At The Prancing Pony, Wormtail snuck around the 13th room on the 13th floor, wearing an Invisibility Cloak and careful not to wake up his guests.
He had had to hold very, very still for almost two hours while Harry Potter paced around the room, ate a chocolate bar, talked to himself, played the violin, used the toilet, sang the final verse of "Breakaway," cleaned his glasses and brushed his teeth.
But now, the boy was fast asleep on his uncomfortable bed, probably having another nightmare about his parents.
"Sleep well, Harry Potter," Wormtail whispered at him, unable to stop himself from chuckling a little. "Because, soon, you'll be in a sleep that you'll never wake up from."
He then suddenly felt uneasy. He just remembered something. Something that he had forgotten to do.
"Dobby's sock," he muttered. "I forgot to place a camera above Potter's bed."
This wasn't going to be easy for him. He had no trouble at all hanging a camera in front of Hermione's bed, due to how deep her sleep was. He hadn't any problem's with Ron's bed either.
But Wormtail had a feeling that Harry could be woken up easily. This made him very concerned about what he was about to do.
Slowly, gently, he climbed on top of his bed. He almost fell off as he did so.
"This mattress really is crappy," he said to himself. "It's a wonder that they haven't shut down this hotel by now."
He then remembered that talking to himself probably wasn't a very good idea right now. It might wake up Harry.
So he shushed himself.
"Shhhhh," he went, placing a finger over his lips.
He crept across the crappy mattress, doing everything in his power to not step on any part of Harry. When he got to the wall, he began the process of installing the camera.
"Shame that I didn't do this before he arrived," he muttered. "It would've been much easier."
He then shushed himself again. He had a way of forgetting when he needed to be quiet.
"Shhhh," he went, placing a finger over his lips once more.
What exactly is wrong with the author of this story anyway?
Anyway, after fifteen minutes, Wormtail was finally done with his task. It hadn't been easy, since Harry had squirmed a lot, but he had managed to do it without waking the boy.
He crawled off the bed and crept out the door. Several Death Eaters were waiting for him outside.
"Did you do it?" one of them asked him.
"Yes," said Wormtail with delight as he took off the Invisibility Cloak and shut the door behind him. "All of the cameras have been installed!"
"Excellent," responded the Death Eater. "Now Potter's demise will be captured on camera, and the whole world will be able to watch his death on Youtube."
"What's Youtube?" asked one the other Death Eaters.
"I'll explain it to you later," the Death Eater told him, rolling his eyes behind his mask.
"So, when are you boys doing it?" asked Wormtail. "They may not stay asleep, you know, and we want to make their deaths entertaining, if you follow what I'm saying."
"We do it in about half an hour," responded the Death Eater. "We just have to go over the script first."
"Script?" went one of the Death Eaters, who appeared to be the only woman in the group. "I wasn't aware that we had a script."
"Yes," said the Death Eater, handing sheets of paper out to all of them. "We want to scare Potter as much as possible before we kill him, you see, so we must prepare for that. Also, I think that it would be best to kill Granger and Weasley first. That way Potter would have to endure the agony of watching his friends die."
"Good thinking," said one of the Death Eaters. "What a pleasant surpirse that this will be for the Dark Lord!"
"Surprise?" went one of the Death Eaters, clearly concerned. "You're meaning to say that the Dark Lord doesn't know about any of this?"
"No, not at all," answered the other Death Eater. "It was all Wormtail's idea."
Wormtail smiled proudly.
"This is going to be just like that 'Vacancy' movie," he said in an excited voice. "Oh, won't the Dark Lord be pleased with me for remembering his birthday!"
"It's his birthday?" one of the Death Eaters asked, looking over the pages of his script. "I wasn't aware that it was here yet."
"Well, I'm pretty sure that it is," said Wormtail, although his voice seemed uncertain. "In any case, the Dark Lord will definately be happy about this."
"Not likely," responded the Death Eater. "I think that there's something wrong with my script. It seems to just be the opening scene in 'Mission: Impossible 3'."
"Mine's from 'Star Wars'," said another Death Eater. "It's Padme asking Anakin to hold her like he did on the lake of Naboo."
"Eewww," went another Death Eater.
"Mine's even worse than that, I'm afraid," said the female Death Eater sadly. "It's the 'Sam's happy time' joke from 'Transformers'."
"Enough of these pointless movie references!" shouted one of the Death Eaters, grabbing all of the scripts from his comrades. He looked over them and made a disgusted sound.
"None of these are right!" he yelled. "None of them at all! That's the last time I let a house elf use the printer!"
"What are we going to do?" cried one of the Death Eaters. "Our evil plan is ruined!"
"Not to worry," said another Death Eater, giving his friend a firm pat on the back. "We'll just wing it. How hard can that be?"
"Well, then we have to come up with something fast," said the female Death Eater. "We have to do this before morning, or the hotel will open back up before Potter is dead!"
And so they all sat down in a small circle, quickly coming up with a plan to destory Potter that was so complicated that the author won't even bother trying to explain it in this chapter.
"Alright," said Wormtail after they were done with their discussion. "Let's give the Dark Lord the happy birthday that he deserves!"
They all did the secret Death Eater handshake with each other and went off to their places. If Potter wasn't going to make it out of this one alive, then everything would have to go according to plan.
Meanwhile, at St. Mungo's hospital, the Trix Rabbit was on his deathbed.
He had been sick for a long time, with a rare disease that only rabbits can get. The doctors had been doing all that they could for him, but they were finally out of ideas.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Rabbit," said one of the doctors in a polite but sincerely sad tone of voice. "There is nothing more that we can do for you when it comes to treatment."
The Trix Rabbit struggled to keep his eyes open so he could look at his doctor.
"How much time do I have?" he asked in a wheezy voice.
"I'm afraid," said the doctor, "that you only have a few hours left."
The Trix Rabbit said nothing at first.
"It's just as well," he said at last with a heavy sigh. "You've been good to me, doc. You really have."
A tear welled up in the doctor's eye.
"Is there anything that I can do for you?" he asked the dying bunny. "Anything at all that you would want?"
The Trix Rabbit knew exactly what he wanted. The thing that had eluded him for his whole life. The thing that he had spent years of agony trying to get.
He wanted to taste Trix cereal. Just once. Then his life would finally be worth something.
"Call the kids," he whispered to the doctor. "Tell them to come and see me."
