Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Pregnancy Can Be A Bitch ❯ Death Eater #1 ( Chapter 1 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Sleep Remedy 
A meeting of Death Eaters are assembled to choose the Dark Lord's heir.
Non Anime: Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 08.26.2008 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.6K | Visits: 511 | Status: Work In Progress
A meeting of Death Eaters are assembled to choose the Dark Lord's heir.
Non Anime: Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 08.26.2008 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.6K | Visits: 511 | Status: Work In Progress
“Pregnancy Can Be a Bitch”
-Written by Sleep Remedy
-Originated from Moofledeedums and Sleep Remedy Rant
Chapter One: Death Eater #1
Once upon a magical time in a little culdesac, there lived a young man named Harry Potter. However, I believe we've had enough of Harry for the next thousand years, so let's move on to the young man's evil rival thing, Voldemort.
Voldemort was something of an old man who was in horrible denial about how old he really was. But, after a bad 'bout with arthritis, a broken hip, and the beginnings of Alzheimer's, Voldemort had to admit that he was getting up there. And, of course, after he defeated that laughable Potter brat he would need someone to carry on his reign of power of the wizarding community. So, with a somewhat irritated mood, the Dark Lord called to order a meeting of all Death Eaters to commiserate upon who would birth his heir.
It was a dark and spooky night. Of course, big spooky secret meeting are always held on dark and spooky nights. Let's stay in that tradition, shall we? A mass of black hoods gathered under a new crescent moon, murmuring to one another, none knowing the purpose of said gathering, only being gathered by the insistence of the marking on their arms. Finally, their Lord took his place atop a large dilapidated mausoleum, staring out over the collection of assorted Pure Blood Wizards staring at him raptly. It was an enlightening sight. This was his power and the child who would hold his blood would carry on to take hold of this power in place of him. A form of immortality, he knew.
Not having to take any time to assert his power and quiet the crowd, Voldemort started right in on his grad speech. “I am not in delusion,” he said with great ado and a seemingly, mockingly, modest bow of his head. “I know that I grow old and that, though my wisdom grows, my body weakens. I know that my time runs short and that plans must be made for a successor...” Voldemort trailed off. At that moment, words broke out all amongst the crowd despite his glaring distaste. How dare they speak before he finished.
There to his right, he saw a jumping and overly ecstatic creature screaming, “Pick me, Dark Lord! I'm your biggest Fan EVA!”
“Avada Kedavra! Bzzzt!!”And then, he was dead. And, every one shut up.
Voldemort jumped down from the his perch and yanked a big yellow number one off the stupid Death Eater's cloak. “Okay,” he said in exasperation. “Who wants to be the new Death Eater Number One?” he asked.
From the crowds a little thing raised it's hand haltingly. Without a second thought, Voldemort tossed the piece of cloth in the man/woman ... / thing's direction and waltzed back to the front of the crowd.
“Are we all focused, now?” he asked, glaring at the crowd as they all nodded quickly and in unison. Amazing choreographing, yeah? “Good. Now, we can begin in earnest. I have gathered you all here to find a suitable surrogate mother to carry my child for me. All males, front and center!”
“Why the males, sir? Wouldn't it make much more sense to have the-”
“Avada Kedavra!!” And, down went another one. The males were now aligned in front of their leader in less than two seconds.
“Ahem, good. Please lower your hoods, it is safe,” he said perfectly stony-faced. He slowly walked the line of men, poking the old ones in the chest and forcing them backwards a few steps until he had it narrowed down to young men around the age of twenty to thirty.
Smiling to himself, the Dark Lord took his place back at the front of the crowd and said in a loud proud voice, “Alright, now who wants to have my baby?”
“Dear Lord, What?!” screamed a voice to Voldemort's far left.
“Abracadabra!” screamed Voldemort in the general direction of the voice.
“...” replied the crowd.
“Alzheimer's,” whispered the newest Death Eater Number One.
“Avada Kedavra!” roared Voldemort, killing the third ... or fourth Death Eater Number One.
“Now, Who Wants It?!” screamed the now enraged Voldemort, staring down the remaining young men, all of whom were pale and working very hard to keep their face emotionless.
