Chapter 4: Voldemort Gets Mail

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Around nine in the morning, Sirius, who was already washed but still a little sleepy, yawned as he walked down the stairs to the first floor. The day before had been a bit noisy because of Harry's letter, although many knew it was a joke, except for Molly of course, who even when things were explained to her, was still unsure and worried about Harry.

In fact, he himself, who knew it was a joke, had this little bug in his head that made him think that maybe it wasn't a joke.

When he got to the kitchen, Kreacher was standing in the corner, staring at Molly as if he wanted to kill her, cut her body up, and then undo what was left. The little old house-elf was really pissed off that he was being prevented from doing his job, especially by the one he believed to be a blood traitor.

 "Kreacher, you can tidy up and clean the empty rooms," Sirius ordered, earning a glare from Kreacher, who complied, but not without leaving some insults towards Sirius.

"Why are you ordering him? I can do those things," Molly said with a frown.

"This is my house, Molly. I can do whatever I want. If I want to walk around in my pajamas, I can do it. And the same goes for Kreacher, especially when the little guy seems to want to kill you because he thinks you're stealing his work."

Molly looked at him carefully before snorting. What Sirius said was true, but she still didn't like Kreacher doing things, especially since he could place or do anything while they weren't looking. In her opinion, that little elf could kill them all without them noticing.

"And the others?" Sirius asked as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

 "Arthur went to work while the twins are in the living room. Ron is still sleeping and Hermione is in the dining room."

"Ginny?"

Molly pursed her lips a little before answering: "She came home because she had to pick up some important things, according to her."

Sirius stopped the cup near his mouth, feeling the warmth of the coffee and its good aroma. But he was thinking about something else, totally different from the good coffee that was about to enter his mouth.

"Is she still with... well... you know?" Sirius didn't want to say it so clearly, because he felt a little uncomfortable with that subject, especially since Ginny wasn't family.

Molly sighed with a little regret as she placed her hands on the edge of the sink. Her hands were wet from washing the dishes. And yes, she could do it with magic, but doing it manually was something she did to stop thinking about some things, although in the end she ended up thinking about it more.

"It doesn't show, and she will admit that she already let go of those ideas," Molly shook her head a little. "But I know my daughter. I gave birth to her, raised her, and taught her as well. That girl still has the same ideas… regarding Harry."

"Ah~…" Sirius muttered a little before taking a sip of his coffee, but he still grimaced. His godson might have a hard time with Ginny's apparent obsession. It might just be a little while before the girl's ideas faded away, but if Harry showed even a little interest in her, then he would never forget things.

"Sirius, another letter from Harry arrived," Hermione walked into the kitchen and picked up a letter while Hedwig held onto his shoulder while gently biting his ear.

"Okay, why don't you read it?" Sirius asked as he sat down at the small table in the kitchen. Hermione nodded as she pulled another chair to sit across from Sirius.

"Then… I'll begin," Hermione said, opening the envelope and taking out the letter inside.

 To anyone inside Grimmauld Place reading this.

Hello, good morning (if Hedwig doesn't take too long), I hope everyone is doing well on this wonderful new day. As for me, I'm better; after insulting Dumbledore many times, the anger I felt towards the bearded old man diminished a bit.

I didn't send a letter yesterday, I was a bit busy, sorry about that.

But interesting things happened: I was given a record player with a vinyl record called '19th century music for villains rejoicing in the fall of their enemies', quite beautiful if I do say so myself. I also learned to play Nocturne No. 19, Op. 72, No. 1 in E Minor, by Frederic Chopin; a nice piece of fantastic music.

The beautiful music has me thinking of interesting plans to get rid of the Death Eaters and Voldemort himself. They all end in bloody fashion.

By the way, completely changing the subject, I found out that Dudley is in love. Haha, poor bastard, there's no way I'll make it.

That's all, maybe I'll send another letter tomorrow.

PS: Do you think it would be a good idea to cut my hair?

PS: I was thinking about being an Animagus, with all the time I have, that would be great.

"Okay, this all sounds like nonsense," Hermione said in exasperation.

"Who is Frederic Chopin?" Sirius asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Of course you'd ask something like that. Didn't it even strike you that Harry said he wanted to kill Death Eaters?"

