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6) Smile during Death-Eater meetings and say you taught him everything he knows.

We entered the dining hall a few minutes later. Lord Voldemort was sitting at the head of table, his eyes coldly taking in all the Death Eaters. I quickly sat at the opposite end towards the left-hand side, where the lowest seat was, sinking low in my seat when he glanced at us. The Cruciatus had reminded me who exactly I had been annoying. It was a deadly game I was playing, a sort of wizardly Russian roulette. And I had come close to having my head blown off, a sobering thought.

The Dark Lord began with a casually thrown crucio! to some poor sod who sat near the middle, as usual. I think his name was Avery. He had messed up big time last year at the Department of Mysteries, apparently, and was still suffering for it. "Yaxley. Report."

Yaxley, a tall, ugly fellow with a face resembling roughly hewed stone, stated, "I am getting closer to my target in the Ministry. He suspects nothing. I am actually invited to attend a Samhain celebration next month he is hosting at his manor."

The Snake Lord nodded. "Very good. Rookwood?" Though still out of favor due to the Mysteries fiasco, Rookwood still was of use to the Dark Lord.

I started chatting conversationally in a low voice to the Death Eater next to me. He looked like he had just graduated school...at age thirty. He had a perpetually pole-axed expression on his face. If I had to gradually climb the ranks of the DE's in order to gain any respect, it didn't look too hard to pass the bottom couple levels. "Isn't he magnificent?"

He stared at me stupidly.

"Our Lord, pea-brain. Isn't he the greatest?"

He stared some more. I think he was drooling. What an idiot.

"I should know, personally. I was, after all, the one who taught him everything."

Ah-ha! A reaction! His eyes widened, and he lost a bit of the I'm-a-genetic-throwback-to-the-CroMagnon-era-pleas e-remove-me-from-the-gene-pool-immediately countenance.

"By everything, I mean everything. I introduced him to Parseltongue, uniform choices, some of his most loyal followers, tactics both combat and otherwise...though I clearly need to work on his retrieve-the-Boy-Who-Just-Won't-Die-skills..." I trailed off. The Death Eater's eyes were glazed over and he was once again drooling. I huffed. "See if I tell you anything again. Pea brain."

Returning my attention to the head of the table, I heard Malfoy Sr. begin to expound upon the possibility of various Dark objects to force entry into Hogwarts. Or Hogsmeade. Or maybe something about Halloween. I wasn't paying much attention.

7) Chew bubblegum all the time. Should he address you, your only response will be a series of huge bubbles in quick succession, the last of which will burst everywhere and make a mess.

I sighed quietly, already bored with all the evil plotting going on around me. Conversation had just been proven to be worthless as well. I surreptitiously slid a packet of Drooble's bubblegum out of my pocket and after glancing around to make sure no one saw me, popped a piece in my mouth. I chewed slowly.

"The Ministry has become far too arrogant in their thinking. They believe they have the upper hand in this conflict." He waited while we minions hissed and booed at such folly. I rolled my eyes. The Ministry were idiots. "We will send them a message to correct this grievous oversight. Wormtail!"

I coughed a little. "Wormtail?" I said, surprised. "The Marauder?" I had heard of the Marauders, of course, but only of James Potter and Sirius Black- mostly through the angry mutterings of my cousin, who had been in third year when they graduated. Being a Slytherin, he and the rest of his house had been the butt of most of the Marauders' pranks.

A snivelling little man crawled out from underneath the table. I shuddered. He was disgusting. Greasy brown hair, twitching hands, shifty eyes. rodent-like features, gruesome hygiene. Eew. "Y-yes, Master?"

"Ah," I stage-muttered to myself. "Explains a lot." A few Death Eaters sitting near my muffled their snorts and the little man- Wormtail- glared at my before turning to grovel at the feet of Big V.

Speaking of Big V... "Bring out the prisoner!"

Wormtail unsteadily rose and walked over to a door to the Lord's right that I hadn't noticed earlier. He opened it and "Squeak!" dropped to the floor, Stupefied by a beam of red light. No one came out of the room. Whoever it was, they were probably planning on making a stand there.

I chewed my bubblegum more vigorously. This was bound to be entertaining.

Lord Snake-man laughed, high and cold. "We have a fighter! Good. Ranunculus!" He snapped.

I tore my gaze from the still-open door and looked over at him. I blew a huge bubble and popped it. "Mmm?"

He smirked at me. It was unsettling, and rather vicious-looking. I started blowing another big bubble. "Retrieve the prisoner."

The large Drooble bubble popped in my face. I choked. Coughing and hacking, I sputtered out a "Wh-Wha?" I gave one last heave and spat the sad remains of my bubblegum onto the table in front of me. I scourgified the sticky mess off my face and hair (but left the stuff on the table just to annoy Lucius; it was his table, after all) before standing up. "Okay..." One obeyed their master, after all.

8) Dance the Funky Chicken.

I slid over to the wall near the awaiting door, trembling slightly despite my Whatever Face™.

