WELCOME TO VOLDE-MART ... HOW MAY WE HELP YOU?

CHAPTER 1

-----

He was a genius - a bloody genius! Why had he never thought of this before? Such an obvious route of action, and in completely untapped territory!

The Dark Lord Voldemort pressed his wand to his Dark Mark, summoning his Death Eaters to his desolate location. It had been a long time since their last exchange of words; he had ordered them into hiding for the past three months, but it was now time to rise once again. No doubt they were incredibly curious as to what He had been doing in said time, and would perhaps hurry on their way. Of course, it could be the opposite way around - he may have caught them off guard and unprepared to join him in the parking lot he had decided to occupy that night.

It seemed that the latter was a closer estimate, for when the first whole minute had already passed, no one had yet arrived. Though he knew he should give them a lenience of a few more minutes, he was beginning to grow impatient. The victorious smirk he had initially donned began to fade when yet another minute passed. He was beginning to consider that he had maybe pressed his wand to the wrong forearm (this was beginning to occur more and more often as he advanced in years), when the first Death Eater arrived.

As Lucius Malfoy made his way across the parking lot to the streetlamp that the Dark Lord stood beneath, he felt more than slightly relieved that he was the first one to turn up. The Dark Lord had caught him in the bath, and Lucius had found himself facing one of the most urgent decisions he'd ever had to make: should he dress properly for the occasion and arrive late, or should he show up in his bathrobe and arrive on time?

Luckily for him, he had made the right choice as to what garments he would wear this evening. However, as he approached the Dark Lord, he began to question his Lord's selection in attire, and, as he had done before in the past, the possibility that he had become senile in his old age. "My Lord! What are you wearing?"

Lucius clenched his jaw as he cursed himself, realizing what he had just done. To question the Dark Lord was worthy of a punishment as dreadful as the Dark Lord's life-long study of the Dark Arts could make it. He waited for retaliation, but it did not come. He chanced looking up at the Dark Lord, but did not find him to be angry. Instead, he had adopted an air of self-satisfaction and triumph.

"Lucius, I am surprised of you," the Dark Lord replied, gesturing to the outfit he had chosen for the evening. "Did you not recognize my attempt at Muggle fashion?"

"I had a vague idea," Lucius nodded, trying his best not to smile in amusement as the Dark Lord struck a suggestive pose, intent on giving Lucius a full demonstration of his fashion. "But, if I may ask, my Lord, why on Earth are you dressed as a Muggle?"

"You will find out once everyone arrives, Lucius," the Dark Lord told him, moving more so into the light. When Lucius was sure the distance between he and the Lord was vast enough, he succumbed to a quiet fit of giggles beneath his drawn hood and behind his mask.

The Dark Lord had dressed himself in a brown, polyester suit that was developing a noticeable mold around the underarm and groin areas. Beneath the bellbottoms, of which the Dark Lord seemed incredibly fond of, Lucius noticed that he wore a pair of rainbow go-go boots that were at least three sizes too small for his feet. Once the bottom half of the Dark Lord's outfit had entertained Lucius long enough, his eyes traveled further north. On his usually skeletal hands he wore white, women's, driving gloves, and a detestable, orange bowtie had found its way around his neck. On top of his head, he wore what Lucius suspected was called a sombrero. As abominable as the Dark Lord's fashion sense was, Lucius had to give him a tip of the hat for his effort.

As other Death Eaters began to arrive, Lucius found his position in the circle that began to form around the Dark Lord and his streetlamp. Amongst them, he could hear similar whisperings as they too questioned the Dark Lord's eccentric, Muggle wardrobe.

"We aren't late, are we?" he heard a woman whisper into his ear as two Death Eaters joined him. He recognized the voice as belonging to his wife, Narcissa, and he assumed that the other figure that she pulled along was their son, Draco.

Lucius shook his head. "No, there are still several others who need to show-"

"Good Lord! Who is that?" Draco scoffed and gestured towards the Dark Lord, who had his back turned to them as he conversed with one of the Death Eaters on the opposite side of the ring.

Lucius gave him a good thump on the side of his head. "You will not judge the Dark Lord, Draco. I would suggest that you express only respect and admiration towards him, unless you wish to be on the receiving end of his wrath."

