Still more ways to pester to the Snake Faced Moron of the Week.

Chapter Three:

Twenty-one to Thirty.

Twenty-one:

Voldemort appeared in a wooded glade, directly in front of a big Muggle holding a machete. The Muggle didn't say anything or hesitate. He chopped at Voldemort, cleaving his skull nearly to the bridge of his nose. The last thing Voldemort saw as he fell was the strange white mask the big man was wearing.

Voldemort woke up a few seconds later, the Horcruxes keeping him alive. He saw the man in the mask walking away and anger flared in him. "Avada Kedavra," he cast and watched the man fall. He got up and felt his face gingerly. The hole in his skull was rapidly disappearing and would soon only be a memory.

He turned around to see the man swinging the blade at him again. Voldemort had time for a single thought as he died again. "He must be a wizard. He's got a Horcrux also."

Silver Lake was never again bothered by Jason, and he soon became just another legend, like magic and Wizards.

Twenty-Two: (Someone requested this one... I hope you like it.)

Tom Marvolo Riddle reappeared in the middle of a glade and took a second to figure out what had happened to him. Harry bloody Potter has tossed a glowing stone at him. It must have been some type of Portkey. He looked around to figure out where he was. This could be almost any forest. He looked up and something caught his eye.

He frowned as he watched the brightly shining star. He'd never seen a star that bright. He had just realized that it was getting brighter when the micro-meteor exploded through his skull blowing everything inside out the back.

Voldemort's spirit looked at his body and turned away, already looking for another small animal to inhabit. "I hate Harry Potter," he thought as he entered a squirrel.

Twenty-three: (Another request.)

Voldemort blinked as he looked around, careful not to move. He was standing on the edge of a cliff that seemed to be several miles deep. He started to back up and flinched. From directly behind him had come a strange sound. "Meep-Meep."

Voldemort whirled around, raising his wand. He stared at the strange bird behind him, confused. The bird seemed to smile and then a sign appeared in its wing. "Look Down."

Voldemort frowned, taking a quick look below him. He looked back at the bird, wondering how he was standing on thin air. That was impossible after all.

As soon as he had that thought, he fell.

Another sign appeared in the Roadrunner's wing. "It's not impossible, unless you think it is."

Twenty-four: (Wiley's turn.)

Voldemort stared at the being in front of him in disbelief. A mangy dog of some kind was walking on its hind legs and muttering about part A fitting in bit B as it assembled some strange looking contraption.

He stepped a bit closer and the giant spatula on the top of the thing squashed him flat.

Wiley froze as his newest Acme product quivered. When it didn't hurt him he sighed in relief and climbed off of it. He saw the spot where the spatula had hit and walked over there. He studied the thing, frowning. He sniffed it. Some sort of snake, by the smell.

He looked at it and shrugged. He wanted Roadrunner, but it was getting late, and the snake was here. He scooped up the remains and saw the stick. Hah! Firewood to cook with. His day was looking up.

He nearly dropped the stick as it burst into red sparks when he picked it up. He took it back to his cave, shaking it occasionally to make the sparks appear again.

It wasn't until he'd finished his dinner that he made it do anything else.

Twenty-five:

Voldemort looked around, wishing there was somebody, (preferably Potter) in sight to curse. He was standing in a dark forest, and he couldn't see anything. "Lumos," he cast, causing a light to bloom at the tip of his wand.

A second later he put it out. He sighed, knowing he was soon going to be looking for a new body again.

Nothing with claws that big or that many sharp, pointed teeth could be friendly, and there had been far too many of them to count.

Twenty-six:

Voldemort appeared again,sitting in a small rubber raft in the middle of the sea. He frowned as he looked around, careful not to tip the raft. Where was that slightly ominous music coming from? He only had an instant to realize he was in trouble as the giant shark came up from under him and bit him in half.

The other half was eaten on the second pass.

Twenty-seven:

Voldemort appeared in the middle of a dirt street, with more than a hundred Muggles staring at him.

Both sides froze, staring at each other and then a stone bounced off of his skull. "Satan's Spawn!" came a cry, and suddenly, the Muggle crowd was a mob.

Voldemort got a few of them, but there were too many and they were too close. They tied him to a stake, and the first Witch burning of the Spanish Inquisition warmed the day.

Twenty-eight:

Voldemort appeared, and he looked around. He was in some sort of abandoned Muggle building from the look of it. He noticed a large something next to a pillar and walked over to it. It was a large block of some sort of plastic looking stuff, a sort of greyish white. It had several wires coming out of it, all leading to a black box with a strange clock on the top.

It was counting backwards. 05, 04, 03, 02, 01 ...

Twenty-nine: (Here's one from my home, high in the Montana Mountains.)

Voldemort appeared on a snow-covered slope, looking around and screaming curses at The Boy Who Lived. He stopped as he heard a rumbling sound. He listened as it grew louder, and he looked in that direction. Coming down the slope was a forty meter wall of snow and trees, and other things collected by the avalanche.

Voldemort was collected, and soon pinned by a large branch. He laid there, frozen under thirty metres of snow at the bottom of the slope, unable to move but unable to die either. It would be three months before the snow melted enough that the animals could get to him, freeing him to inhabit small rodents again, and the wand would sink into the mud, never to be seen again.

The two Forest Rangers watched the avalanche with interest from the crest of a nearby hill. "Good thing we closed the valley today. Johnny was right, it did drop."

The other one shivered. "I still get chills thinking about them. Could you imagine being trapped under there?"

Thirty:

Voldemort appeared in a snow filled glade, and he was hamstrung before he knew what had happened and the pack of starving wolves tore his throat out quickly.

He revived as he was being dragged back to the lair, only to have his throat eaten again. The puppies and all the adults ate well for the rest of the winter, even when hunting was bad.

Killing the prey every couple of hours got old though.

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If you have a request, let me know.

Raven