'An Idle Mind Is The Devil's Playground'

By: Night Flame Miko

Contributed to by: Chocolate coated Blue

An: Here is just some fun me and a fellow author/friend of mine decided to come up with, I started everything but she gave/wrote some ideas for some of the letters. Credit for this plotline goes to us.

Disclaimer: We don't own these characters, if we did, why would we be writing fan-fiction? :P


Harry was bored.

He had absolutely nothing to do. Unable to leave his room other than for bathroom breaks and to do chores, he had the feeling that time was passing by extra slowly just to tick him off, and not only that but bloody Dumbledore wouldn't let him mail his friends or let their mail get to him, the old man had even readjusted the fucking wards to make extra, extra sure.

Grumbling to himself, he recounted the cracks in the ceiling, trying to waste time…it wasn't working. Sighing he dropped his gaze to the desk he was sitting at, his feet resting on top, leaning back on two legs of his chair, half hoping he'd topple over just for something new to do.

Yes. He was that bored.

Looking at the blank parchment he had out, hoping that any new ideas for his already-completed homework would come to him, anything at all. Staring blankly at the parchment his mind started turning, an idea coming to him, and slowly a huge grin started to form. Anyone watching would be slightly disturbed and very worried by the sight of that grin. But they should have known, 'an idle mind is the devil's playground', especially when said idle mind has had 1 father, 1 godfather and 1 surrogate godfather as prankster extraordinaire.

Reaching for the parchment he began to write.


Voldemort sighed; swiping a hand down his face he reached up and began massaging his temples, hoping the pounding head-ache would leave sometime soon. He had to admit he was bored. This could be because of a lack of help needed from him on his death-eaters part, or the sense of complete boredom coming from the link he shared with Potter. Neither was helping, frankly, and he was about 10 minutes away from finding some poor soul to alleviate his boredom on, be they death eater or not.

It was about then that a white owl swooped in through his open window, landing on his desk and sticking out a leg imperiously.

He stared at it. It blinked and he looked from it to the window.

How in the bloody-fuck did the bird get through his wards?

Glaring at it seemed to have no effect; it just blinked and hooted angrily at him, clearly fed-up with waiting for him to take the letter. Sighing he felt his head-ache increase ten fold. Absently checking for any dangerous spells he reached for the letter when he felt no potentially harmful magic. Looking at the bird one last time (he swore he recognised it from somewhere), he opened the letter only to have his eyebrows rise as he read through the letter.

To my dear Snake-Face,

It's me! Your favourite Boy Wonder. I figured I'd write and say hi, you know, mending broken bridges and all that? Ugh…whom I kidding, I'm bored as hell, trapped in one freaking room for 3 months can do that to you, and Dumb-door ordered me not to write any friends, something about you tracking the letters. As if you don't know where I am. Heh. I thought he was supposed to be smart? Ya know? Age gets you wiser or something, or maybe he's going/gone senile? (seriously, the lemon drops, need I say more?) And what the hell is with his eyes? He has to have a spell that makes them twinkle like that! You know: 101 ways to scare and terrorise impressionable children without their parents finding out, all you gotta do is wear eccentric clothing, grow a beard, twinkle and call everyone 'dear boy' (even the girls). Just cause he's like a hundred years older then everyone… Psh. So yeah, I got slightly distracted.

I highly doubt you have even read this far, better things to do I bet, you know; death eaters to torture, muggles to kill and all that. If you have gotten this far, I commend you.

But anyway, Big Al never said I couldn't send letters to anyone else. I mean we're not friends (hell no!), more like…arch-enemies?... or at least acquaintances…Hmmm….I wonder what Al would do if I pointed out what an influence you've had in my life? Likely have a heart-attack *smirks*but seriously, we've 'known' each other since I was like, one, and you've turned up every year ('cept third) I've been at school. Hehe, his reaction would be priceless, maybe it's worth a try? It's his fault really, leaving me with abusive muggles. Old coot.

I wonder if insanity is contagious.

I think you gave me some of yours. Well it certainly makes things more interesting.

If I am insane, that is.

