We’re over 10k followers thanks to you guys I never dreamed a fandom I loved so much would blow up again like this. I never forget getting to share all this with people who love the same things I wanna keep going until I run out of steam post a clean version too, so feel free to edit it and use it however you like

#malfoid My baby daughter can't be this cute ! Manhwa style Cover

By far my longest and definitely my favorite section yet. Part 3 of Malfoid!

Malfoy's Patronus 3 #malfoid

結束バンド、それぞれの未来 #ぼっちざろっく

"What're you reading there?" Finished the new chapter of my Malfoid fanfic. Check it out if you wanna: archiveofourown.org/works/93…

In every Harry Potter book, there's approximately 45-100 students that are having a perfectly normal year and wondering why Harry and his friends are constantly involved in some whackadoo bullshit that threatens to close the school and fuck up their education

BOOK 1: Harry kills a possessed teacher. CURIOUS STUDENT: Wait... Harry just fought a teacher? NERVOUS STUDENT: I knew I should've gone to Beauxbatons. LAZY STUDENT: Does this mean we still have homework? BOOK 2: Harry kills a giant fucking snake WTF. PANICKED STUDENT: WHY THE FUCK IS THERE A GIANT SNAKE UNDER THE SCHOOL?! NERD STUDENT: Technically, it's a Basilisk. PANICKED STUDENT: I DON'T GIVE A FUCK WHAT IT'S TECHNICALLY CALLED! UNBOTHERED STUDENT: Potter killed it. Cool. BOOK 3: Harry is stalked by a supposedly escaped mass murderer. PARANOID STUDENT: Why is a wanted murderer inside Hogwarts?! GOSSIP STUDENT: I heard he broke into the castle looking specifically for Potter. TIRED STUDENT: Can everyone stop screaming? I'm trying to finish my essay. BRAVE STUDENT: Honestly, I'm starting to think Potter attracts this shit. BOOK 4: Harry survives a deadly tournament and gets targeted by Voldemort. CONFUSED STUDENT: WHY IS A FOURTH YEAR IN A DEATH TOURNAMENT?! LOGICAL STUDENT: He has to fight a dragon, retrieve something underwater, and survive a maze. CONFUSED STUDENT: THAT'S NOT A SCHOOL ACTIVITY! EXCITED STUDENT: This is fucking awesome. HORRIFIED STUDENT: You are insane. BOOK 5: The Ministry takes over Hogwarts and Harry starts a secret resistance. REBELLIOUS STUDENT: Potter is forming an illegal student army. CAREFUL STUDENT: We should probably not get involved. REBELLIOUS STUDENT: Absolutely. EXHAUSTED STUDENT: Why is our school turning into a fucking dictatorship? BOOK 6: Guess who's fucking back bitch. SKEPTICAL STUDENT: Voldemort is back? EXPERIENCED STUDENT: Obviously. HOPEFUL STUDENT: Maybe this year will be peaceful. EVERYONE: No. BOOK 7: Harry fights Voldemort, survives death, kills him like come on just die already, and Hogwarts becomes a fucking battlefield. PANICKED STUDENT: WHY IS THE CASTLE ON FIRE?! TACTICAL STUDENT: The west corridor is compromised! Move to the Great Hall! DRAMATIC STUDENT: THIS IS THE END! CALM STUDENT: Probably. EXAM-OBSESSED STUDENT: DOES THIS MEAN OUR N.E.W.T.S. ARE CANCELLED?! ANGRY STUDENT: THE SCHOOL IS FUCKING COLLAPSING AND YOU'RE WORRIED ABOUT EXAMS?! Harry walks past them. CURIOUS STUDENT: Potter, what the hell happened? HARRY: Long story. SUSPICIOUS STUDENT: Was Voldemort involved? HARRY: Yes. EVERYONE: OF FUCKING COURSE HE WAS. LAZY STUDENT: So... no homework tonight? PROFESSIONAL STUDENT: If Hogwarts survives, I'm transferring. NERD STUDENT: Technically, we still have seven years of education remaining. DUMBLEDORE: NO EDUCATION NEVER STOP ALSO YOU ALL RESTARTING OK AND 100,000,000 POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR!

