Fanfiction: Once Upon a Freakin' Time
Wow, it's been about three months since I wrote anything original. I have to say that, given my state of mind since November, I'm really grateful for whatever creative spark pushed through to make this story happen.
Lord Voldemort Cannot Get a Visitor’s Pass
Lord Voldemort was unconcerned about his impending doom.
All right, maybe he’d recently been having these weird premonitions that his end was nigh. Something about the number seven and the month of July. But divination, as everyone knows, is bunk. There was absolutely no reason for him to assign unnecessary importance to vague predictions. It wasn’t as if he’d ever paid attention to prophecies before…
Okay, bad example. Still, Lord Voldemort was not worried.
Therefore, his 2:00 A.M. attempt to contact Sauron via scrying crystal (complete with crystal-to-palantír conversion tool, which Sauron insisted was necessary despite Voldemort’s conviction that the two devices were practically the same damn thing) was certainly not a cry for help. It was nothing more than a late night conversation with an esteemed colleague. They were both nocturnal creatures anyway.
“Is it working?” Voldemort asked. There were many advantages to speaking with Sauron via crystal-palantír, a main one being the absence of that annoying Mouth of Sauron. He was always making snide remarks and unhinging his gigantic mouth to laugh behind his hands. Voldemort had a distinct fear that he would one day meet Snape.
“I SEE YOU!” declared Sauron. On the other hand, there was Sauron’s penchant for talking in ALL CAPS and exclamation points.
“But can you hear me? Sauron?”
“I SEE--”
“Yeah, got that. Can you hear me?”
“YES! WHAT DO YOU WANT?!”
“Oh, nothing. I just wanted to talk. It’s been a while. How have you been?”
“MY TOWER HAS BEEN DESTROYED AND MY ARMIES DECIMATED! I AM LITTLE MORE THAN IMPOTENT SHADOW AND RAGE! HOW DO YOU THINK I AM?!”
“I remember hearing about that. Sorry I brought it up.”
“YOU REALLY AREN’T!”
“Well, no. I am evil, after all.”
“LOOK, VOLDEMORT, IT’S LATE! YOU MUST WANT SOMETHING OR YOU WOULDN’T HAVE CALLED!”
Voldemort sighed mournfully. “I’ve been having these feelings recently…”
“I KNEW IT! I KNEW DELAYING YOUR NORMAL ADOLESCENT GROWTH TO FOCUS ON POWER MONGERING WOULD LEAD TO THIS! OKAY, VOLDEMORT, LET ME EXPLAIN! YOU SEE, WHEN TWO PEOPLE LOVE, OR QUITE POSSIBLY HATE, EACH OTHER VERY MUCH--”
“What? No! Not those kinds of feelings! I’m not twelve, you overgrown optic nerve! I am so beyond the urges of the body that I-- I can’t believe you were about to-- I called because I think I may be dying soon!”
“OH, THAT FEELING! THAT POTTER KID IS GROWING UP AND READY TO OFF YOU, IS HE?! FIRST BIT OF ADVICE: DON’T INVEST YOUR ENTIRE BEING INTO A SINGLE OBJECT OF POWER!”
“Obviously!” snorted Voldemort. “I used six.”
“THAT’S A GOOD START! WHY DON’T YOU COME BY TOMORROW, AND WE’LL SEE IF WE CAN’T COME UP WITH A PLAN TO KILL OFF THE LITTLE BASTARD, OR AT LEAST KEEP YOU ALIVE FOR ANOTHER CENTURY OR SO!”
And so it came to pass that Voldemort went to visit Sauron to “talk strategy,” which had absolutely nothing to do with his fear that his reign of terror over the wizarding world was coming to an end.
There was very little of Barad-dûr left for Voldemort to visit; just some massive blocks of rubble and a giant hole in the ground. Still, sheltered in the lee of a particularly tall piece of rock, was a receptionist’s desk manned by a not-particularly-fierce looking desk orc. Perhaps it was the patent leather heels and dainty pearls that made for that perception.