Then, there was a very brave tugging at the hem of Lord Voldemort's dress, I mean robe! ((; . )) However, just before the now throbbing red-faced Voldemort was able to zap the life out of the offending tugger, Peter Pettigrew (the offending tugger) spoke up quietly, yet quickly.
“My Lord! I have the perfect specimen for you!” cried the lackey happily, his face radiating fan boy love.
“What is it, now? I highly doubt you have any little menfolk hidden away for me...” muttered the high and mighty (also salty, now) Lord.
“No, my Lord! I know the perfect way to both have a healthy child, completely unsuspected by aurors and to hurt that wretched Harry Potter!” Pettigrew spat the name with theatrical enthusiasm.
“Really now, and just how is that...”
However, yet another voice spoke up behind him, saying, “Harry Potter himself, probably. I saw this spooky pink shrine while I was vacuuming-Bzzzt!”
“Ahem, now Pettigrew. What is it that you wanted to show me?” repeated Voldemort, brushing back his non-existent hair.
“O-of course, sir...” muttered Pettigrew, pulling out his wand and, with a quick flick and a little swing materialized a deep red plush curtain. Then, with a little waddle and shuffle brought the small pathetic wizard to the front of the curtain, where Voldemort stood, staring critically at the over the top decorations. “Now, my Lord, I introduce you what has been a large part of the funding for the past seven months.”
“Do you mean the sudden influx of funds for the Organization? I thought those were donations...” he muttered, glancing sideways at the now fidgety Death Eaters behind him and made a note to kill that Number One later. That guy got on his nerves!
“Oh no, Sir, it has all been my ingenious marketing idea!” declared Pettigrew, his big watery eyes fixed on Voldemort's skeptical ones. “Here, allow me to show you.”
And, with another dramatic flick of his wand Pettigrew commanded the curtains to pull back slowly to reveal three full-sized dolls. The crowd gasped and oohed and awed and Snape, in the back, screamed indignantly. There, set out before them all was a Harry doll, a Snape doll, and a Draco doll.
-Meanwhile, back at the Malfoy manner, Draco sneezed and scratched the back of his head. Why was it that he suddenly felt like he was being watched? By perverts?-
“You see, my Lord, there are many muggle fan girls out there that would pay large amounts of muggle money to us for these dolls that are easily created by magic. It is quite profitable!”
“... I see...” Voldemort muttered, though he really didn't seem to be paying attention as he was busy poking all about the Harry doll. “And, what does this have to do with your plan, Pettirgrew?” he muttered, almost as an afterthought.
“Well, sir,” replied Pettigrew nervously at his Lord's behavior. “You see, it has come to my attention that only one of the dolls that I have created of Harry and his friends and enemies have not sold well amongst the young muggle fan girls. That would be...” Pettigrew conjured a Ron doll out of thin air, holding the item in his arms almost lovingly. “This Ron Weasley doll. I was thinking that, both because I know perfectly how to get close to him, because he is Harry Potter's best friend, and because the fan girls wouldn't care if we impregnated him, he would be the best choice.”
“And, these fan girls? They are dangerous?” Voldemort asked distantly, now test-hugging the Harry doll.
“Oh yes, sir. They are a dreadful force to be reckoned with. Their numbers are great and their devotion rivals that of our own...” said Pettigrew ominously.
-Meanwhile, Snape was being dragged away by Narcissa, Snape fighting ferociously to destroy the offending sex doll of his likeness-
“I see...” muttered Voldemort for the second time in that same distracted voice.
Turning abruptly, he looked at Pettigrew with fiery, yet distracted eyes. “Peter Pettigrew, I give you control of all the Death Eaters you shall need to get hold of this Ron Weasley. I want him here by tomorrow night. Now, I must be going. I have some, ah, thing to attend to...”
And, with that, Voldemort was off, the Harry doll tucked under his arm.
