1,169Delivery for the Death Eaters
They say there is nothing more dangerous and lethal than boredom, especially when a certain sixteen-year-old resident of Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, was involved. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, had just survived the first week of the summer holidays back at the house of his Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia by doing his chores and staying out of their hair but very soon, the grieving young man found himself feeling extremely alone. This lonesome feeling bloomed very quickly into boredom. And for those who knew him well enough, a bored Harry Potter was a ball of pure chaos.
Chaos that, if left undirected and unmonitored, would do the first thing that came into his head. On this particular evening, while reading one of his schoolbooks for what felt like the millionth time and mulling over about the moments, he wished he had with his recently deceased godfather Sirius Black, Harry Potter had gotten a brilliantly evil idea. It was a good thing Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were at a dinner party because Harry knew he would be in the beating of his life if they found out what he was planning.
Dudley was out with his friends, to the movies apparently, which meant Harry was alone in the house, left to his own devices. The young wizard left his room, went downstairs, and rang the number Hermione had once given him. Harry hoped to Merlin and Morgana Hermione would pick up quickly because he wanted to have this done before the Dursleys came back.
Fortunately, the line picked up after three bleeps.
"Hello, Granger residence?" the tentative voice of Hermione rang out on the other end of the line.
"Hermione, it's me," Harry grinned.
"Oh, Harry, thank goodness! How did you manage to get to the phone? Where are your aunt and uncle?" Hermione quizzed.
"My family are all out for the night," Harry answered with a small smile. "We have been keeping out of each other's hair. Good thing too."
Hermione sighed. She knew him too well by now. "Oh no. You're bored, aren't you?"
"Yeah," Harry admitted. He could not lie to his sister-in-all-but-name.
"What are you planning?" Hermione dared to ask.
"I am not so sure yet, but I was thinking of maybe pranking someone," Harry grinned. "I am a child of a Marauder, was the godchild of another – I might as well use some of that to have some fun! It is what Sirius would have wanted …"
"I think so too," Hermione was reluctant to admit. "So, what kind of prank are you thinking about doing? Maybe you should contact Fred and George for some ideas?"
"Well, I was thinking about maybe sending something to our favourite little Slytherin," Harry grinned evilly. "After all, his father has been put into Azkaban – he needs something to cheer him up."
"Are you trying to get Draco Malfoy to hire Hit Wizards to kill you?" Hermione asked deadpan.
"Hermione, Voldie is having issues with killing me; they can bloody well try their best!" Harry snorted. "Besides, he doesn't have to know it was from me!"
Hermione sighed. "Harry, you're going to send a note with it. I know you."
Harry couldn't argue there. "So … you don't happen to know how I can find out where the Malfoys live?"
It was Hermione's turn to snort with laughter. "Harry, their Manor house is in several of our history books. Not that you would know since you didn't bother to open one. They live in Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire. Always have, since 1066."
"Hmmm," Harry hummed, taking the information in. He then lit up. "Hermione, do you think there is a McDonald's or some other fast food restaurant in Wiltshire."
"Well, considering how quickly the fast food culture has taken hold in the West, and in Britain also, I think there is a good chance – no, no, no, no, NO! Harry James Potter, you are not going to do what I think you're going to do!"
Harry cackled. "I have more than enough money in my vaults, Hermione. Don't worry."
"You are not sending McDonald's to Malfoy Manor!" Hermione exploded. "Have you forgotten that the family hates Muggles?"
"I haven't," Harry reassured. "But thank you for your help, sis. You have been a life saver as usual."
He hung up the phone before Hermione could protest or say or do anything to stop him from carrying out his rather suicidal plan. As soon as he had hung up, Harry went straight to where the phonebook was kept and immediately flicked to the back to the W section and then searched for any fast food restaurant in Wiltshire that could theoretically get to Malfoy Manor. He was searching for maybe a minute or two until he discovered there was indeed a McDonald's in Wiltshire. In fact, there were at least three.
Harry smirked evilly and then started playing ip-dip-doo with the numbers of the McDonald's chains before settling for the second. He picked up the phone book, went back to the land line, dialled the number and then waited.
"Good evening. You are calling McDonald's, how can we help?" the forced-peppy, tired voice of the evening employee sounded on the phone.
Harry had to compose himself for a moment before answering in a nasally voice, "yes, good evening. I would like to order ten chicken nugget Happy Meals with McFlurries, ten burger menus …"
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The atmosphere around Malfoy Manor was tense and oppressive. Antonin Dolohov, Thorfinn Rowle and Walden Macnair were giving reports on the raids carried out that had succeeded and the ones that, unfortunately, had failed. When the three of them had gotten onto this subject, everyone in the room waited tensely for the Dark Lord Voldemort, who had been listening in stone cold silence, to start throwing around the Cruciatus Curse at the three of them for the failures.
Once Dolohov, Rowle and Macnair had finished, the Dark Lord's spidery fingers began drumming the table in front of him. "Well, thisss isss mossst disssappointing," he hissed quietly. "For all your successesss you sssstill manage to fail."
