Voldemort growled in startled annoyance as the now familiar snowy owl landed in front of him bearing yet another letter. He would almost say the thing looked smugly triumphant at being able to surpass his newly revitalized wards, but he quickly decided that would be giving the infernal animal to much credit. He grudgingly accepted the parchment from the owl, and, frowning at the telltale coppery smudges drying along its edges, he opened the letter and began to read.

My Dearest Voldersnitzle,

Eww eww ewww eewww EWWW!! Was that really necessary? I hope you are pleased with your self, for I am now mentally scarred for the rest of my existence. I solemnly promise never to insinuate that you did anything improper with reptiles ever again...where did you even learn some of those adjectives...can I just say eww, once again. Your poor deatheaters must be tramatized...oh eww...bad thoughts, bad thoughts! Does that mean I can call you Snape-snogger instead? (just kidding, you have more taste than that...I hope..)

Well, now that we have covered the revisiting of my mental anguish, I have to inform you of some rather disturbing news. It seems that you don't exist. At least, not according to the creepy ministry goon teaching DADA anyway. Does that mean that I'm talking to myself...or perhaps it makes you my imaginary friend? Well, in any case, it gives the creepy cat-lady an excuse to brand I must not tell lies into the back of my hand with a blood quill, smiling the whole while. I swear that woman is so mentally imbalanced she makes you seem cuddly (In that I'll kill you if you touch me kind of way). At least you don't smile as you kill people... I don't think I've ever been more disturbed by kittens in my entire life.

If I didn't know better, I would say that you had rigged our DADA classes so that the war would be easily won on account of the next generation of the light side being complete and totally inept. But I know that isn't the case because, sadly, we've only had two teachers actually capable of teaching that class, one of which was provided by you. Yes, his subject material was mainly dark and disturbing, (and possibly illegal), but it was more useful than anything his predecessor has had to say... Its rather sad really...Dumbledore wants me to save the world...and the class that's supposed to be helping me on my way to victory is currently being taught by a pepto-bismol wearing psychopath that has a kitten fetish. I don't suppose that you could like...kidnap her and replace her with someone who could actually teach? Please? I wouldn't say a word about his nifty tattoo to anyone. Pretty please?

At this point, the dark arts would be much more useful...maybe I could get you to teach me some kind of hex to turn Umbridges entire wardrobe black..or even better...have her trade bodies with Snape! Yes, the ultimate punishment for the woman who robbed the world of the color fusha (she is wearing to much of it for there to possibly be any somewhere else) would be being trapped in the colorless existence that is Snapes. But then again, I don't even wish him that amount of torture...not that he would appreciate the sentiment I'm sure...

Oh good grief, look how much I've rambled. I'm sure you dozed off somewhere in the midst of this letter, or perchance its already made a happy home in your fireplace. Well, if you managed to make it this far, I thank you for your patience.

Mostly sincerely,

The Boy who apparently talks to himself

P.S. sorry about the blood spatters, all this writing hasn't been beneficial to my hand..bloody blood quill..

Voldemort stared at the letter for several moments, lost in thought. His face was suddenly encompassed by a wicked grin, and, with a perverse kind of glee, his quill began to fly across the parchment.

Voldemort emerged from his bedroom only to dive-bombed by a certain snowy owl. He glared at the bird, which appeared to smirking at him, as much as an owl could smirk anyway.Blasted bird had a death wish.One day he would figure out it's secret to invading his wards, and then it would meet its untimely demise.But for now he was distracted by the letter that it bore. With what could only be described as malicious glee, he ripped open the parchment and began to read:

My Maliciously Mold-infected Murderer to be,

FOR THE LOVE OF...YOU TOOK PICTURES OF THAT!? WHY!?What ever possessed you to...and why did I have to get them?! I hope you know that I have a photographic memory...those images are trapped up there forever now. Thank you most sincerely for that. Really. That's all I needed to add to my nightmares.

Speaking of thanking you...I suppose I owe you again. I'm really not sure who you've polyjuiced to be that woman the past few weeks, but that most certainly can't be the same person. It is polyjuice isn't it? So tell me, oh mighty ruler of the darkness, who did you make dress up in the pink frillies?

Oh crap, I have to go, Snape is coming to try and convince me that I need to go home for Christmas(as if), Followed by dearest Dumbledenseness himself. I don't think my correspondence with you will be looked upon with the most enthusiastic of responses if they find out. Then again, that could be interesting...It would be priceless to see something actually shock Snape, and Dumbledore might actually pass out. Nah..potential mental hospitalization isn't worth.

Bye for now,

The Boy Who Lives To Annoy YOU!

P.S. This letter is charmed to become your Christmas present when you're done reading. Hopefully it will provide enough amusement to make the season tolerable.

Voldemort finished the letter with a shake of his head. As he sat down the piece of parchment, it began to change. Voldemort watched the letter grow and morph with curiosity until his present began to take shape. His eyes widened slightly when he realized just exactly what Dumbledore's Golden Boy had sent him. He tried to repress his gut reaction, but he just couldn't help it. It was really all the Boys fault. Lord Voldemort, feared ruler of darkness, was slumped in his chair with a hand over his mouth, utterly unable to contain the giggles escaping his body.

When he finally composed himself once again,(he had to suppress another giggle fit after glancing at his present again) He reached for his parchment and Quill and began to write. The Potter child was really quite amusing. Perhaps he would keep him around after all...