"What is that? Is it dead?"

"I'm not sure, let's check."

*poke poke*

"It's alive!"

Disclaimer: not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine *sigh*

(P.S. Did anyone get the large movie reference in No. 20? I hope so, because I actually don't remember which movie it came from. Hurrah.)

21) Greet him in the mornings with a sarcastic 'My sir, you look particularly menacing today.'

When the meeting finally let out, it was late in the evening. Late late. I decided that one o'clock in the morning was the perfect time for an enchilada.

After I finished eating, I sloped up to bed. Ignoring evil plots sure took a lot out of a person. I was out like a light.

The next morning dawned bright and early. The window in my room let in the sunshine. I hissed as I was blinded by the early morning sunlight. "Someone, turn off the sun!" I groaned dramatically, flinging the covers back over my head.

After a few minutes of restless shifting, I conceded defeat and got out of bed. Yawning, I stumbled downstairs to the kitchen, where Rowle was reading the Daily Prophet.

"Mipsy!" I barked out. "Coffee!" I slumped down into a chair and dropped my head onto the table.

I heard a chuckle. A voice then spoke, "Well, this is vaguely familiar."

I grunted in response.

Mipsy popped in and placed a large mug of coffee in front of me before popping out.

I sniffed the scalding-hot heavenly beverage before gulping it down. I finished it in less than five seconds. When I set the empty mug down, I glanced up to see Rowle gaping at me. "What?"

"Wha- How did-" he stumbled for words. He shook his head. "Never mind."

I gave him a confused look and called for a toasted peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a glass of milk.

A few minutes passed as I devoured my delicious breakfast. I began licking the peanut butter off my fingers after I ate my sandwich. When I deemed my fingers unsticky enough, I drained the glass of milk. Yum.

"Huh," Rowle said.

I paused and looked up at him inquiringly.

He pushed the unfolded newspaper to me and pointed at a section on the second page. Death Eaters in Hogwarts? the title screamed in large font. I skimmed the article. Slytherin sixth-year Lilian Ranunculus disappeared during the Battle at Hogwarts, likely to join He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's legions of terror. This is the same battle, dear reader, in which we discovered where Severus Snape's true loyalties lay. Has he been slowly infecting the minds of our precious children with the Dark, or is Miss Ranunculus a special case?... more blah blah blah... Stay tuned, dear reader. And be wary. The Dark is sneaky.

I flung the paper down in disgust. "What?!" I practically howled in outrage. Rowle looked startled. Was he seriously expecting me to laugh about something like this travesty? "I didn't make the first page!" My indignant scream devolved into angry mutterings about how I should've been the headline, the unfair bias against minors, and how I'd get them all later... and their little familiars too!

I was in a foul mood for the rest of the morning, making snide comments to each and every person that walked through the doorway (except for Mrs. Malfoy; she kept me well-supplied with yummy scones).

The Dark Lord was no exception. As soon as he swept in, impeccable and creepy as ever, he immediately became a target in my grumpiness.

I snarled to myself, and said with heavy sarcasm, "My, sir, you look particularly menacing today."

He merely raised a nonexistent eyebrow at me, then turned to Rowle, the only other one currently in the room (still seated, reading the newspaper).

Rowle rolled his eyes and showed Lord Voldemort the article. "She's furious she didn't make the front page, my Lord."

Voldemort merely gave a small sneer, and swept out of the room.

22) Taunt him about his middle name. 'Marvolo? What's that, a washing detergent?'

His nonchalance infuriated me. Incensed, I stalked after him, Professor Snape style, robes billowing, but with quite a bit more flailing of the arms. "Hey, don't walk away from me!" I shouted. "You don't know what it's like to be me! I have to live up to the name Ranunculus! You didn't! You got to make up your own name!" I scoffed. "Good thing, too. I mean, really, Marvolo? That a washing detergent?"

I squeaked, anger replaced by fear, as Voldemort whirled and froze me with a flick of his wand.

His red eyes gleamed with malevolence. "How did you know that?" he hissed, his wand raising threateningly.

My mind blanked. "That it's a detergent? I didn't know that. Is it really?"

"You fool!" he glared. "Marvolo is a proud wizarding name passed down through the Slytherin line, not some dull Muggle product." -I was momentarily distracted, wondering at the fact that Voldemort knew what washing detergent was. His robes had certainly never seen any.- "How. Do. You. Know. My. Name?" Each word was punctuated by a wand jab and a step forward, until I was looking cross-eyed down the end of the wand poking me between my eyes.

Scary. I started babbling. "Well, I knew you would've been in Slytherin, since we're the House of ambition and cunning, which being Dark Lord and all takes a lot of, right? And you're a genius, so I just had to do a quick bit of research on every male genius that was in Slytherin in the past century. I knew you wouldn't have been at Hogwarts in the last forty years, because that was when you were being all Dark-Lordy and terrorizing the masses and stuff. And I wasn't sure how old you are- not that I'm saying you're old, my Lord! Just aged gracefully- so I couldn't be positive exactly when you would have been at Hogwarts. So I looked through the awards in the trophy case and found the plaque that shows everyone who had straight O's on their NEWTs, and then cross-referenced their names- there have been a surprising number of geniuses since 1900, I'll have you know, but you were the only one that didn't immediately rise to prominence or die nastily on one research trip or another." I gasped, breathing in -sweet air!- to relieve my severely depleted lungs. "Um, my Lord," I added belatedly, realizing just how much I'd been rambling.

