So, I do realise this is a tad random. Alright, very random, but I had so much fun writing it. It's been ages since I've uploaded anything, and I hope you'll like it. Let mee know what you think, please (:

"Ooh, chocolate!" Voldemort burst out joyfully, padding across the linoleum floor with his push basket in front of him. He grabbed a pack of cookies while passing the shelf and stopped to look around for anything else that he could possibly be in need of. In his hand he held a piece of parchment so long it trailed after him on the white floor. He grabbed a quill from one of the many pockets in his Muggle disguise consisting of a long trench coat, a pair of old jeans, a huge hat to cover his rather recognizable head, a sweater, pink socks and leather sandals. Oh, how he hated to dress like those silly, ignorant Muggles with their lack of fashion sense. But as all his servants seemed to be busy, he had nobody to shop for him, and he couldn't even change his look, as he had no more ingredients for potions. In fact, Voldemort had no other option than to go shopping.

He rhythmically tapped a bony finger on his chin while reading the list and deleting everything that he'd already found among the shelves, which appeared to be very limited.

24. 3 squid tentacles

25. 1 unicorn horn

26. 1 handful of mermaid scales

27. Chocolate

28. Quills and parchment enough to finish "30 Ways to Eliminate Harry Potter"

30. 15 boggart eggs

His eyes quickly ran across the 47 remaining numbers. He sighed heavily. Finding magical ingredients in Muggle stores wasn't easy, but he couldn't exactly show his face in Hogsmeade, and he was in a desperate need of… a lot of things, really.

His eyes returned to the shelf packed with cookies, and for a brief moment he tried calculating whether he could allow himself to consume any more calories that day. He decided that if he wanted to keep his beautiful figure, he'd had to stop at one. Suddenly something caught his eye and interrupted his internal conversation: Soups, all kinds of soups. Canned, bagged, boxed, powder, liquid, frozen, every version of soup a man could ever dream of. Not that Voldemort felt like buying soup, in fact he didn't even like it, it merely reminded him that he had to cook for the Malfoys later in the evening. Excited butterflies erupted in his stomach and fluttered about at the thought. His loyal henchman was the only one who knew about his secret passion for cooking. Baking, boiling, roasting, frying, you name it. Perhaps he should try feeding Harry Potter to death some day. "Hey, there's a thought," Voldemort considered happily. He grabbed his quill tight and added a few more things to the almost never-ending list.

88. Eggs

89. A lemon

90. Flour

When he felt satisfied with his own tortuous handwriting, Voldemort tugged the quill back into one of his numerous pockets and moved on to find a unicorn horn. Without any success, he restlessly strolled down the hallways and inspected any given object with a horse on the wrapping. He eventually gave up and considered where he'd be able to find mermaid scales (perhaps he'd have to go to another store?) when he heard a lot of voices interrupting each other over and over. He hid behind a stack of canned tomatoes and peeked around the corner of it.

Red, an ocean of red, filled his view. Four kids and two adults, all of them with flaming hair and just as red sweaters were arguing over which vegetable they should serve with the meat for dinner. "Asparagus," Voldemort snorted, "obviously." He quickly pulled himself backwards, so hastily that his hat flew off his white, bald head and revealed his true unmuggle'ish identity. Among the six red-haired pestilences - that he'd quickly identified as the Weasleys - he'd spotted a glimpse of black hair.

Harry Potter, the chosen one, the boy who survived, the bloody idiot who now ruined the one thing Voldemort felt sure he could do peacefully. After this he'd hardly be able to go shopping again. Damn!

Without realising it, he slowly began plotting Harry's painful demise. The Weasley's kept arguing, and suddenly they all ran toward the cooling department, leaving Harry behind to stare at strange fruits. It couldn't have been any more perfect.

Voldemort decided to deal swiftly with Harry Potter, then grab his groceries – without paying, oh yes – and travel to Lucius Malfoy's home where he'd cook a lovely dinner. It almost seemed anti-climactic after all the years he'd spend fighting against the little rat. He nodded determinedly to himself and fumbled in his pockets for his wand. Grabbing a long stick, he aimed towards Harry and shouted, "Avada Kedavra!" with every cell in his body. It was too late that he realised he was holding his quill. Harry reacted surprisingly fast and found his own wand in his own pocket. In return he aimed for Voldemort and fired several red spells at him. Voldemort blocked each and every one of them and jumped back to safety behind his stack of tomato cans. He threw his quill at Harry, blinded by anger because he had missed the perfect opportunity to destroy his nemesis. At least, he hoped, he could poke his eye out.

"Harry? Harry, where… HARRY!"

"Damn it," Voldemort thought as he watched Harry Potter's red-haired best friend come running towards them, quickly followed by the rest of his ridiculous family. Harry didn't even turn to look at them, he just kept breathing heavily through his nose while staring in Voldemort's direction.

"Perhaps I can make him believe that he hallucinated. Yes, I must withdraw, disappear." He briefly wondered what Harry would tell the family, the horrible stain on the image of wizards.

"I just saw… I just… I'm pretty sure…" Harry stuttered, still holding up his wand. Nobody said anything.

"Voldemort just tried to murder me with a quill."

Mrs. Weasley laughed nervously and looked around. "A quill…"

"Yeah, he's hiding behind the tomato cans," Harry insisted. Mr. Weasley decided that checking would do no harm and walked toward the hideout of Voldemort.

"Oh goblins in gravy, he's coming over here!" Voldemort thought, not willing to let a fight to the death interrupt his dinner plans with the Malfoys. He finally decided to cast Apparition and disappeared. A few moments later he reappeared in front of the Malfoy mansion. As he ran to the door shouting, "Lucius! Lucius!" he realised something extremely important. Damn it, he'd forgotten his groceries.

Back at the grocery store, Harry was trying to avoid complete and utter embarrassment.

"But he jumped right at me, I swear, pointing his quill and shouting the Unforgivable Curse, Ron, you can't honestly say you didn't hear it!"

"Not a word mate, I'm sorry," Ron replied. Fred, George and Ginny were already making up silly jokes about Harry's 'mental disorder', and Mrs. Weasley was running around to find the stuff they needed.

Ron, who seemed to be the only one who cared, patted Harry on the shoulder and said, "Don't worry, Harry, we're not letting the tomatoes kill you with their quills."

"But Ron! I-"
"Bombardio!" Ron shouted and shot the stack of cans with his spell. They exploded in a rain of metal and ketchup.

"RON!" Mr. Weasley roared, "Do you have any idea how much trouble this'll get me in? Not to mention that Harry already tried paralysing those tomatoes… WITHIN RANGE OF MUGGLES!"

"But dad, they were trying to kill Harry."

"I don't care, think of what this'll do to your mother!" Ron's father continued his shouting, but Harry had already given up on listening. He turned around to examine the battlefield. Nothing except from the tomato cans seemed to have changed, but all of a sudden he noticed a black feather bristling from a melon.

"Look, look, look!" Harry shouted and pointed frantically. The Weasleys all gathered in a circle to examine the discovery.

"It's official," Fred stated formally, and George finished his sentence, "Yup, Voldemort's gone bonkers."