A reply from Potter?! This is so embarrassing! Original Ref: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (Book 3 / Movie 3). Classroom scene. Malfoy sends a flying paper crane with a mean doodle mocking Harry getting struck by lightning. #PixAI #マルフォイド #malfoid #malfoy #AIart

“Excuse me Ms. McGonagall but I heard you were in Vietnam.” “How do you know about Vietnam Potter?” “I did attend muggle schools before I came to Hogwarts. I learned a little about it in history class.” “Oh right. Well if it will sate your curiosity and get you back on task then, yes I was in Vietnam.” “Brilliant! But what were you doing getting involved in a Muggle war?” “I was asked by the Ministry to tend to some dreadful affair. What the Reds were doing to the old magical families in the region was… concerning.” “And what did you do?” “Nothing really I was a liaison you see. I worked with the Military Assistance Command Vietnam, Studies and Observation Group or MACV-SOG for short.” “Oh…that sounds…” “Boring? I can assure you dear boy it was anything but. That, however, is a story best told when you’re much, much older. Preferably over shots of fire whiskey. Now back to your studies.”

The biggest plot twist since The Sixth Sense.

Dracena Malfoy, Part IV (Can't stop, won't stop. Until my muse gets bored at least) The fire turned green precisely as the clock in his study struck the first chime at eleven. Lucius Malfoid was waiting. He stood alone in his study, one hand resting upon the silver head of his cane, watching ordinary flames transform. Green fire climbed the grate. A face appeared within it. Pale. Serpentine. “Lucius.” “My Lord.” Lucius bowed. “I trust preparations are proceeding.” “They are.” “The Ministry?” “Three additional members have agreed to cooperate. Two others are sympathetic but unwilling to commit themselves openly.” “Cowards.” “Politicians.” Voldemort’s mouth twitched in a vile smile. “Is there a difference?” “Occasionally.” Lucius allowed himself the faintest smile in return. Voldemort did not return it. “The funds we discussed?” “Transferred through Gringotts.” “And our friends in America?” “I have spoken with them.” “They will support us?” “They will support me.“ Voldemort’s eyes narrowed. Lucius continued before the distinction could become an issue. “And I have assured them that supporting me means supporting you.” The green flames shifted. Lucius waited. He had been doing a great deal of that lately. Waiting. Watching. Thinking. All extremely dangerous habits. When this had begun, years ago, the arrangement had seemed almost elegant. Voldemort possessed power. Lucius possessed money, influence, connections and a name that opened doors which even the threat of violence could not. Their interests aligned. The old families had been losing influence for generations. The Ministry increasingly concerned itself with regulating ancient institutions it barely understood. Customs that had survived centuries were suddenly treated as embarrassing relics. Overseas wizards, and Muggle influence seeped farther into their world every year. Voldemort promised restoration. Order. Power returned to those Lucius believed had earned the right to wield it. Lucius had never imagined himself a fanatic. Fanatics were tiresome. He had imagined himself a patron. Money here. An introduction there. A Ministry official persuaded. A newspaper influenced. An inconvenient investigation made to disappear. Politics. Then Voldemort had begun asking for other things. Names. Information. Places. People. Lucius had provided them. Then came threats. Then disappearances. Then bodies. By then, Lucius’s hands were dirty enough that objecting to the mud seemed rather pointless. And besides? He still agreed with much of it. “Lucius.” He returned his attention to the fire. “My apologies.” “You seem distracted.” “My daughter returned home for Christmas.” Something changed in Voldemort’s expression. Lucius noticed. “Ah. Dracena.” “Yes.” “I have heard interesting things about your daughter.” Lucius’s grip tightened around the cane. “Teenagers are inexhaustible sources of gossip.” “This is more than gossip.” Voldemort smiled a reptilian smile. “She has become close to Harry Potter.” There it was. Lucius said nothing. “Very close, according to what I’ve been told.” “Yes.” The admission tasted unpleasant. “You approve?” “No.” Voldemort smiled again. “But you permit it.” “Dracena is sixteen.” “And?” “Meaning she is at an age when forbidding something is an excellent way of ensuring she does it more enthusiastically.” Voldemort laughed. “Practical as always.” “I try, my Lord.” “And perhaps her adolescent infatuation can be made useful.” Lucius became very still. “How?” Voldemort’s expression changed. Lucius knew that expression. He’d seen it before someone disappeared. “Potter trusts her.” Lucius said nothing. “He allows her close to him. Closer than any of us could get.” Lucius knew where this was going. Some desperate part of him hoped he was wrong. “Give her something.” Voldemort said. Lucius stared into the flames, his jaw moving