Batholith Fetish: I couldn't procrastinate on this any longer so, here it is. Oh my...I never thought I'd get this far! You know at first, I had just planned to leave it at Draco's Wrath and be done with it. But now look where I am! I couldn't have gotten this far if it weren't for all you amazing reviewers, so I THANK YOU! (Throws M&Ms in the air) M&Ms for all! If I had a million dollars, I'd give it to you. You've all made me so happy, sniffle, you guys rock!

Chapter Eight: Hogwarts and the Messed Up Website

Harry Potter was going to get it. Oh yes, he was going to get it good. Or bad. Either way, he was going to pay.

Severus Snape was both horrified and pissed at the disturbing information his brain had just recieved from that sick, twisted Muggle website, and who better to take it out on than perfect, preppy Potter? Unfortunately, word about fanfiction .net had spread like a wild fire, and now all the students were surrounding computers, logging onto the famous website and gasping and fainting.

"Headmaster!" Snape bellowed at Dumbledore's office, unable to find Harry Potter just yet, but putting it aside for the moment when he saw all the students lined up in the library, waiting for their turn on a computer. Snape shuddered a bit at the sight of Dumbledore, but continued, "Headmaster, you've heard about fanfiction .net, I presume?" Dumbledore nodded his approval. "Well, all the students are breaking Hogwarts rules and viewing that website! Ten kazillion points from each house seems like a fair punishment, don't you think?" Snape added hopefully.

"There is no rule against visiting that site, Severus," Dumbledore answered, rising from his comfy armchair. "But I'll, as the hip teenagers say, 'check it out'."

Snape rolled his eyes at Dumbledore's failing attempt to be 'hip', but sniggered at the Dumbledork sign taped on his back. However he kept quiet, so that he could spread the humiliation of this, and followed Dumbledore to the library.

All the students, ranging from first years to seven years, and Gryffindors to Slytherins and more, were huddled around computers, laughing and gasping and pointing in horror at various computer screens. Even the teachers were there, although Professor McGonaggal had fainted a long time ago.

"Don't look at me," Harry, who had been standing nearby and shaking his head, said with arms raised in defense. "I tried to warn them."

"YOU!" Snape bellowed, pointing an accusing finger at Harry, whose eyes went wide. "I'LL GET YOU FOR THIS, POTTER!"

Their angry and frightened shouts died away as they ran down the halls, screaming at each other.

Left alone, Dumbledore looked about him. The room was noisy with loud murmurs, choked gasps, and at times, screams.

"Proffesor Dumbledork, I mean Dumbledore, sorry, look at this!" one kid suddenly shouted above the noise, beckoning the headmaster over. Dumbledore peeked at the student's screen, and blinked at it in shock.

"Why...I'm seeing all that I'm saying being written down!" Dumbledore shouted in surprise. He looked at the title of the story, which had Harry Potter and the Messed Up Website typed up, its author being me, Batholith Fetish. If this doesn't quite make sense, everything that I'm typing for this chapter is appearing on that screen, word by word.

"This is weird..." the students muttered.

I decided to have some fun with them, and all of a sudden, Lord Voldemort came out of nowhere!

"Voldy Moldy's back!" he shouted mischieviously, blasting anything in reach of his bad aim. "Mwuahahahaaaa!"

By this time, Harry and Snape had gotten back. Snape stared wide eyed up at Voldemort before swinging Harry in front of him as a protective shield from any stray blasts.

"Kill him Potter, you're the 'chosen one', prove it!" he whispered menacingly, before throwing Harry in Voldemort's direction.

"Ah, Harry Potter," Voldemort said smoothly, Harry trembling beneath his gaze. "What are you going to do? Kill me? Bwahahaha! Don't go there, girlfriend!" he said, saying his last sentence in a very Dr. Evil-like way. (1)

Harry looked around nervously, hoping to find something that would aid him against this manic (and bald, might I add) evil wizard. His face lighted up suddenly as he was struck by inspiration.

"Oh dear, whatever shall I do?" he asked in feigned defeat. "I do hope that Voldemort won't go to fanfiction .net, and find the story of newest and deadliest spells there."

"Ha! Foolish boy," Voldemort smirked, walking over to a computer. How ironic, that a Voldemort x Harry mature rated love story was on the screen.

"How interesting," Voldemort commented and the first part of the story, the worst yet to come. "Ha, now I'm taking off his clothes, probably preparing to whip his bare back. Muahahaha! And now I'm taking off my own clothes, probably so I don't get my favorite robe stained with his mudblood...blood! Muahahaha! And now I' I'm...I'm..."

Voldemort stared at the you-know-what scene that was taking place in the story, his agape mouth tembling in horror.


And with that, Voldemort fell flat on his back.


Harry bent down and inspected him, nudging his rib with his foot.

"I think he had a heart attack," he hypothesized. From the look of pure and utter horror on Voldemort's face, that seemed possible.

"Hooray! The Dark Lord is finally dead!" the students cheered in unison, throwing Harry into the air.

"And I don't have to pay any more Death Eaters taxes!" Snape cheered silently to himself, punching the air in glee.

A grand feast celebrating the death of Voldemort (finally!) took place that evening, and everyone was happy and merry.

Only one was sad on that fateful day.

"All I have to comfort me now are the stories of him going steady with me," Draco sighed in remorse.

Batholith Fetish: Not as funny as I'd hoped, but I had a lot of trouble typing this up. I'm just fresh out of ideas! Not even my long writing break gave me enough inspiration. But alas, it's done, and I must say that I couldn't have done it without you, my precious reviewers! Thank you so much, for all your support. I LOVE YOU ALL!!

(1) That's Dr. Evil from Austin Powers.