“Help you?” growled the orc, looking up from its typing.
“Yes,” replied Voldemort importantly, “I’m here to see Lord Sauron.”
“Appointment?” asked the orc, picking up an adjacent clipboard and flipping through the pages.
“I am Lord Voldemort,” he stated.
There were a few moments of silence as the orc scanned its list in search of Voldemort’s name. “Do not see. Last name?”
“I don’t have a last name,” replied Voldemort. “I don’t need a last name. All who have heard my name remember it, as it echoes forever in their ears. Besides, I didn’t have enough letters left over for a proper surname.”
“Hmmmm,” said the orc. “Do not see.”
“Perhaps it is under ‘Voldemort,’” he suggested coldly.
“Not there,” said the orc, not even looking. “Maybe wrong spelling? See ID?”
“ID? Where do you expect me to get ID? I am reviled by the Mudblood-corrupted Ministry that issues such mundane things. I am beyond government validation. I am a Lord unrecognized by his people!”
“Uh-huh. Lord of where?”
“Excuse me?”
“Under title? Lord of where?”
“Lord of Darkness,” said Voldemort.
“Does not narrow down. Many Lords of Darkness. Perhaps should have considered Earl or Viscount of Darkness?”
“What are you talking about? Are you trying to imply that there are other Lords of Darkness named ‘Voldemort?’ You’re not even looking!”
The orc ignored him. “Is Darkness actual location?”
“No, it is not an actual location! Darkness is everywhere! It is prevalent in the hearts and minds of all wizardkind! It is the great void from whence came all evil unto the world! It is a state of being!”
“So,” said the orc, “self-titled?”
“Oh, screw this!” shouted Voldemort. “There is no advice that pathetic shade of a giant flaming eye could give me that would be worth this aggravation! I’m going home!” And with a violent Apparation, he was gone.
“Ah!” said the orc, as it watched the dust swirling to fill the vacuum Voldemort had left. “Found! Under ‘Lord Thingy.’”
Lord Voldemort Cannot Get a Visitor’s Pass
Lord Voldemort was unconcerned about his impending doom.
All right, maybe he’d recently been having these weird premonitions that his end was nigh. Something about the number seven and the month of July. But divination, as everyone knows, is bunk. There was absolutely no reason for him to assign unnecessary importance to vague predictions. It wasn’t as if he’d ever paid attention to prophecies before…
Okay, bad example. Still, Lord Voldemort was not worried.
Therefore, his 2:00 A.M. attempt to contact Sauron via scrying crystal (complete with crystal-to-palantír conversion tool, which Sauron insisted was necessary despite Voldemort’s conviction that the two devices were practically the same damn thing) was certainly not a cry for help. It was nothing more than a late night conversation with an esteemed colleague. They were both nocturnal creatures anyway.
“Is it working?” Voldemort asked. There were many advantages to speaking with Sauron via crystal-palantír, a main one being the absence of that annoying Mouth of Sauron. He was always making snide remarks and unhinging his gigantic mouth to laugh behind his hands. Voldemort had a distinct fear that he would one day meet Snape.
“I SEE YOU!” declared Sauron. On the other hand, there was Sauron’s penchant for talking in ALL CAPS and exclamation points.
“But can you hear me? Sauron?”
“I SEE--”
“Yeah, got that. Can you hear me?”
“YES! WHAT DO YOU WANT?!”
“Oh, nothing. I just wanted to talk. It’s been a while. How have you been?”
“MY TOWER HAS BEEN DESTROYED AND MY ARMIES DECIMATED! I AM LITTLE MORE THAN IMPOTENT SHADOW AND RAGE! HOW DO YOU THINK I AM?!”
“I remember hearing about that. Sorry I brought it up.”
“YOU REALLY AREN’T!”
“Well, no. I am evil, after all.”