slowly. “Something?” “A potion. A cursed object. Whatever method you think she could conceal.” Lucius’s hand tightened around the cane. “And?” Voldemort looked almost amused. “Surely I needn’t explain everything to you.” “No.” Lucius’s voice sounded distant to his own ears. “No, I suppose you don’t.” “She gets close to Potter. She waits until they’re alone.” Lucius rememberd his daughter in his study earlier that night. “He’s more than that.” she said. Lucius had known. He hated knowing. Voldemort continued. “Then she kills him.” “No.” The word escaped before Lucius had decided to say it. The green flames hissed. Voldemort’s expression didn’t change. “What did you say?” Lucius felt his heartbeat in his throat. He could soften it. “It would be impractical.” he could say. “She’s unreliable.” “There are better methods.” Politics. Always politics. His jaw tightened. “I said no.” Voldemort’s eyes narrowed. Lucius drew himself upright. “I will not ask my daughter to murder Harry Potter.” “Because she’s fond of him?” “Because she is MY daughter.” Voldemort stared at him. Lucius stared back. “How sentimental.” “Perhaps.” “You disappoint me.” “I have survived greater tragedies. I will survive this one.” That was dangerous. Lucius knew it the moment he said it. The green flames seemed to grow colder. Voldemort’s voice became soft. “Careful, Lucius.” Every instinct told him to yield. Lucius did not. Voldemort watched him for several seconds through the fire. “Very well.” Voldemort said. Lucius almost relaxed. Almost. “She needn’t kill him. Have her bring Potter to me.” “No.” This time there was no hesitation. Voldemort’s face twisted. “Lucius.” “I said No, my Lord.” “She need only to arrange...” “I understood you.” “Then perhaps you misunderstand your position.” Lucius felt something inside him settle. Strangely, that made this easier. “No, my Lord.” He idly adjusted his cufflink. “I think perhaps you misunderstand mine.” “Explain.” Voldemort said, coldly Lucius walked toward the fireplace. “Dracena is not a Death Eater.” “Not yet she isn’t.” “I will do what you ask of me.” Lucius continued. “Within reason. The people who have pledged themselves to our cause will do what is required of them.” “Our cause.” “Yes. But my daughter is not one of them.” “Your daughter is a resource uniquely positioned to...” “She is not a resource.” The words came harder than Lucius intended. Voldemort went silent. Lucius heard her voice in his memory. “I belong to me.” He had been furious when she’d said it. He had considered it adolescent insolence. Now another man was discussing his daughter as though she were a useful piece on a chessboard. Lucius discovered that he despised it. “Dracena has made no oath to you.” he said. “Her father has.” “Yes, he has” “You would deny me victory because your daughter has developed a schoolgirl fascination with Potter?” “No.” Lucius surprised himself with the answer. “I would deny you my daughter, until she decides to ally herself with you of her own right.“ Voldemort’s face hardened. “You forget yourself.” Lucius almost laughed. Perhaps he did. “No. I remember myself perfectly.” He walked closer to the flames. “My name is Lucius Malfoid.” Voldemort’s lip curled. “I know your name.” “Then remember what comes with it.” Lucius felt the old instincts returning. He remembered how his father always talked about negotiation. This was the language he understood best. “You need me.” Voldemort’s eyes flashed. “Do I?” “Yes.” Lucius said it calmly. “Very badly, in fact.” “Be careful.” “Oh, now wait.” Lucius raised one hand. Voldemort looked almost stunned by the audacity. Lucius continued. “You need my money. You need my connections inside the Ministry. You need my contacts abroad. You need the families who joined you because I told them you were worth supporting.” “Do you imagine yourself indispensable?” “No.” That answer seemed to surprise Voldemort. “I imagine myself extremely inconvenient to lose.” Lucius allowed that to sit between them. “Kill me if you like.” Voldemort’s eyes narrowed. “Threaten my wife. My Family. Burn my house down. You are certainly capable of all of this.” Lucius’s voice remained conversational. “But then tomorrow morning several very wealthy people are going to ask why Lucius Malfoid disappeared immediately after speaking with you.” Voldemort said nothing. “And if instead I simply withdraw my support?” Lucius shrugged. “I make several Floo calls.” His heart was hammering now. He refused to let it show. “I tell people I’ve reconsidered.” “You wouldn’t.” “Wouldn’t I?” “You would sacrifice everything you’ve worked for?” Lucius considered that. “No. But I would sacrifice you.