Hello all. Voldemort emailed this to me and trusts me to get it published. No, really! He seriously
did, I have his email address….
Ok, you don't believe me. Oh well. Read it anyway. Reviews welcome!
~Roanaz
Once, I had an idea. A horrible, evil, wonderful idea. And it worked all too well.
The idea which I am about to relate to you came to me while I was brushing my teeth. Yes,
brushing my teeth. The whole rejuvenation thing which I had just gone to apparently included a whole new
set of teeth in the bargain, and I wasn't about to waste them. I know that it is popular for evil people and
such to have extremely bad teeth; evidence is a bunch of my buddies from another universe, who have
formed some cult called the "Sith" or some such, and have terrible teeth. But not me. I don't want to have to
torture an underling to death because he complained about my halitosis. The surviving Death Eaters
notwithstanding, I am pretty short on underlings as it is. So, I brush with dentifrice twice a day. But where
was I? Oh yes, my idea.
So I'm brushing my teeth and trying to decide what to do about those sickeningly perfect "good"
wizards in general, and the Potter boy in particular. I think, what don't the wizards want to happen. They
don't want me to return to power, but I'm doing that anyway. So what else don't they want? And I think,
they don't want the Muggles finding out about them. Because whenever Muggles discover any clues to their
existence, they have to expend a lot of time, energy and magical power covering it up. And that's when I got
my idea: Tell the Muggles. Tell them about wizards in general - and Harry Potter in particular. And that will
cause more trouble to the wizards than a Norwegian Ridgeback in a flock of Golden Snidgets.
So, I set my idea in motion. I walk among the Muggles disguised as one of them. I find a woman, a brilliant
writer but starved for ideas, and I plant one in her head. A boy, his parents killed by an evil wizard, who
finds that he has the power to work magic…
I set myself as the villain of the story. I know that is what the world thinks of me, and I know better than to
try and disguise the facts just for a petty elevation of my ego. I accept that many of the Muggles will hate
me. They should, for I despise them. They are tools, to be used to set the wizards into a panic. And then
they will be discarded, left to rot by the roadside. And my victory shall be complete!
…Umm, sorry about that. I tend to get overly dramatic sometimes, it's just my nature. But those
Muggles are idiots, they'll believe in anything.
Anyway, my idea worked fine. This lady, Joanne somebody, she writes about Harry Potter. Gets a
few minor details wrong (from what I know of the boy), relates events that I know nothing about, in general
makes it a pretty good tale. And it sells, too.
And that's before the Americans get hold of it.
See, in America the Muggles have a thing called "merchandising" and "movie adaptations." And
before I know it, there's Harry Potter T-shirts, action figures, school supplies, the whole gamut. Soon, the
boy is famous the world round, to Muggles and wizards, and the Joanne lady is exceedingly rich.
The only problem is, not one of the Muggles believes in him. To them, he's just a character in a
well-written book series and poorly-acted movie. (By the way, I failed to "talk" to the director or the art
designer of that thing, and paid for it in the hash they made of my face. The nose is entirely wrong, for one
thing.)
And to make matters worse, the Muggles have started imitating the wizards, dressing up in cloaks
and such on every little occasion. The wizards have a much easier time of it now, not having to worry about
Muggle clothes quite as much, or watching the topics they discuss in Muggle-infested areas. They're even
considering recording (with Muggle equipment) some of their Quidditch games, and selling it to the
Muggles as "a short film in the tradition of Harry Potter."
So on the whole, the wizards have significantly benefited from my idea. I was even considering
retiring in disgust for a while.
But then I noticed something the wizards did not.
You see, most wizards know next to nothing about "ekeltricity", and have never heard of
Computers or the Internet. But I, in my quest for publicising the wizards lifestyle, have been forced to live
as a Muggle for long periods of time, and have become quite familiar with the online lifestyle.
It turns out I have quite a - what do the Americans call it? - "fan club" among the connected
generation. Muggles (!) who support me, despite what I did to their ancestors not so many years ago. (Of
course, many of them are Americans, who have little idea of what goes on beyond their borders, and in any
case think of twenty years as long enough to forgive and forget.)
So maybe my idea worked after all.
In any case, I'm touring America right now, although I can't say exactly where in fear of the
Aurors. (Not that any of them have enough Net savvy to think of looking here.) This message was sent to
one of my supporters, who will be one of the last to be killed when I come to power again. [he's joking - I
hope. ~roanaz] She will know what to do with it.
