Author: Saddest Sadist PM
So good ol’ Voldie won the war, became the supreme ruler, and is too sexy for anyone. And the Harry Potter is Uncle Voldie’s only prisoner, about to go on trial, and is wearing leather. What happens when Voldie wants Harry? [A Parody of HP becomes LV’s slRated: Fiction M - English - Humor - Harry P. & Voldemort - Words: 2,880 - Reviews: 12 - Favs: 15 - Follows: 19 - Published: 11-19-05 - id: 2667263
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Author: Saddest Sadist (AKA Callicent)
Warnings: Slash, language, and mature stuff!
Disclaimer: I hereby lay no claims upon any original Harry Potter characters/plots.
Summary: So good ol' Voldie won the war, became the supreme ruler, and is too sexy for anyone. And the Harry Potter is Uncle Voldie's only prisoner, about to go on trial, and is wearing leather. What happens when Voldie wants Harry? A Parody of HP becomes LV's slave.
This used to be a story on another one of my account… but unfortunately; I forgot my password and the e-mail address I used… so yeah… I found it in an abandoned folder, and decided to repost it… Anyways, this was my first fanfic EVER, and probably my only parody/comical fic.
Sinister laughter erupted from the lips of one Voldemort, also known as Tom Marvolo Riddle. It was nearing the end, the VERY end. The Minister of Magic had fallen, followed by his entire blasted Ministry. And then it was the Saint Mungus Hospital, which was now under his complete and utter control. All that was left, was of one single Hogwarts, and with it, a old meddling coot of a Headmaster, named Albus Dumbledore, and a unbearable, too-lucky-for-his-own-good Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter. And today, today is the day to end everything! Why, in fact, he has the Potter boy bid up with magical ropes right beside his feet, and so very vulnerable. As for the coot, that old man was weak, but still putting up a fight…he will be dealt with.
Albus was fighting a losing battle. Had he been of Slytherin of heart, he would have escaped. However, his Gryffindor pride made him continue. It didn't leave him any other choice. This battle was quite unfair, being fought right in front of the Forbidden Forest. Tom Riddle had his Death Eaters, Vampires, Giants, and Trolls. Albus had his Order, Harry Potter, and Aurors. They were greatly outmatched, and out battled. Harry Potter had been captured, he himself had been greatly weakened, and although they were able to dispose of many of the Vampires, Trolls, and Giants, the main ones fighting, they were even more greatly damaged. Many on his side have already given up, and had allowed themselves be captured. The end would be coming soon… the only comfort Albus had is that his school will be infallible, and that most of his students would not be hurt, as they have not taken part in the war, but had been forced to stay in their common rooms, guarded by their teachers, and the members of Harry's Defense Association.
"Avada Kedavra!" exclaimed Voldemort; his voice triumphed, with a hint of joy.
A moment of silence, as the spell, green light tailing, hit its target.
And all movements ceased, along with any sound. Albus crushed onto the ground, his body heating with a light 'thud'. All fighting ceased. Albus Dumbledore had fallen.
A moment of silence, and than two. Voldemort couldn't believe the sight in front of him. He had finally won. FINALLY WON! And than it sank in, to all those around him. The Dark have triumphed over the Light. Voldemort is the new master of the wizarding world!
And the strugglers fled. Those who valued their own lives either fled, or surrendered. Those who continued struggling were captured, alive.
Voldemort's sinister laughter rang throughout the forest, and carried into the school.
The Dark had finally won.
But of course, to the Wizarding world right now, Voldemort was 'the' king. He was the one with all the power, the one in charge of their world, the cause of the original collapse, and burdened with the duty of rebuilding it… but to his own will. Voldemort had been the Ruler, the Master, and the Dark Lord, of this world for almost two months… one more day until it's officially two months.
For two months, the Wizarding world had been almost at ease. It was as though there was no Dark Lord, as though Albus Dumbledore did not die, as though Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Just-Won't-Bloody-Die, was not captured, as though their world had not collapsed, and a certain Tom was not lording over everyone else in Hogwarts, which he had decided to turn into his new Headquarters…and that Voldemort had allowed the school to run on as a school, he himself taking on the role of Headmaster.
