AN: Hello all, GNL here! I based following parody is based off of a movie that my friends and I made for French class. We don't own Harry Potter, but I sure wish we did.

Harry Potter 6 ½

(or What Voldemort Does the Rest of the Year)

Late one April night Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all sitting in the common room working on an essay for Professor McGonagall, (Centaurs: Mythical Beasts or Transfigurations Gone Awry). Or that is to say, Hermione was studiously working on her essay, Ron was alternately doodling pictures of the Chuddly Cannons logo and trying to copy of Hermione's paper, and Harry was staring thoughtfully into the fireplace. All in all, it was a pretty average night for the trio.

Hermione glanced up from her stack of books and parchment to tell Ron off for the third time for trying to copy her paper when she noticed Harry was not even pretending to do his essay. And he seemed to be more pensive than normal, which was saying quite a lot, as Harry was normally more pensive than any student ever ought to be.

"What's the matter Harry? Still thinking about that last lesson with Dumbledore?" She inquired.

"No, well yes- In a way, but not really."

Ron and Hermione shared an exasperated "there-he-goes-again" look.

"Well, then what are you thinking about mate?" Ron demanded as he stole another look off of Hermione's essay while she was preoccupied.

"Well, I was just thinking that it's almost May again, and you two know what that means."

Hermione nodded sympathetically, "Yes, Voldemort will try to kill you again."

"It's like clockwork really. You'd think he'd try to attack you at some other point in the year, so you wouldn't be prepared for it." Ron added.

"I'm impressed Ronald. That was actually a rather sensible comment." Hermione said looking surprised. Ron shrugged as if to say, "It was nothing," but his ears were looking slightly pink.

"I've always rather wondered what he does do the rest of the year." Hermione continued.

Harry, still staring pensively into the fire responded. "Probably developing his next plot to kill me I expect."

"Yes," Hermione said nodding slowly. "Or working on a way to overthrow the Ministry."

Ron suddenly looked up from Hermione's paper with a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

"No, no I know what he does the rest of the year!"

The other two looked at him in surprise. It wasn't as though the Weasleys were Death Eaters, so how could Ron possibly know what Voldemort was up to during the eleven months out of the year when he wasn't attacking Harry.

"Well, what does he do then?" Hermione asked disbelievingly.

"Well, he…"


Voldemort and a few of his Death Eaters were sitting in a large parlor. Its walls were decorated in wallpaper stamped with silver vines, and furniture was mahogany and dark green velvet. All around the room there were signs that this house belonged to dark witches and wizards. A large, ornate, china cupboard stood to one side of the room filled with dishes stamped with the family's crest, and various instruments of a dark nature. The silk pillows on the chairs were embroidered with a serpent, and there were Death Eaters. Voldemort was accompanied by Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Dolohov.

They all had their chairs pulled up around a coffee table in the center of the room their heads bent low over the objects laid out carefully over the table. Lucius seemed particularly focused on the objects in front of him. While the other three were looking at him with mild irritation etched on their features.

"Will you hurry up already!" Bellatrix finally shouted unable to stand the waiting any longer.

Lucius glared at her pointedly, though he picked up six of the objects before him and lined them up vertically on the board in front of him.


"On a double word score too! So that will make my score…" Lucius began triumphantly.

"What is that?! You can't use spells in Scrabble!" Voldemort hissed furiously. His red eyes flashed dangerously as he flipped Lucius' tiles back at him

"Says who?" Lucius countered. "It doesn't say anywhere in the rules that you can't."

"You just can't you idiot!" Dolohov interjected. "Everyone knows that."


"Just shut up before I hex you!" Bellatrix snarled.


Voldemort stood along the side of a long grassy field, dressed in a most peculiar fashion. Instead of his usual black robes he was sporting an emerald green jersey and black athletic pants. On the field a dozen or more eight year olds were running helter-skelter after a black and white ball. Though none of the children had the perfected grace of a seasoned athlete, it seemed that the team in green were pretty good.

The ball passed from one green player to another until it had traversed the entire length of the grassy field. The forward center player, a sandy haired boy by the name of Jimmy was streaking down the field with only one red clad defensive player between him and the goal.

Voldemort followed the child up the field shouting at him from the sidelines.

"Go Jimmy! Go! GO!" He yelled out across the field. The other child was quickly closing in on Jimmy however, and he was much larger. In only a matter of second he had pushed Jimmy out of the way and pulled the ball away from his feet.

A furious Voldemort pulled his wand out of his green socks that came nearly up to his knees and pointed it at the large red kid.

"Crucio!" He hissed. And the red clad kid fell over on the ground twitching and screaming. Jimmy as well as the rest of the players on the field had stopped and were staring at the child bewilderedly. It wasn't the first time something like this had happened during one of their games.

The first time the ref had tried to say it was Jimmy's fault and through him off the field. But after the coach had spoken to him he had changed his mind, and most of his calls were in their favor for the rest of the match.

"GO JIMMY!" Voldemort shouted from the sidelines.

Jimmy snapped out of his reverie, and dribbled the ball down the rest of the field finally kicking right past the goalie (who was still staring at his team mate shaking on the ground).

"GOAL!" Voldemort cried jumping up and down howling excitedly.


Voldemort was walking through the graveyard at Little Whinging holding a small black muggle device in his hand. Despite his disdane for anything muggle related the Death Eaters had grown positively tiresome in their whining about the use of the Dark Mark for everyday communications. Therefore, to avoid detection from members of the order they had resorted to using muggle methods of communication.

UNoHoo52: Bella, u want 2 go mugl torturing 2nite?

CraZ4Snakes: Fo Sho! How bout 9?

UNoHoo52: sry have 2 get 2 mall 4 new faith hill cd b4 HMV closes! Maybe 10?

CraZ4Snakes: omg I 3 faith hill! 10 is g8! Ill txt Allecto and C if she wants 2 go 2!

UNoHoo52: gr8! C U L8er!


Voldemort was relaxing after another failed attempt to kill Harry Potter. The rest of the Death Eaters had felt he had been under too much stress the past month so they had chipped in together to buy him a day at the spa.

He had listened to relaxing jazz while receiving a massage and getting a exfoliating facial with those nice little cucumbers to cover his slit-like eyes. The cucumbers of course had been his favorite part since his rebirth his skin was still so new and healthy he hardly needed the exfoliating facial itself. Nonetheless the entire day had been absolutely enjoyable, and he was sitting down for his final treat a pedicure.

And as he lazily closed his eyes while the attendant worked on his feet, he vaguely wondered what he had been so upset about the past month for anyways. Who really wanted to take over Europe anyways? Perhaps just the spas would do. With nice cucumber exfoliating facials, and pedicures. Yes, pedicures were very, very nice.


Ron snapped out of his trance and looked to his two best friends, who in turn were gazing at him stupidly.


"That has to be the stupidest-"

"-most idiotic idea, I've ever heard…"

"…in my entire life."

Ron's face fell at this pronouncement.

"What do you mean? It's brilliant, I swear that's what he really does!"

"Play Scrabble?"

"Coach soccer?"

"How do you even know what text messaging is?"

"The spa…honestly!"

"Guys, I'm serious!"

And three continued to argue about it late into the night.