I'm so proud of myself! I had extra time on my hands today and was browsing the website, logged on out of curiosity of how many views this got (188 and counting by the way! Whoo!), when I noticed more reviews asking me to continue! Well, who am I to say no? So I wrote this entire piece start to finish during the past few hours. This has NEVER happened before! So review! It has been proven to make me write faster!

Special thanks to Sky, OcHaven4453, and some anonymous guest for their encouragement.

From the Abuser of Exclamation Points (!)

lazyiguana

...one last thing. I recently received a copy of the first HP book translated into Ancient Greek. Isn't that the coolest thing ever?! I am so happy right now!

11) If you ever need to say 'Like taking candy from a baby', be sure to add 'Of course, SOME of us might find that harder than others.' Stare pointedly at him.

I was heading back to my hide-away when I saw a very familiar head of greasy hair walking towards the apparition point. "Professor!"

He turned, and said in a scathing voice, "Yes, Miss Ranunculus? I thought I had gotten rid of you when you left Hogwarts."

"Aw, you missed me!" I said delightedly.

"I will admit I rather liked seeing Potter and his friends taken down a few notches every once in a while," he slowly admitted.

"Oh, it was nothing," I waved my hand happily. "Just following Orders."

"Orders?" he asked, looking wary. "Did the Dark Lord give you that mission while you were in school?"

"No, of course not. Tormenting Potter is one of the cardinal rules of the Snakes Who Like Eating Pasta With Spoons Club!"

"I can't say I've heard of that one before. How many Slytherins participate?"

"Just me for now. No one else seems to have time for important extra-curriculars, for some reason. They're always super-busy when I try to recruit."

I could hear the sneer in Professor Snape's voice as he said, "One of the characteristics of a good Slytherin is self-preservation. A trait you clearly lack." He nodded back in the direction of where the meeting had taken place. "But enough of this. I doubt you stopped me merely to speak of your little club."

I pouted at the "little." "Well, I had a plan to capture Potter."

"Oh?" Despite his nonchalant tone I could tell he was interested.

"Yeah," I nodded enthusiastically. "All we have to do is steal a Muggle ice cream truck, turn on the jingle and park outside his house. Every kid within hearing distance will come running. And who would expect a Death Eater manning an ice cream truck? Potter certainly wouldn't. He's rather naïve, isn't he? But anyway, it would be easy, like taking candy from a baby." I paused and saw Voldemort gliding away, and stared pointedly at him. "Of course, some of us might find that harder than others."

Snape snorted. Or groaned. Or something. The mask muffled the sound. "You really are so foolish as to say that out loud?"

"Nah," I said breezily. "He's out of hearing distance. I do have some self-preservation instinct. So what do you think of my plan? It's great, isn't it?"

"You have the mental capacity of a teaspoon," he said acerbically and stalked off.

"You're just jealous!" I called to his back. I noticed most of the Death Eaters were blatantly staring and added for my own amusement, "I do too have a larger ceramic guinea pig collection!" Ah, confusing Death Eaters was such a fun hobby.

12) Play 'knock-&-run' at his bedchamber door late at night.

The rest of the day went surprisingly fast. I spent the entire time looking for secret passageways. (I only found one, which turned out to be a laundry chute oddly enough. I wasn't sure why there was even a laundry chute in the first place. This was a magical house, where house elves poofed dirty clothing straight into the magical tub of suds.)

It was nearing midnight as I finally made my way back to the guest room I was residing in. I giggled as I passed Voldemort's room, remembering the time I had caterwauled popular Muggle songs in his ear. He had no doubt added more wards and protections since then. I paused speculatively. He hadn't warded the door. I knocked. Loudly.

I dashed around the corner just as the door was yanked open. I held my breath, waiting, as I heard him pause in the doorway looking for whoever knocked. At last he closed the door.

A wide grin split my face as I knocked again and again ran around the corner when Voldemort opened the door. This time he slammed it closed loudly, and I could hear several locking charms fall into place.

I crept up for the final time (because any more and I would be swimming with the grindylows) and knocked REALLY LOUDLY. I raced down the hall, praying I would make it to my room before Voldemort started hunting down whoever was idiotic enough to disturb his beauty sleep.

13) Call him 'The-man-who-let-the-boy-live'

Early the next morning I staggered down to the kitchen to get some coffee. I didn't need it, but I liked the caffeine rush occasionally. To my surprise, a random Death Eater was already there. He was tall, bulky, blond, and reading the Daily Prophet.

"Who are you?" I demanded.

He looked up unimpressed. "Who are you?"

I struck a superhero pose. "I am the amazing Lilian Ranunculus, Death Eater and prankster extraordinaire!" I saw a plate of assorted doughnuts on the table and leapt for them, effectively destroying my dramatic moment. I grabbed two and stuffed one of them in my mouth. Yum. Glazed chocolate.

I sat down across from the man and called out, "Mipsy!" With a crack a house elf appeared.

"What can Mipsy do for Miss Lilian?"

