Alright! I'm on a role! But just to warn all those readers out there who are thinking "this is great! An author that updates three times a day!" I have some rather depressing news. I don't actually update all the time. I just happen to have no life what so ever tonight. However, one of my "News Years Resolutions With My Fingers Crossed Behind My Back" is to update more often.

DC[see previous disclaimers, as I'm too lazy to try and think up another attempted witty one.

Lu! (Which is French. Way to go, you're all trilingual now.)

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The UPS inched up the street toward Malfoy Manor. Then a worried face peered out the open window. Glancing around, the postman unlocked the door, leapt out, and scurried up the front door.

Franticly, he pummeled the doorbell. Sweat beaded on his face.

An eye appeared at the peephole. "Yessss?"

"Here." The postman held out another package shakily. "Take it. Quickly."

"One moment."

The eye vanished. On the verge of a nervous breakdown, the postman waited.

Again the door was opened wide to the same empty foyer.

"Put the package down." Boomed the mysterious voice.

Twitching slightly, the postman set it down. "I don't want to ask you for your signature, but-"

"NO."

"Alrightly then." The postman squeaked. "I'll just be on my merry way. No need to get the Toy Chihuahuas…"

The voice cackled. "To late! Right now my faithful minion is releasing the – What? No, Snape, I do not want some tea. Or a biscuit! I'm talking to the UPS muggle right now-" The voice went further away, in a muffled argument.

There was a sigh. "Foolish postman, please amuse yourself for a moment while I sort this out." Some shuffling could be heard, and then Avril Lavigne began playing, echoing through the entrance hall. The postman stood tensing up with every curse word, his bulging eyes swiveling around the foyer.

Complicated had just begun when the voice returned. "Okay. Sorry about that. Where were we?"

"The faithful minion bit…" the postman quavered.

"Ah yes. Well, right now my faithful minion is extinguishing all of his biscuits that I have set on fire, so the Toy Chihuahuas are going to remain in their cage for now. So leave this house!... And I'd do something about that breathing problem you seem to have."

The postman turned rigidly, taking shallow restricted breaths. He walked mechanically through the door, down the walk and to his UPS truck. He got in, put his seatbelt on, and closed the door.

He turned the key in the ignition.

There was a loud screech, and the smell of burning rubber.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Voldemort stroked the package. It was a very nice package. The tree pulp was especially smooth.

After he had completely eroded the box away, he grabbed the scissors, looked at them and realized they were useless, since all that remained of the cardboard was a pile of fine dust. He threw them over his shoulder, and grabbed his wand.

"Holy mother of-!" Snape cried as a pair of scissors hurtled towards his face, forcing him to trip and spill boiling tea all over his person.

Unaware, Voldemort examined his wand. "Why do I need this?" he wondered aloud. Coming to the decision that he didn't, he threw it over his shoulder as well.

"Son of a -!" Snape shouted as a pointy bit of wood hit him in the temple as he tried to stand up and pull the bloodied scissors out of himself, effectively knocking him out.

Voldemort hummed a little tune as he peeled the wax paper of the sticker. He proudly smoothed the gold sparkly letters "Wacked up" onto his now blindingly bright laptop. Grinning as Happy Ending came on, he flipped the screen open and watched it load up.

Five minutes later, his grin slipping, he waited for the PC to load.

Ten minutes later, the bar went up to one percent.

Thirty minutes later, Snape began to regain semi-consciousness.

Finally, exactly two hours, forty-eight minutes and seventeen seconds later, the load bar flicked up to 100 percent.

"Gee, folks!" Voldemort turned to the studio audience. "Wasn't that quick?" He plastered on a huge smile, and gave the thumbs up. With his grin still fixed, he managed through clenched teeth, "You'd better pay up big, Gates."

"Not now!"

With the tech crews rebuilding the fourth wall, Voldemort opened his new email account.

To: Potter Kid

From: pimpndrklord

Subject: NOW cower, loser!

Voldemort allowed himself a cackle, hit send, and began another message.

To: Potter Kid

From: pimpndrklord

Subject: Are you cowering yet? You should be!

This went on all night. Yes. The Dark Lord was sending spam.

At 11 pm, Bellatrix turned off the lights.

At 1 am, Lucius got up to watch Will and Grace.

At 3 am, Narcissa got up to eat some charred biscuit.

At 6 am, Snape slowly peeled himself off the kitchen floor, and stumbled over to his broken teapot, sobbing.

At 9 am, the Death Eaters turned up, to discuss their leader's obsession with sending over 800 handwritten spam emails.

Finally, at 1 pm, Voldemort emerged from his lair, tired, but woozily satisfied. He proceeded to collapse on the couch.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Hermione!" Harry screeched.

"Yes… Harry?"

"Some guy named 'pimpndrklord' just emailed me 800 times. What do I do?"

"Well…Harry…." Hermione came over. "You check this box…" Suddenly, all the messages were selected. "And you hit this button." She clicked Spam. All the emails vanished.

"Huh. Harry, I think that's Voldemort." Ron said.

"Really?" Harry looked at the screen. "Wow. Defeating him with technology is a lot easier! Just too clicks."

"Yes! Harry that's what we've been trying to tell you!" Hermione cried, "Technology makes your life easier!"

Harry raised his face towards the heavens. "I guess it really does," he whispered. "Suddenly, I have meaning in life!"

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances.

Voldemort realized how easily he had been foiled. He vowed revenge. Again.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

AN: Man. I tired. If you'll excuse me, I have to go submerge my fingers in ice now… (And for the record, this is not the end. There is more. Much more.)