I own none of it

Harry Potter is Rowling’s

Isn’t haiku great?

This story is lovingly and rather sarcastically dedicated to Tonks.

--Chapter the First--

It was the best of times; it was the worst of times. It was a time of great joy; it was a time of great pain. It was a time to do homework; it was a time to skive off. It was a time of angst; it was a time of crack. Actually, it was after-dinner time, when the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were supposed to be studying, hanging out in the common room, or attending their nice, Umbridge-sanctioned clubs.

Draco Malfoy’s new club wasn’t exactly Umbridge-sanctioned, but he didn’t think that she’d mind, and since Snape had loaned them a spare (and conveniently hard-to-find) dungeon for the inaugural meeting of Death Eaters for Kids, it didn’t matter anyway.

“That’s right, Death Eaters for Kids!” Malfoy told the excited crowd seated at or on the room’s desks, or, in the case of several first-years, hanging upside down in the air at wand-point. “The goal of our club is to promote intolerance, elitism, and ill-will school-wide! And of course, to get everyone ready for a long, rewarding career in the Death Eaters post-Hogwarts. We’ll talk about all the things you need to know to join, like how to schmooze the authorities, dodge the law, and what shade of black looks best on you!”

Draco grinned and gestured to a picture of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, which Pansy had magicked onto the cover of Witch Weekly and then magnified to Massive Poster Size.

“We’ll also cover topics like Voldemort Worship and Fandom, in addition to just having fun, playing games, and coming up with ways to kill off Potter. The rules are pretty easy to follow. First, to join, you have to be a Slytherin.”

There was quite a lot of cheering from the kids in green; a few Hufflepuffs snuck out the back, looking crushed.

“Second, you’ve got to be a pureblood, and third, you have to fill out a short survey. You can do that before club’s over, and just leave the surveys and your family name with our club secretary, Pansy Parkinson.”

Pansy waved her best pageant queen wave at the adoring crowd. Several crickets chirped. Finally, Draco said, “Then…let’s introduce our club officers! In order to prepare for the real Death Eaters, which is a dictatorship, you don’t get to choose your officers. If you have any complaints, you can go join the DA.”

“So, I’m the club president, obviously, and I’m pretty much the sexiest thing since sliced bread.” Draco took a great, sweeping bow while the fangirls in the audience cheered, swooned, and tried to strangle each other.

“Then there’s our lovely club secretary, Pansy Parkinson” (glares from the aforementioned fangirls) “Our treasurer, Blaise Zabini,” (a few girls in the audience blushed), “and our club bouncers, Crabbe and Goyle, because it wouldn’t be a club without bouncers, right?”

Laughter greeted this incredibly witty comment as Draco flashed a Lockhart-esque grin in the fangirls’ direction, but the truth was the Crabbe and Goyle had asked to be the secretary and treasurer and had been refused on the basis that Crabbe was still hooked on phonics and Goyle had trouble adding up frog spleens in Potions.

“Oh yeah, and our vice president is over there,” Draco added as an afterthought, pointing out a short fourth-year girl with masses of matted black frizzy hair and eyes the color of soupy mud. “Her name’s Viviane Lestrange.”

The Slytherins glanced briefly at Viviane, who was holding the stack of club applications.

“I’ll leave the applications right here,” she said, pointing to an empty desk nearest the door. “Just make sure you fill one out.” The Slytherins nodded and turned impatiently back to Draco.

“Well, let’s start with an icebreaker game,” he decided. “Everyone move the chairs so we can sit in a circle. I’ll be in the middle,” he added. His fangirls sadly abandoned their plots to push everyone else out of the way in order to sit next to him.

The circle was big enough to encompass half the dungeon and they even had to push some of the desks back. Pansy took one look at the Draco fans and went to sit between Crabbe and Goyle. No-one really wanted to sit next to the first years, and a few people kept throwing scared glances at the Inquisitorial Squad kids, but finally everyone found a place.

“Great,” Draco said. “Okay, we’re going to play this game called Do You Love Your Neighbor. Here’s how it works. The person in the middle—that’s me—gets to go and ask someone in the circle if they love their neighbor. Then that person says, ‘yes, but I don’t love’ and then they say something like, ‘someone who’s had to sit next to that Mudblood Granger’, and anyone in the circle who’s had to sit next to that Mudblood Granger has to get up and find a new chair while I try to find one. The person left in the circle has to ask someone else a question. Everyone get it?”

There were nods from the members, and Draco strutted up to a first year.

“So, do you love your neighbor?” He asked. The girl blushed and stuttered out, “Y-yes, but I—I don’t love anyone who doesn’t live in a Wizarding community!” A handful of Slytherins glared at the girl and got up to race for new seats, while their peers laughed at them. Overall, Draco, who’d gotten a seat next to a fifth-year, thought that the game did a great job inducing the Death Eater mindset.

“Do you love your neighbor?”

“Yes, but I don’t love anyone who’s getting a good grade in Transfiguration!”

“Yes, but I don’t love anyone who isn’t as pretty as me!”

“Yes, but I don’t love anyone who isn’t on the Inquisitorial Squad!”

Switch seats, switch seats, switch seats. By the end of the game, everyone was pretending to laugh and had been offended at least once.

“So, who’s ready to talk about curses and hexes?” A resounding cheer greeted this statement. Blaise Zabini stepped forward.

“Imperius, Cruciatus, Avada Kedavra. If you don’t know what they have in common, just get out.” He waited, but either everyone was well-versed in their curses, or (more likely) they weren’t stupid enough to leave. “Good. So, we’ll be going over those. We’ll discuss technique for one meeting, then practice on each other for another.” A few people giggled nervously. “Obviously,” Blaise continued, “We can’t kill anyone in the castle yet, but we can practice both of the other two. I’ll be doing the Imperius. Lestrange is doing the Cruciatus. We’ll also go over basic anti-Auror style and technique. Any questions?” No-one had any questions, and Draco took the stage again.

“Well, that’s all for tonight! Remember to fill out your applications and we’ll see you this time next week, at the next meeting of Death Eaters for Kids!”

--Chapter the First/End--

--Pansy Parkinson’s Official Club Notes—

Meeting Time: whatever

Motions Passed: Pansy Malfoy. Mrs Malfoy. Mrs Draco Malfoy.

--Application for Club Membership--

1. Full name and extended family name

2. Year

3. Briefly expand on why you want to join Death Eaters for Kids.

4. Write a short Ode to the Dark Lord

Readers are of course invited to submit club applications. However, because does not approve of anything interactive, please understand that if you do this I will mention you in the story but you will not have an interactive role. There. I don't think I'm breaking any rules...