Disclaimer: Any character you recognize belongs to JK Rowling. The cake and squirrels, however, are my property. :)
OoOoOoO
In which Harry gets some birthday surprises
"Gather round, my faithful followers," Voldemort said, beckoning his Death Eaters forward. "I have an important announcement to make. Not," he added, for the purposes of clarification, "that any of my announcements are unimportant, seeing as how I am your ruler and also happen to be the most evil wizard on the face of the planet!" He smirked evilly. "Ah, power! Mwa ha ha ha ha! MWA HA HA HA HA!"
The Death Eaters waited with varying degrees of patience for Voldemort's cackles of laughter to subside.
"Ahem," said Voldemort, after fifteen minutes (and a few calming sips of vodka) had elapsed. "As I was saying. I have a very important announcement to make to all of you. You see, tomorrow-"
He was interrupted, however, by Draco, who chose that moment to let out an excited scream.
"Yes!" the blond ferret shouted. "My new Sims Wizarding World expansion pack has arrived!"
He blinked as he realized all eyes in the room were on him, including Mr. Evil-Is-My-Middle-Name. "Um, sorry. Carry on."
Voldemort made a mental note to move Draco's name up a slot on his To Kill list before plowing forward. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, tomorrow is a Very Special Day. You see, tomorrow is... Potter's seventeenth birthday!"
There was a few moments' dead silence as all the Death Eaters nodded sagely, trying to look as though they understood where Voldemort was going with this when in reality they hadn't a clue.
"Well?" said Voldemort. "Any ideas? Speak up, my followers. Wormtail, what do you think?"
"Um," Wormtail said, cringing slightly at being asked to speak. "We make him gift baskets, My Lord?"
"Gift baskets!" Voldemort sounded outraged. "Don't be ridiculous, Wormtail! Gift baskets? Have you no taste? Gift baskets went out of style ages ago."
"Not true," pouted Draco from his station at the computer screen. "My parents sent me gift baskets at school all the time."
Voldemort ignored this statement. "It simply won't do, Wormtail. Other ideas?"
"Er..." Wormtail seemed to be grasping at straws now. "Well, um, how about a layer cake?"
"Perfect! A much better idea! You're brilliant, Wormtail!"
All the Death Eaters (sans Draco, whose concentration was currently on his Sims, which he was trying to dress in flimsy Veela outfits) dropped their jaws in shock.
"I- I am?" Wormtail asked, nonplussed. "Oh... er..."
"With whipped cream and green icing in the shape of a Dark Mark." Voldemort nodded briskly. "Excellent, Wormtail!
"And then of course," he added, oblivious to the shocked expressions on his minions' faces, "the time bomb can go at the center of the cake. Harry's ridiculous blood magic no longer protects him now, so he will go up in a puff of smoke, and then, my followers, my power will reign supreme! Mwa ha ha ha ha!"
The Death Eaters' jaws closed again in relief – all except for Draco's, which had fallen open. Those Veela outfits were really revealing!
"So," Voldemort continued. "Wormtail, you shall bake the cake. Bella-"
"I can supply the icing!" Bellatrix gushed sycophantically, seeming to want to get back into Voldemort's good graces again. "I think the words 'Die, Potter, Die' in red icing will add a nice touch, don't' you?"
"Perfect!" Voldemort said, clapping his hands together. "And Snape, you can do the sprinkles." With that, Voldemort swept out of the room, humming something that sounded suspiciously like "Weasley is our King."
Snape turned to Rodolphus in horror. "Sprinkles?"
OoOoOoO
"Everyone in position?" Voldemort called, in a voice that was much too chipper for 2 AM on a Sunday morning. The dew-drenched Death Eaters huddled in the bushes at Number Four, shivering and giving each other pathetic looks.
"Now," Voldemort said, not waiting for a reply. "I've got it all worked out. Wormtail is, right now, delivering the cake to Harry's front doorstep. When Harry gets the mail, he will instead discover the cake-"
"How do you know Potter will be the one to get the mail?" Snape grumbled, wiping some stray sprinkles off his cloak. Potions master he may have been, but sprinkles were definitely not his specialty.
"Potter will get the mail," said Voldemort cheerfully, "because he is an exploited and overworked brat whose relatives despise him."
Snape felt twinge of satisfaction at this statement, followed by a twinge of what might have been either guilt. He pinned it on not having eaten enough for dinner and pushed it aside.
"He will discover the cake," Voldemort continued, "and bring it inside. Our location in the bushes gives us an excellent view of the kitchen. At the moment when he starts slicing the cake, the trigger will be pressed, and – BOOM! Potter will go up in flames."
Snape nodded slowly. It just might work. He wouldn't pretend to be sorry about Potter's demise; quite the opposite, as a matter of fact.
Wormtail returned from placing the cake in front of the doorstep, panting, but grinning ear-to-ear. "I have succeeded, My Lord!"
"Excellent, Wormtail!" Voldemort said jovially, patting him on the back.
The Death Eaters sat down to wait. 3 AM... no sign of Potter. 4 AM... still no sign of Potter. 5 AM... nothing...
At 7 sharp, there was a thump, and the pounding of feet on the stairs.
"Aha!" Voldemort shouted, waking the twenty Death Eaters huddled in the bushes (and half the neighborhood as well, from the sound of it). The footsteps on the stairs paused momentarily before continuing at a slightly slower pace. "Trigger in position?" Voldemort asked, toning his voice down slightly.
Snape blinked. "Wait..." he said slowly. "Where exactly is the trigger?"
"Wormtail has it."
"You actually trusted Wormtail with the trigger?" Snape demanded, voice rising.
"Well, he seemed very enthusiastic." Voldemort shrugged.
Snape buried his face in his hands, rolled his eyes toward the heavens, and started toward Peter, who was bouncing up and down with excitement. If Potter was going to be blown up, he might as well be blown up properly, Snape thought. "Maybe I'd better help you with that..." he started, reaching for the black box in Wormtail's hand.
"It's fine!" Peter said gleefully. "It's all right, Snape, really - I've got it all under contro-"
As he leaned away from Snape, Wormtail's thumb accidentally hit the red button. The confectionary masterpiece went up gracefully in a cloud of green icing and booger-colored sprinkles.
"Oops."
The door to Number Four opened, and a tousled head poked out. "Huh?" Potter said sleepily, staring confusedly at what had former been a beautiful layer cake. "I wonder what... oh well. Darn kids." He sighed, shook his head, and closed the door.
In the pause that followed, everyone's face turned accusingly to Wormtail.
"...it was an accident?" the rat squeaked, cringing slightly.
There was a silence as the Death Eaters looked expectantly at Voldemort. It was hard to read the Dark Lord's expression. Wormtail cringed again.
"Hmm..." said Voldemort finally. "I was trying to see a way around it, but I can think of nothing else.
"It seems," he concluded heavily, "that we must try some of those gift baskets of yours after all, Wormtail."
It was about that time that Snape started to wonder: just why was he serving Voldemort, again?
OoOoOoO
Please review! Even if it's only one line or so, you have no idea how much it brightens my day!
