Chapter 8 : The Quest for the Coloured Eggs
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Sometimes I positively despair over the Dark Lord’s odd views upon this world. Let me tell you about something that happened only lately…
Oh, and in case you have weak nerves, I can assure you that no one is going to die in this little tale of mine. That’s a promise.
My Darkest of Lords was once again somewhat less that content about the world around him. Harry Potter was in his sixth year at Hogwarts and troublesome as ever, the Order was getting stronger and stronger… but worst of all, it was spring time. He’s always hated spring time more than any other time of the year. I’m sure the reasons are quite obvious: People tended to be extremely happy in spring, more of them than usually fell in love, they all had high hopes for the future.
What’s wrong with that? Why, that’s simple. Happy people don’t fear you the way they should. Spring was a time of disrespect. And the Dark Lord just couldn’t stand that.
And so, he usually spent spring all alone making wicked plans and cooking up evil ideas.
But not so this spring, oh no. Because one of his followers had told him of one of the sources of spring-happiness: Apparently, it involved chicken eggs and lots of colour.
That was a mystery worthy of the Dark Lord’s attention, and so he investigated further. When he had gathered some information, he called his Death Eaters to a meeting. I was there too, and I will tell you what I saw and heard:
His followers were all assembled, and His Darkness made one of his usual dramatic entrances. No need to bore you with a description of that, is there? Anyway, he took his seat in front of his followers and began the meeting.
“My friends! We have the opportunity to strike against Muggle and wizarding world alike, if we act swiftly!”
A low murmur arose: That was the kind of thing the Death Eaters had always liked.
“I found out that there are certain items involved in this up rise of happy spirits which we encounter each spring.”
That was my prompt. I slither forward, carefully balancing a beautiful Easter egg. The Dark Lord took it and held it high up in the air.
“This, this is what we’re up against!” he proclaimed.
As far as I could tell through their hoods, the Death Eaters looked shocked.
“But… but My Lord…” one of them spoke up.
Uh-oh… the Dark Lord didn’t like interruptions at all… I was bracing for the impact of a spell.
But nothing happened. My master must have been in a good mood.
“Yes?” he just said.
“Sir, this is just a coloured egg. Muggle parents hide them at Easter, and their children look for them.”
“Aha! You knew all along, and you never told me?” the Dark Lord roared, and as far as I remember, he even crucio-ed the poor wizard.
“What I want you all to do,” he went on, “is to find these eggs! Just think of all the sadness we can inflict on the Muggles if we find them before they do! Now go, go, and get me those eggs!”
The Death Eaters hurried out on their quest for the coloured eggs.
Now, you may think that I’m a completely evil snake, and that I would laugh about those poor Muggle children. But no, I’m not that bad. You see, I do understand that there are always victims in a war, and my Master was leading a war here. But innocent Muggle children? No, that was going too far. I hadn’t expected him to go and collect all Easter eggs. Maybe snatch a few, okay, but all of them?
I slithered out of the meeting room and into the Dark Lord’s storage chambers. There, I found a poison that worked similar to the Imperius spell. Good! I knew it had to be here somewhere. I took the bottle and slithered off to the Dark Lord’s dining room. Meetings always made him hungry, and so he was munching some spaghetti right now.
Sneaking up from behind, I distracted him and poured the poison into his cup.
He drank, and within a matter of seconds, he would do whatever I told him.
And what did I tell him? Well, first of all I told him to call his Death Eaters back, which he did. They were all somewhat astonished by his sudden change of mind, and I’m positive that his reputation with his followers suffered considerable damage that day.
Then I decided that a bit of punishment couldn’t do much harm either.
“My Dark Lord!” I said, “You will conjure a bunny costume now.”
He did that.
“And you will wear it and hide one extra egg for each child in this country.”
Lord Voldemort hopped off. I think some of the Death Eaters might have seen him later on, and even a few Order members.
And his reputation suffered even more. I can’t help but to wonder if I might have overdone it a bit…
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