I turned to face the gaping maw of blackness radiating doom and despair. Well, not exactly. It was a standard wooden doorframe with a not-so-intimidating door attached. Not very ferocious decor. It needed more snake motifs.

I turned back to face the table. Slowly pulling out my wand for special effect, I pointed it at the Death Eater who had been a terrible conversationalist. I mustered all my frustration and hate and fear to the forefront of my mind. It built up quickly. When an image of a green turtle (long story) crossed my train of thought, I barked out a quick "Crucio!"

It was a great spell. It also had no effect whatsoever. The Death Eater twitched a bit. His drooling returned in full. I huffed. That certainly explained his earlier behavior. His mind was already broken. "Dang it."

I turned a speculative eye onto the others. They all had what-the-bloody-hell expressions on their faces. A few were looking at me warily, mostly ones who had witnessed mayhem caused by me. And the carnage. And the tears. And the- ahem.

My gaze fastened on a pureblood snob with a supercilious. Parkinson, I thought he was. He greatly resembled his daughter, pug face and all. I didn't like Pansy. I didn't think I'd like him either.

"Ansypay isay a onkeyday!" I shouted with concentration and force, trying to pass it off as the incantation of a spell. Then I wordlessly conjured a mixture of skrewt dung and mud and waved my wand, sending it flying into his face. For good measure I made sure it splattered on the men sitting on either side of him as well.

The Lord Parkinson and the other two who got hit stood up in rage and indignation, firing curse after nasty-looking curse at me. I ducked underneath a crimson one and sidestepped a bright blue one, finishing up with my finale: jumping into the room and pulling the door shut. It was rather dark in hear; I could barely see a few meters in front of me. Hearing a whisper, I dropped to the floor, narrowly missing a red spell from whoever was in here refusing to be a good little prisoner and surrendering they ought to.

I paused. That had almost sounded like Auntie Bellatrix (she's really my third cousin once-removed on my mother's side, or something like that). And that gave me an idea. A wonderfully delicious idea that would most likely not end up with me getting maimed. I liked those types of ideas.

I stood up and spelled my hair bushier. I pitched my voice higher and said with what I hoped sounded like an insane cackle, "That wasn't very nice. You could've hit me with that."

The ploy was apparently successful, for I heard a muffled gasp of fear. I let loose a mad giggle. "Come out and play," I called out in a sing-song voice. "Come play with Bella."

I stepped to the side as a yellow spell whizzed by about half a meter away. The other person wasn't very good at aiming. Or maybe their wand hand was shaking too hard with fear, I mused smugly.

Now to drop the almost-prisoner.

I disillusioned myself and silenced my feet. Skimming the fingertips of my left hand along the wall as I went, I crept to the other side of the room, wand at the ready. I heard slight panting towards my right, and aimed carefully at where I thought my target was.

"Tollo baculum," I whispered softly. "Peplum ad saxum." I added on a "Lumos," when I heard a yelp of surprise and a dull thump.

The glow from my wandtip revealed a wand floating near the ceiling, and directly below it, a wizard whose robes I had turned to stone, effectively trapping him. Just in case he knew wandless magic, I bound his mouth shut and his fingers together.

I summoned the wand to myself and looked it over. It was shorter than my forearm, and made of what looked like birch. Not very impressive, just like the wizard. He was somewhat pudgy, and was balding. His robes were the shade of puke. Ick.

With a finite incantatem I canceled the spell on my hair, returning it to its natural state. The wizard started, and stared at me before groaning aloud.

I giggled, this time in my own voice. "Thought I was Bellatrix, did you? Oops!" Laughing, I danced around for a while, then paused. "Victory dance!"

"Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah, nah nah nah nah!" I sang, moving my hands and upper body through the motions most commonly known as the Funky Chicken dance.

I was shaking my rear end for the fourth time when the door behind me opened and the room flooded with light.

I turned around with surprise as I nox-ed my own light.

The prisoner gave a strangled gasp as we both saw Lord Voldemort standing in the doorway.

It was an imposing sight. Long blacker-than-night robes flowing to the floor, red eye glowing out from his pale snakey face. "Voldiepickles!" I said delightedly. "I've retrieved the prisoner!"

Said prisoner seemed to have gained his voice back. "So this is your plan! You thought you could get away with it too!"

I couldn't resist, and chipped in, "If it weren't for you meddling kids!" Both wizards turned to look at me, clearly confused (the prisoner) and irritated at the strange interruption. I huffed and looked away.

Voldemort asked in an amused but still vicious voice, "And what did you think I could not 'get away with'?"

"Your plan to create more Bellatrix Lestranges, of course! Well, it won't work! Dumbledore knows all about it now!"

"Curses, foiled again!" I was faced with the same stares. I pouted. "What? It was a valid response!"

The prisoner was looking a lot less sure of himself now. I think he just realized who he was talking to: the Dark Lord and a minion he had just classified as a mini-Bellatrix. He forged on nevertheless. "Your time will come, and you will fall!"

