A/N: I got bored, and started trying to think of every possible way one of Voldemort's schemes could have gone wrong. God help us all, I'm going to nitpick the Harry Potter series. Don't forget to send in suggestions for ways to screw up Voldemort's - or Dumbledore's - schemes. This time, though, it's Voldemort getting screwed over.

The mudblood was dead on the floor beside his feet, and the green-eyed baby sitting in the crib not even a foot away from him was staring at him in confusion, no doubt wondering what had happened to his mother. Sneering, the Dark Lord lifted his wand, aiming for the boy's forehead, and speaking the words he had spoken twice tonight already.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A rush of air preceded the flash of deadly green light as it raced towards the boy. Just before it hit him, a glowing, blood-red shield snapped into place in front of the boy, and the Killing Curse rebounded off it, rushing back towards it's caster. Voldemort was so shocked by the turn of events, that he didn't react swiftly enough, instead being hit directly by the spell. The man's body was blasted backwards, but he knew nothing of this, as his vision had already gone black.

Slowly, Tom Marvolo Riddle began regaining consciousness. Blinking, he looked around himself at what appeared to be an office of some kind. The desk in front of him had a name plate on it that read, "G. Rosenthal - Reaper 3rd Class". Even more confused now, the self-proclaimed Dark Lord started to try and gather his magic, intending to Apparate elsewhere.

"That won't work."

A young woman, with blond highlights in her hair, and a smart, light-grey suit walked into the room, closing the door behind her, not even flinching as it seemed to dissolve into the wall seamlessly.

"Now then, let's get started. My name is Gillian Rosenthal, Reaper 3rd Class. I've been assigned to oversee your transition, Mr Riddle."

"My name is Lord Voldemort! And what transition do you speak of?"

Flipping open a manila file, the woman made an annotation, before looking up at him once more. "Yes, we are aware of your chosen alias, Mr Riddle. As for the transition, I understand. It can be a little unsettling. Please try to remain calm, Mr Riddle. You see, you are dead, and this is an assessment to determine where to send you."

"Dead? Don't be ridiculous, woman. I am Lord Voldemort. I am immortal, I cannot die. I have taken precautions."

"Precautions? Against death? Oh, yes, here it is. Apparently, at your time of death, you had created a total of five Horcruxi. Interesting choice, though not much variety. You could have thrown in a phylactery or two. Perhaps an Osirian ritual? It's always nice to get someone who wants to escape death that appreciates a bit of difference in their patterns. In any case, Mr Riddle, your Horcruxi do not work. Quite frankly, the only thing that will stop you from dying is the Elixir of Life, and the big cheese hasn't let a single Philosopher's Stone out of his sight since Flamel beat him at poker back in the 1400's. A Shinigami has already been dispatched to retrieve the artifacts in question. Now, let's go over your file...oh dear."

"What?" For the first time in nearly forty years, Tom Riddle sounded unsure of himself. He didn't like it.

"Seems you ticked someone important off, Mr Riddle. I'm afraid you've already got a notification in your file. 'Go straight to Hell. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.'" Seeing the Dark Lord's blank look, Gillian sighed. "None of you wizards seem to like board games. Just once, I'd like to talk to someone who can appreciate that joke. Oh well." Pressing a button on an oddly shaped metal box, she spoke. "Brad? Can you send Larry in? Got one for him to escort."

The door reappeared, and a tall, red-haired male with two wings walked in. "Hey Gillian. This the one?"

"Hi Larry. Yeah, apparently he's been really bad. Not even a chance at redemption. Hey, is the poker night still on this Saturday?"

"Well, I'll take him downstairs. And yeah, it is. Big D's gonna be there, apparently."

"Sweet. Not every day you get to clean out Death's bank account. See you then."

"Sure thing. Come on buddy, I haven't got all day." Slowly, Voldemort got to his feet, mind still in shock so badly that he didn't register anything until he was in Hell. The first thing he saw was a sword slicing towards his neck. He got out the first few seconds of a scream before it was cut off abruptly.

Seventeen years later...

"Harry Potter!"

The group was on their feet instantly, cheering and applauding. Sirius Black, who had spent a few nights in Azkaban before it was discovered that he was innocent, had finally settled down, dating Emmeline Vance for sixteen years, before she finally made an honest man out of him last summer. Remus Lupin, who had discovered that in spite of his lycanthropy, Sirius' cousin Nymphadora Tonks was still more than willing to date him. They had tied the knot three years ago, and were expecting their first child in mid-August. The Weasleys, who had been friends of the family for many years, and the Grangers, who had joined the group when the children started Hogwarts together, had all turned out to witness their various children receiving their graduation certificates from Hogwarts.

Albus Dumbledore handed the roll of parchment to the boy he saw as a grandson, and thanked whatever deities might exist that he had discovered the truth about Horcruxi all those years ago, and changed his plans accordingly. Looking out over the students and their families, he could plainly see that the magical world was stronger than ever. Everything was good, and he was glad.

A/N: Yeah, Dumbledore's slightly manipulative here, but in that 'I-genuinely-want-what's-best-for-the-world' way. I also love the idea of Voldemort getting his ass handed to him by a random office worker. Don't forget to review, and thanks for reading!