Voldemort left the room and returned with a humongous Harry Potter head in a wagon.

"It's just something I had lying around," he said.

Using a levitating charm he strung it from the ceiling, which just about collapsed under the weight. Each Death Eater grabbed something long and hard. Macnair grabbed a baseball bat. Bellatrix grabbed a poker. Mulciber grabbed a tv remote and Greyback grabbed Scabior.

The Death Eaters wildly and tipsily swung at the giant head, which Voldemort had charmed to scream "ow!" and make pained facial expressions. Finally, Greyback got so annoyed that no progress was being made that he screamed, "Reducto!" and the head exploded. From the thick smoke emerged none other than Harry Potter.

"Could you guys have done that earlier?" he whined. "I'm starving. I had to eat my shoes. Leather does not taste nice! Oh, and happy birthday, Voldemort. I came as a surprise to my favorite Dark Lord. And I got you a present." He held out a large envelope. Voldemort broke the seal and lifted the flap.

"Avada Kedavra!" came Harry Potter's voice from within, accompanied by a flash of green light.

"Holy mackerel!" Voldemort screamed, and threw the envelope across the room.

Next minute, Harry was flying towards the distant ocean and Voldemort was dusting off his hands in disgust.

"Well, that was just plain rude," said Voldemort irately. "And here I was thinking his visit would be the cherry on top of my perfect birthday. Oh well." He returned to the party, where nearly the entire group of Death Eaters were shuffling in the middle of the living room to Party Rock Anthem. All except for one. Lucius Malfoy was sitting on a chair a little ways away, demurely watching the group.

"Hey, Snakaholic!" Voldemort slurred, slumping down in the chair beside him. "I've noticed you haven't been drinking much. Why not? Alcohol is awesome!"

"I'm trying to set a good example for my son," said Lucius. "Where is the little whippersnapper anyway?" They scanned the room, and finally caught sight of Draco. He was slumped in the corner with a keg of alcohol by his side, chugging it ceaselessly. Beer stained the front of his shirt.

"Oh screw it!" said Lucius, and drank the nearest bottle of beer.

A couple hours later there was a knock on the door.

"This had better not be your brother again, Scabior!" Voldemort yelled. He opened the door. Three men in yellow vests stood there with their arms crossed.

"Is this your party?" one of the men asked.

"Oh yeah, it's a beaut party, isn't it?" said Voldemort, deciding to resort to New Zealand slang. "But I'm getting a bit bushed, bro. Got lots of cool pressies though."

"Some of the neighbors have been complaining about the noise," said one of the men.

"But the nearest neighbors are miles away!" Voldemort insisted.

"Exactly," said the noise control officer, nodding. "By the way, is that boy underage?" Voldemort looked around. Draco had staggered into the room, a bottle of beer in his hand.

"Whatcha talking about? I'm fourteen. What's the problem?" said Draco, falling into a wall.

"Don't worry," said Voldemort, as the officers gave him questioning looks. "He's being supervised by his father. A very responsible man." Lucius tottered in afterwards, a huge bottle of vodka tucked under his arm.

"That's ma boi!" Lucius was so drunk he was talking in spelling mistakes. The officers raised their eyebrows and then had to duck as an unconscious Crabbe flew through the air over their heads.

"Sorry mate, but I'm gonna have to take your stereo system," the officer said, trying to move past Voldemort, who was blocking the entrance.

"I'm warning you, sir. We have guns," said the burliest officer, moving his hand to his hip.

"Oh yeah?" Voldemort retorted, reaching into his robes. "Well, I've got this!" He pulled out his wand and directed it at them.

"A stick?" the officer said, raising an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, sir, but don't you think you've had a bit too much to drink? You don't look well. Your skin is pale and you have no nose." Voldemort felt like a knife had been ripped through his heart. He felt tears well up in his eyes.

"What does the world have against my nose? Of course I wish I had a normal nose, but this is my lifestyle choice. Don't make fun of me for it!" He broke down in tears.

Taking advantage of his distraction, the officers slipped past Voldemort into the house and scanned the room for the stereo. Unfortunately for them, Bellatrix spotted them.

"Hey look! Filthy Muggles!" she screeched, pointing.

"What did you call us?" they asked, glaring at her.

"Expecto Patronum!" she screamed, pointing a carrot at them. One of the officers was German.

"Danke," he said, nodding and smiling. The officers were quickly set upon by the Death Eaters, tied up and left in the courtyard for Bellatrix to deal with later, when she was sober. Voldemort, feeling rather sleepy, decided that he should end the party.

"Alright guys, those of you who would like to go home can go now. But remember, if you've had more than fifty liters of alcohol, please call a friend to take you home. Never drink and Apparate." A few of the Death Eaters said farewell. There was a knock on the door. Outside were about fifteen Snatchers, all crowding to the door.

"We're here for Scabior," said the nearest one, an Irishman.

"All of you?" Voldemort asked.

"Well, we missed 'im, see," said the Snatcher, peering round Voldemort to look for Scabior, who duck-ran to the door.

"'Ello mates!" he said. "Thanks for the party, Voldie." The entire gang disappeared simultaneously. Narcissa led her husband and son out the door by the ears.

"Now, when you get home, you two are going straight to time out. And you are going to school tomorrow. I don't care how hungover you are, Draco!" she scolded. "And say thank you to Voldemort for having you."

"Thank you, Voldemort," the two droned in unison like reluctant schoolchildren. One by one, the party dispersed until the only person left was Bellatrix.

"I was hoping we could share a special moment together," she said, looking at him with puppy-dog eyes.

"Ummm..." Voldemort said, pretending to think. "No." Bellatrix pouted and stormed out of the house.

Voldemort quickly changed into his pajamas, brushed his teeth, grabbed his unicorn cuddly toy and jumped into bed, not caring that his house was a total pigsty, or that he was going to have a mind-blowing hangover tomorrow. This had been the best birthday party ever!