I squirmed for a bit under his inscrutable stare.

23) Keep a 'good-behavior chart.' Award points and give out gold stars.

It was eons before he moved. "Well. It seems as if a few of my followers actually have a brain. I am correct in assuming this will not be spoken of again?" Despite the question mark, it wasn't actually a question.

I wanted to advise him on what people said about assumptions, but figured it would not be good for my extraordinary run of luck in not being injured for my blabbermouthiness. So I just bobbed my head and said, "Yes, my Lord. Of course, my Lord. My lips are sealed, my Lord," a few times before he swept off.

I hummed a bit to myself and wandered off in the other direction, back to the kitchen, summoning various art supplies as I went. By the time I reached my destination, minutes later- why couldn't these stairs move like at Hogwarts- I had an armful of materials that I dumped on the table. Rowle had left by then, so I didn't have as much stuff to shove off so I could spread out the white poster.

At the top I scrawled "Lord Voldemort's Good Behavior Chart" with tiny silver lines representing fireworks surrounding the title.

I was going to only include Voldemort, but it didn't seem quite fair to reward his deeds but ignore the others. I carefully drew and colored over the "Lord Voldemort," turning it into a vaguely-formed snake that resembled a fat green stick with fangs than a genuine reptile. I'd never claimed to be much of an artist. After further consideration I scratched out "Good" and wrote "Non-Evil" above it. Asking for good behavior might have been too big of a request for Death Eaters, after all.

I drew lines and lines and lines, and then began carefully writing in Lord Voldemort and then the names of all the Maniacal Minions I could remember. My mother had told me years ago that I ought to use my best calligraphy on everything. I was sure she'd've been proud of my curlicues and swooshes as I penned in Severus Snape- the man's name was great fun to write, as always.

Then when I'd written down all the names I'd cared to remember and my hand began to twinge, I affixed a shiny golden star sticker beside Voldemort's name. Then added two next two mine. It never hurt to give one's self a head-start.

I stepped back to survey the completed poster and nodded in satisfaction.

"Mipsy!"

The elf appeared in front of me, ears flapping as she bowed.

I handed her the Non-Evil Behavior Chart and commanded, "Hang this up in the meeting room, sort of behind the Dark Lord's chair. And make sure you use a permanent sticking charm!"

Mipsy looked at the chart and squeaked interestedly as she popped out of the room. I was fairly sure that the chart would be on the wall for quite some time. It was a permanent sticking charm after all, and the wallpaper was antique.

I nodded to myself in satisfaction, looking around me. "Tempus." Noon. I sighed heavily and sort of staggered over to a chair. It was some sort of dark solid wood, mahogany maybe. I patted the back of it. Nope.

I made my way through the door and subsequent hallway and another door and then another, and finally made it to the parlor. I poked the sofa cushion. Perfect.

I flopped over onto the couch. "Why meeeeeee," I whined.

24. Imperius his Death Eaters into a rousing chorus of 'All Things Bright and Beautiful.'

Another downside of the Dark Side is that beyond all the evil plotting and evil schemes and general all-around evilness, it gets dead boring. Sure, every once in a while I try to mix it up a bit, but all too soon it just settles back into the humdrum life of doing nothing while awaiting our next orders.

I kicked my heels over one arm rest and slouched so that I could lay my head onto the other.

I hummed aimlessly for a bit.

I rolled over onto my side.

I kicked my heels over one arm rest and slouched so that I could lay my head on the other.

I hummed aimlessly for a bit.

I rolled over onto my side.

I wriggled for a bit, decided it wasn't quite as comfortable (despite the extraordinarily plush cushions), and rolled back.

A few strands of hair fell over my face. I huffed, watching as they were blown up and then drifted back down.

I shifted again, and winced as the movement pulled my left shoulder higher than it was supposed to go. "Ow." I gingerly sat up and rolled the shoulder, trying to settle it back into place.

After several moments of pained wriggling, the sharp twinge dulled to a steady ache. "I need a vacation," I groused to myself. "Some nice relaxation." Sure, this whole evil thing had been loads more fun than school, but it wasn't exactly a stress-free environment, either.

Regardless of how boring it could be at times, there was always the chance that indispensability could be replaced, and that could really take a toll on a body.

I continued grumbling to myself as I padded softly down the hallway. (Shoes had been deemed unnecessary. A house elf would pop by later and take them back to my room anyway.) "I need a bath. A long, hot bath. With nice candles and stuff." I hadn't actually had such a one before, but I'd heard it was the thing to do. "And stretching. Lots and lots of stretching."