“LOOK, VOLDEMORT, IT’S LATE! YOU MUST WANT SOMETHING OR YOU WOULDN’T HAVE CALLED!”
Voldemort sighed mournfully. “I’ve been having these feelings recently…”
“I KNEW IT! I KNEW DELAYING YOUR NORMAL ADOLESCENT GROWTH TO FOCUS ON POWER MONGERING WOULD LEAD TO THIS! OKAY, VOLDEMORT, LET ME EXPLAIN! YOU SEE, WHEN TWO PEOPLE LOVE, OR QUITE POSSIBLY HATE, EACH OTHER VERY MUCH--”
“What? No! Not those kinds of feelings! I’m not twelve, you overgrown optic nerve! I am so beyond the urges of the body that I-- I can’t believe you were about to-- I called because I think I may be dying soon!”
“OH, THAT FEELING! THAT POTTER KID IS GROWING UP AND READY TO OFF YOU, IS HE?! FIRST BIT OF ADVICE: DON’T INVEST YOUR ENTIRE BEING INTO A SINGLE OBJECT OF POWER!”
“Obviously!” snorted Voldemort. “I used six.”
“THAT’S A GOOD START! WHY DON’T YOU COME BY TOMORROW, AND WE’LL SEE IF WE CAN’T COME UP WITH A PLAN TO KILL OFF THE LITTLE BASTARD, OR AT LEAST KEEP YOU ALIVE FOR ANOTHER CENTURY OR SO!”
And so it came to pass that Voldemort went to visit Sauron to “talk strategy,” which had absolutely nothing to do with his fear that his reign of terror over the wizarding world was coming to an end.
There was very little of Barad-dûr left for Voldemort to visit; just some massive blocks of rubble and a giant hole in the ground. Still, sheltered in the lee of a particularly tall piece of rock, was a receptionist’s desk manned by a not-particularly-fierce looking desk orc. Perhaps it was the patent leather heels and dainty pearls that made for that perception.
“Help you?” growled the orc, looking up from its typing.
“Yes,” replied Voldemort importantly, “I’m here to see Lord Sauron.”
“Appointment?” asked the orc, picking up an adjacent clipboard and flipping through the pages.
“I am Lord Voldemort,” he stated.
There were a few moments of silence as the orc scanned its list in search of Voldemort’s name. “Do not see. Last name?”
“I don’t have a last name,” replied Voldemort. “I don’t need a last name. All who have heard my name remember it, as it echoes forever in their ears. Besides, I didn’t have enough letters left over for a proper surname.”
“Hmmmm,” said the orc. “Do not see.”
“Perhaps it is under ‘Voldemort,’” he suggested coldly.
“Not there,” said the orc, not even looking. “Maybe wrong spelling? See ID?”
“ID? Where do you expect me to get ID? I am reviled by the Mudblood-corrupted Ministry that issues such mundane things. I am beyond government validation. I am a Lord unrecognized by his people!”
“Uh-huh. Lord of where?”
“Excuse me?”
“Under title? Lord of where?”
“Lord of Darkness,” said Voldemort.
“Does not narrow down. Many Lords of Darkness. Perhaps should have considered Earl or Viscount of Darkness?”
“What are you talking about? Are you trying to imply that there are other Lords of Darkness named ‘Voldemort?’ You’re not even looking!”
The orc ignored him. “Is Darkness actual location?”
“No, it is not an actual location! Darkness is everywhere! It is prevalent in the hearts and minds of all wizardkind! It is the great void from whence came all evil unto the world! It is a state of being!”
“So,” said the orc, “self-titled?”
“Oh, screw this!” shouted Voldemort. “There is no advice that pathetic shade of a giant flaming eye could give me that would be worth this aggravation! I’m going home!” And with a violent Apparation, he was gone.
“Ah!” said the orc, as it watched the dust swirling to fill the vacuum Voldemort had left. “Found! Under ‘Lord Thingy.’”