Disclaimer: Non possiedo Saccheggia Gingilla o qualunque Saccheggia Gingilla la merce. Il Joanna Kathleen Rowling fa, ma faccio non. (That was Italian.)
Wow! I got a LOT of reviews since my last update! Here's I'll reply to all said reviews:
duckyv91: yes I did! I'm glad it did, and here's the new chappie! the eighth will probably come out on Sunday or possibly Monday.
Morvana Du'Miruvor: thank you
HannahCimsGwendolyn: yeah she is, I loved making her up! Tommy-boy's birthday will be in Chapter Nine, so you don't have much longer to wait!
tHiS iS a BoRdEr ThIs Is A bOrDeR tHiS iS a BoRdEr ThIs Is A bOrDeR
Chapter Seven
Becky sat at the ancient mahogany desk, quill in hand and eyes on the million-year-old parchment, yellow and cracked. She had been plotting right up until now, and, with a grin that looked positively demonic in the eight-o-clock sunset, looked over the evil plans she had written.
1.) Introduce our evil mastermind with a grand announcement, a fake drumroll and an equally fake trumpet blare. Shower him with confetti and rice.
2.) Once he enters the room, pinch him 'till he squeals to open up the party.
3.) Allow Debbie to serve the wonderfully-prepared cake and refreshments that are Care Bear-themed.
4.) When dancing during the party, be sure to dance the funky chicken.
5.) Let off party poppers right in his face.
6.) Begin a game of cards with him, but inform him that he has no poker face and how could he possibly expect to rule the world without one?
7.) He is sure to give a speech as to how he became who is he is now. If he does so, cry out, "You're breakin' ma little heart here, ole evil one!"
8.) Let Debbie present the stress ball, as well as the comment, "You know, I know this great therapist in London…"
9.) Present the sweater.
10.) More dancing to liven up the party! Ask him to dance the polka with me.
11.) Bring out the Twister! I believe Debbie has a daughter, Kali Melantha, and she can bring that out for dear old Volders.
12.) Kali can bring her present, which should be some species of flower. He should be greatly offended.
13.) If he ever gets around to almost killing me, (which he will within ten seconds) begin to quickly apparate and disapparate in and out of the room until he's sick of it.
14.) During one of those in out in out sessions, put a bunch of nasty smelling stuff in his room. Not only will I be able to get some stuff for the Order, I'll be able to treat him to his "aromatherapy" at night!
15.) Lastly, once the party if over, make a speech that, although the name "Voldemort" doesn't draw forth nearly as much respect as, say, the names "Dumbledore" and "Potter," and even though Argus Filch will one day rule the world, we will always remember this night as the best birthday of the world's most evil pussycat.
NOTE: During the entire party, when not doing any real tasks or popping in and out of the room, spray everything he touches with Febreeze.
Becky grinned a wide, toothy grin, then sighed and lay down on the smelly sheets on her tiny bed. She tried to sleep for a bit before ten-o-clock that night, but somehow she couldn't drift off. Too many thoughts were crowding her head, especially worry at how long she would survive Saturday night. The problem with her job was that there was just a slight risk to her life, taunting Voldemort day and night. Since this party was crucial to her plan, she had to live right up to the NOTE. However, if she knew Voldemort (and, by now, she did rather well), he would kill her before then. She would have to calm him down, calm his nerves so that he was more loose. She thought for a moment, then the most impossible idea came into her head. It was so ridiculous and idiotic, so impossible to pull off, that she didn't even consider it for a moment. However, it wandered to the back of her mind, where it began to bide its time before she would finally think about it again.
Becky got up and grabbed her wand. Giving the knitting needles a good jab to get them knitting faster and uglier, she raised her wand in the air. "Accio crossword," she muttered, and after a moment, this morning's crossword flew through the small windowpane she always kept open just in case she needed to summon anything. It flew up to her hand, and she transformed a small bit of yarn left over form the last skein of course yarn into a fountain pen. Grinning, she exited her room and wandered down the hallway to Voldemort's room. Bracing herself, she knocked twice and stepped back.
After a moment, the door opened a crack. Voldemort's high voice said silkily, "What is it, Becky? I am just a little busy right now."
Becky mustered up her most pathetic face. "Er, Dark Lord?" she asked timidly. "Could you, uh… could you…"
Voldemort gave an audible sigh. "Could I what?" he asked, voice high and exasperated. "I do have things to do, Becky."
Becky seemed to gather her courage. "Could you… erm… help me with the crossword?"
Voldemort grew visibly furious. "Why do you need help?" he asked. "Especially from me?"
Becky began to force fake tears. "B-b-because you're the D-Dark Lord!" she cried, making sure her lower lip was quivering properly. "You know e-e-e-everything!"