"Please f-f-forgive us, m-my Lord," Rowle bowed, his knees weakening slightly. "We-"
BRRRRRIIIIIINNNNNNGGG!
Out of nowhere, the bell of the front gate had rung. Everyone sat stock still as a silver orb suddenly floated up in front of Draco and Narcissa, showing them that, standing in front of their imperious gates, was a tired, annoyed looking Muggle dressed in an ugly red get-up.
"Who are you?" Narcissa demanded, sounding as shocked as she looked.
"Delivery for Draco Malfoy," the Muggle responded, speaking to the gate, sounding utterly exhausted.
All eyes turned to Draco, who was ashen. "I … I … I didn't order anything!"
"Draco!" Narcissa snapped.
"Mother, I didn't!" Draco protested. "I certainly would never have ordered anything from a Muggle-"
"Excuse me? Hello?!" the delivery boy shouted. "Are you going to allow me in or not? I have a long night ahead of me with more deliveries and frankly, I have been trying to make sure your McFlurries did not melt on the journey so can you please just let me in so I can put it all on your doorstep?"
"Cissy, you are not letting that filth onto the grounds!" Bellatrix hissed.
"What's a McFlurry?" Rabastan Lestrange added.
"Basti, shush," his older brother Rodolphus immediately stated, giving him a slight nudge.
Narcissa was stuck between a rock and a hard place. The boy looked tired and annoyed – clearly he had been having a long day – and Draco was still young. Seeing Lucius being taken away had been hard on him. Maybe he was just acting out? Narcissa looked to the snake-faced Dark Lord.
"Let the maggot in, Narcisssa," he ordered.
Narcissa obeyed. The boy immediately shoved a vehicle of some kind onto the path towards the manor house, followed by three other Muggles with similar vehicles and the same red t-shirt and all looking extremely annoyed. The Death Eaters watched them take bag after bag after bag out of the back of those strange two-wheeled devices and setting them down in front of the old oaken doors before taking off on those two-wheeled monstrous devices with an almighty sound that none of the purebloods had ever heard before.
"What in Merlin's name are in the bags?" Yaxley asked, a look of disgust forming on his face.
"No idea, but let ussss find out," Voldemort replied, and immediately sent some of the lower rank Death Eaters to fetch the bags.
The first thing that everyone in the room noticed when the lower rank guards returned with the bags, carrying them slightly at arm's length, was that there was an odd sort of smell coming from the bags that they never smelled before. But it wasn't anything too sinister on the face off it – it smelled more like … food. Hot food.
"Hungry, little Malfoy?" Macnair sneered. Draco turned red with embarrassment.
"How much did you buy?!" Rowle added in disbelief, counting at least ten bags.
"I. Didn't. Buy. Anything!" Draco wailed. "I have no idea what all of this is!"
"Draco," Narcissa sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"Your ssson doesss not lie," everyone looked up at shock. Voldemort was grinning. "But we might asss well not wassste the food. I am getting rather famissshed."
"My Lord, the food is tainted by Muggles!" Bellatrix protested.
Voldemort's ruby eyes glowed brightly. "You will eat the food, Bella."
Bellatrix deflated back into her chair. "Yes, my Lord."
It was safe to say that none of the Death Eaters, or the Dark Lord, could have foreseen the amount of boxes containing burgers, crispy nugget things, cups of a dark fizzy substance and the amount of ice creams and happy looking red boxes there actually were. Rodolphus and Augustus Rookwood had to keep the ice creams as far away from Rabastan and his famous sweet tooth as they could possibly manage.
"Urgh, how vulgar," Yaxley commented, turning his nose up at the burger in front of him. "Draco, could you not have chosen something more refined?"
"I DIDN'T BUY THIS!" Draco wailed once more.
"Hey, Snape! This one clearly is meant for you," Macnair laughed, pushing one of the chicken nugget Happy Meals, fries and a McFlurry towards the dower Potions Master, who looked set to cut Macnair into ribbons.
When I find out who did this, they will rue the day they were born, Severus Snape swore to himself as he was forced to part-take in this Merlin-awful excuse of a dinner.
"Hey, look there's a note!" Rabastan Lestrange pointed out, fishing an envelope out of his Happy Meal box.
"Give it here," Voldemort ordered instantly.
The youngest Lestrange almost tripped over his own feet in his enthusiasm to obey. Voldemort plucked the envelope from his fingers and pulled the tiny note out of it and read it.
The Dark Lord blinked at it once, then twice, then three times before it fell from his hands like an autumn leaf.
"POTTER!"
Everyone scrambled to read the note:
Hello Draco,
Enjoy your meal!
Love, Harry
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Forgive me everyone, for I was in a very funny mood. I have watching some extremely hilarious Potter themed TikToks, mainly chanwills0's Professor McGonagall ones, and I'm afraid I was rather inspired to write this little thing. I haven't decided if this should be a one-shot or not so you guys decide! I had fun writing this little thing anyway!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Clearly because Harry never thought about sending shit randomly because he's bored.
I am glad you read my little moment of madness! Let me know what you think.
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