A/N: This has been in the works for a while, but my muse only decided to give me a visit recently. It - the story, not the muse - was inspired by a comment from Articwolfstudios. Muchos thankos, Wolf!

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor the Inheritance Cycle.

Six men were arrayed around a large, dark table, all in black robes. Five were cowering, trying to sink into their chairs; the sixth, at the head, was standing. The standing man was horrible to behold – bone-white skin, red eyes, and a snakelike nose combined to give him a nightmarish visage.

"What did you say?" Lord Voldemort spoke softly, yet wrath was clearly evident in every syllable.

"M-m-my lord," the man seated farthest down the table stuttered, "th-th-the b-b-boy and h-his f-fr-friends h-have e-e-e-e-"

"Spit it out!" Voldemort roared.

The man dug himself even deeper into his chair. "Escaped! They escaped, my lord!" The man ducked, flinching.

Voldemort dropped his gaze to the table and fell silent, which was far more terrifying than when he shouted. Finally, he looked up and coolly said, "Very well. Avada Kedavra."

There was a flash of emerald light, and the man who had given the news of the escape crumpled without a sound.

The others around the table glanced nervously at each other, before returning their attention to Voldemort as he proclaimed, "McKinley was a failure. However, he has, in his bumbling way, helped us."

The others seemed afraid to speak, but one piped up hesitantly, "Helped us, my lord?"

Voldemort twisted his face into what might have been intended to be a smile. "Yes, Dolohov. He did."

There was silence, until Dolohov seemed to realize that Voldemort wanted him to ask the question. He obliged, saying, "How, my lord?"

Voldemort's probably-a-grin widened. "He confirmed that we are not destined to achieve our ambitions here. This world is not suited to our pleasures. We must relocate."

"Where, my lord?" Dolohov was now eager to hear more.

Voldemort's possibly-a-smile turned indulgent. "Oh, Antonin-" now Dolohov knew he was in some form of trouble- "you, I'm afraid, are not going to find out."

Dolohov was stricken. "Wh-why, my lord?"

Voldemort's ostensibly-a-smile vanished. "That is not for you to know," he snapped.

"Y-yes, my lord."

The supposed smile returned. "Good," he purred. "Now, I must leave you." And with nary a sound, he disappeared.

The room was completely silent until someone – Yaxely – said in a small voice, "Now what?"

Eragon

Eragon was yanked from his waking dreams by a loud pounding at his door and a man's urgent cry of "Shadeslayer!"

He hurled himself out of bed with battle-born reflexes, relaxing only slightly as the pounding continued.

What do you think he wants? he asked Saphira.

No idea, she answered, yawning and stretching.

Yawning hugely in his turn, Eragon pulled the door open, interrupting the man's second "Shadeslayer!" mid-syllable. "Yes?" Eragon said mildly.

The man's eyes were the approximate size of dinner plates as he exclaimed, "Lady Nasuada wants to see you! Now! It's extremely urgent!"

"So I gathered," Eragon remarked dryly as he ducked into his quarters just long enough to grab Brisingr. "I'll be there shortly," he told the man – a soldier, now that he had a proper look at him. What was his name...Eragon racked his brain, finally remembering that it was Jonas. Eragon was fully settled on a grumbling Saphira's back before he realized that he had no idea where Nasuada was. "Jonas..." he called after the retreating warrior.

"Yes, Shadeslayer?"

"Where is Lady Nasuada?" he asked sheepishly.

Jonas gave him her location, and Saphira took off. It was two weeks since Galbatorix had been killed, and the previous night was the first chance either of them had gotten completely to themselves. Neither of them had been able to sleep for very long at a time in the past fortnight, so both were rather irked at being roused from bed at the crack of dawn.

Saphira landed behind Nasuada's command pavilion – she still directed everything from there – and waited only until Eragon was on the ground before sticking her head inside, laying it on the ground, and closing her eyes.

Eragon smiled in spite of his weariness, patted Saphira on the side, and trudged around to the front of the tent, sensing a few of his elven bodyguards shadowing him at a discreet distance. He allowed the guards in front of the tent announce him, then plodded inside.

"Thank you for coming so quickly, Eragon," Nasuada said as he entered.

Eragon bowed, letting that be his response as he swallowed yet another exhausted yawn. He stood beside Arya in a circle that also included Orik, Jörmundur, Nasuada, and Orrin. The group was arrayed around a good-sized desk that was littered with papers. One such paper, however, sat in a relatively clear area, surrounded by walls of presumably less important papers that had been pushed aside. Eragon glanced at the paper briefly, then looked at Nasuada as she announced, "We have a problem."

No kidding, Eragon thought, but held his tongue. He felt Saphira's simultaneous amusement and agreement ripple across their mental link.

