There are things in this which won't make sense and I know that. After all, I would say Voldemort having a chat show at all is the most insane thing ever. Also, just a little warning. These chapters will be short. However, hope you enjoy this.

Disclaimer: I'm afraid I'm not J.K Rowling. Maybe in the next life.

Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom

Voldemort was well aware that his audience were uncomfortable. After all, he had been the tyrant who'd killed, maimed and controlled people at the drop of a hat. He was aware but he didn't particularly care. He wanted to make money, they wanted their faces to maybe be on TV. Everyone was a winner in a weird roundabout way. Except maybe the guest stars. He was sure to have his fun with some of them. He may not be able to use spells for cruelty but there was nothing wrong with his tongue.

"I'd like to invite Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom into the chair today," Voldemort said with a grimace. He'd done some research on his first guests and none of it was good. As far as he was away, Neville was a renowned herbology teacher – who, incidentally, he'd never heard of – and his friend was an editor for some crackpot magazine. Both of them, he knew, had done a fair amount of exploring in the hopes to find rare and exotic (and in his opinion made up) creatures.

There was applause as a tubby yet professional looking man walked on stage with a mysterious if slightly strange looking woman with long blonde hair tucked behind ears with radish earrings on them.

"Welcome Neville and Luna," Voldemort smiled, looking about as welcoming as a black widow spider. "Please take a seat." Uncertainly, they both sat down on the plush red sofa giving each other nervous glances as if not knowing how exactly they had got themselves into this situation. Voldemort noticed that Neville's left hand didn't leave the pocket of his trouser and guessed he must be keeping one hand on his wand at all times. A good indication of a wizard. It used to be a rule Voldemort himself had been fond of. "Now, I understand that you, Luna, are editor for a magazine. I'm sure the audience is dying to know a bit more about it."

Luna's gaze shifted from the ceiling above her to Voldemort, her eyes widening as if she hadn't noticed he was sitting right in front of her. Then, dreamily, she smiled. "The Quibbler used to be my father's magazine until he decided to retire and let me take over. It's dedicated to publishing the truth behind matters. For instance did you know that new aurors in the Ministry of Magic are to given dragon eggs so that they can raise them as sniffer dragons, a practice that has been adopted in South America to sniff out unapproved magic?"

He blinked. "No."

"Or," Luna continued, "that deep in the heart of the Ministry there is a giant blob of pink goo that the Minister himself feeds with the hearts of new born snuffle-plasters so he can be immortal?"

"No."

She smiled airily. "And you would never without help from the Quibbler."

"Obviously not. Can I just ask, what are 'snuffle-plasters', if not something that has been born into existence by your mind and only in your mind?" There was quiet laughter from behind him in the audience and – by strange coincidence – he found himself doing something he hadn't done since he was fourteen years old: he smiled a genuine smile that wasn't out of malice but sheer humor at something which was actually funny.

Luna stuck her nose up in the air haughtily. "Oh, you can laugh, but it was the fluffy snuffle-plasters with the pompom tails that are responsible for your death by sever allergic reaction to their snuffle powder."

Voldemort raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "Really? And all this time I thought it was Harry Potter who dealt the final blow. How silly of me. I must have been imagining it. Funny that. Then again I could have sworn he was sporting a pompom tail but at the time I just assumed it was a fashion statement. "

This time the audience burst into a loud, uproar of laughter and Voldemort realised – with great incredulity – that he had just cracked a joke. With an urge that lay deep within him, he turned to his audience with a great (if not slightly creepy) smile and the applause which followed it was immense. There was a feeling inside of him that was familiar yet at the same time strange. It was enjoyment. Enjoyment, but not at the expense of others pain but due to the enjoyment of other people.

"Let's change the subject before we have a riot on stage and we'll be forced to call in snuffle-plaster reinforcements. I've heard that you recently got engaged. Tell us a bit about that."

The smile returned on Luna's face and she slowly raised her hand to reveal an engagement ring which had a stone shaped daisy instead of the traditional wizard diamond which when light was shone upon it would reflect the faces of the two engaged witches onto the heart area of their clothes. "He is the grandson of Newt Scamander. Together, we try to find more magical creatures so that he can create an updates version of his late grandfather's book."

"I think its a match made in heaven, don't you?" He asked the audience who applauded. "And Neville Longbottom. It's true that you're the new herbology teacher at Hogwarts, yes? What made you choose that career path?"

Neville's eyes looked untrustingly at Voldemort's. "I was always good at herbology. The best in my year, as a matter of fact. Even better than Hermione Granger."

"What an achievement. A pure blood wizard being better than a mudblood." The comment was out before he could stop it but once again the audience laughed. "I suppose you could say you were a natural with nature, yes?"

"I suppose you could."

"Fascinating. I've been told you've recently published a book, yes? I think now's the best time to endorse it. You have thirty seconds." Voldemort took out a stopwatch which was conveniently in his pocket at the time and he had a feeling it was one of the camera men who had produced it with a spell. The audience laughed as Neville became flustered and his mouth opened and closed like a fish's. "Twenty seconds."

"Well-well-well it's called 'Herbology: An Insider's Guide to Exotic Plants and their Uses'. It's on sale in every good book store and only costs-"

"Times up."

Neville looked up in fear. "That was never thirty seconds."

"Wasn't it?" Voldemort shrugged. "Either way it sounds like a very interesting book whether you're studying herbology or just like a pretty garden. We're giving a signed copy away at the end of the show so keep your wands ready to enter. Remember, you must be over seventeen to enter and you must have the houseowner's permission." He turned his attention back to Neville. "Are there any dedications to your book?"

"Yes," Neville answered in a tight voice. "My parents. Frank and Alice Longbottom. I think you know them. It was you who ordered their torture into insanity but Bellatrix and Rudolphus Lestrange."

"Couldn't have been. I was sick that day."

He stood up indignantly and made fists out of his hands. "You did order it! It's your fault that they're in St. Mungo's and you know it! You even congratulated that crazy bitch Bellatrix afterwards!"

"Ah," he said, smiling. "Bellatrix. Lovely girl, really, if you take away her tendencies for madness. One of my most faithful henchmen, in fact. Pity she died." Neville was about to say something back but Voldemort cut him off with a smile. "I'm afraid that's all we have time for today. I'd like to thank my guest stars and everyone in the audience. Details of how to enter out competition will be displayed on the screen in just a second. Join me next time when I'll have Ronald and Hermione Weasley on the show. I'll leave you now with the Weird Sisters playing their new single 'You've Cast Your Spell On Me'. I'm Voldemort wishing you a good night."

The applause was rupteous as Voldemort left the stage in the hands of the punk hair girls and he felt good in a way he'd not felt good in years: they loved him.

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