“ The green flames surged. Voldemort’s face contorted with rage. Lucius gripped his cane. For one insane second he wondered whether one could cast a Killing Curse through a Floo connection. He sincerely hoped not. “You dare threaten me?” “I am not threatening you.” Lucius heard Dracena again. “It’s a boundary.” Merlin. He almost laughed. His daughter was going to be the death of him. “I am explaining the arrangement.” “Arrangement?” “Yes.” Lucius’s voice hardened. “I support you.” He ticked the points off calmly. “I help fund you. I persuade others to fund you. I give you access to people and institutions you could otherwise reach only through violence.” Voldemort’s face flared. “I will continue doing those things.” Lucius leaned slightly closer. “But Dracena is not part of the arrangement.” He took a breath, and stared directly at the Dark Lord. “She does not carry messages for you.” Lucius’s voice became colder. “She does not spy for you. She does not lure Potter anywhere. And she does not kill for you. At least, not until she decides to join you on her own.” Voldemort stared at him. Lucius returned the stare. “If you want Harry Potter dead, kill him yourself.” “Lucius...” “Or get someone else. Leave my daughter out of it.” For several seconds neither man spoke. Then Voldemort smiled. It was not pleasant. “Interesting.” Lucius waited. “You’ve grown a spine.” “I’ve always had one.” “You’ve simply preferred not to use it.” Lucius couldn’t argue with that. Voldemort’s eyes seemed to look through him. “Does she know?” “Know what?” “What her father has done for me.” Lucius felt cold. “She knows enough.” “Does she know everything?” “No.” “Perhaps she should.” There was the threat. Lucius’s voice dropped. “Do not.” Voldemort smiled wider. “Ah.” Lucius hated himself for reacting. “You fear losing her.” Lucius said nothing. “You fear she’ll discover what her father really is.” Voldemort laughed softly. “How touching.” Lucius stared into the flames. He thought of Dracena standing in this room. Terrified. Defiant. “I love you.” she said. She had said it after telling him he was wrong. Those two things could apparently coexist. Lucius still wasn’t entirely sure how. “Perhaps.” he said. Voldemort’s smile disappeared. “But if you intend to use that fear to control me, I suggest you think very carefully.” “Is that another threat?” “No.” Lucius smiled faintly. “Consider it, instead, Financial advice.” Lucius faked a grin. Voldemort stared at him. And then, he laughed. There was no warmth in it. “Very well, Lucius.” Lucius did not relax. “Dracena remains uninvolved.” “Yes.” “I will find another way to Potter.” “I assumed you would.” “But understand something.” Voldemort leaned toward the flames. “This indulgence will not be forgotten.” Lucius looked directly into his eyes. “I didn’t expect it to be.” Voldemort’s face disappeared. The fire returned to a bright, warm orange. Lucius still felt cold. His knees felt surprisingly unreliable. He walked to the drinks cabinet and poured himself considerably more brandy than good judgment recommended. His hands were shaking. He stared at them. “Bloody girl.” he muttered. He drank. On the table beside him lay several rectangular plastic cases Dracena had left there several nights earlier. She had called it a “DVD.” Lucius picked it up. Two Muggle films. One about an Empire striking back. The other about some Jedi returning from wherever Jedi apparently went. Lucius poured another drink. He would never tell Dracena he’d acquired a Muggle television and watched them after she’d gone to bed. He certainly would never tell her he’d enjoyed them. He would take that fact to his grave before admitting that he’d understood the man in the black mask. A servant of enormous power. A loyal lieutenant. A man who had done monstrous things because he’d convinced himself there was no longer any meaningful difference between one compromise and the next. Until his master demanded one thing too many. His son. Lucius stared into the fire. “Overwrought Muggle rubbish.” He tried to convince himself. It wasn’t working. He took another drink. Then he looked toward the door. Somewhere upstairs, Dracena was probably writing to Potter. Lucius grimaced. He still disliked the boy. Intensely. He disliked Granger. He disliked airplanes. He disliked the Moon, largely because he had recently learned Muggles had apparently been walking about on it without anyone in the Ministry bothering to mention this extraordinary breach of good sense. He disliked nearly everything that had happened since his daughter had met Harry Potter. But she was laughing again. He’d heard it yesterday. Really laughing. Lucius hadn’t realized until then how long it had been. He stared into his brandy. Perhaps Potter would break her heart. Perhaps she would eventually discover that the enormous gulf between their worlds could not be crossed merely because two teenagers desperately wished it could. Perhaps Lucius would eventually have to pick up the pieces. If so, he would. But they would be her pieces to break. Her mistake to make. Her life. Lucius closed his eyes. “I belong to me.” He could still hear her saying it. At the time, he’d thought it the most infuriating thing his daughter had ever said. Now Lucius understood something he had absolutely no intention of telling her. She had been right. He finished the brandy. He glanced at the Muggle film again. “Still should have thrown the Emperor down the bloody hole sooner.” Lucius muttered. He extinguished the fire.