Nasuada continued, "This morning a scout arrived from a few miles west of Dras-Leona. He was carrying this-" she gestured toward the set-apart paper, which Eragon only now noticed was spattered with blood- "and was badly wounded. He is recovering, thankfully, but I'm afraid that he bore bad news."

Get on with it, Saphira said, giving voice to Eragon's – and her own – impatience.

Nasuada started, but quickly recovered. Reading from the stained paper, she said, "His company was witness to a man – or at least, something resembling a man – appearing out of thin air. They don't know how he did it – obviously he used magic, but he appeared without a sound."

There was shocked silence in the pavilion for perhaps half a minute. Then Jörmundur asked the obvious question: "What are we going to do about it?"

Nasuada hesitated before speaking. "Before we leap to any conclusions, I would like to verify one thing." She faced Arya and Eragon directly as she asked, "Am I correct in assuming that it is impossible for a person to travel instantaneously, yet silently, by magic?"

Eragon nodded, and Arya said, "To the best of my knowledge, yes."

Nasuada sighed. "That's what I was afraid of," she muttered, softly enough that Eragon thought that he, Arya, and Saphira were the only ones who heard. Looking at all assembled, Nasuada said in a more confident tone, "To answer your question, Jörmundur, we are going to track this man down. We are going to determine what he wants and, if it is deemed necessary, we are going to kill him. That is, if we are all agreed on this course of action." She looked around the desk at the people encompassing it.

One by one, every person nodded. Orrin hesitated, but grudgingly relented. Nasuada smiled around the desk and said, "Good. Now, this is what I propose we do..."

Voldemort

Twenty miles west of Urû'baen, Voldemort was severely ticked off. His first five minutes in Alagaësia had been a really bad start to his plans. First off, he had been surprised enough by the men in front of him that one had gotten away. Second, he had no idea where he was. Third...well, he couldn't really think of a third at the moment.

He had appeared a mile or so away from what appeared to be a rather shabby city. He had seen the black rock formation to the southeast, but had paid it little heed. He had likewise dismissed the city – it was far too small to be the capital, which was his destination. He needed to get to – what was it called? Ah, yes – Urû'baen. He needed to get to Urû'baen so he could kill the king and take over this land. And then...he was thinking maybe he would visit a curious place called Narnia. And after Narnia, who knew? Maybe he would go after Middle-Earth. Maybe he would give Not-Middle-Earth another try. Whatever he did, he would have plenty of time to ponder it after he took over Alagaësia.

Voldemort grinned and Disapparated, instantly on his way to Urû'baen – and the mad king therein.

Shadebuster

Eragon stood in the former throne room of the ex-king's former castle. Whew, that was a mouthful. Anyways, Eragon stood there. Why, he didn't know. Well, he knew why he was standing there – because Nasuada told him to. He just didn't know why Nasuada had told him to stand in the former throne room of the ex-king's former castle. Whew.

Anyways.

Eragon was just standing in the former throne room of the ex-king's former castle (whew!), thinking about Arya and why the heck was he there? and Arya and lemons and Arya and he really should be doing something productive and Arya and oranges and Arya and ooh, was that pudding? and Arya and swords and Arya and strawberries and Arya and he really should be doing something productive and Arya and what was Nasuada thinking when he told him to stand there? and Arya and he needed to go to the bathroom and Arya and ants and Arya and ew it's a bug! and Arya and he really should invent the iPod and Arya and maybe that would be productive? and Arya and probably not and Arya, when suddenly he sensed a presence. He was confuzzled for a minute, because he hadn't felt the presence approach, but then the person screamed something like "Abracadabra!" and he nearly passed out as his wards deflected the spell.

He felt Saphira rushing toward him as he drew energy from his belt and turned around...

Only to scream like a little girl at the horrible...thing...in front of him, which was wearing a rather confuzzled expression itself.

Moldyshorts

Voldemort was confuzzled. He had Apparated directly into the throne room (little did he know that it was the former throne room of the ex-king's former castle), only to find a teenager standing with his back to Voldemort. Voldemort figured that the boy was disposable, and so promptly disposed of him.

Well, he tried to. The kid seemed to be shielded somehow, as he merely staggered under the Killing Curse. The boy whipped around with a determined expression on his face, then screeched like a banshee and hid his face behind his arms.

Firesword

Eragon was terrified. He had never seen a face as twisted as the one before him. Bone-white, with red eyes and a snake's nose – or rather, lack thereof – the horrifying visage was made even more frightening by the expression upon it.

"W-what are you?" he asked from behind the protective shield of his arms.

Very polite, Saphira commented from a few miles up.

Shut up. You're no help.

Very well.

