"You're a real pain in the anaconda, you did realize that by now, right?"

"Excuse me?" A man whose age was as old as the mountains turned to the noseless face. "And who might you be?"

"The Dark Lord, who else?" The noseless man sneered. "If it's such a big riddle, you may recognize me as 'Tom'."

"Well... Tom," The old man sighed. "What business do you have with me?"

As if paralyzed by the man's ignorance, the Dark Lord stood mouth agape unable to comprehend the current situation. Most people feared him, even going as far to call him 'he who must not be named' accompanying a rumour that if one spoke the name 'Voldemort', they would quickly meet their end at the end of a green glowing stick.

"Tom?" The old man repeated as he leaned back against the old leather chair. He was merely taking a break in the Tavern of the Afterlife when all of a sudden Snake Face arrived and insulted him.

"Tom?" The old man repeated once more, fixing the spectacles upon his crooked nose which he had recently come to adore. "Hello? Mr. Dark Lord? Mr. Snake Face?"

"Don't call me that!" The Dark Lord snapped. "Don't ever call me 'Snake Face' or I'll reanimate you and kill you myself!"

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry Mr. Dark Lord." The old man said with mock sympathy. "If you did have the power to reanimate me I would be ever so grateful, if not then please leave. Even the dead have better things to do that speak to someone who looks like someone warning others not to have plastic surgery."

"Do not make fun of me. My scars are the very proof of my immortality-"

"-Clearly a failed attempt." The old man pointed out as he took a sip from his gin and tonic.

"Silence you old fool!"

Like a storm, but the old man smashed his glass against the taverns counter before standing up to his full height, towering over the Dark Lord.

"Old fool?" The old man spoke softly but with enough tension to create silence in the tavern. "I may be old but I am no fool. If anybody is the fool, it is you Snake Face! Who do you think you are boasting ridiculous titles such as the 'Dark Lord' when you clearly can't even keep track of your own acquaintances. I do not know you. I have never known you. I do not wish to know you. Goodnight!"

As if by magic, a staff materialized within the old man's hand and with a thud against the ground it shook the tavern with the might of an earthquake. A gust the force of a hurricane soon followed and as gales ripped through the tavern knocking over other famous dead icons it looked as if the Dark Lord would be blown away. But no. It soon became apparent that the Dark Lord was not all bark as he held his own, his midnight cloak flapping against the wind. He held an arm outstretched and at the end rested a wand, it's light blazing against the billowing breeze.

"You may have kept me at bay in the land of the living!" The Dark Lord roared over the howling winds. "But I will get my revenge on you this time Dumbledore!"

With that, the Dark Lord's wand flashed a dazzling scarlet before the hurricane dissipated. Both men were left breathing hard against their knees and the tavern left in total chaos.

"My name... is not..." The old man wheezed as he propped himself against the staff. "Is not... Dumbledore!"

"What!" The Dark Lord exclaimed, a look of pure surprise plastered on his face.

The old man wiped a hand across his face wishing his soul didn't possess the same stamina level as he did when he were alive. "That... is what I've... been trying to tell you... you ignorant hoodlum."

"You will not trick me this time. Who else has the same thick white beard, crooked nose and thin spectacle frames?"

"Well... I don't know..." The old man rolled his eyes with a shrug. "Santa Claus?"

"Who?"

"The one who gives you toys at Christmas."

"But I only got coal."

"Ah." The old man nods. "That explains it."

"Explains what?"

"The reason for you being a bad hobbit."

"A ho-what?"

"Never mind."

"Who are you then?" The Dark Lord steps forward warily with his wand at the ready.

In response, the old man slammed his staff into the oaken floor once more causing the Dark Lord to stagger backwards. "You shall not pass!"

"Fine, have it your way, I won't come any closer but I won't leave until I have your name either."

"You don't get it?"

"Umm..." The Dark Lord's eyes shift to the side awaiting a clue from one of his fallen deatheaters. "Get what?"

"Seriously?" The old man's face falls.

"What am I supposed to get exactly?"

"How can you not get it?" The old man's eyes widen until they almost pop out of their sockets.

"Is this... Is this another trick of yours?" The Dark Lord purses his lips as a hiss starts to escape. "Is this one of your games Dumbledore?"

"Oh for the love of all things that glitters!" The old man points a finger as frail as a twig at the Dark Lord.

Seemingly on edge, the Dark lord responds by raising his wand as if anticipating an attack. "Arvada Kedavra!"

Instantaneously, a bolt of green lightning snakes out from the wand and shocks the old man straight in his chest. He falls not long after but almost as soon as his head touched the floor, he was standing back up again.

"What the Smaug was that?" The old man grumbles as he struggles to his feet. "Do you know how long it takes to get a crick out of your back? It took me the last thousand years to crack it and now you've gone and put it back in me."

"Sorry. It was instinct. At least you didn't die- that normally happens."

"I'm already dead you buffoon!" The old man booms.

"Yes, of course. Don't you have any horcruxes? I ran out due to a certain lightning head but if you can find one they usually do the trick."

"What in middle earth is a horcrux and what none sense are you babbling on about now?"

"Oh, you see horcruxes are-"

Suddenly the door to the tavern opens and an almost identical image of the old man steps inside except for the fact that the new visitor was wearing a weird looking black hat with a mouth on it. Said hat was arguing with something that looked a lot like a phoenix about a house or something of the sort.

Upon spotting the new visitor, the Dark Lord seemed to grin but not as much as the visitor. With no sense of embarrassment, the new visitor ran towards the duo with open arms. "Santa Claus!"

"My name is Gandalf!"