"Coffee!" I demanded. So I wasn't a morning person. So what? I accepted my steaming beverage gratefully and practically inhaled it.

The Death Eater across from me raised his eyebrow in obvious (Slytherin-obvious, not Gryffindork obvious) amusement. I stared back at him and began munching on the second doughnut (strawberry glazed this time).

He broke the silence first. "Thorfinn Rowle."

"Who?"

"My name."

"Oh," I replied, feeling foolish. I stood up with my hands on my hips and stared off into the distance, proclaiming grandly, "And I am the amazing-"

He interrupted, "Yes, yes, you said that already."

"I did? Well, my name is so magnificent, it needed to be said again." I plopped down into my chair, and snatched another doughnut. "Why do you read that trash?" I indicated the newspaper Rowle was holding.

He looked at me like I was stupid. "It's the only newspaper."

"So the Quibbler and Witch Weekly don't count?"

He didn't even deign that with a response. I was tempted to continue and be even more annoying, but I was too pleasantly full on doughnuts. I instead glanced at the front page and saw a picture of a flaming building. "What's the scoop?"

Rowle flipped back to the front and read the headline aloud. "You-Know-Who Torches Home." He continued on, "Last night He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and a group of Death Eaters set fire to a house belonging to… It just goes on to say the Ministry is doing what it can and things like that." He looked at the Daily Prophet again. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is quite a mouthful, isn't it? They ought to just call him the Dark Lord."

I shrugged. "It could be worse. They could have called him The-Man-Who-Let-The-Boy-Live."

He eyed me for a moment, then said frankly, "I can't decide if you have a death wish or not."

I put a last doughnut (blueberry) into my mouth, smiled around glazed goodness, and ambled out the door. Maybe I'd introduce garden gnomes to the Malfoy lawn.

14) Ask why the Dark Mark couldn't look like something 'more socially acceptable?'

I only made it halfway through the entrance hall.

"Ranunculus," Lord Voldemort said.

I stopped and turned to face him, curtsying as I did. "Yes, my Lord?"

"Come. It is time for you to receive your Mark."

Oh. I followed him through to the room where he had crucio'd Greyback. Five Inner Circle members were present. I curled my lip at Malfoy Sr. I wished he wouldn't be there to see me in pain, but apparently he would. Drat.

"Kneel," Voldemort commanded.

I did so and winced slightly as my knees met the cold floor. For a brief moment I wished I had worn slacks rather than a skirt under my unfastened robes. The stone tiles were freezing, even in this hot summer.

I held out my left arm to the Dark Lord and pulled back the sleeve, baring the pale skin of my inner forearm.

He grabbed my arm with one hand and with the other dug the tip of his wand into the fleshy part. He hissed something in Parseltongue, making my skin crawl with the creepiness of it.

And then the pain struck. It was just as bad as the Cruciatus Curse. I screamed and tried to not scream at the same time, resulting in a sound rather similar to what I imagined a Kneazle would sound like when trodden upon. After that I stopped trying to hold it in and screamed long and loud, flopping about, only held up by Voldemort's grasp on my arm.

At long last Voldemort pulled back and the agony ended, and I was left gasping on the floor. I hauled myself up into a kneeling position once more.

"Bellatrix," Lord Voldemort said, "give Ranunculus her mask."

Bellatrix Lestrange swaggered forward and thrust a bone-white mask into my still-trembling hands. "Here you go, brat."

I grinned at her, and to my surprise she smirked back. "Any questions, brat?"

I looked down at the snake and skull emblazoned upon my skin and sighed a little. "This is really great, but I'm not going to be able to wear a swimsuit any more without mass panic. Why can't it be a bit more socially acceptable?"

Anger flashed in her eyes, but was quickly followed by amusement and interest. "I like you, brat. Stop by whenever you want tips on good dark curses."

"Will do," I said happily. I could practically feel the malice emanating from the glare Lucius Malfoy threw at his sister-in-law.

15) Insist that you have met chunks of cheese with more cunning plans than his.

"Follow me, loyal followers." Lord Voldemort stalked from the room. The Inner Circle proceeded behind. I tagged along, not sure whether he meant me or not.

We went into yet another familiar room: the site of Voldemort's plotting sessions.

Everyone sat at the table. I noted the bubblegum splatter had been cleaned up since the last time. I zoned out as the plotting began, only tuning in occasionally.

A screeching laugh from Bellatrix dragged me out of my light doze. "A splendid idea, my Lord! We simply wait until the boy's seventeenth birthday when the wards fall, then grab him! How cunning!"

I snorted. "I've met chunks of cheese with plans more cunning," I insisted.

Voldemort hissed something in Parseltongue and my Mark burned in pain. Oh, how it burned!

"Ohhh," I groaned. "I apologize, my Lord. I spoke out of turn."

The torment gradually stopped. I idly wondered whether I would ever get to a point where I could simply ignore the pain, or go mad like Bella. I knew I would be in pain for multiple times yet, because I loved being annoying and a pest, and had no intention of stopping any time soon.

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