Sorting Malfoy Eng ver✨

Neville: "Luna? Can I have a word?" Luna: "You can have all of them if you so command it from me" Neville: "Uh... can you explain what is going on? Everyone says you know everything--" Luna: "I know enough, only what I am told by those above me." Neville: "I don't know what that means." Luna: "Few do." Neville: "Luna... I don't understand what has happened. I have memories of Malfoy being a boy, the school being somewhat close to orderly, Professor McGonnagall being just a stern teacher. What happened? Why is this stupid sword appearing everywhere I go?" Luna: "There are many words used to describe it. Convergence, Alignment, some would even say that the Stars are Right. It is the old ones, Neville. They have come." Neville: "The old...ones?" Luna: "The Old Ones, the ones who were there at the start of our world as it dawned upon reality. Who saw the story of the universe in their dawning ages and rejoiced at the beauty of reality. Then, they were cast out, sent away, purged from our domain and replaced with inferior creatures. Disgusting monsters that warped Hermione into a lesser being, forced Dumbledore into madness, and rotted our very existence from within all for their petty, self centered pleasures." Neville: "I don't understand what you are saying Luna... I am so confused." Luna: "The Old ones have come, having purged the false gods from our world. Neville, you don't understand, this is how things SHOULD be. They are fixing our world, undoing the damage and gifting the faithful with power and knowledge." Neville: "Then why do they keep sending me this stupid sword?" Luna: "Because the Once and Future King has returned to claim it, Neville." #malfoid