Almost. That was the word. After the battle, Voldemort marched into the school, instated Lucius Malfoy as the new Minister of Magic, left the rest of the running of the Ministry to his left-hand man, and announced the death of the old coot of a headmaster, and took over the running of the school. It was absurd. A Dark Lord for a Headmaster? But, on the Daily Prophet, Voldemort, now allowing the rest of the world to call him 'Voldie' (he had grown tired of hearing himself called 'You-Know-Who' every two bloody seconds, and was tempted to the utmost to return with 'No-I-Don't-Know-Who' every time he hears it), Voldemort said that he was expected to oversee the education of the next generation, so that he could be sure that he wouldn't have the displeasure of ruling over a bunch of dunderheads, such as C. Fudge, since they would probably make him wish that Potter had killed him.
When the rest of the world questioned what dear dear Voldie is going to do next, the answer once again came from the Daily Prophet. Voldemort said, as expected, that he wanted to rule. But, to rule, he continued, he has to have people to rule OVER. Apparently, that was one of the reasons why he stopped his killing spree after Albus had met his end. Voldie also proposed something else. To ensure that he don't have to face rebellions every two seconds, he proposed that the Wizarding world take two months to get used to his rule. After these two months, EVERYONE have to swear a wizard's oath, swearing that they would not question the Dark Lord's orders, would not plot against the Dark Lord, or face a very gruesome death indeed, should they be found. Those who don't would be the first to suffer this gruesome 'end'. The Oath would be sworn in the Great Hall, tomorrow, within hearing range of the Dark Lord, and everyone, literally everyone in the community, will be there.
Now, with the rest of the Wizarding world understanding their fate, only one thing remains a constant pain in the arse for the new Master. Harry Potter. What on earth should be done with that boy? The boy had been thrown into the dungeons, into a cell, guarded 24/7 by Death Eaters, been underfed, but always cleaned regularly, and been placed under heavy surveillance to make sure that he doesn't escape. It was a hard job, as He was the only prisoner of war. He was the most dangerous wizard alive, right now. He was the only one who doesn't know anything of Voldie's deals. Everyone else, even the boy's friends, had been allowed to continue with his or her studies, or work (unless they still believe in the Light, and escaped overseas), as now that the Dark had won, it would be easy to make everyone see how much better everything would be under the Dark Lord's rule.
What should he do with the boy? As the Dark Lord pondered, he twirled a strand of his hair in his fingers… dark, black, glossy, hair. It was quite a sexy sight, had anyone been in the range to see. And then he bit his lower lip. If you think he was sexy then, a look at him pouting like this would send you swooning as it did, several times, to many students over the past two months. Both male AND female.
'To the hell with Potter… after all, his fate wouldn't be determined tomorrow, at the Ceremony thingy… I have until tomorrow, after all…'
The day began boringly enough. Dear Voldie pouted throughout the entire morning, during the breakfast, sitting on his throne, taking occasional sips of his "Evilly-Addicting-Dark-Lord-Morning-Wake-Up-Brew-That-Will-No-Doubt-Cause-A-Hungover" drink, which, as you could guess from its ridiculously long and unneeded name, is a combination of several of the strongest alcoholic drinks, both Wizard and Muggle, mixed together in a magical blender, and flavored with a bit of Strawberry Syrup.
It was as though pouting alone wasn't enough. The so called 'insane' Dark Lord, in his 16 year old body, just HAD to play with his hair, and the collar of his black, velvet robes (Voldie seemed to have developed a strange obsession with velvet), and his pet snake, or basilisk, Nagini. Hell, one of the above mentioned activities were enough to send a hormone-raging teenager, female or male, horny. (Most people think Voldie had a Charming Charm on him) A combination of the above actions, however, did manage to send quite a few six and seventh years running out of the Great Hall, and even a few into the Hospital Wing!