Draco sneered through his mask at his father as he rubbed the spot where he had been hit. He thought it unfair that he should be punished for his remark, because, surely, he hadn't been the only one to point out the atrocity before him. Even his mother shifted uncomfortably as she gazed upon the Dark Lord, for she was undoubtedly fighting the urge to offer the Dark Lord some tips on his fashion.

Voldemort left Bellatrix to return to her place in the ring as he moved towards the center, the smirk he was wearing even wider now, thanks to her compliments. As the others realized that he was expecting their attention, they ceased conversation amongst themselves and turned to hear what the Dark Lord had to say. They had many questions as to what he had been doing in the past three months, and now their curiosity was even higher, having seen that the Dark Lord had taken it upon himself to wear Muggle clothing to this gathering, and had chosen their meeting place to be the parking lot of a Muggle store.

"My Death Eaters," he addressed them, striking the pose he had done earlier for Lucius once again to give all his Death Eaters a good glimpse at his suit. "Even though you were slightly more tardy than I am used to, I am extremely glad that you came as fast as you could."

The Death Eaters took the pause in the Dark Lord's speech as a chance to exchange confused glances with their neighbors. None present had memory of the Dark Lord being in this good of a mood before.

"I have taken the past few months to revise our course of action as a group," he continued, compelling them all to watch him as he strolled back and forth, his boots clicking on the pavement. "As you all know, our path has been fraught with mistakes and ... inconveniences-"

'The Dark Lord admitting that he has been foiled by Harry Potter?' the Death Eaters collectively thought.

"-But this time, I have thought of something so remarkable, so awe-inspiring, so - as the kids around here say - radical, that there is no possible room for failure."

"What is it, my Lord?" Bellatrix's voice penetrated the night. She sounded incredibly keen to hear His new plan.

"Patience, Bella," he told her, inclining his head in her direction. "I was just getting there. Three months ago, after I dismissed you from our last meeting, I began to consider what we could possibly do to assure absolute power in the Wizarding world. As I wandered the streets and occupied several small coffee shops, thinking all the while, I got it. Muggles, my loyal followers. Muggles. If we wish to counter the Order of the Phoenix and Harry Potter, we need an army vaster than any army in history, Wizarding or Muggle. After this realization, I began to watch the Muggles, trying to find their weakness, and, I am extremely proud to say, I have."

Voldemort turned towards the store and gestured grandly towards it. "This, my followers, is Wal-Mart, a favorite store amongst the Muggles. It has everything, and I mean everything. They want to buy clothing? It's here! They want to buy assorted Muggle devices? They're here! The Muggles worship this store almost as much as the deities they've created."

There was silence amongst the Death Eaters as the Dark Lord paused once again in his speech. Finally, Lucius voiced the question everyone wanted to know the answer to. "My Lord, just what are you suggesting?"

"I'm getting there, Lucius," the Dark Lord's tone became severe before returning to its noble manner. "My followers, for an undisclosed amount of Muggle money, I have purchased this store, putting myself in the position of CEO, or, in simpler terms that you can understand, the Chief. Starting tomorrow morning, we will occupy this Wal-Mart as a group, and we will slowly work the Muggles over until they are all on our side!"

A great burst of applause met this statement, but, even though they cheered, every Death Eater was as confused as the next. What were they going to do within this store?

Voldemort put his hand up, halting the cat calls and yells of approval. When they had all stopped, he reached inside the breast pocket of his moldy suit and withdrew a piece of folded paper. "Now, when I call your name, step forward. I have already taken the liberty of assigning you to your jobs, seeing as how we are short of time. If we weren't, I would have let you sign up for what you wanted to do, but, unfortunately, that is not the case. Barty Crouch Jr., step forward!"

Shocked to hear his name first, Barty stepped out of the circle, breaking into a slight sweat as he waited to hear his position of work.

"You are the Manager of this facility," Voldemort told him, allowing for a short bout of clapping before continuing. "Your job is to make sure everyone on the floor is doing their job when I am busy attending to matters in my nice, new office."

