Snape, I need you to kill a baby [Harry Potter, crack, one shot]

One day, Voldermort, the evilest evil wizard of evil evilness searched for a baby named Harry Potter.

"I have heard of a prophecy," said evil wizard Voldermort, who cut his soul into pieces like a My Chemical Romance song, "That someone named Harry Potter is prophesied to defeat me. That just won't do! I shall challenge Harry Potter with instant death!"

So evil Voldermort went to a house where the baby Harry Potter was, but Harry Potter's mum was there as well.

"You have neither hair nor nose." Harry Potter's brave mom said courageously upon seeing the bald noselessness of the evil wizard Voldermort. "You must be evil. I, Harry Potter's heroic mum, shall stand boldly against your and your unconscionable dilapidations!"

"Ah, I have just the evil spell for this evil occasion!" his hairlessness, Voldermort the evil remarked evilly, "For I, the evil Voldermort, am master of the evilest evil spells of evil evilness and evils! It's certain to evilly kill anything it touches with evil! It's save-or-die, except there's no save... ONLY DIE! Bwahahahahaha!" Voldermort laughed evilly.

"Avada Kedavra!" evil Voldermort shouted, casting the evil Killing Curse of inescapable death and undoubtable doom as it bounced off and killed Voldermort instead.

"Drat!" Voldermort cursed evilly. "I am dead!" But evil Voldermort had spare souls, so he was only evilly returned to his evil lair of evil.

"Whatever shall I do? The prophecy said I will die- Hang on, I'm already dead. So I'd better get back and finish the job. But..." The evil wizard paused for an evil moment.

"Harry Potter is a baby! How can I stop his incredible power?!" Voldermort cried out in a fit of evilness. "My nemesis, good wizard Dumbledore, the second-greatest wizard in the world, would have placed incredible, insurmountable wards and indefatigable guardians around baby Harry Potter! I'm doomed! Doomed!" his evilness Voldermort wept evilly.

"Ah," Voldermort sniffled, inhaling evil snot, "Perhaps my most loyal and greasy-haired of minions will help."

So Voldermort the evil unlocked his most evilly precious of evil artifacts: the magic evil telephone.

"Ring ring. Moshi mosh. Snape? Yes. No, you aren't washing your hair, I've never heard of (or smelled) you take a single bath in my lifetime. Yes. No. Yes, I need your help. No, not potions- I said NO POTIONS! Yes. I need you to kill someone. Yes, it's going to be extremely difficult..."

"Snape," evil Voldermort declared dramatically. "I need you to kill a baby."

"Yes, it's Harry Potter- No, I'm sure there's lots of protections around this unique and important baby-" Voldermort evilly sighed unhappilly.

"What? Potter's living in a perfectly ordinary dirtblood home? No magic wards? No wizard police? No neutrontium death golems? Oh. That's easier, hop to it then-"

"What do you mean you're only free next week? Grading assignments- You're a minion for evil's sake! Killing babies is a hobby, not a job! Oh fine. Two months- Yes, I'll give you my evil master plan of everything evil I'm planning. Yes, on our next monthly meeting of evilness... Yes, I'm catering... Yes, Fetus Tots and Mountainfolk Dew... Yes, uh huh, bye." Yoldermort hung up evilly in frustration.

"Fie! If I were to get anything done, I have to do it myself!" Voldermort turned in a evil huff and left, for left is an evil cardinal direction.

And so, evil wizard Voldermort, in a fit of petulant evilness, went to the home of the Dursley's, baby Harry Potter's adoptive muggle family.

However, the Dursley family was annoying. So one Dursely was turned into a frog, the other into a smoked ham, and the last an entire tea service with matching spoons and frilly lace doilies.

And so, evil wizard Voldermort found his nemesis, baby Harry Potter, in a crib stashed under the sink, stored beside old jars of turpentine and dusty stacks of titty magazines.

"A baby. Whatever could I do against it?" Voldermort, mightiest evil wizard of ancient evilness wailed in hopelessness evilly.

After several long hours reviewing centuries of accumulated eldritch occult lore, sinister mysticism and cryptic evilwizardrilessness; against the valiant and esoteric puissance of the doughty and mighty-thewed baby Harry Potter, the one foretold of arcane prophecies, aged one year and three months old...

Voldermort kicked the baby and it died.

"Well. Guess I win."

And then Voldermort was gay. The end.

 

Ouch that hurt

 

Ok, that is some good crack. I feel it burn in my veins. That, or it's my sides hurting from laughter.

 

Well this was certainly a collection of words posted to a forum.

 

Still a better love story than Twilight made more sense than the source material.

 

Your avatar is extremely appropriate.

 

Is it wrong because of this line I read everything in Alastor’s voice.