So this is something I wrote in May. As I was talking to a friend of mine who also suffers from depression, we thought it would be a fun idea to write short Harry Potter fics, since that’s where we like to spend our time when we’re in our heads. Now, I wouldn’t like to be Voldemort, but this is the first thing that came to mind. It’s nothing serious, written solely for my own amusement and that of my friend, but I wanted to share it with you anyway. Hope it makes you chuckle.
The silver moon shone brightly on the otherwise dark, dark night, its beams illuminating the large manor on top of the hill. Light shone through the massive windows, where, in the parlour, a rather unusual gathering had formed. The most unusual, perhaps, was the man sitting at the head of the long table. With his sinister features – bald skin, red eyes, and slits for nostrils – Lord Voldemort radiated an air of permanent menace.
The giant oak door opened with a screech, revealing a hooded man. Underneath the hood, the man was clad in black from his feet to the top of his head, where he sported a set of long, greasy hair. A hooked nose peeked from underneath the cloth, and when he took off his cloak, he looked at the group with eyes as dark as the night.
‘Ah, Severus,’ Lord Voldemort said calmly in his cold, high voice. ‘You’ve made it, and just in time for the grading. Sit down.’
Severus Snape took a seat at the edge of the narrow table, on Voldemort’s right-hand side, looking mildly surprised. ‘The grading, my Lord?’
‘Yes, I have decided to start grading you.’ He gestured towards the stack of papers in front of him. Each paper revealed a name of a different Death Eater – Bellatrix, Macnair, Avery. ‘This way, it is easier for me to keep track of your successes and – disappointments.’
Wormtail gasped in horror. ‘Master, is this really necessary?’
The air grew thick with tension as Lord Voldemort raised his eyes to the stump of a man, who cowered in his seat. ‘You dare question me, Wormtail?’ the Dark Lord asked. ‘Very well, we’ll start with you, then.’
With the flick of his wand, the paper bearing Wormtail’s name flitted to the top of the stack, barely muffling Wormtail’s pathetic whimpers. He picked up the long, elegant quill lying next to him. ‘I cannot pretend to perceive you as anything more than the vermin you are, Wormtail. You follow my orders out of sheer fear rather than loyalty. However, you have helped me return to the world of the bodied, which, I think we can all agree on, exceeded all of our expectations.’
A silent snicker from the other Death Eaters filled the room as Voldemort drew a large E for Exceeded Expectations on top of the paper.
‘Oh, thank you, Master… thank you…’ Wormtail panted, visibly relieved.
‘Now, this stack will be fairly easy,’ Voldemort continued, pulling out several pieces of paper. ‘Lestrange, Dolohov, Rookwood… they have gone to Azkaban for me, unlike yourselves.’ His red eyes roamed his followers who had eluded imprisonment in one way or another, now unsuccessfully hiding their nerves. When Voldemort felt he’d made them fidget enough, he looked down at the stack of papers, and drew perfect Os for Outstanding on them.
Macnair, who had made his love for murdering things his daytime job, received A for Acceptable. Lucius Malfoy, who had done nothing to ensure Voldemort’s return, was the first to get a fail – P for Poor, as Voldemort had expected much, much more from him.
Lucius grabbed his wife’s hand, looking agitated.
Then it was Severus’ turn. ‘Severus… I have to say, I had my doubts about you,’ Voldemort murmured. Snape looked back at the Dark Lord, his expression unreadable. ‘For a while, I feared you had left me forever. However, here you are, and you have proven your loyalty to me. Therefore, I shall reward you with an E.’
‘Thank you, my Lord,’ Snape replied, bowing his head.
Voldemort’s features turned ponderous when he gazed upon the next name – Igor Karkaroff. ‘Karkaroff, yes… that filthy toe rag fled when he felt the Dark Mark burn… traitor… no matter now… I know just what to do with him.’ With a great flourish, he drew a giant D over Karkaroff’s name.
‘What… what happens when we receive a Dreadful, my Lord?’ Malfoy’s shaky voice called out, his eyes widening with fear.
‘Not Dreadful, Lucius, my slippery friend…’ Lord Voldemort looked up with a huge, unsettling smile, his yellow teeth gleaming in the moonlight.