Disclaimer: I own Becky. She is mine. Apart from that, none of this is mine. I don't own a carpetbag, I don't own Bella, and I don't own Tommy-kins. I do, however, own serious enjoyment in writing ridiculous disclaimers.

One day, there was this little kid. She enjoyed writing as a hobby, and so she wrote a fanfic on Harry Potter. Well, the day she turned 13, she got an account on this website called fanfiction dot com. She submitted the story that she had been working on for some time, and within three hours of submitting it, she got two reviews that made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. So, she ran back to her little Word document that held the second chapter and submitted it to fanfiction dot com as well. This little girl was me… er, is me. I will try to update as often as possible, but with school, band, and piano, it might take some time. However, I'll try to reply to the majority of my reviewers if I can every chapter. I also take requests for guest appearances. Tell me your email address and a little bit about yourself and I'll try to include you.

theatrechica: thank you! what's REALLY funny is that I have created a habit of calling him that all the time now, and it's totally accidental!

Strange Principles: nice screenname, and thank you! I got a poke!

Chapter Two

She sidled into her room, clutching only her tiny carpetbag in her hands. Everything about her was tiny. Everything she owned was tiny, she had a tiny voice (though it carried a long way), and she was tiny. Now her new room was tiny. The farthest wall was a window, and in the middle of the room was a tiny bed. In the corner was a tiny wardrobe.

She grinned at the evil man behind her. "Oh, thank you!" she cried, running to the wardrobe, and pulling clothes out of her miniscule bag. It obviously had a charm on it so that the inside was larger than the outside, because the outside looked as though it could barely hold four days' worth of clothing. Pretty soon, however, she had enough robes and muggle clothes in there to clothe her for a month. The bag didn't look any emptier.

She immediately flopped down onto the bed and said, "Goodnight, Tom."

He whirled around and walked down the hallway, never hearing the soft footsteps of one trying desperately hard not to be heard. The one attempting not to be heard was clutching a black sharpie…

The next morning, Voldemort awoke to the absence of a headache and a blissfully blank memory of last night's events. He got out of bed and wandered blearily down the hallway. He wondered vaguely if he had gotten drunk last night, and that was why he couldn't remember what he'd done. He walked down the stairs and stumbled into the kitchen. He heard cheerful chatter in that room, so he swerved into the living room. After a moment, he realized that it was Bellatrix Lestrange, his most devoted servant. He smiled slightly. Death Eater meeting today, he remembered. He got up and wandered back into the kitchen.

"HI VOLDERS!" a high-pitched voice screeched. Bella, standing beside the Death-Eater-to-be, smirked as she listened to the small voice. Then, as she looked up to say, "Good morning, Dark Lord," she stopped mid-sentence as she gazed at Voldemort without his hood up. She had seen him like this on many occasions, but something shocked her this time.

He stared at the small young witch grinning up at him, and the night's events rushed back to him.

He then turned to Bella. "Have you two been talking?" he asked in a dangerous voice. "I don't wish to repeat the details."

Bella nodded dumbly, and he noticed that she had not acknowledged his evil presence this morning. "What is it, Bella?" he asked. She had gotten used to talking to him quite a while ago, so why should she be suddenly quiet?

"My Lord…" she gasped. Then a strange change came over her face. Her husky laugh rang out in the kitchen as she grinned, staring at Voldemort.

He glared at her, and the laughter quickly subsided. "My Lord…" she tried again. She struggled not to laugh and burst out, "Your FACE!" She turned away so that she could stop laughing.

He whirled away so that he could storm to a mirror, feeling his face as he went, as the young lady called after him in a worried tone, "I think Bella's dying, Your Baldness!"

He growled at his new nickname from her as he entered the bathroom and stared heatedly at the mirror. He struggled desperately to remember the tiny witch's name. She had told him last night. Becky, it had been. Stupid name for a human being. Maybe a hamster… he stopped dead.

As he stared at his reflection, he saw, circling his eyes, two large rings drawn in black Sharpie. There were lines coming off from these circles, going around his head. There was even a nice little detail between his eyes that made it look like tape. It almost looked like… glasses.

Harry Potter's glasses.

"BECKY!" he screeched, dashing down the hallway back to the kitchen.

They were both still in the kitchen- Bella, leaning over to face the floor, and Becky behind her, asking her what was wrong with a worried frown and laughing eyes. When he entered, she looked up, her eyes wide, looking like they were about to pop as she struggled not to laugh. "What is it, Dark Lord?" she asked quickly. His proper name for his Death Eaters to call him calmed him somewhat. He glared at her, and she frowned. "What is it?" she asked, sounding more urgent, and looking as though she was about to faint from holding in laughter.

"What… did… you… do… to… my… face?" he asked, with a measured voice.

"I don't understand," she replied calmly. "There's nothing wrong with your face."

"Liar!" he screeched, then demanded a mirror. She pulled one out of her pocket very quickly, almost as if she'd been expecting him to ask. He grabbed it, not noticing this, and glared fiercely at it.

"Look!" he cried, just as he glanced at his reflection. "My face has Potter's glasses drawn on them! See, here, on… my… face…" Then he registered what he was seeing. His reflection looked normal, for him. A little crazed, perhaps, but normal.

She took the mirror back and put it in her pocket. Her voice finally matched her eyes. "Potter's glasses?" she asked, laughing. "Is that what this is all about? You probably just had a nightmare about another of that horrible boy's beating you. Isn't that a scary thought, Wittow Dawk Lowd?"

He was about to retaliate about being called "Little Dark Lord" in a baby voice when he was unlucky enough to look up first.

Becky was holding up two fingers, one on each hand. On each finger was a tiny puppet, most artfully done. The puppet on her left hand was tall for a finger puppet, and it wore black robes with the hood up. The puppet on her right hand was shorter, wearing small robes and glasses. It had a head full of messy black hair.

"That's right, Becky," said the puppet on her left hand, whom Voldemort assumed she was talking to. "He's a meanie! That awful little Harry Potter!"

"Stop it, you horrible old wizard!" The puppet on her right hand bobbed up and down, almost as if it were talking with exaggerated gestures. "I will defeat you, Voldemort!" Even though Voldemort wasn't enjoying all this, he registered dimly how well she was mimicking Harry's and his' voices. Apart from the fact that they were also incredibly high and squeaky.

"Take this!" Harry squeaked, bending sideways and forward slightly so that it looked as though he were waving a wand. Voldemort-puppet keeled over promptly and flopped around, squealing, "I can't get up! I can't get up!"

"Enough!" the real Voldemort shouted. The puppets both looked up, acting terrified, while Becky smiled serenely. "Stop this nonsense at once!"

"If you're jealous," Becky said coolly, "or if you need them to plan schemes, you can borrow them in your plotting sessions. Speaking of which," she added, smiling slightly, "the first one should begin in just a few minutes."

Voldemort whirled around. He had been so angry with Becky, he hadn't even noticed the faint popping of Apparators as they entered his living room. They were all staring, with wide eyes and variously gaping mouths, at Becky, who waved gaily and cried, "Hello all! I'm the new Death Eater! Pleased to make your acquaintance!"