The evil man behind the door sighed loudly, and, after a moment, muttered, "Let me think for a moment…" He stared down at the floor for a short time, but when he heard a small buzzing slightly above his head, he looked up.
Above his head was a lightbulb, hovering just a few inches below the ceiling of his bedroom. Voldemort turned slowly to Becky, whose wand was pointed upwards at the floating bulb. The Dark Lord's eyes became slits as he shrieked, "What are you doing!"
Becky seemed to practically blow up. "You said you were thinking!" she shouted, her tiny voice carrying all the way to the other side of the house, and even through the giant front door, which was closed. An owl about thirty feet from the moldy front mat screeched, startled, and flew away. "I was just trying to help!" Becky ran from the bedroom doorway and, just to be on the safe side, Apparated back to her room a few feet down the hall.
Voldemort walked blearily back into his room, wondering if, perhaps, he was going senile. Which, just between you, Becky, and me, he was.
tHiS iS a BoRdEr ThIs Is A bOrDeR tHiS iS a BoRdEr ThIs Is A bOrDeR
Becky glanced anxiously at the small clock set up on her bedside table. It was 8:57, almost time for the Order to start speaking to her via wands. They had told her to have her wand ready, so her wand was up, ready for anything.
Suddenly, a flash appeared in the room and a silver hazy orb floated right under the tiny light fixture in the ceiling. The edges became more defined, while in the center, Becky could see an anxious face. The face was plain, but pretty, and a pair of buckteeth and bushy hair obstructed a bit of Becky's view of Hermione. Other than that, however, Becky could clearly see the young Order member, and she smiled.
Hermione looked, worried, at Becky from the shimmery orb. "Becky?" came Hermione's voice, sounding distrusting. "Is that you?" She turned around and gestured madly to something behind her that was out of Becky's view. "Come and see, Harry," she murmured. "Is this Becky?"
Harry pushed his way into the orb beside Hermione. After a short pause, the tousle-haired boy said, "Yep. That's Becky. Hey, Becky!"
Becky grinned. "Hey, Harry," she said softly. "Listen, before we start chatting, how are you doing this? What spell is this?"
Hermione grinned, and Becky guessed- correctly- that Hermione had invented the spell. "The charm is 'Facile sensus summonus'," Hermione explained. "I know a bit of Latin from learning all the spells, and this basically means 'easily summoning up something so that you can see it'. It you want it to go away, you repeat the spell, only adding 'nox' like the illumination spell."
"Thanks," Becky said, smiling. She cast around her mind for something to begin a conversation. After a moment, she remembered Harry's letter. "How's Pig?"
"Not so good," came a gruffy voice that seemed obstructed by something in its mouth. Sure enough, Ron sauntered into Becky's view, toting a pile of Chocolate Frogs and stuffing one into his mouth. Its leg kicked out, but Ron shoved it further in. "We still haven't figured out what's wrong. Hagrid's been looking him over, and Dumbledore even called for Professor Grubbleyplank. She doesn't know what's wrong, either." The frog had disappeared, so he opened up another packet of Chocolate Frogs and pulled off the card. "Oh," he exclaimed gruffly, "I got Mathilda Hopkirk again!" He tossed it idly over his shoulder and stuffed the new Chocolate Frog into his mouth. Becky heard a croak as he bit its head off.
Becky frowned. "What are the symptoms?" she asked, looking at the floating orb with concern in her eyes.
Hermione spoke up quickly- always ready to volunteer information, that was Hermione. "Well, he's been coughing a lot," she said briskly. "His eyes are all watery, and he makes this high-pitched 'hwhcoo' sound whenever he opens his beak… which is rather often." She sighed sadly. "He also has all his feathers constantly on end, all fluffed up. This has been going on for about two and a half weeks, and—"
There were footsteps coming down the hallway outside Becky's bedchambers. Voldemort was coming.
Becky turned quickly back to the threesome. "What's the spell to put it out again?" she hissed hurridly.
"Facile sensus summonus nox!" Hermione hissed back, and the orb faded away into just a gray mist, then that too was gone. Not a moment too soon, either, for Voldemort came in just a moment later.
"Becky!" he said, looking livid. "You shouldn't be so loud! In fact, you should, uh…" He faltered. Becky studied his face. He was about to say something that would greatly embarrass him. After a moment, he opened his little slit of a mouth again. In that high voice that brought so much fear to absolutely everyone in the world except for Becky, he said, "You should, er, be getting, uh… some sleep. Debbie's coming tomorrow." He looked at the floor, then said something that took both people in the room by surprise. "Good night," he said softly, with his voice slightly less high, and he exited the room.
Becky thought it would make a slightly louder sound for her chin to hit the floor than it did. Her mouth was hanging open in surprise, and her chin hit the floor with a much softer sound than expected.
