Note: Thankfully this week has been going better than the last. I'm the peacemaker, the voice of reason if you will. Last week I really had a load to deal with. But you don't want to read about my personal life, so on with the story.
Another PlanVoldemort sat upon a large, intricately carved, forest green chair, in a manner of which a king might sit upon a throne. The room was cold and empty. The walls were covered with filth, accumulated over the many years that the house had been empty. The house had stood empty since the Riddle's deaths. The Riddle manor had been turned into Voldemort's Deatheater Headquarters.
Voldemort surveyed the room with distaste. The room was silent except for the annoying incessant ticking on the old clock, hung above the doorway. 12:10. His loyal Deatheater would be arriving in 5 minutes. Voldemort was impatient, due mostly to the fact that he had a new plan that he was most excited about. This plan would not fail. Potter would die. His mind practically spat the name Potter.
Swiftly and silently the door opened. A figure stepped into the room on the dot of 12:15. Voldemort grinned, but it looked more like of an evil smirk on him. This Deatheater was satisfactorily competent. He wondered why the rest didn't try a bit harder. But then again Voldemort's standards were perfection, which is unachievable by most people.
The Deatheater briskly walked towards Voldemort, head bowed in respect. He kneeled in front of his lord, and kissed the hem of his robes. The Deatheater backed up, yet maintained his kneeling position.
"My lord," the Deatheater acknowledged.
"Rise, my loyal Deatheater."
The Deatheater on the floor rose. He politely clasped his hands behind his back, and focused his eyes on his lord. Voldemort eyed him carefully.
"As you know Dumbledore is dead. The Wizarding World is in a state of turmoil. The people are quickly losing faith, and hope, much faster than the last time around. Their figure of strength, and calm is gone. This is good news for us. But alas, you already know this."
The Deatheater gave a curt nod to show he was listening. Voldemort rose from his chair and began to pace. Voldemort continued.
"There is talk of closing Hogwarts. That would of course be ideal for us. Dumbledore," he spat the name, "may be dead, but I know that he left lingering protection on the school. He perhaps foresaw his death, I do not know for sure, but I wouldn't have put it past him. Surely McGonagall will realize this.
Always bright, but such a pain. Such a shame that she decided to follow Dumbledore, she had such potential. Anyway, as I was saying, she will realize the protection left on the school by Dumbledore. She will fight against the board. By herself she could not possibly win, but she was never one to under analyze a situation. She has strong, if not powerful allies. Most of those that she will ask for help have impressive records and lots of experience in dealing with the Ministry. McGonagall understand politics nearly as well as she understands transfiguration. Thankfully she is not quite up to the meddling fool's standard. If she succeeds in convincing them, as I have no doubt she will, she will be appointed Headmistress." The Deatheater scowled deeply. He had never really liked McGonagall. She was far too much of a Gryffindor. Always favoring them over the Slytherins. How he had hated being her student. He was no longer under her watchful eye. "Once she becomes Headmistress, it will be her duty to make staff appointments. Transfiguration, Potions, and Defense Against the Dark Arts will all be open positions. All subjects that you handle competently. Of those subjects Defense Against the Dark Arts would probably be one of you favorites. I want you to apply for it. Once you get the position, I want to know exactly what you are teaching them. They will know nothing without my knowledge of their curriculum. I think you have got enough experience to handle this mission. Though I wish you had more. What do you think of my plan, my loyal Deatheater?"
"The plan is brilliant, my lord."
Voldemort smiled sinisterly. He finally stopped pacing. Voldemort sought out his Deatheater's eyes.
"Well since there is nothing left to discuss, you are free to go."
"Thank you, my lord."
The Deatheater kneeled once again, bowing his head in respect. He kissed the hems of his master's robes, and rose from the ground. He quickly walked across the room. He stopped in front of the door when he heard his master's voice.
"Do not fail me, it might just be you last mistake. A little taste of what my displeasure will be like if you mess up, should give you an incentive not to. Crucio. "
The figure fell to the ground. The curse stopped, and the pain slowly receded. The Deatheater, who had previously been crumpled in a heap, stood up. He faced his master.
"I will not fail you."
Author's Note: It's short I'm sorry. But hey this was a quick update for me. I will not tell you who the Deatheater is, so don't even bother asking. He He He. I'm EVIL. A little bit more starting to happen. Next chapter is longer. I like it. If you want to be a character just let me know. Give me a name and a description. Please review. Thank you in advance.
