Expecto Patronum a la Voldemort

“Dark Lord! We are in dire need of your assistance!”, Peter Pettigrew begs after bursting his way through the tall oak doors of Voldemort's personal chambers.

With a chilling calmness, Voldemort eyes his pitifully useless henchman who is now kneeling on all fours and dripping nasal fluids all over his specially polished Elv-wood floors. I will punish him later for this insolence, he thinks to himself. With a sigh of contempt, Voldemort addresses Pettigrew, “What, may I ask, is in such urgent need of my assistance. Oh, I know you are plenty useless, but what, may I also ask, is far beyond the reach of both Bellatrix, Greyback, and Lucius's capabilities that they would need to send a blundering idiot into my chambers to disturb my rest? Might I remind you to answer wisely, because my wand now itches to perform a Cruciatus spell on a certain dimwit.”

Pettigrew recoils in fear and now contemplates which of the two terrible fates out-weigh the other; Voldemort's wrath, or the impending doom waiting just outside the room. Just in time to break the tense silence, the other three death eaters (Bellatrix, Greyback, and Lucius) also stagger into the room. “Thank the darkness! You are awake!”

Voldemort rolls his eyes, “What is it?”

“Well, we were rounding up the Dementors for our next attack on Hogwarts, and for no reason that we can explain, they just… they just turned on us! There's just too many of them. Most of our death eaters are incapacitated now. No one was able to create a Patronus spell powerful enough to cast them away, which is why we need you master!” Bellatrix explains as she stares at Voldemort with a gleam of hope in her eyes.

Voldemort's eyes go wide, “Uhhh… You need a Patronus?… My Patronus? Lucius, are you sure your Patronus wasn't strong enough to control them? What is yours, a lion? That's nice and strong, you take care of it!”

“Your mightiness, my Patronus, although a lion, was not able to overcome them. Please, we need you to perform the spell!”, Lucius pleads.

Voldemort turns his back to the four of them, “I.. I don't feel like it right now. You see, I recently hurt my back… and… I have… I have… umm…. Plantar Fasciitis! Yes! That's it… My fascia is killing me.. and any good wizard knows you need a nice healthy fascia to perform… that… particular spell.”

The four of them glance back and fourth at each other, Bellatrix steps forward, “My lord, your modesty humbles us. We're all sure, even with your injured… fascia… your Patronus will be plenty powerful to take care of the matter!”

“Damnit! Are you all hard of hearing!?” Voldemort says while stomping his feet, “What don't the four of you idiots understand?! I don't want to do a Patronus! I won't do a Patronus! I don't care what my Patronus implies!” he freezes.

“Implies? What are you talking about Lord?” Lucius asks.

“Well, you know… It's… You see… the thing is…Uhh.. Webster's dictionary defines the word 'pha..' ”

Voldemort is cut off as the room suddenly plunges into a suffocating darkness. The temperature also plummets as nearly a dozen Dementors suddenly burst into the room. The four death eaters scream in terror as the death kiss is given to the each of them, one by one. Bellatrix let's out a plea, “Dark Lord! A Patronus!”

Under normal circumstances, Voldemort would just allow the four of them to be taken by the life ending kiss of death; however, even the dark lord himself, with the little soul he had in his body, could not withstand the terrible destruction of the Dementor's kiss. He had no choice. It had to be done.


From the tip of his Phoenix feathered wand, a spectacular silver light emerges and begins to take form. The Patronus, complete and full bodied, makes it's way around the room and dissipates each of the Dementor's dark effects. Although an emotionless entity, each Dementor is expelled from the room as if it were writhing in great pain. The Patronus is really just as powerful as predicted… aside from its rather “unusual” form.

The four of them ignore the blood that has begun to spill from each of their eyes and ears, all they could do is stare quizzically at their master.

Voldemort hesitantly stares back but states firmly, “Any smart remark from any of you and you'll all wish it was your last.”

“Oh, no. Noooo… We are just in awe of your performance, and the… form that your Patronus took… Nothing odd at all about… thaaat. What was it again? A Basilisk snake?” Lucius says trying to relieve the awkward tension.

Greyback chimes in, “No you moron! That was no snake! Not from the great Voldemort! That was clearly a dragon! A great… wingless… one eyed….. veiny…. dragon. A glorious dragon!”

“SILENCE!” Voldemort erupts, “It was no damn snake! It wasn't a freaking wingless dragon! You know what it is! I know what it is! We all know what it is! So I'll just say it!….. It's a giant flying penis! Okay?! Happy now?! My patronus spell takes on the form of a GIANT FLYING PENIS!”

“Not that there's anything wrong with it…” Bellatrix adds in, “Perhaps it took that form because you are so passionate about the battle with Dumbledore and…”

“Oh shut up! It's been that way since I was 15 years old and called Tom Riddle! So what?! It doesn't mean anything!”

“Of course it doesn't mean anything! I mean… Like mine for example… It's a panther… What does that mean? So what if all of my victims called me the “dark panther”?… or the fact that I have a panther tattoo on my lower hip….. or that for a partial time in my childhood… I was raised by panthers… it means nothing!” Beatrix says as the others nod their heads in agreement, “Perhaps it's the choice of 'happy thoughts' you think of to conjure up the spell.”

Lucius throws his hands in the air, “Of course! That must be it! Just a miscommunication from your thoughts to the wand! What is it that you think of master? Maybe we can help tweak it!”

“IT'S NONE OF YOUR DAMN BUSINESS! Uh, I mean,” Voldemort retracts, “Not that I have anything to hide. I think of… umm.. Harry Potter's mother! Yes! Her and her… sweet…. motherly…. umm… Vaginal things”

Greyback nods his head and replies, “Oh, totally! Who hasn't thought of Mrs. Potter's…. Vaginal things. Well, it must be a malfunction in your wand then. But don't you worry master! We will find you a new one! The Elder Wand! Yes! The most powerful wand on earth!”, Greyback looks back at the other three and whispers to them, “Not to mention that it's also 'ribbed' for his pleasure”. The four of the death eaters immediately press their lips together to suppress their laughter.

“I HEARD THAT!”, Voldemort booms, “That's it! Out! All of you out! And next time this happens! I'll leave you all to deal with the Dementors yourselves!” The four of them race out of his chambers and shut the doors behind them.

Finally alone, Voldemort makes his way across the room to his secret cupboard. “Alohomora”, Voldemort says as the locked cupboard door swings open and unveils the large nude oil painting that he had made with his very own hands. “I think of you…… Harry Potter.”, he says to the painting in a low whisper….. and begins to fondle himself.



Hermione rushes over to Harry, “Are you okay Harry?”

“Ya, it's just my damn scar, it's hurting again. It must be Voldemort, he's up to something. I can feel it.”