Voldemort Takes Therapy
Disclaimer: Okay, I just bothered to type the word "Disclaimer." Now why would I do that if I was JK Rowling?
A/N: Okay, the first two chapies were slightly suckish. I think this will be a bit better. (crosses fingers)
…
Wow! Hard to type with your fingers crossed.
Chapter 3:
"Okay, I think we should try to get all this anger out in a healthy way," Dr. Crane said, setting his clipboard down on his desk and walking over to the closet that Voldemort only just noticed.
Voldemort stood up and asked hopefully, "Are we going murdering?"
"No," Dr. Crane said as he pulled a dart board out of his closet, "I find that murdering is a very negative and overly aggressive way to get out anger." He hung the dart board on a nail that was all ready in the wall. "Darts are a much better outlet."
If he had any, Voldemort would have raised an eyebrow. "Darts?" he asked.
"Yes," Crane said pulling a handful of red darts from a drawer in the closet. "Okay, out of all the people you have come to dislike; take a moment and think; who do you hate the mos-"
"Harry Potter."
"Alright, can you conjure up a picture of him?"
"Cha," Voldemort said, as though the question itself was an insult. He waved his wand and a picture of Harry Potter appeared in Dr. Crane's open hand.
"Here, you take these," Dr. Crane handed Voldemort the darts and Voldemort took them as he put his wand away.
Crane got a tack from his desk and stuck the picture on the dart board. "Now throw those darts as hard as you can at him. Get all that hate and rage out."
Voldemort thought that this whole idea was stupid compared to the rush of killing; but he figured he'd give it a go anyhow.
Voldemort had never played darts before; not counting the occasional Death Eater birthday party. But there they had always thrown snake fangs, forks, and other relatively pointy objects at Pettigrew's rear and told him it was customary.
He hit Harry in the eyes mostly, and his scar quite a few times and found that the dart throwing was getting more satisfying after each shot. After the picture had been hit so many times no one would be able to tell who the picture was of, Dr. Crane asked, "Feel a little bit better?"
"Yeah," Voldemort said; breathing hard from the rush hitting Potter had given him. A sensation he had never known. "Frankly, I think I may carry some darts with me from now on. For some reason, when it comes to Potter, the darts might be more deadly then that stinkin' killing curse."
A/N: Okay, not my best ending. I thought that line would be funny but I think this chapter turned out pretty good. The whole Death Eater birthday party thing I came up with on the spot; but I like it. As soon as I think of another idea I'll be sure to write the next chapter because this is fun! Send reviews!