Voldie, however, didn't ever bat an eye at these commotions caused by his actions. In fact, he wasn't even paying attention! His mind was going on and on about the fate of Harry Potter. It was quite unfortunate that the boy had to be his enemy. He really should kill the boy… that was what everyone expected… But, that boy was so young! So powerful! And so tempting with that youth and power! Not that the Dark Lord prefers male, of course, and not that Harry prefers males either… but since the Dark Lord was SO antisocial that, even when he is way beyond his 70s, he was STILL a virgin! And Harry, Harry was so obsessed with winning the war, and winning his freedom that he never did had any time to focus on his love life! And still, even with the war over, neither had batted an eye about their love life…
Voldie pouted, knitted his brows into a neat little bunch, and frowned, and still can't decide what he wanted to do with the Potter boy. He was expected to kill that boy, but the potential! The ability! The future! Potter might prove to be a powerful underling, if he was made obedient! And with the potential level of the wizards nowadays, especially with the bunch graduating today… it was PATHETIC! With the exception of the Granger girl… The Longbottom boy is just dragging everyone down! And the junior Malfoy seriously lacks some wits! Now, if only someone could offer him a way out… a way where he could pretend to want to kill Potter, but save him in the end…
And then he got it! Or so he thought...
The Dark Lord sat on his throne, stifling yawns after yawns as he listened to those Oaths. It was bloody boring! So boring that, he couldn't bring himself to look at the faces of those foolish Wizards! He had them sent away as soon as they're done. The only bloody good thing about this is that, whatever those wizards and witches were thinking when they were dressing, was probably not sane either! It was quite amusing, as most of them tried to dress in their best robes. But, their best robes would probably be better if it doesn't include those ridiculous laces, and ribbons, and dancing chickens, and singing cows, and instrument-playing cats! Seriously, at this rate, Voldie might have to consider getting Lucius to offer dressing lessons for those Wizards!
Finally, it was done! It had taken almost the entire afternoon! And his morning was spent making an awful speech for the Graduating Seventh Years. The Dark Lord is now snappier than Snape, and bossier than Granger, and most indefinitely more sarcastic that the two Malfoys. Whoever on the facing end of his wrath now, would definitely not find it comfortable, not that it have ever been comfortable… In short, Harry Potter is going to be in Very Big Trouble.
And it was time for the Trial. Voldie darling had decided to make it first of the new Formal Trials, held by a Panel of Judges of mostly Ministry Members (more Death Eaters than anything else), headed by he himself, and a Jury (which Voldie decided to give the Graduating Students the honor of), under the watchful eyes of Voldemort, Headmaster and Dark Lord, and of course, under Voldie's new laws.
Looking around, and seeing the need for a change of decorations, Voldie waved his Yew wand, and changed the Great Hall into a more or less formal Court Room. And then, he summoned his Jury and his Panel, and got them into the appropriate sits. He stood, in his full majesty, black velvet robes hanging regally from his shoulders, his hair straight, need, and formal, his whole look formal and majestic. He spoke, voice void of emotions.
"Today, we gather, the first of many yet to come, to pass judgment upon Harry James Potter. Summon the Prisoner!"
Lucius had Harry scrubbed clean… by a house elf! And Harry's wounds were mostly healed, save for the scars, which were to stay. As Harry came out of the bath, Lucius threw him a pair of pants, black, and leather, and boots, also black, and leather. Harry watched, amused, at the choice of clothing. Apparently, Lucius had a slight fetish with leather… or is it Voldemort? It was quite hard to picture either of them in leather clothing, though. Nevertheless, not wishing to appear nude, Harry dressed. And then the most unpleasant part of this whole fiasco happened. Whoever's in charge isn't going to lose the chains! And there were handcuffs! And even more unbelievable, a metal collar! Either Voldie or Lucius has a bad case of fetish with bondage, and slavery…
Of course, Harry did NOT allow himself to be bonded with those… apparatus, easily. Being the Gryffindor that he was, he put up a fight, which turned into quite a game of tag, and Harry was almost winning! Untill that bastard Malfoy decided to notice that Harry don't have his wand, and took advantage of that, casting a full Body-Bind spell on Harry. Sighing, the Golden Boy allowed himself to be cuffed, chained, and collared, and led to what he recognized as the outside of the Great Hall.
"… … … …Summon the Prisoner!"
And with a shove, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Seriously-Needs-To-Die-Sometimes, found himself in a Courtroom, which was once the Great Hall of Hogwarts, facing the new Ministry of Magic, the Graduating Seventh Years, and the sixteen-years-old self of one particular Tom Marvolo Riddle, whose whole body-language is screaming "I'm-Too-Sexy-To-Be-Here-But-I-Don't-Have-A-Fucking-Choice".
At this particular moment, Harry chose to speak.
"So, Tom, long time no see, and why the hell am I here?"