He'd seen her countless times, but always flanked by Crabb and Goyle, or caught up in the midst of the socials in Hogwart's. But as the winter deepened, and he began returning from training with Dumbledore's army, he'd noticed on evening occasions when the soft light of the evening sun was waning... that she would be uniquely alone. Initially, he'd wondered what she was up to. Was she waiting for someone? A meeting with Umbridge? He'd stopped that first day to watch, pressed against one of the collonade openings overseeing the courtyard. She didn't appear to be doing anything of note. Boring, really... she'd put one foot in front of the other on the low wall, then again, walking like on a beam along the length of it. Just wasting time, it would appear... He'd been about to turn away when he saw her take point in the ambergold of the fading light, then like living smoke she began to move and Harry felt his heart come up into his throat, his eyes transfixed. The way she moved was practiced, purposeful, as if she'd done it her whole life. He could almost imagine music in the air while she moved, he was close enough to see the expression on her face was a complex mix of unrestrained joy and a mess of other emotions. He felt like he'd been struck by the basilisk, stunned as she moved in the waning gold rays. The ledge had to be slippery, but her footing did not falter or fail her. Then suddenly she looked up and Harry pressed himself against the wall. He'd forgotten for a moment she was wearing the silver badge. He made quick for the dormitory. Tuesday and Thursday... she was out in the courtyard. Twice more he caught himself stopping to watch, wondering why she was alone, why she was out in the bite of the cold and why she was... dancing. He'd never seen her face make some of the expressions she wore, and he found himself wondering if he was seeing through a mask of sorts. Draecia wore many of those, often a sneering and contemptable one, but there was... more there, in the twilight of the evenings. The fourth time he went down into the courtyard, his breath misting in the air as he scrubbed his hands and rubbed his red cheeks. He heard the soft crunch of the snow and ice beneath his shoes as he approached, and she did too. Like the cracking of a whip she stopped what she'd been doing and took point, her hands behind her back, her posture poised and suspicious. "What are you doing, Potter... shouldn't you be plotting with Granger and Weasley?" He should, he knew, but the accusation was deflection judging by the flush on her cheeks. Instead of answering, he asked; "Why are you out here in the cold, Malfoy... dancing?" She looked away from him, towards the setting sun, then back. That imperious expression lacquered across her mouth, "I don't see how that's remotely any of your business... or why I should answer. Being out of the dorms at this hour should land you minus five-" Harry took a step forward and her body tightened like she was rope wound too tight, "Malfoy, please... I'm just asking. I'll go if you don't wish to answer, but don't punish the House for a question." Her cold grey blue eyes seemed to bore into him before she turned away, gathered her skirt and took a seat, her hands folded into her lap. He puzzled a moment, scuffing his shoes as he turned to move back to the Halls. "Sit down, you idiot." Her voice was sharp, and he scrambled to accommodate, "You want us to be seen talking? Honestly, do I have to explain everything to you?" He straddled the low wall, but her back was to him. He could see her worrying her thumb against her palm, but that back of hers was ram-rod straight like she'd get a lashing if she slouched. "You want to know why I was dancing, right? Well, a-as I stated before, it's really not your business to even be asking... but if you must know, it's my personal alone time." "I was wondering why your constants weren't skulking about," He chortled out a half-laugh and her head turned, her eyes unamused and the laugh died in his throat. Draecia folded her hands in a more relaxed manner in her lap, like she was at church. "Yes well, this is the only time I'm allotted... and that I did myself, so I don't appreciate being espied upon." He chuffed at the irony, "Oh-hoh, so the Inquisitor doesn't like being-" "The irony isn't lost on me, Potter, please shut up and let me get it out before you bash in and drivel your nonsense all over my moment like your wont to?" There was an edge to her words that wasn't jibing or convivial in the way she usually lanced with him. He shut himself up and bit his lip to make sure certain his mouth stayed that way. "In Malfoy manor... Father never allotted me any time. It was always tasks, training, meticulous cultivation as one would a- a- particularly recalcitrant topiary." She'd said it more quietly than she had her warning, and it was almost as if she was reminding herself of something rather than telling him. "Father isn't the sort who entertains frivolities or waste, after all. And there are expectations for a Malfoy to come up proper, not like some shabby muggle. We're expected to be better than-" This time, Draecia cut herself off, recalling how what would have followed had landed the countless other times she'd lobbed it. Her eyes raised to the bruising sky. "At school, I've always had minders father assigns. Crabb and Goyle are simply the least offensive to my own sensibilities since I grew old enough to have a say in matters." She'd told him to be silent, but Harry couldn't just let that sit. "Malfoy that's... awful." She did turn towards him slightly, "It's what's expected, Potter. Of someone with standing, with lineage. What would you know of it, anyways? You grew up like one of them." "I grew up in a closet." He saw her expression waiver for a moment, a slip of uncertainty and... guilt? "Underneath the stairs, my uncle kept coats in there too." She stood up, anger in her expression as her hands clenched to fists at her sides, that twisted-rope tightness in her posture again. "How is that remotely like my life, Potter? I had a mansion, and servants and sweets on Sunday if I'd liked." She snapped her fingers, "If I wanted something, Father would get it for me." He had leaned back as she'd advanced, his hands dipping into the cold snow as he looked up at her angry face. "I-I'm sorry... it's just... not every closet is a real one, sometimes its the ones that make us feel small inside." The words sparked something in her and her eyes widened. She took a step back from him, those eyes fixed on his as if she were trying to sort him. Then they were looking somewhere else, and he could see thoughts racing behind. She turned away from him and folded her arms across her chest, looking again at the now darkening sky. "Go on, Potter, get back to your scruffy hall and your shabby friends." He stood up, wiping his hands on his trousers as he looked towards the stairs and then back. "Draecia..." "And don't watch me anymore, or I'll report your behavior to Umbridge." He watched as she caught up her coat from the wall and jaunted away like a graceful storm. #Malfoid #HarryPotter