Oh, looks like my relatives need their house-elf once again (Yay! I get to leave my room!)…I wonder if they'll feed me today? Hmm… anyway, it's been fun.


The Chosen One

*Aka Harry Potter*


Blinking down at the letter Voldemort couldn't quite believe what he had just read, looking up from it he looked at the white owl which he now recognised as Harry Potter's. It was calmly watching and waiting, apparently ready for a reply.

Looking at the letter once more he didn't know whether to laugh or be angry, deciding on neutral he now wondered whether he should reply. Deciding that there were some matters in the letter (Snake-Face?) which he couldn't not address, the Dark Lord picked up quill and parchment and began to write a reply.


Harry was kicked out on his bed, hands behind his head, repeatedly imagining what Voldemort would do once he read the letter. He had a few amusing scenarios where the Dark Lord incinerated the letter and promptly came to kill him for his daring, and many others where the Dark Lord choked to death, or even exploded, unable to comprehend that even Potter would be stupid enough to send him mail.

Of course it had been a couple of days and each different scenario would become steadily more unrealistic as time wore on. Of course he hadn't really expected a response at all, and it was only once he had sent the letter off with Hedwig that he considered the evil bastard may hurt her just out of spite, but it was too late now, so instead of spending time worrying about his only owl (and first friend) he amused himself with his imaginings.

He had just moved onto lemon drops and Voldy being offed by one of them when he was child (given to him by Dumbledor obviously), how he got to this stage, not even he was sure; when Hedwig swooped in, hooting happily at seeing him again.

Relief filled him as worry he had kept at bay washed away, quickly moving to her he offered her some owl treats and it was only as he was petting her fondly that he noticed the letter and realised with a start that Voldemort, the Evil Dark Lord, psychotic megalomaniac and all around bad guy had actually replied.

All that really went through his mind was: Holy Shit…

Reaching for it he prayed there wasn't anything nasty on the letter (hidden curses, port-keys etc.) wondering if he really had gone insane.

Breaking the seal on the back he breathed a sigh of relief when nothing untoward happened, pulling out the letter he felt a peculiar giddiness as he read the reply, it wasn't nervousness, more like a sense of 'What the hell is going on' and a little voice asking 'What in hell could He have written?' Deciding to just get on with it he began to read.

To Boy Wonder,

That was one of the most pathetic letters I've ever read. I literally felt my intelligence draining away with every word, though your interesting fascination with nick-names provided some amusement, I suppose. Normally I would ignore such pathetic correspondence (or kill the sender, but you've got that coming anyway) but there was one thing I felt that should be corrected. That would be the 'Snake-Face' comment; I haven't looked that way in a good number of months.

Another thing, insanity fortunately is not contagious, (think of all the children the Old Coot could have damaged, *shudders*), though considering our bond I wouldn't be surprised if you did loose it. Not that I am insane anymore. That was just an unfortunate side effect of the ritual, as well as the looks, though the homicidal urges do remain, so you don't have to worry, I will still kill you eventually, I just have better things to do then chase after pathetic adolescents.

I admit receiving a letter from you surprised me, but after reading it I think it is fairly safe to say you've either gone off the edge, so to speak, or you are getting terribly arrogant.

Either way I shall have to change my plans, thank you, really…(sarcastic much)..

Why don't you find some snake to bother, that way I wont have to listen to your whinging.

Besides that, what do you mean they treat you like a house-elf, and that you are only possible going to be fed? I was under the impression that you lived like prince after you supposedly defeated me (never mind that it was your blood which brought me back).

Until next time.

The Dark Lord,


p.s. If you insist on writing to me at least learn some proper swear words, do no insult people if you will only do so half-heartedly.

Harry shook his head. He couldn't believe it, he had actually sent and received an almost cordial reply (if the constant death-threats and statements of how pathetic he was didn't count) from the resident Dark Lord. Tapping the letter against his lips he began thinking up another reply, about to get out a parchment and quill he noticed the time and, getting into bed, decided he would reply the next day.


An: Anyway, that is what we have so far :D If you think we should continue, just pop in a review :D