So, until the revolution, I bid you adieu.
Lord Voldemort
did, I have his email address….
Ok, you don't believe me. Oh well. Read it anyway. Reviews welcome!
~Roanaz
Once, I had an idea. A horrible, evil, wonderful idea. And it worked all too well.
The idea which I am about to relate to you came to me while I was brushing my teeth. Yes,
brushing my teeth. The whole rejuvenation thing which I had just gone to apparently included a whole new
set of teeth in the bargain, and I wasn't about to waste them. I know that it is popular for evil people and
such to have extremely bad teeth; evidence is a bunch of my buddies from another universe, who have
formed some cult called the "Sith" or some such, and have terrible teeth. But not me. I don't want to have to
torture an underling to death because he complained about my halitosis. The surviving Death Eaters
notwithstanding, I am pretty short on underlings as it is. So, I brush with dentifrice twice a day. But where
was I? Oh yes, my idea.
So I'm brushing my teeth and trying to decide what to do about those sickeningly perfect "good"
wizards in general, and the Potter boy in particular. I think, what don't the wizards want to happen. They
don't want me to return to power, but I'm doing that anyway. So what else don't they want? And I think,
they don't want the Muggles finding out about them. Because whenever Muggles discover any clues to their
existence, they have to expend a lot of time, energy and magical power covering it up. And that's when I got
my idea: Tell the Muggles. Tell them about wizards in general - and Harry Potter in particular. And that will
cause more trouble to the wizards than a Norwegian Ridgeback in a flock of Golden Snidgets.
So, I set my idea in motion. I walk among the Muggles disguised as one of them. I find a woman, a brilliant
writer but starved for ideas, and I plant one in her head. A boy, his parents killed by an evil wizard, who
finds that he has the power to work magic…
I set myself as the villain of the story. I know that is what the world thinks of me, and I know better than to
try and disguise the facts just for a petty elevation of my ego. I accept that many of the Muggles will hate
me. They should, for I despise them. They are tools, to be used to set the wizards into a panic. And then
they will be discarded, left to rot by the roadside. And my victory shall be complete!
…Umm, sorry about that. I tend to get overly dramatic sometimes, it's just my nature. But those
Muggles are idiots, they'll believe in anything.
Anyway, my idea worked fine. This lady, Joanne somebody, she writes about Harry Potter. Gets a
few minor details wrong (from what I know of the boy), relates events that I know nothing about, in general
makes it a pretty good tale. And it sells, too.
And that's before the Americans get hold of it.
See, in America the Muggles have a thing called "merchandising" and "movie adaptations." And
before I know it, there's Harry Potter T-shirts, action figures, school supplies, the whole gamut. Soon, the
boy is famous the world round, to Muggles and wizards, and the Joanne lady is exceedingly rich.
The only problem is, not one of the Muggles believes in him. To them, he's just a character in a
well-written book series and poorly-acted movie. (By the way, I failed to "talk" to the director or the art
designer of that thing, and paid for it in the hash they made of my face. The nose is entirely wrong, for one
thing.)
And to make matters worse, the Muggles have started imitating the wizards, dressing up in cloaks
and such on every little occasion. The wizards have a much easier time of it now, not having to worry about
Muggle clothes quite as much, or watching the topics they discuss in Muggle-infested areas. They're even
considering recording (with Muggle equipment) some of their Quidditch games, and selling it to the
Muggles as "a short film in the tradition of Harry Potter."
So on the whole, the wizards have significantly benefited from my idea. I was even considering
retiring in disgust for a while.
But then I noticed something the wizards did not.
You see, most wizards know next to nothing about "ekeltricity", and have never heard of
Computers or the Internet. But I, in my quest for publicising the wizards lifestyle, have been forced to live
as a Muggle for long periods of time, and have become quite familiar with the online lifestyle.
It turns out I have quite a - what do the Americans call it? - "fan club" among the connected
generation. Muggles (!) who support me, despite what I did to their ancestors not so many years ago. (Of
course, many of them are Americans, who have little idea of what goes on beyond their borders, and in any
case think of twenty years as long enough to forgive and forget.)
So maybe my idea worked after all.
In any case, I'm touring America right now, although I can't say exactly where in fear of the
Aurors. (Not that any of them have enough Net savvy to think of looking here.) This message was sent to
one of my supporters, who will be one of the last to be killed when I come to power again. [he's joking - I
hope. ~roanaz] She will know what to do with it.
So, until the revolution, I bid you adieu.
Lord Voldemort