I had to admit it was rather funny watching him try to point threateningly at Voldemort while having his arms pinned to his sides by his rock-robes. I decided to pensieve it someday.

Voldemort cast a shimmering barrier around the captive wizard-I assume to block sound and sight of the HQ, as the man had implied that he was carrying a recording/transmitting device- and floated him out the door into the now nearly empty meeting room. "Lucius!" he commanded.

The blonde man walked over. "Yes my Lord?"

"Place this man in a cell and search him thoroughly. Report to me when you are done."

"Yes my Lord."

I slipped away before the Voldie could remember that I was a follower and had not yet received the Dark Mark. For a dark lord he was surprisingly forgetful about that one particular thing.

9) Ask him when was the last time he took a bath.

The last thing I expected to happen on the way up to the room I was staying in was to be ambushed by a few Death Eaters that looked only a few years older than me. I wondered if they were Hogwarts graduates. They seemed familiar.

One said, "Dic mentes!" in a thick accent.

"Oh. Durmstrang. That's where I've seen you!"

They looked at me funny.

"They're staring at me weirdly. Why are they doing that? Oooh, I'll prank them! Get them back for that! Maybe with some spellotape. Or maybe the one with the chicken and the hammer and the-" I paused for a moment and watched the guys leave with slightly scared looks. "How strange."

I walked on. "This hallway could use more snakes and less peacocks. Actually, it'd look best with pictures of snakes eating peacocks. That'd be neat. Oh, look, another DE. How many are there in here anyway? Fifty? Yay, more victims! I wonder if I could get Bella to help me with my next prank. I don't know what I'm going to do, but with her in it, it's bound to be great."

I got another terrified look.

"What is with these people today? They look like I'm plotting their doom or something. Okay, I kind of am, but they don't know that! Yet."

I turned a corner and nearly ran into a tall person. "Whoa. Near collision! Eew! What's that smell? It's rather musty, like a snake. Oh. Tall. Snakey. Voldemort. Oh." I looked up into those red eyes.

He looked at me inscrutably.

"That smell is really gross. When was the last time he took a bath? Why is he frowning? What'd I do? All I did was think- Oh, no! Legilimency! He's reading my thoughts! Occlumency, go! They're already there. Then why- Oh. Dic mentes. That stupid spell. Reveal the thoughts. I'll get them, fill their pants with spuds, I will, I'll- right. End the spell first. Finite incantatem.

"Um, I apologize most greatly, my Lord. Uh, bye!"

I sped off again. With all the running around I was doing, I mused, I was becoming pretty athletic.

10) Pat him on the head and give him flowers when his plans are foiled yet again.

The next meeting was a standard DE meeting: meaning we all had to gather in a large hall and stand around for what seemed like forever.

At last Lord Voldemort glided in. As soon as I saw him, for a moment I wished the waiting had gone on forever. He was furious.

"Greyback," he hissed. As soon as his target stepped forward, he said, "Crucio!"

The werewolf writhed on the ground for several minutes before Voldemort ended the spell. He lay gasping on the floor, still twitching for a long time.

The Dark Lord surveyed us. "When I command you to complete a task, I expect you to complete it! Greyback here exemplifies the monumental idiocy," he spat, "that I wished for him to avoid. I ordered him to raid the Ministry while they were busy with Dumbledore's funeral, and what does he do? He fails to even make it into the atrium because he can't even create a simple false identity to give to the lift!" He turned back to Greyback. "Crucio!"

Greyback let out a howl like a- excuse the pun- wounded dog.

We all shifted nervously.

I froze as I realized something. Dumbledore was dead? Who would be the champion of the Light? Harry Potter? If Potter remained the socially awkward klutz I knew in Hogwarts, then the Light was doomed.

I glanced warily back at Voldemort. There was something I'd always wanted to do during times like these, but I was doubtful I'd survive the reciprocation, especially what with how enraged he was at the moment.

I shrugged. Life was full of risks. That was what made it so fun.

I was standing surprisingly close to Voldemort for a newbie, only a few rows back, off to his right. I walked slowly up to him, careful to make sure he saw me coming. Nothing can kill you faster than a tense, startled Dark Lord.

Reaching up- he was bloody tall!- I slowly patted him on his bald head. Vaguely I noticed it felt like snake skin. He was surprised enough that his crucio stopped. Greyback scrambled backwards into the ranks, trembling.

I conjured a bunch of daisies and handed them to him, saying soothingly, "It's fine. Greyback was a blockhead," I glared at said werewolf, "but it might turn out for the best. The Ministry will be shaken up, but Bones and the Aurors will be expecting something like this. Why don't we wait until you have Potter in your hands? Just catch him at the Muggles' place when he leaves. I'd probably leave there as soon as I turned seventeen, he's probably no different."

"Ranunculus," he hissed scathingly. "Remove your hand from my head." I quickly did so, from where I'd been patting him absently as I spoke. He continued on, "Do not ever again think to patronize me. I will not be so lenient then." I nodded quickly. "Everyone, get out of my sight."

We scattered.

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