"Mmm... No?"

"Sirius!" Molly yelled angrily.

 "Alright! Fine! Don't yell at me, woman!" Sirius exclaimed angrily, but then pointed a finger at her, "Although you have to admit that many of them are better off dead, because even Azkaban might not stop them from what they do."

...

Lucius Malfoy wasn't having a great day. No, in fact, he hasn't had a good day since Lord Voldemort had decided to use his manor after his duel with Harry Potter.

The worst of all?

A muggle.

Yes, a filthy muggle had been able to enter the grounds of his manor and deliver a package addressed to Lord Voldemort. What kind of nonsense was that? He hadn't even had the time to kill him. He had been so dumbfounded that when he pulled out his wand, the muggle was already gone.

And now he had to deliver the package to his lord, because if he found out that he didn't, he could end up dead.

 He walked slowly with the package in his hands, until he reached one of the many rooms of the mansion. The fireplace near a long table was lit as Lord Voldemort sat at the head of the table. His eyes remained closed as he slowly moved his wand in his hands.

"My lord..."

"Ah, Lucius, it is you," Lord Voldemort opened his eyes and commented languidly, looking at Lucius Malfoy's face before he slowly moved his gaze to the square, almost flat package in his hands.

"A package has just arrived in your name, my lord," Lucius walked quickly and knelt down before picking up the package as he spoke, "I am very sorry, my lord. I was so surprised that a muggle managed to enter the grounds, that I did not have time to eliminate the subject."

Lord Voldemort looked at him before snorting.

 "Muggle? Lucius, your manor and the grounds around it have shields that repel muggles. This person was obviously magical."

"But his clothes..." Lucius wrinkled his nose, remembering the man's ugly and seemingly dirty clothes. It was some sort of blue and white uniform.

"Fool! They were clearly meant to throw you off," Lord Voldemort growled a little before levitating the package and checking for booby traps. But when he realized there was nothing wrong, he immediately opened it, noticing a letter and a vinyl record with the title 'unintentional self-deprecating music for 19th century villains'

Lord Voldemort didn't know whether to feel amusement or anger. Choosing to ignore the record, he began to read the letter.

To Tom Riddle.

How are you, noseless spawn? It is I, Harry Potter, your greatest enemy and rival. I wrote this letter to you simply to demonstrate my disappointment in you.

 Yes, you read that right, disappointment. I'm disappointed in you, Tom. You're supposed to be the most powerful Dark Lord to ever exist, right? If that's so, then why on earth are you using Malfoy Manor as your lair? Can't the most powerful Dark Lord to ever exist have his own grounds? I thought you'd have a dark, gloomy castle guarded by Dementors or something! But no, you can only live in the mansion of one of your Death Eaters!

Bah! Now I don't even want to think that you'd have one as a pet!

And please don't say it's just a snake, that would just suck.

You know, I can kill basilisks, so you should have something more powerful.

By the way, dragons wouldn't work.

I can only shake my head at your incompetence.

You've failed, Tom. You don't qualify as a great Dark Lord.

You're just a guy who has to take things from his subordinates. You're afraid of death. You're afraid of what he could accomplish, and most of all, you're afraid of Dumbledore.

Tch, you're not even worth fighting with.

For these reasons, he sent you a disk so you can reflect a bit.

Disappointed and waiting for your imminent death,

Harry Potter.

Voldemort trembled slightly as he crumpled the letter in his hands. His red eyes seemed to glow with boundless hatred as his magic made the table and chairs shake.

"Harry Potter!!", Voldemort shouted full of rage, causing the chairs to explode into splinters and the table to split in different places. The fire in the fireplace died out and Lucius began to tremble from the dark feeling emanating from Voldemort's magic.

And while Voldemort was filled with hatred, Harry Potter was somewhere else. After delivering the letter to Malfoy Manor, he headed home. Yes, his home, something he had obtained after asking the goblins if his parents left anything other than their vault.

Compared to how violent Malfoy Manor had become, Harry's house had been filled with the beautiful sound of a piano.

It was Harry, who was finishing playing a piece of music while imagining Voldemort's reaction.

"Bravo, how wonderful!"

When he finished, a woman's voice appeared behind him, causing a happy smile to appear on Harry's face.