Disclaimer: I own the plot… nothing else.

I'll try and make this a mix of all things Evildead, so expect to see references to things not around during the canon HP books. I'll upload chaps when they come to me, so no update date promises from me. Lots of Humor interspersed with Horror & Drama.

On with the fic…

FFoDS

"Its official; Voldemort is an idiot…"

This was the thought of a 17 year-old Harry Potter, as he stared with incredulity at the scene of the unhinged evil man (he's not even worth the capital letter. Now; teachers who make Twilight required reading in school, They're Pure Evil!) in front of him.

The self-proclaimed Lord Voldemort himself was standing in front of Harry and cackling; as if he'd just been told the world comprised of Happiness, Love, and naked girls covered in Treacle.

"You see Potter," he said magnanimously spreading his arms wide as if to have Harry bask in his glory.

Harry honestly just thought he looked a bit like some Mexican wrestler attempting to rouse the crowd.

"This is why you should never have challenged me! I've delved into the deepest recesses of darkness and evil to become the being you see before you! Never before has one sought to quench the unquenchable thirst of death as I have!" he continued to rant, "You will bow before the might of my cunning and evil! With this," he says as he holds out the book, "armies shall bow before me and kings will tremble! With this, I shall RULE THE VERY WORLD!"

"Those sure are a lot of evil exclamations." Harry thought nonplussed.

The reason he was perturbed was not the individual currently trying to sound all maniacal and such.

No, instead, it was the item he held in his hand as he laughed that truly worried him. For it was a book; but it was not just any old ordinary book.

C'mon that would be too easy!

No, this was an Evil more sinister than Barney the Dinosaur.

Held tightly in Voldemort's hand and bound in what appeared to be the ripped off face and skin (probably of some poor guy who pissed in the Wheaties of the wrong person) was a book.

What book was this you ask; well, it's a little known book outside of idiots trying to be Goffik, evil megalomaniacs and Luciferian wannabe's…

Naturom Demonto,

The Book of the Dead,

Necronomicon Ex-Mortis.

The Adventures of Justin Bieber in Ponyville!

Though this Evil (hear the capital letter people!) book had many names, and was known by many cultures; it was mostly sought after throughout history for its spells, funeral rites, ability to summon forth Demons and the elusive location of where the souls of gingers were.

However, it was the man who made the original English translations (from the original written by the Old Ones) that made any of this possible…

Professor Raymond Knowby was his name; and obsessive insanity was his game…

... And Voldemort was right there with him.

"Where are the nice men in white coats with the comfortable jackets when you need'em?" thought Harry, as he gazed at the scene in front of him and wondered if he should have gotten out of bed that morning.

"This, Potter, is how I shall show the world the might of Lord Voldemort!" the delusional man started, "Once I summon forth the evil spectres of the Old Ones, they will begin to wipe the filth I deem unnecessary from wizarding kind. Then they shall take their rightful place as my loyal servants whom obey only me!"

"Yeah… 'cause demon spectres will happily obey humans. Especially, the nice ones who attempt to subjugate them, totally believable! It's foolproof!"

Okay, so at this point Harry would have to admit his thoughts were a bit morbidly sarcastic.

"This is the end Harry Potter!" he screamed, "Now it's time for you to cease to be a thorn in my side!"

With that Voldemort opened the book in his hands and began to read the passage therein aloud…

"Khandar Estrada,

khandar thrus indactu nosfrandus,

khandar,

dematos,

KHANDAR!"

"Well…crap." Harry said despondently, as he gazed around at the scene unfolding before him.

The wind began to pick up, howling as if the very hounds of hell were being brought forth from the depths of the Underworld. The Sounds of Evil were prevalent throughout the clearing and woods.

"Was that Banjo music I just heard?" Harry asked himself, as he swore he had just heard the sounds of Dueling Banjos coming from within the forest.

Lightning cracked and the thunderous sounds of displaced air boomed above their heads. Ringing out a malevolent elemental cacophony of sound in the now active clearing.

The ground started to tremble all around him, as hands of white - stark against the unnatural darkness - began to break forth from their earthen prisons. Following them were skulls bleached white, ribcages bearing the tattered remains of funeral clothing and thin white brittle looking legs and feet becoming exposed to the nighttime air for the first time in many a season.

The very trees themselves began to move and tremble, branches swaying dangerously in the wind, as if they were attempting to reach out and strangle the first unfortunate soul to cross beneath their wooden limbs.

A strange malevolent cackle began to ring out around them.

As the cackle began to reach a feverous pitch, one would not be thought foolish if they were to believe that those among the living within the clearing were in the presence of the Dark Queen of the Banshee women. Skulking around them, eager to pounce on her next organ donor to feed her children.

The tortured sounds of wildlife being rent limb from limb rung out from within the forest, with the horrific sounds being followed by cracking bones, and flesh being rent from bodies unable to withstand such tortures flitting across the winds.

As the sounds of malevolence began to quiet, all Harry could see in the moonlit clearing were what appeared to be hundreds of skeletons. The trees still swaying to and fro, as periodically, small shadows would flit across his vision as he gazed into the darkened wooded area.

"Do you feel that Mr. Potter?" Voldemort asked.