- - - - -
Authoress Note: Hello there! Yep, here it is. I don't really have much to say. About thirty minutes ago me and my friend Moofles had a stooopid rant about which male character from Harry Potter would make the best pregnant woman. Ron came in first with Snape in close second. .. with Dumbledoor in third, just because it would be so freaking interesting. But, anyway. This is gonna be really dumb and manic, but I hope you guys liked it! Much love, Sleepy.
-Written by Sleep Remedy
-Originated from Moofledeedums and Sleep Remedy Rant
Chapter One: Death Eater #1
Once upon a magical time in a little culdesac, there lived a young man named Harry Potter. However, I believe we've had enough of Harry for the next thousand years, so let's move on to the young man's evil rival thing, Voldemort.
Voldemort was something of an old man who was in horrible denial about how old he really was. But, after a bad 'bout with arthritis, a broken hip, and the beginnings of Alzheimer's, Voldemort had to admit that he was getting up there. And, of course, after he defeated that laughable Potter brat he would need someone to carry on his reign of power of the wizarding community. So, with a somewhat irritated mood, the Dark Lord called to order a meeting of all Death Eaters to commiserate upon who would birth his heir.
It was a dark and spooky night. Of course, big spooky secret meeting are always held on dark and spooky nights. Let's stay in that tradition, shall we? A mass of black hoods gathered under a new crescent moon, murmuring to one another, none knowing the purpose of said gathering, only being gathered by the insistence of the marking on their arms. Finally, their Lord took his place atop a large dilapidated mausoleum, staring out over the collection of assorted Pure Blood Wizards staring at him raptly. It was an enlightening sight. This was his power and the child who would hold his blood would carry on to take hold of this power in place of him. A form of immortality, he knew.
Not having to take any time to assert his power and quiet the crowd, Voldemort started right in on his grad speech. “I am not in delusion,” he said with great ado and a seemingly, mockingly, modest bow of his head. “I know that I grow old and that, though my wisdom grows, my body weakens. I know that my time runs short and that plans must be made for a successor...” Voldemort trailed off. At that moment, words broke out all amongst the crowd despite his glaring distaste. How dare they speak before he finished.
There to his right, he saw a jumping and overly ecstatic creature screaming, “Pick me, Dark Lord! I'm your biggest Fan EVA!”
“Avada Kedavra! Bzzzt!!”And then, he was dead. And, every one shut up.
Voldemort jumped down from the his perch and yanked a big yellow number one off the stupid Death Eater's cloak. “Okay,” he said in exasperation. “Who wants to be the new Death Eater Number One?” he asked.
From the crowds a little thing raised it's hand haltingly. Without a second thought, Voldemort tossed the piece of cloth in the man/woman ... / thing's direction and waltzed back to the front of the crowd.
“Are we all focused, now?” he asked, glaring at the crowd as they all nodded quickly and in unison. Amazing choreographing, yeah? “Good. Now, we can begin in earnest. I have gathered you all here to find a suitable surrogate mother to carry my child for me. All males, front and center!”
“Why the males, sir? Wouldn't it make much more sense to have the-”
“Avada Kedavra!!” And, down went another one. The males were now aligned in front of their leader in less than two seconds.
“Ahem, good. Please lower your hoods, it is safe,” he said perfectly stony-faced. He slowly walked the line of men, poking the old ones in the chest and forcing them backwards a few steps until he had it narrowed down to young men around the age of twenty to thirty.
Smiling to himself, the Dark Lord took his place back at the front of the crowd and said in a loud proud voice, “Alright, now who wants to have my baby?”
“Dear Lord, What?!” screamed a voice to Voldemort's far left.
“Abracadabra!” screamed Voldemort in the general direction of the voice.
“...” replied the crowd.
“Alzheimer's,” whispered the newest Death Eater Number One.
“Avada Kedavra!” roared Voldemort, killing the third ... or fourth Death Eater Number One.
“Now, Who Wants It?!” screamed the now enraged Voldemort, staring down the remaining young men, all of whom were pale and working very hard to keep their face emotionless.
Then, there was a very brave tugging at the hem of Lord Voldemort's dress, I mean robe! ((; . )) However, just before the now throbbing red-faced Voldemort was able to zap the life out of the offending tugger, Peter Pettigrew (the offending tugger) spoke up quietly, yet quickly.