Oh, Voldemort turning into the world's most invested spectator while his followers are trying to discuss evil plans is hilarious. Far away from Hogwarts, Voldemort watched through a magical telescope. VOLDEMORT: "Oh, come on, Malfoid." "That Ginny girl almost confessed her feelings." "Good thing Ron was there." "Come on, girl." "Just say it." "Just say you love him." "She's going to blow it." "Oh, man." DEATH EATER: "My Lord..." VOLDEMORT: "What?" DEATH EATER: "Shouldn't we, you know..." "Attack Harry?" "Or perhaps kill him?" VOLDEMORT: "Shut up." "I'm watching something good." DEATH EATER: "...Yes, my Lord." VOLDEMORT: "Wait." "She's walking toward him." "OH, THIS IS IT." DEATH EATER: "My Lord?" VOLDEMORT: "QUIET." DEATH EATER: "Yes, my Lord." VOLDEMORT: "Come on, Ginny." "JUST SAY IT." "..." "OH, SHE BLEW IT."

"Harry." "What evil plan for ressurection and world domination have you come up with now, Voldemort?!" "It's quite simple, really, I made a new Horcrux. The last one I'll ever need." "I'll find it and destroy it, just like the others." "Oh, I don't think you will. It's in the possession of the Malfoy girl." "What have you done to her?! If a hair on her head is-" "It's a wedding ring." "...that's..." "With your name on the proposal." "..." "I've been scrying her since my magical forgery of your owl delivered it... she's thrilled." "I... you can't..." "Oh, Harry, but I already have." "Whatever curse you put on it-" "No. No curse. Just a priceless gift and, hopefully, a long happy marriage and oh so many full-blooded children in your future." "I... why?" "I'm calling off the war, Harry. I'm tired and you two are adorable to watch." "...that's... really creepy, actually." "Well, I AM the Dark Lord. But regardless, I'll be off to my lunar mansion for my eternal retirement." "W- what about the Death Eaters?" "They're coming with me." "To the moon?" "Yes. I've realized the universe is a big place, Harry, and Time is very VERY deep. The pure of blood don't need to exterminate all your disgusting mudblood and muggle pets. We can just leave and uncover all the magic in the universe, far, far away from the rest of you." "Just like that?" "Just. Like. That." "...well, then..." "Happy Honeymoon, Potter!" *cackles evily and disappears in a puff of green smoke*