"Oh! His Royal Evilness has deigned speak to me again," Harry thought.

"That feeling of unrepressed fear flowing through your veins. That is the feeling of the inevitable. The feeling of a desperate boy wishing for an escape from a, admittedly, unenviable situation." He continued, "This is the truth of an inevitable Death, Mr. Potter. Knowing that no matter what you do, you can't possibly escape this situation with which you've found yourself in."

"Meh… I thought it was indigestion from that triple bean and cheese burrito I had for dinner." Harry quipped.

If he was to be honest to himself, he was afraid, only not so much of Voldemort himself at this moment.

"How very droll, Mr. Potter," Voldemort said with a look of condescension, "attempting to joke in the face of death as a way to hide your very real, albeit, very deserved, fear of me."

"You?" Harry questioned with a quirked brow.

"Blimey, you sure do think highly of yourself don'tcha?" he asked. "Eh… I'm not afraid of you at all," he stated, "No; what I'm fearful of at this moment however, is that great hulking brute of a beast behind you." He admitted "I must say though, he's looking at you right now as if he wants you to call him Bubba and whistle a jaunty tune whilst he buggers you for daring to control him." He said flippantly.

"Huh?"

Eloquence; Voldemort is thy name.

Voldemort spun around with a serpentine grace tributary of his appearance.

Only to freeze as what could only be described as a disturbingly giant Hillbilly Zombie from Hell roared in his face, spittle flying from his (admittedly severely lacking) toothed mouth.

"Wea heh'lo der boy," the creature spoke. Voice deep and slow, as if the words tried their damnedest not to leave its decayed lips.

"It wood seem as ifin' yew thought yew could upin' control lit'l 'ole me." the drawl was so pronounced that Voldemort (if he wasn't frozen in the rictus of absolute fear) would swear aloud that deliverance had indeed come for him.

"Wealp, ifin' you gon' be believin' dat den Imma guessin' I could oblige yew an entraduction" it said.

"'Ello sexah, I'm Grim Love, 'n Imma have a look at'ure ah milk dud!"

With that the creatures arm blurred forward, grabbing Voldemort by his neck in his massive hand. It then let off a laugh (disturbing enough was this laugh, that Harry was certain he would have nightmares filled with Banjo music, and the sounds of snapping crocodiles, if he survived this newly inspired SNAFU for Fate's Bitch) and started to drag the now struggling and beyond terrified wizard into the woods.

"C'mon boy, Imma make yew squeal like a piggeh!"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" Voldemort screamed.

"Wow!" Harry said, as he looked on with equal amounts of revulsion and humor "That's a worse mental picture than that time I tried to think of Snape and Umbitch gettin' it on so I'd not have 'Mini Harry' get me killed around Tonks!"

It was about this time that Harry realized it had gotten a little too quiet for his tastes.

Looking around he noticed the sockets of every skeleton locked onto his person as if he were a sign at a nudie bar saying "Free Lap Dances".

At this point he realized he really should've just stayed home today.

Gazing at the creatures around him he could only say one thing…

"Ah shit… this is gonna suck"

FFoDS

Harry really hated this part of his life, the part where he always seems to find himself in all the messed up parts of being a boy hero, when he did not even ask to be.

He never really understood why it always had to be him that went through this shit, when people twice his age sat back and just watched him flail around like an epileptic trying to do the hokey pokey while having a fit.

'Seriously... Why do I find myself in these situations' he asked himself while looking at the skeletons stand in front of him and looking at him as if he was a particularly tasty slab of beef.

There were all types of skeletons in the field with him, many of them carrying weapons of differing types. As he looked at all the skeletons there he was starting to get worried at the bloodlust he could feel.

'wait a tic... It that skeleton wearing a pinstripe suit with a flaming pumpkin for a head?' Harry asked himself as he noticed that one particularly tall and spindly looking skeleton did have a flaming pumpkin attached to his shoulders, and was indeed wearing a pinstripe suit.

Shaking his head to clear it of the strange image, Harry, decided now was the time to get the hell outta Dodge.

"Well boys, I'd love to stay and chat but I do believe I've got to wash my hair and I think my goldfish is on fire" he quipped before turning on his heel and booking it out of there as quickly as his legs would carry him.

As he ran the skeletons looked perplexedly at each other,

"Hey, shouldn't we like... chase after him or something?" asked one of the spear wielding skeletons.

As they looked at one another, one in particular who seemed to be the leader, skull palmed and spoke up,

"Awe crud, he's gettin' away! Get him boys!" screamed the one with the most armor on.

With that the skeletons started to chase after the boy running as if his rectal virtue was on the line.

'Sometimes I really wanna sacktap Fate for putting me in these situations' thought Harry as he ran for his life, with the various - to steal a phrase from fudge - evil thingy's, chasing after him.

As Harry glanced behind himself as he ran, he only had one thought on his mind,

'Seriously Fate... you suck'

AN:

well I decided it needed a bit more before I could call it done (ah who am I kidding, that last scene would not leave my brain until I added it.) let me know what you think. I've no idea when I will update again as I've got a job that takes a lot out of me. So let me know what you think of in a review. Also let me know if you can spot all the pop references.