Man-Who-Let-The-Boy-Live

Voldemort raised a nonexistent eyebrow. His chest swelled as he proclaimed in what he thought was an impressive voice, "I am Lord Voldemort."

The youth raised an eyebrow – Voldemort could hear it in his voice. "Okay. Sure. And I'm Queen Tarmunora. Now, really, who are you?"

Voldemort was flabbergasted. Not only had he proclaimed who he was, he had done it in his most impressive voice! "I told you," he said, feeding anger into his tone, "I am Lord Voldemort!"

The kid lowered his arms slightly. "Uh-huh. If you're a lord, then I'm a fruit basket."

Voldemort grinned. "Very well." And with that – plus a few other words – he turned Eragon Shadeslayer into a basket full of fruit.

Bjartskular – how the heck do you pronounce that?

A scream of rage echoed through Saphira's head. How dare that...thing...threaten the partner of her soul?

She unleashed a blast of magical energy, completely destroying the roof of the former throne room of the ex-king's former castle. She dived through the hole and screamed again, whipping her tail through the air in pure wrath. She demolished what little furniture was left in the former throne room of the ex-king's former castle, then turned her eye on the strange creature that had frightened Eragon so.

Only to find herself facing a jet of light that turned her into an apple, which was then placed on top of the fruit basket that was Eragon.

Voldie

Voldemort cackled evilly. He had already taken out the king's chief opponents. This would definitely allow him to get close to the crazy old geezer.

The doors burst open, and he spun about, ready to face a squadron of guards. He was surprised, then to see a girl who looked to be no older than six.

She swept her midnight hair out of her eyes, briefly unveiling the star-shaped patch of white on her forehead. Voldemort nearly gasped, but thought better of it. Instead, he sneered, "What do you want, girl-child?"

"You know my name. Use it," she replied in her strange voice.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "And just why should I take orders from you, Elva?"

Elva smirked. "You're pathetic," she said. "Galbatorix is dead. The only reason you didn't know that is because the fourth book hasn't been released yet on your world. So you just disposed of your greatest opponents. Now all you have to do is take care of the rest of the Varden, and you'll have Alagaësia to yourself." And with that she turned to walk away, adding over her shoulder, "Unless the author decides to bring in the big guns...which she probably will."

Voldemort blinked one, twice, and again. He opened his mouth to ask Elva what, exactly, she meant, when suddenly there was a loud OINK! and a man appeared in the middle of the former throne room of the ex-king's former castle.

They looked at each other strangely for several moments, until Elva burst out laughing.

"Oh...it's priceless!" she said between gasps. "The looks on your faces...AAH!" she squealed. "This is perfect!"

"What?" Voldemort and the other guy asked at the same time. They glared at each other.

In between bursts of hysterical laughter, Elva explained, "You...you're both...BALD! And you're both bent on taking over Alagaësia!" And she doubled over into further laughter.

Voldemort and the man looked at each other. The strange guy shrugged. "It's true," he said. "Two Alagaësias are better than one."

Voldemort coked a nonexistent eyebrow. "Whatever. Avada Kedavra!" And thus, he killified Movie Galbatorix.

Voldemort stood there for a moment, hands on hips, surveying the former throne room of the ex-king's former castle. Suddenly, a squadron of guards burst in and surrounded him. Foremost among the people was Arya.

"You have done us a great service," she intoned regally, "yet you have also done us doubly wrong. For that, you must die." And with a "deyja!" she killified the Dark Lord Voldemort.

Randomness

And then everyone was happy. Well, except for the dead people. And Eragon. And Saphira. But other than that, everyone was happy. Arya was happy because she didn't have to listen to Eragon trying to woo her anymore. Nasuada was happy because Galbatorix was dead. Murtagh was happy because he never had to deal with any Galbatorix ever again – and because the author wasn't currently torturing him. Orrin was happy because Nasuada wasn't quite so annoying anymore.

Oh, and the Death Eaters? They were too drunk and/or stoned to feel much of anything. You see, after Voldemort disappeared, never to be heard from again, they threw a massive party. Said party was complete with Firewhiskey, crack, faelnirv (someone had broken into Voldie's stash), and meth. Bad Death Eaters, bad! No one will envy you in the morning.

A/N: See, Wolf? I told you I was clinging tenuously to the wagon! :D lol

I would like to point out that I do NOT, under ANY circumstances, support the use of drugs or alcohol, magical or otherwise. That stuff is nasty, to use a slightly not-strong-enough word. It'll ruin your health and your life. That said, I tossed them into the story because, really, would the Death Eaters care about things like that? No.

And the "Shadebuster" scene separator was from The Green Pilgrim's story "Shadebusters!" Go read it, it's awesome!

Review, please!