Tom..ahem…Lord Voldemort - soon to be conqueror of the known Universe, Master of …people who didn't pick his socks up for him, oh someone would pay for that and was it too much to ask for someone to heat the damn floors of his mouldy, shitty, undignified bloody dungeon – grumpily got out of bed, bemoaning the fact that his new supposedly superior body manifested all the physical discomforts of his real age. Thankfully he allowed nothing more than the breakfast elf and the mail into his bedroom before ten am. It would bloody well be lunchtime if he didn't have an image to uphold.
After a depressingly cold shower, he decided to get on with the day. The sun was shining green through the chemicals the verminous muggles had pumped into the air, the birds were choking on the fumes from the muggle tyres burning steadily under the ground nearby and his bacon wasn't burnt. All in all, it seemed a perfect day for plotting evil plans against the sacred whippet of destruction that was Harry bloody Potter.
He felt particularly Herodish today, so killing the first born should not be a problem. He absently fingered his mail. Witch Weekly – Do Death Eaters Have Sex Appeal?;
The Quibbler – Tea and crumpets with Sasquatch; The Daily Prophet – Fudging the Issues? Is the Ministry telling us the Truth?; a couple of bills for extreme laundry, the lastest catalogue from "Gotcha, The very latest in Uber-villain/Sidekick daywear and gadgetry"; My Puppy Special Edition with free squeaky rat; Trepanning for amateurs and a special delivery parcel. Tom slipped his Harry Potter Chocolate Frog Card into 'My Puppy' to mark his place and turned to the unexpected parcel.
He scanned it thoroughly but he couldn't detect any magic applied to the parcel, not even within it. Encouraged he slid his wand into the folds of brown paper and sliced the wrapping away from the parcel. He briefly noted the address on the label, Mr. Mort de Vole, Mouldy Cellar, Hessle Road, Hull – odd and he wasn't sure he appreciated that particular anagram. Oh, he liked anagrams and was pleased that someone had noticed, but he wondered if the sender realised that he had just addressed Lord Voldemort, master of the..ahem..as a dead rodent.
The parcel revealed a box, it was orange and covered in strange muggle looking markings. On the top in bold black letters had been scrawled. It is all set up ready, all you have to do is turn it on.
Cautiously Tom opened the box and looked inside. He pulled out a small rectangular object with numbers and more strange symbols painted on it. He had no idea what turning it on entailed. The inside cover of the box however detailed exactly how to do it, in pictures no less. He peered closely at the picture, then at the object in his hand and eventually poked at the appropriate place with his wand. The object suddenly began to emit light, it made a noise and the light dimmed. Tom waved his frantically at the strange artefact but could still identify no magic.
Presently the small rectangle lit up even brighter and began to emit a sharp chirping noise, similar to a phoenix in distress, the chirping got louder, possibly a phoenix burning in an ice fire, that was supposed to hurt like hell. Failing to find anything with which to block his ears up, Tom grabbed hold of the 'thing' again, the chirping stopped as he wrapped his fingers around it and he heard a voice speaking through it.
"Hello? Hello? Who is this?"
Tom tentatively put the…voice horn (?) up to his ear.
"Can you hear me?"
"Of course I can hear you? Are you a new account?"
"Did you just receive this phone?"
"Ah, that's what it is. What is a phone?"
"What is a…? Ah, right Sir, you're having a joke with me, fine, I just need a couple of details and then we can send you a text message activating your service."
"Service? I do not serve, I am served. How dare you im…"
"Lord Christian Voldemort, right, good, we have your address. Occupation?"
"Bouncer or Politician?"
"Wonderful. We have given you ten free minutes, enjoy your phone."
"Hello? Hello? Are you still there?"
Tom sat staring in confusion at the alien artefact for what seemed like hours but was in fact more like ten minutes. Then the 'phone' began chirping again. He looked at the flashing green light of the display, noting that is was the exact hue of an Avada Kedavra. The screen declared that he had one new message, would he like to read it now? Curious as to whether this would make any more sense than the voice, he pressed the little button marked yes and retrieved his message.
"Hello Tom. Did you notice the pretty colour of the screen? It made me think of you. AK Green. Did you know magic works on energy? And that light is energy, so magic can work on light, or in light or through light. Scroll down and you'll see what I mean.
It's not just a pretty colour! Avada Kedavra.
LOVE Harry Potter xxxof death.
Nobody heard the crash of breakfast dishes. Nobody checked in before the assigned time, for who would bear the Lord's wrath for no good reason. There was nowhere he was meant to be where he would be missed.
At half past ten, Wormtail wondered if his Lordship had finally overslept.
At eleven o clock, Bellatrix got a little huffy about being ignored.
By one o clock in the afternoon, those few who were around all of the time wondered if the old lizard was ill but didn't dare to venture to the door.
It was not until the next morning that Lucius decided that enough was enough after being kept waiting a hour for a meeting. He noticed that the wards were down almost instantly. Venturing inside the viper's nest itself, he denied his eyes and refused to believe what he saw. He truly didn't believe it until he picked up a strange object lying on the floor and accidentally depressing one of the buttons, lit up the screen with its light magic and hit the floor, consciousness dimming on his last thoughts.