I had a cold. Guess where the insparation for this came from?
And no, I can't belive I'm writing a Harry Potter fanfiction... o_O;;

Harry Potter and the Uncommon Cold
Voldemort resorts to Biological Warfare
By Icka! M. Chif


"Bless you."

Lord Voldemort sniffed as Wormtail handed him a tissue. "This is all your fault, you bumbling incomenant." He growled, taking the Kleenex and blowing his nose. "If you had dressed me before I got out of the cauldron, this wouldn't have happened."

"Sorry, Master." Wormtail groveled.

Voldemort sniffed again, this one out of disdain rather than the fact that he had mucus dripping down his face. "There must be some way to pay Harry Potter back for this. If I must suffer, so must he!"

"We could always send him undiluted blubberbus pus." Wormtail suggested helpfully.

His Master glared at him, but was distracted by a loud sneeze. Wormtail grimaced and handed him another tissue.

"No..." Voldemort drawled, a smirk appearing as he cast an appraising eye over his quivering servant. "I have a better idea. The fastest way to get rid of cold is to share it, right?"

Wormtail nodded nervously.


A slight noise woke Harry up from a light doze. His scar had been aching a bit since that afternoon, not enough to make him tell anyone, but just enough to set him on his guard.

He held his breath, a hand sliding under his pillow to grasp his wand, which he had put there as a precautionary measure. Someone was moving around in the room. It wasn't any of his roommates, he didn't reconise the footsteps, and he could hear them all asleep in their beds.

The intruder scuffled over to his bed and pulled the curtains back. "'Allo 'arry." Wormtail wheezed, sounded rather stuffed up.

Harry sat up, his wand out and pointed at the Animagus. "What do you want, Wormtail?" He asked coldly.

"Lo'd Voldemort is mot 'appy right mow." Wormtail sniffed, wiping his nose on the back of a sleeve. The silver hand glittered in the dim light. "'e wishes ta share 'is discomfort wit' yew."

Before he could react to the veiled statement, Wormtail erupted in a huge sneeze, sending globs of spittle and mucus all over Harry's bed. Harry flinched. "Ewwww!!!"

Wormtail let out a muffled giggle as he dashed to the window and jumped out. A second later an owl flew by, a rat with a shiny silver paw in it's grasp. The owl quickly glided out of sight.

"Harry!" Ron jumped out of his bed and rushed over, his wand in hand. "Are you alright?! What was Wormtail doing here?! Should we tell Dumbledore?!"

Harry made a disgusted face, attempting to wipe his hands off. "I'm fine." He grumbled, climbing out of the sticky bed and into the frigid air. "All he did was sneeze on me."

"Did a right good job of it too." Dean supplied, surveying the mess on the bed. "Should get you down to Madame Polmfry, just in case something was in that."



The next day, Harry had a cold.

And for some odd reason, Voldemort was feeling much, much better.