I turned around and headed back to the parlor, calling as I went, "Mipsy!"

Mipsy the ever-suffering house elf popped next to me, squeaked, and started jogging after me to keep up with my stride.

"Put a yoga mat in the parlor for me," I ordered.

"Which parlor? There bes the Sun Parlor, Family Parlor, Egyptian Parlor, Peacock Parlor..." More bloody peacocks! Why did that not surprise me.

I rolled my eyes in exasperation. Of course they had more than one parlor. "Whichever one I'm heading to now."

She attempted to bow while staying in step, stumbled, and popped away.

There was a nice green yoga mat in the middle of the floor when I reached the parlor once again. I sighed happily and kneeled down. Slowly I leaned forward, staying seated on my ankles and folding in half so that my forehead and outstretched arms rested on the floor. I held in place for a minute or so, humming as my muscles relaxed. Then I pulled myself forward, into a rather seal-like posture, my back stretching as it curved upwards. I'd nearly forgotten how good this could feel.

I contorted myself into a few other easy poses, but eventually frowned and stopped. Something felt off. I couldn't place it.

I stretched my arms half-heartedly, humming in discontent. It was- that was it! Music! I often played the wireless or a record or two while yoga-ing. Something soft and relaxing. Only problem was, I'd left pretty much all my stuff at Hogwarts. My records were still stacked under my four-poster, beneath all the spare parchment and assorted books (I wasn't a messy person, but neither was I particularly neat).

This was a problem. Since I doubted I would get any assistance here, I would have to take it into my own hands. Wand. Wand hand?

Whatever.

It took a good half hour or so, but I finally gathered enough Death Eaters to make a chorus. Some had been considerably more difficult to imperio than others.

"All right!" I said, clapping my hands together. "And a-one, and a-two, and a-one-two-three-four," I jabbed my wand at the group.

The tallest Death Eaters in the back began with a low rumbling note. Slowly more joined in, creating the nice piano bit at the beginning of the song. And then:

"All things bright and beautiful,"

I winced as Crabbe sang the wrong note, out of tune too. A quick swirl of my wand took care of that, gagging him, and with another jab he began to do some interpretive dance on the floor in front of the others.

"All creatures great and small,"

It was pathetic. Much flailing. But the harmony sounded so much better now.

"All things wise and wonderful..."

I sighed contentedly and sat down on my mat. A few quick stretches to warm my muscles, and I could finally begin properly. I lay on my back, arms out flat on the floor, and lifted both legs straight into the air. I waved them side to side in an easy motion, enjoying the slight burn that was quickly melting my tension away.

25. Tell him you think a yoga class could 'cure him of his wicked ways.'

It was a shame mini-Malfoy was at Hogwarts. He had a wonderful tenor that would have fit in quite nicely. (I may or may not have charmed him to sing "A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love" one evening at dinner. Several evenings. A week. He had really ticked me off.

I placed my feet flat on the ground and brought my arms in next to my body, and hoisted my hips up, so that I formed a sort of arc with my torso and legs.

I ran through a few more easy movements as the song began to crescendo:

"The sunset and the morning

That brightens up the sky..."

At the finale I was in my favorite pose, balanced on one leg with the other wound around it, arms tangled together in front of me.

"All creatures great and small,"

The doors slammed open, bouncing off the walls. Lord Voldemort stalked through, and did a small double-take, staring at us with, dare I say it, no small amount of consternation.

I stared back.

"All things wise and wonderful,"

I cut them off with a wand flick.

"My Lord!" I chirped. "How nice of you to join us. We can start with a simple sun salutation, if you wish, to greet the morning, er, lunchtime?"

A swish and a jab and the chorus began again.

"O Freunde, nicht diese Toene!"

Crabbe did a rather unwieldy pirouette.

"Sondern lasst uns-"

Voldemort spoke over the mangled German. "Ranunculus. Explain. Now."

I beamed at him. "Yoga."

"Yoga?" He repeated blankly.

I spread my arms delightedly (and swayed dangerously, my feet still twisted together in position). "Of course. It is most excellent for increasing balance and posture, reducing stress, and improving overall wellness in general. You should do some with us." I nodded importantly. "I do think it could cure you of your wicked ways."

"Wicked ways." He glanced to my wand, then the imperio'ed Death Eaters, pointedly, raising his eyebrow ironically. Huh. I didn't know he could do ironic.

In the background, Crabbe wobbled and nearly fell over from his clumsy arabesque.

I shrugged. "Can't hurt, right?"

V-mort turned and left, his robes swirling about in a very familiar manner. Hmm. Did he learn that from Snape or did Snape learn that from him?

I unwound my legs and did a graceful squat as the music swelled.

"Freude!

Freude!

Freude schoener Goetterfunken, tochter aus Elysium,

wir betreten feuertrunken, Himmlische den Heiligtum!..."

The two songs are the hymn All Things Bright and Beautiful and Beethoven's An die Freude (a very familiar song, that...), both amazing pieces of music, especially a la Death Eater a capella. (As long as Crabbe's not singing, at least.)