Lord Voldy in Limbo

Yesh, I am back! And here is chapter one. I am very eager to continue because of the REVIEW I GOT!!! YAYNESSS!!!!! THANK YOU, RABID LAWN GNOME! And also, if anyone who is reading this story has the name of Gregory, THIS IS NOTHING AGAINST YOU OR YOUR NAME. I REPEAT—well, you know what I said.

Disclaimer: Ditto to the one I put in the prologue.

Chapter Two: Arriving in Hell

"Voldy—time to get up, Voldy—wakey wakey, Voldy—Voldy—VOLDY, GET YOUR FAT LAZY BUM OFF THE COUCH!!!!"

Oh, great, my old second-year nickname, Voldemort groaned.

He opened his eyes. Where was he? He seemed to be in a sort of red-walled cell. He looked to his left. Two Roman pillars were on either side of a wall of fire. He seemed to be lying on a weird, one-armed sofa made of marble—an ancient roman sofa.

A small creature was buzzing around in front of him, wings going ninety miles an hour. The creature had two sets of wings, like a dragonfly. It had beady black eyes and a see-through body that was gray. It had large, bat-like ears and did not have any legs, just sort of melted into a haze down around the waste before it ended entirely. It wore no clothes. (Well, it didn't really have to, did it?)

The little creature was glaring at him.

"Where—where am I?"

"In Hell, dolt," the creature snapped. "You're in Hell."

Voldy tried to stand up, but instead he received quite a shock. He floated. He looked down and saw that he, too, had no legs. Instead, he was just a black mist that looked like he did when he was alive.

"What are you, anyway?" he shot at the creature.

"Me?" the creature said. It gave its wings a little wiggle. "I'm a conscience. You're conscience, to be precise. Once someone dies, their conscience takes form to accompany them through their afterlives. Although," he said, and glowered in distaste, "People who go to Heaven's conscience's are a whole lot prettier than the ones who goes to Hell's." He shot a dirty glance at Voldy.

"This would have never happened if you hadn't been so lazy," Voldy said, with his nose in the air.

"Oh shut up," the conscience snapped.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Voldy said. "Anyway—how do you get out of this cell?"

"Simple," the conscience said lazily. It flitted over to the wall of fire and clicked its fingers once. The wall went down. The conscience turned to Voldy.

"Conscience's have unlimited access to the afterlife base that their Subjects were put into." It said smugly.

"Afterlife base? Subject?" Voldy asked quizzically.

The conscience rolled its eyes. "Afterlife base: A place where a dead soul is sorted into to stay for evermore, i.e., Heaven or Hell, or Limbo. Subject: The soul which the conscience is the guardian to for all eternity."

Voldy felt very stupid.

"Anyway, let's go." The conscience said.

They turned into a red corridor flanked by Roman pillars.

"Er…why does everything seem so—Greek?" Voldy asked. Why am I not saying EVIL stuff? Death really changes you…

"We are in the quarters of Julius Caesar. And yes, he did go down to Hell… a right barbarian, he was… anyway, you don't want to run into him; he's got it in his head that he's still trying to beat some enemy and he wants to recruit an army… and NO ONE says no to Julius Caesar."

Being dead is weird, Voldy thought. "By the way, I haven't asked you something."

"Mmm?"

Voldy stopped in the corridor and hovered there. He turned to face the conscience, who had also stopped.

"Well, spit it out, man, we haven't got time to float around chatting!"

Voldy stared at the conscience.

"What's your name?"