Voldemort was having a good week. He had tortured five muggles in as many days, gained two followers, and Bellatrix had laughed at one of his jokes. And after today, he would never have to deal with Harry Potter again.

He blasted open the Dursleys' door and stepped inside. It was so easy. Too easy, he thought, and looked around for the aurors he was sure must be lying in wait for him.

"Oy!" came an angry shout from the top of the stairs. Voldemort looked up to see Vernon Dursley glaring down at him. He was holding a rifle, and his finger was resting on the trigger.

"I am here to see Harry Potter." Voldemort said calmly. Perhaps if he was polite, Dursley would take him to the boy without a fuss.

Dursley narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Potter's not here. He left two hours ago. And I suggest you do the same." he added threateningly, raising the gun.

Voldemort pulled out his wand in reply. Clearly, Dursley would be more useful to him dead. Once he was out of the way, finding Potter would be a simple matter of searching the house. However, Voldemort hesitated as a new idea occurred to him. What if Dursley was telling the truth? It would not do to kill him, discover that Potter was not here after all, and be left with no way of finding the boy.

He opened his mouth to ask Dursley where Potter was located, but the words never had a chance to leave his mouth. Dursley, seeing Voldemort raise his wand and open his mouth, had panicked and pulled the trigger of his rifle.

Thus died the great Lord Voldemort: with his wand in his hand, and an expression of shock on his face, lying in the front hall of number four, Privet Drive.

Vernon Dursley was having a good week. He had made five important sales in as many days, gained two underlings, and Petunia had laughed at one of his jokes. And after today, he would never have to deal with Harry Potter again.

Fin.