“My Lord! I have the perfect specimen for you!” cried the lackey happily, his face radiating fan boy love.
“What is it, now? I highly doubt you have any little menfolk hidden away for me...” muttered the high and mighty (also salty, now) Lord.
“No, my Lord! I know the perfect way to both have a healthy child, completely unsuspected by aurors and to hurt that wretched Harry Potter!” Pettigrew spat the name with theatrical enthusiasm.
“Really now, and just how is that...”
However, yet another voice spoke up behind him, saying, “Harry Potter himself, probably. I saw this spooky pink shrine while I was vacuuming-Bzzzt!”
“Ahem, now Pettigrew. What is it that you wanted to show me?” repeated Voldemort, brushing back his non-existent hair.
“O-of course, sir...” muttered Pettigrew, pulling out his wand and, with a quick flick and a little swing materialized a deep red plush curtain. Then, with a little waddle and shuffle brought the small pathetic wizard to the front of the curtain, where Voldemort stood, staring critically at the over the top decorations. “Now, my Lord, I introduce you what has been a large part of the funding for the past seven months.”
“Do you mean the sudden influx of funds for the Organization? I thought those were donations...” he muttered, glancing sideways at the now fidgety Death Eaters behind him and made a note to kill that Number One later. That guy got on his nerves!
“Oh no, Sir, it has all been my ingenious marketing idea!” declared Pettigrew, his big watery eyes fixed on Voldemort's skeptical ones. “Here, allow me to show you.”
And, with another dramatic flick of his wand Pettigrew commanded the curtains to pull back slowly to reveal three full-sized dolls. The crowd gasped and oohed and awed and Snape, in the back, screamed indignantly. There, set out before them all was a Harry doll, a Snape doll, and a Draco doll.
-Meanwhile, back at the Malfoy manner, Draco sneezed and scratched the back of his head. Why was it that he suddenly felt like he was being watched? By perverts?-
“You see, my Lord, there are many muggle fan girls out there that would pay large amounts of muggle money to us for these dolls that are easily created by magic. It is quite profitable!”
“... I see...” Voldemort muttered, though he really didn't seem to be paying attention as he was busy poking all about the Harry doll. “And, what does this have to do with your plan, Pettirgrew?” he muttered, almost as an afterthought.
“Well, sir,” replied Pettigrew nervously at his Lord's behavior. “You see, it has come to my attention that only one of the dolls that I have created of Harry and his friends and enemies have not sold well amongst the young muggle fan girls. That would be...” Pettigrew conjured a Ron doll out of thin air, holding the item in his arms almost lovingly. “This Ron Weasley doll. I was thinking that, both because I know perfectly how to get close to him, because he is Harry Potter's best friend, and because the fan girls wouldn't care if we impregnated him, he would be the best choice.”
“And, these fan girls? They are dangerous?” Voldemort asked distantly, now test-hugging the Harry doll.
“Oh yes, sir. They are a dreadful force to be reckoned with. Their numbers are great and their devotion rivals that of our own...” said Pettigrew ominously.
-Meanwhile, Snape was being dragged away by Narcissa, Snape fighting ferociously to destroy the offending sex doll of his likeness-
“I see...” muttered Voldemort for the second time in that same distracted voice.
Turning abruptly, he looked at Pettigrew with fiery, yet distracted eyes. “Peter Pettigrew, I give you control of all the Death Eaters you shall need to get hold of this Ron Weasley. I want him here by tomorrow night. Now, I must be going. I have some, ah, thing to attend to...”
And, with that, Voldemort was off, the Harry doll tucked under his arm.
- - - - -
Authoress Note: Hello there! Yep, here it is. I don't really have much to say. About thirty minutes ago me and my friend Moofles had a stooopid rant about which male character from Harry Potter would make the best pregnant woman. Ron came in first with Snape in close second. .. with Dumbledoor in third, just because it would be so freaking interesting. But, anyway. This is gonna be really dumb and manic, but I hope you guys liked it! Much love, Sleepy.