I Was Eight Months Pregnant When My Husband Announced!

A sharp rap echoed against the heavy manor door, causing the Death Eaters to stiffen and their hands to instinctively slide toward their wands. “Who’s there?” Voldemort hissed. “Just the pizza guy, sir,” came a lazy, unbothered drawl. Voldemort’s crimson eyes narrowed sharply. “Again?” “Mr. Pizza Guy, sir,” the voice repeated. With a flick of a pale hand, the door swung wide. A lanky youth in a pizza uniform sauntered in, balancing a cardboard box on one hand. He possessed sun-bleached hair, half-lidded eyes, and a grin that practically reeked of California beaches. “Uh, who ordered the double cheese and sausage?” he inquired. Biff shot straight up. “Right here, dude!” He grabbed the box like it was buried treasure, flipped the lid open, and took a deep breath. “Finally—food!” The pizza delivery boy looked oddly familiar. “Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?” Biff asked, squinting. “Did you go to Ridgemont High out in California?” “Totally, dude,” the delivery boy replied. “Spicoli. Jeff Spicoli.” The gathered Death Eaters stared as though a literal ghost had drifted into the room. Lucius looked positively murderous. Snape’s lips twitched—just once. The Carrow siblings exchanged a glance filled with total puzzlement and bewilderment, while Yaxley barely managed to stifle a laugh by coughing into his elbow. Avery wore an expression as if he had just swallowed something deeply unpleasant, fighting hard not to chuckle. “Yo, sorry about this, dude,” Spicoli told Biff. “This place is like, so confusing and all. Took a totally wrong turn somewhere in Staffordshire. Plus, this dude named Mundungus tried to sell me a stolen cauldron. Wanted twenty galleons or something for it. I was like, ‘Galleons of what, man?’” Biff paid him a few pounds. Spicoli pocketed the cash and drifted casually toward the door, pausing to survey the sinister gathering with mild curiosity. Just as Biff reached out for a slice, Voldemort loomed directly over him, his face twisted in fury and his voice dropping to an icy chill. “Have I been confunded? Just what in Slytherin’s name do you think you are doing?” Biff grinned, completely unfazed. “Learning about Death Eating… and having some food.” Gasps echoed around the chamber. Nagini let out a sharp hiss, rising slightly from her coils. Voldemort’s gaze cut like a razor blade. “Mr. Tannen, you are standing on dangerous ground. You are causing a major disturbance… on my time.” Biff shrugged casually. “I’ve been thinking about this, My Lord. If I’m here and you’re here, doesn’t that kind of make it our time? Surely, there’s nothing wrong with a little feast on our time.” For a long moment, absolute silence filled the room. “You are completely right, Mr. Tannen,” Voldemort said at last, his voice returning to a silken, terrifying smoothness. “It is our time. Yours, mine, and everyone else’s in this room. But it remains my meeting.” With a sharp flick of his wand, the pizza box was jerked right out of Biff’s hands and floated across the chamber. Voldemort gestured lazily. “Avery. Malfoy. Yaxley. Snape. Crabbe. Goyle. Step forward.” The named Death Eaters obeyed instantly, their silver masks gleaming in the firelight. Voldemort’s tone turned almost mocking. “Mr. Tannen has been kind enough to bring us a… snack. Be my guests. Help yourselves. Take a good one.” The masked figures exchanged uneasy glances. Then, one by one, they reached into the box. Malfoy’s pale hand snatched a slice with stiff precision. Crabbe and Goyle tore into theirs with clumsy eagerness. Yaxley sneered behind his mask but did not hesitate. At last, Voldemort himself plucked a single slice, lifting it delicately between his pale fingers. Without breaking eye contact with Biff, he took a slow, deliberate bite, the grease smearing faintly across his lipless mouth. Then, with a cruel flicker of amusement, he reached back into the box, drew out a second slice, and crouched down. Nagini rose at once, her jaws parting wide. Voldemort extended the pizza slice to her like a sacred offering. The giant serpent swallowed the greasy triangle whole with a loud hiss of satisfaction. Biff’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “Hey, that was my pizza!” he sputtered, his fists clenching at his sides. “You just fed a slice to Linguini?!” Voldemort’s gaze sliced back to Biff like a knife. “Nagini,” he whispered, his voice dripping with lethal coldness. Spicoli’s eyes went wide, then suddenly glazed over with a look of horrified recognition. “Dude… this is totally like that time Mr. Hand stole my pizza at Ridgemont High. He was all, ‘Mr. Spicoli has been kind enough to bring us a snack…’ and then he like… gave my pizza away to the other kids in class.” He jabbed an accusing finger at the Death Eaters, who were nervously chewing on their slices. “And now it’s happening all over again, man. History is like—totally repeating itself, only way gnarlier.” Biff scowled deeply. “Are you seriously comparing Voldemort to your high school history teacher?” Instantly, the Death Eaters hissed—a low, serpentine, chilling chorus that slithered through the chamber like venom. The sound was so menacing that even Biff flinched back. Spicoli just blinked at them unblinkingly. “Whoa. Chill out, reptile bros. Nobody was hissing when Mr. Hand’s name came up.” Voldemort’s crimson eyes narrowed, though a trace of cruel amusement curled at the corner of his lip. “Consider it… a lesson in obedience.” The Death Eaters froze mid-bite, not daring to laugh or even swallow. Suddenly, Spicoli’s pager buzzed loudly. He squinted down at the tiny screen as if it were some ancient magical rune. “Whoa. Looks like I got another delivery—the Dursley residence over on Privet Drive.” Slinging his empty pizza bag over one shoulder, he gave a lazy shrug. “Gotta bounce, dark dude. No refunds.” Voldemort and Snape exchanged a brief, knowing glance. Spicoli offered Biff a slow, casual salute. “Catch you later, bro.” “Later, dude,” Biff grumbled under his breath, still wishing he had gotten to eat. The California surfer slouched out of the manor as if it were the most normal place on Earth to drop off a delivery. The Death Eaters finished eating in heavy silence, deeply unsettled by the bizarre intrusion. Voldemort’s red eyes glowed brighter in the dim light, his long fingers drumming rhythmically on the arm of his chair. “Lucius,” he said at last, his voice thin as rising smoke. “I will require your assistance very soon. Dumbledore must be discredited. Entirely.” Lucius inclined his head in agreement, though his pale face flickered with quiet unease. For a fleeting second, the lingering memory of an old diary weighed heavily on his mind, causing him to quickly lower his eyes. The pizza grease stained their fingertips, the firelight danced across the cold stone walls, and the Dark Lord’s gathering pressed on, stranger and darker than ever before. ⸻ As the chamber gradually quieted down, Snape glided silently to Biff’s side, his black robes whispering softly against the stone floor. His voice was hushed, yet it cut like a blade. “Do not ever speak the Dark Lord’s name so casually again,” Snape murmured, his dark eyes fixed on Biff with piercing intensity. “The hiss you heard just now was pure mercy. Next time, it may not be granted.” He let the warning hang heavily in the air, then leaned in even closer, his tone dropping to a low whisper. “And one more thing, Tannen. Never summon food deliveries in the middle of a meeting. The Dark Lord tolerates zero distractions—least of all yours.” Biff swallowed hard, his fists finally loosening at his sides. “Yeah… got it,” he muttered, suddenly feeling a whole lot less confident. Snape’s sharp gaze lingered for a fraction of a second longer before he turned sharply away, his expression entirely unreadable.