"Thank you, my Lord," Barty bowed low in gratitude before stepping back into his place in the circle. "You will not be disappointed."

"I would certainly hope not," Voldemort replied, narrowing his eyes at him before reverting back to his list. "Peter Pettigrew, step forward."

Almost hesitantly, a small, bumbling figure emerged from the sea of black.

"You will be assisting Crouch, and will abide to his every whim and need," Voldemort stated, cheering inwardly at the thought of getting Wormtail off his back for an unprecedented amount of time. "Narcissa Malfoy."

"Yes, my Lord?"

"You will be joining a Muggle woman for work in the Apparel department."

"I will do the best I can there, my Lord-"

"Lucius Malfoy and Rabastan Lestrange, you will be working amongst two male, Muggle teenagers in the Electronics department."

Lucius and Rabastan sneered in abhorrence behind their masks. Working with Muggle teenagers? Just how much thought did the Dark Lord put into his list?

"Severus Snape."

He stepped forward. "Yes, my Lord? Where will you have me stationed?"

"You will be working in the 'For the Home' department. I bid you good luck, Severus. It will not be an easy job, but I entrust you with it."

Snape was fortunate that the Dark Lord continued to move down his list, preventing him from hearing the loud groan that he had let out.

"Nikolas Yaxley and Grant Mulciber, you will be in charge of the Garden and Patio department. Like with Severus, I wish you luck in your plight. Bellatrix Lestrange?"

Bellatrix bound forward, bowed before the Dark Lord, and pressed her lips to the toes of his go-go boots. "What will you have me do, my Lord?"

"You, my lucky girl, will be in the Gifts and Flowers department."

Bellatrix jarred on the spot, hoping that he had maybe made a mistake. However, he continued to plow on, moving away from her outraged figure.

"Alecto Carrow."

"My Lord?"

"You are now in charge of Jewelery. Fenrir Greyback, and Tristan Nott?"

Two figures from the furthermost reaches of the circle approached him, and one removed its mask. Bowing, Fenrir smiled in a cynical matter. "At your service."

"Pet department. Walden MacNair, and Regulus Black?"

Fenrir scowled, deeply offended. "The Pet department?" he mumbled to Tristan as they moved back to their place in the ring, to be replaced by Walden and Regulus before the Dark Lord.

"You two will be placed in the Sports and Fitness department. Amycus Carrow and Oscar Jugson?"

Walden and Regulus exchanged a quick glance, quite satisfied with their position. Amycus and Oscar were not as happy to find out what department they would be in control of, though.

The corners of Voldemort's mouth tugged as he fought back a smirk. "Toys department. Wyatt Avery and Antonin Dolohov?"

As Wyatt moved forward, he crossed his fingers inside the arms of his robes. Beside him, Antonin whispered with fervor under his breath, wishing with all his might for a suitable assignment.

"Books department. Evan Rosier and Thorfin Rowle, you are in charge of Maintenance and Security. Yes, we have now moved out of the department work. Let's see, now ... Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle."

As he stepped out from between his mother and father, Draco wondered what horrors the Dark Lord would have him do. His suspicions of tedious work were confirmed as the Dark Lord sealed his fate.

"You three are to run the pay tills."

'Shit,' Draco mentally cursed as he moved back into the ring.

Voldemort looked around at his followers, nodding as he considered his decisions. "Yes, that will be all, then. I want to see you all here at six o'clock, sharp-"

"Excuse me, but ... my Lord?"

Voldemort halted, turning to face the man that had spoken out of turn. Before him kneeled an unmasked Igor Karkaroff. "You never assigned me a place, my Lord."

Voldemort eyed him with annoyance, then looked over his list. Igor was right; he had not been assigned a job.

"Let's see," Voldemort mused, advancing on Igor. "Where would you be suitable to work? - Ah, yes, I have it. Customer Service."

Igor was evidently unhappy with the Dark Lord's decision, but did not dare contradict him. "Of course, my Lord. It will be done."

"Right," Voldemort watched him as he slouched back to his place. "So, as I was saying before I was interrupted, you will all report here at six o'clock tomorrow morning. I trust that you are all as excited asI am to bring my latest plan to fruition. I bid you all a good evening."