This one's kind of short, so here's a fun little story. This story actually was inspired by my other Voldy fic, Don't Ask. Originally, the Mac commercial was going to be part of Don't Ask, and Don't Ask would've been a little longer. Than I pictured Harry using a Mac, and Voldemort using a PC, and bam. I pulled it out of Don't Ask and iVoldy was born.

Yup. That's the most exciting thing about my life.

DC: The only commercial thing mentioned (a lot) is Harry Potter himself! Woot! This'll be the shortest yet: I don't own Harry Potter… That was so quick and easy! Wow!

Okay, I'm done. Lido! (Portugese)

Harry crouched behind some bushes. In front of him was Malfoy Manor, the place of all evils, and the black hole of color. Above the manor, the private thunderhead crackled, while on all the surrounding properties were bathed in buttery sunlight. A bunny hopped across the street, holding a bundle of flowers. Suddenly, as it crossed the sidewalk, and it's fur turned gray. The flowers shriveled and fell off their stems. The bunny looked at Harry with red eyes, barred its fangs, and unfolding its leathery bat wings, flew over the manor, hissing foam.

How badly does Sirius really need to be saved, Harry wondered, as he watched the bunny take on a defenseless wolverine. Surely he can get out just fine by himself?

No, he contradicted himself firmly, he needs you!

Harry stepped out from the bushes and up to the front door. He rang the doorbell. It sounded like Keep Holding On.

"Yessss?" An eye asked as it appeared at the peephole.

"Hi, I'm here to rescue my previously deceased godfather. I believe your master is torturing him?"

"Ah yessss. Do, come in."

The door creaked open. There was no one waiting for him in the entrance hall. Harry thought this was rather rude. He whipped his feet and stepped in. The door closed behind him.

"So… That Potter kid." A voice snickered. It sounded as though it was coming from all around. "Come for your beloved godfather?"

"Yes!" Harry said bravely, "As I already told your butler!"

"Well face the truth, boy, here is your 'godfather'!" With a flourish that almost didn't seem possible because it was only a voice, a man walked into the room.

"Sirius!" Harry cried happily, running over and embracing him. "I'm so glad you're okay!"

Snape with magic marker all over his face grimaced. "I – love – you – Har - ry – my - brave – god - son."

"Wait a minute… Sirius never exchanged greetings without our secret handshake!" Harry gasped and stepped back. "You phoney! Who are you really?"

"Non – sense – boy. I – am – your – love - ing – god – fath - er."

But Harry had already kicked Snape hard, run out the door, and stopped, panting, at the curb.

"Stop him, minions!" Voldemort screeched

"Shush!" Lucius shouted from the TV room, "It's Monica, Chandler, and Ross!"

"Run after him, fools!"

Snape promptly collapsed onto the floor. Bellatrix and Narcissa leapt up to chase after Harry. They were five feet away when Harry, realizing he couldn't Apperate, held his hand out over the street.

"Get him!!!"

But it was too late. Just as Bellatrix made a swipe for his robes, a yellow taxicab swooped by picked him up, and zoomed off.

Dejectedly, the two Death Eaters returned to the house.

They stood in the door, as Snape moaned on the ground, bleeding slightly again, and Lucius cranked the TV up higher, so the uproarious laughter of studio audience echoed around the house.

"I would like," Voldemort said with forced calm, as though he had just done some painful breathing exercises a few moments before, "to have a house meeting."

Bellatrix and Narcissa nodded, and walked quietly to the conference room. Snape began to drag himself using only his arms in the same direction.

"Lucius," the Dark Lord said, composed, "please turn the TV off."

"Just wait until a commercial break-"

"I said turn that #$#$ing thing off, so turn it #$ing off!"

The TV turned off.

……………………………………………………………………………………………...

"So it's decided: Lucius will drive Snape to the ER, Bellatrix will scrub Snape's bodily fluids off the floor, and Narcissa will pick up the pizzas."

Everyone looked around, nodding in agreement. Snape made a gagging noise, for affirmation.

"Alright, people! Now that we've understood how to execute good plans, gone over the next one clearly, lined it up with the TV schedule," Voldemort shot Lucius a glare, "and covered what we're going to do in an effort to make up for the last one's flukes, we can break!"

The Death Eaters all stood up, except for Snape, who tried but fell off the small cot they had made for him.

"Ooh," Voldemort winced. "Tell the nurse he has a likely fractured skull, along with internal bleeding."

Lucius nodded, picked Snape up, and through him over his shoulder. At the doorway, he turned, smashing Snape's head into the frame.

"Yes, Lucius?"

"Nothing, my lord. Just needed a way to torture Snape for comical reasons a little more."

"Ah. Well, get going. I'm almost positive the bleeding should've stopped by now."

Lucius turned back around, and marched out the door.

Voldemort began to gather his papers. All in all, he reflected it had been a productive meeting. There had been the minor dispute about which show to conform to, but in the end, Lucius had decided Friends was more important than Will and Grace.

Luckily, none of the Death Eaters had caught on to his grand scheme, which was more convoluted. And neither had Harry.

The Dark Lord opened his private blog. It was so much more convenient than a diary.

Today the Pimp'n Dark Lord did Part One of his super awesome plan. His evil minion stuck a GPS tracker onto that Potter kid during their embrace of "love". Now the Pimp'n Dark Lord shall have insight into that Potter kid's life, and, more importantly, his computer life.

The Pimp'n Dark Lord is pleased. Very pleased.

He cackled. It was a long cackle. Eventually, Voldemort passed out on the floor, because he ran out of oxygen. But the second he was conscience again, he cackled some more. Then his throat hurt, rather badly, and suddenly he wished Snape wasn't receiving treatment so he could fix up a pot of tea.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

AN: Well, that's that, for now. I must warn you, this is my last day of break, so I can't update as often. Yes, I'm crying too.