Chapter 13: Plan 745.3: Happy New Years!

A/N: Hope this chapter is better than the last one. I believe it is, but I hope you think so as well!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series.

"STACI! QUIT MAKING THAT RACKET THIS INSTANT!!!" I heard someone bellowing from down the hall. I looked up; go figure, it was Voldemort.

"But sir! I'm just figuring out a more efficient way to travel!" I complained, as I picked up the skateboard I had been rolling down the hall on.

Ok, so I really couldn't skateboard. Well, I could stand on one, and push myself along on a straight path. But that was about it. However, in a late-night fit of insomnia, energy drinks and, a marathon of extreme sport watching, I got the idea that a skateboard would be just the thing to speed up my trek to my office. After all, the hallways were long, flat, and usually wooden, perfect for wheels (Though admittedly the darkness made it a bit dangerous…both for the rider and for those walking the halls.)!

Maybe trying the stupid thing on the stairs wasn't my brightest idea. It made quite a racket with a 'thud, smack, thud, CRASH' as each wheel hit another step. Along with a much larger thud of me hitting the ground.

I blame the dark. My skateboard blames my incompetence. Voldemort just thinks I'm a complete idiot.

"Are you arguing with me, The Dark Lord?" He glared, curling a lip in pure evil.

"Um…no?" I squeaked.

"You better not be," He muttered dangerously, "Now quit the nonsense and get back to work! I don't pay you to stand around" Voldemort stomped off.

He doesn't pay us for working either, as far as that goes. Hell, another Christmas has come and gone, and still no 'bonus.' I have no idea why I stick around this hell-hole. Except for the fact that, if I tried to leave, Voldy would send me off with a bang. And by that I mean I'd be dead. I don't remember that clause being in my contract, but some poor soul tried leaving last week. Luckily he 'repented' at the last second, groveled at his feet for an hour, and now is on guard duty (ok, how come I couldn't get that job? Even THAT would be more exciting.) Judging by the scorch marks on his back and smoke rising from his backside, though, that's not a position I'd like to be in.

Voldemort is the ultimate killjoy.

And now he's going to pay for it. Pay for it, I say! PAY!!!!!

…I'm just going to hope that's the last energy drink talking…

Later

The music was pumping, the lights were flashing, and the alcohol was flowing.

Ok, not really. Death Eater New Years parties aren't that fun. There was a boom box playing some bad 80's music, the lights were low (This could be due to Voldy not paying the electricity bill AGAIN) and they had that nasty Victory Gin tasting stuff again.

Still, it was a party. And I needed to get Volders completely plastered and out if I ever wanted a chance of pulling off my scheme.

And surprisingly, it was working better than I thought. See, I had thought that he'd MAYBE accept a few drinks, sneer a bit, get a little tipsy, and wobble to his room for the night. I figured that, to get him out cold, other means would have to be used…

Instead, Voldemort was near passing out already. I couldn't count the number of drinks he had consumed, and the party had only started an hour and a half ago. Still, it couldn't hurt to help it along a bit…

"Here sir," I handed him another mug.

"Tanks a whooooolllleeee bunch!" He…grinned? I don't know what exactly the look on his face was…but in any case, he grabbed the glass and chugged it. He was left with the same weird look on his face, a cross between a leer, a grin, and 'I'm a pretty princess!'

I stood by, snickering a bit. This was going according to plan. Except Draco happened to see the exchange.

"Why are you plying the Dark Lord full of liqueur?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Um…" I squeaked. You know, this is why no one can take me seriously as a Death Eater (not that I want to be, but still!) I squeak at the most inopportune moments. What the hell?! Draco stood there, his eyebrow still raised and smirking

"Um…" I started again, trying to come up with some lie, "because he's stressed out?"

He stared at me, "Right…"

"Hey, he did most of the damage before I showed up!" I defended myself.

Draco just shrugged and walked off. Crisis avoided. The only problem now was if he decided to go and pass…oh crap!

Voldemort had decided that the punch table was the perfect place to take a nap, and was slowly was sinking down the wall. Oh son of a biscuit!

Before anyone could notice, I put his arm around my shoulder and began to drag him out of the room. I shuddered…ew, ew, ew, this was definitely on my top ten list of 'things I never want to experience in my life again'

But, in the end, I pray that it will all be worth it.

Upon arriving in the Dark Lord's room, I shoved him onto the bed. He immediately passed out completely and started snoring. Then, in my backpack, I dug out some roller skates. Some old school roller skates, the kind of old metal skates that attached to your own shoes with leather straps…and were quite dangerous. Quickly, I secured the death traps…er, skates, and ran out of the room to join the party again.

It could be dangerous to use this plan…after all, he did see me with a skateboard and these could be considered close. I'm counting on the alcohol, lack of judgment, and the fact that that one unlucky Death Eater I was talking about earlier ran off tonight. I threw another pair of skates into his room. Hooray for having a scapegoat! I doubt Voldemort will care much about an insignificant runaway Death Eater pawn, especially when he's hung over.

Skipping down the hall merrily, I rejoined the party. No one even knew I was missing. This called for a celebration…

Later

'CRASH, SMASH, THUD, BOOM, BANG' I heard the commotion from down the hall…it added to the racket that my brain was making at the moment. I gotta say, I'm kind of jealous of old Voldy…I only had a couple drinks and I was down. Lord only knows how much he had…

Though from the sounds of it, he had more than he would have liked as well.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!?" he bellowed, as I heard another thud coming from his room. Apparently, he hadn't gotten around to taking off the skates…

I peeked out my bedroom, as I heard his door bang open. Waving wildly, Voldemort sped out the door, still wearing the stupid skates and moving down the hallway at an alarming rate.

Surely, he wouldn't hit the basement stairs…he wouldn't do that to himself…would he?

He did. Soon, the loud crashes, yells, and thuds were heard throughout the headquarters. The inevitable meeting could not be far behind…

Surprisingly, the meeting was short. Voldemort looked like he had a bit of a head ache…and just wanted to go back to bed. It was mentioned that a pair of skates had been found in blah blah blah's room, blah blah blah would be punished, I am Voldemort the Dark Lord blah blah blah, and some other meaningless things that I decided were pointless to retain.

Another successful mission, thanks to the wonders of alcohol and lack of judgment. Hooray!