So we're back, the very next day! I feel accomplished! I've got nothing else to say, except thanks to all those reviewers, and I hope you're enjoying the story!
DC: The lawsuit from Avril Lavigne's agent should be coming any day now. To avoid such awkward situations, I am disclaiming her songs. And Mac. And PC. Although Mac should be thanking me, as I'm totally slipping subliminal mind messages into this fic. I mean, look at the title!
Oh yes. I also don't own Voldemort, Harry Potter, etc. It's so easy to forget about those sorts of things.
Lees! (Dutch. Goooo polyglots!)
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Voldemort was still in shock by the next day. The fact that the Potter kid had defeated him without even trying, while nothing new, was still disheartening. He spent the morning glaring at his wonderful technology, questioning how it could've betrayed him like this.
"Good news, my lord!" Bellatrix said brightly, "We're getting a big screen TV today!"
"Oh, well that's just grand." Voldemort said sarcastically, "Haven't you caught on, Bellatrix? All those muggle things, they're hollow. They look great, but once you get to know them…" he shot the laptop an icy look.
Bellatirx shrugged. "Whatever." She said, and went into the lounge to watch her new wide screen.
Sniffling slightly in self-pity, the Dark Lord could hear the TV click on. He heard Snape yelling to go the Cooking Channel (Martha Stewart was on,) and then the other Death Eaters ultimately deciding on Friends, during a commercial break.
"Hello! I'm a Mac!"
"And I'm a PC!"
Voldemort sat bolt upright. He jumped off the couch and sprinted into the lounge. Panting, he saw a personified Mac and PC being displayed in Hi-Def glory.
"What are they talking about?!" This could be the answer a way to beat Potter's stupid MacBook. The PC always won, right?
"Well," Lucius said, "there's the Mac," he pointed to the young, relaxed man, "and that's the PC." He motioned towards the old geezer in a suit. Voldemort felt his hopes drop a notch or two.
"And right now, PC is trying to prove that you can display a family holiday with a pie chart, rather than say a photo album."
"And surely PC is completely killing Mac's argument?"
"Well, no. See the PC is making an utter fool of himself, and Mac is advertising for iLife."
"iLife…" Voldemort whispered. "It's like an angel's name…."
Lucius coughed. "Sure, my lord. But if you could keep it down, I want to see what happens to Rachael and Monica."
Feeling unwanted, Voldemort left his minions to their petty TV show, and went to his trusty telephone. Old Phone would never betray him. It wasn't technology.
"Hello, I'd like to order iLife… What kind of Mac do I have?" Voldemort repeated. "What is that supposed to mean? I have to have a Mac to 'operate' iLife? Well that is the stupidest thing I've ever heard of! Good sir, you have just lost one fine paying customer!" Furious, the Dark Lord slammed the receiver back on the hook.
"The nerve…" he muttered. Now his life really was lost. There was no other solution… He'd have to throw in the towel. Sadly, he opened his laptop, preparing to shut it down once and for all…
When a pop-up ad appeared.
That little ad filled him with hope. For it said: This is not a joke! You have just won a free MP3 player! Click here, to collect it!
Voldemort, in all contradiction to his manliness, squealed and clicked. And against all odds, he actually got the MP3 player promised to him.
Wondering how many other free items were available over the web, Voldemort began obsessively surfing it, checking all the flashing ads. Slowly, another plan, this one more devious, this one more evil, this one much more convoluted, formed in his mind. The torn, bloodied, and rather dingy bits of his soul left danced with glee.
The Pimp'n Dark Lord was going to take the Potter kid down. Below sea level. Burn.
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"Um, iLife?" Harry looked at the program CD. "What does it do?"
"You can make videos, Harry!" Hermoine said.
"And post them on YouTube!" Ron added.
"Thanks guys! Here, I even got you a [insert holiday of choice here present!"
Ron and Hermione's faces fell slightly. Two rolls of parchment, and two new quills wrapped in a bow presented themselves.
"It's… great, Harry." Hermione managed.
"What? You don't like them do you? I should've gotten the colored ink…"
"No, mate, it's just that, well, we were hoping to get some sort of computer. At least a USB jump drive…"
"Oh." Harry looked at the gifts. He had spent so long picking them out too… "Well, I'm sure that new printer will at least take the parchment!" He said. "Let's go try it!" He bounced up and over to the computer
Ron groaned. Hermione covered her face. Harry still hadn't learned about printing stock, even after the toilet paper incident.
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A small toy car, with a long antennae, zipped up the driveway to Malfoy Manor. A UPS sticker had hastily been slapped on the side, and another package was strapped to the roof.
It ran into the door.
"Damn!" hissed the postman through the walkie-talkie glued to the windshield.
"Come – on." He muttered, continuously ramming the little car. The front bender fell off.
Still cursing, the postman dodged out from the behind some of the neighbor's bushes, sprinted up to the door, hit the doorbell, and scrambled back to cover.
The eye glanced out its peephole. "Yess – What the?"
There was a thump as the car yet again ran into the door.
Uneasily, the eye said, "Um… one moment…"
The doors flew wide.
"Put the package down." The voice boomed.
"If someone could just come take it off," the postman crackled through the radio.
"What? Foolish UPS man!"
"Well there's no way I'm coming back up there in person."
"Fine…." Grumbled the voice. "Snape, put your #$#$ing teapot down, and go get this package!"
Another muffled argument.
"- I don't care about your stupid 'Irish Blend' - "
More indistinguishable voices. The postman practiced doing donuts around the foyer.
When the voice returned, it sounded very ticked off. "My minion insists that he his in the very delicate stages of gluing his #$#$ing teapot back together for his #$#$ing 'Irish Blend'." It was possible to imagine the voice doing the quotations marks around his head.
"So please just driver up the stairs, and take a the first left."
"What? Are you mad?" the postman demanded, "I spent 10 pounds on this thing!"
"I'm sorry sir." The voice said woodenly. " But my time is ticking away, so if you could just get over this incessant whining… Did I mention the toy Chihuahua cage is remote activated now?"
The neighbor's bushes screamed. And suddenly they seemed a lot emptier.
Upstairs, the Dark Lord cackled. Suddenly he began to wheeze, cough and choke.
"I'd fix you up a nice hot cup of tea," Snape shouted obnoxiously from the kitchen, "but sadly, my teapot is broken, because somebody was just chucking around the scissors. Maybe," the Death Eater entered the room, with his greasy hair slightly matted with blood, and a hot glue trailing from his fingers, "you'd like a blackened biscuit?"
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AN: This is fun. Not for Snape though.
