Lysander's Birthday Surprise and the Death Munchers' Revenge
The days following Samhain gave the Boy-Who-Now-Wished-He-Had-Allowed-Fairies-To-Wreak-Havoc such a headache that Harry had been sorely tempted to use some very nasty and creative curses that Tommy the talking Locket had been teaching him on very nearly everyone around him. Except Neville and Luna; Neville was still studying Druidry in the library and the greenhouses (Professor Sprout had insisted, apparently) and Luna had been too busy working on 'the surprise for Mr. Mulciber', helped by the ghost of Xander.
Snape had been extra unbearable – whatever Lily Potter had done to him had made him much more subtly vindictive, despite the Head of Slytherin no longer putting anyone into detention for breathing incorrectly. Snape had even ignored Neville instead of verbally tearing into him, as he normally would. But, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Blaise and Millicent had received most of the backlash. Harry had been tempted on more than one occasion to turn Snape's hair an offensive shade of pink or yellow just to see if he could make the man explode, but he had enough on his mind.
Dumbledore was also being pushy, wanting to continue Harry's Know Thy Death Muncher lessons and Slughorn had been particularly persistent in trying to get Harry to accept an invitation to his Christmas do next month. The Boy-Who-Had-By-Now-Gotten-The-World-Record-For-Diving-Into-Toilets-To-Avoid-One-Teacher already made a note to himself that his next prank on Slughorn would make the man suffer a little for the ignominy that he was putting Harry through.
Write to Lord Voldemort for some ideas, Tommy had been all too happy to advise Harry. He would be more than happy to help. Slughorn was his favourite teacher at Hogwarts; he knows precisely which buttons to push.
Harry had made a mental note to himself to see if he could bribe Grandpa Tom into complying. Eventually after a whole day of this nonsense, Harry found himself acquiescing to the request of this persistent menace just so that the Potions professor would back off and leave him alone.
So, who are you going to ask to the party? Tommy had immediately wanted to know.
None of your damn business, Harry had snapped back while massaging his temples.
Oh, come on, Harry! Don't be boring. You can tell me.
And then have you tell Nagini who will tell Grandpa?
… I was not planning on telling Nagini …
I thought you said you hated liars, Tommy.
If the Locket could have huffed, it would have huffed at that precise moment. Harry once more wished that he could prank Tommy or curse him or even turn the Locket into something ridiculous as payback, but the Locket had the audacity to be practically immune to everything Harry had once thrown at it.
How about you ask Luna? Or the Muggleborn Granger?
Maybe … I will think on it.
Or ask the Nott boy if girls are not your … taste. I am fairly certain I have seen him look at you.
Harry had turned a bright shade of red and had decided to ignore Tommy at this point.
The Boy-Who-Was-Actually-Starting-To-Resent-Being-Quidditch-Captain was also quietly plotting against McGonagall for making him deal with the muppets that made up his Gryffindor Quidditch team. McLaggen really could not tolerate the word 'no' and after one of the Quidditch sessions before their game against Slytherin had the audacity to corner Harry while the Chosen One To Torment Lord Voldemort Into Seeing a Mind Healer was in a bad mood and demand that Harry switch Ron with him.
By the end of the 'conversation', Cormac had been levitated into the air and thrown across the corridor by a nonverbal, wandless spell Harry had learned from the Half-Blood Prince's book. One that he had accidentally used on Ron in his irritation at Ron's umpteenth spider dream. Cormac went running and screaming like a girl, but at least he now had learned some sense about coming to Harry with trivial matters regarding bruised egos.
Then there was Katie Bell, the last person Harry had expected to give him a headache. In all the years he had known her, Harry had never seen Katie act in the way that she was doing. Barely verbally answering any questions, a vacant look in her eyes – furthermore, she missed Quidditch practise. Something that she had never done; the sport was like a religion to her. Harry harboured suspicions about what happened to her – these changes had coincided with a Hogsmeade trip that Draco had taken as well – but the Boy-Who-Frankly-Could-Not-Deal-With-Draco's-Creepy-Dark-Magic-Shit at present decided to pursue the issue later.
Because Katie had not shown up, Harry had been forced to bring Dean onto the field as he was Katie's reserve. What followed, was quite possibly the worst Quidditch practise session that Harry had ever experienced during his time at Hogwarts, and not just for the obvious reasons.
I will make you suffer for what you put us through during Samhain, Harry! Mark my words, when I get my hands on you, you will rue the day you were born!
That was right – Voldemort had decided to join in the fun, causing the vein in Harry's head to begin pulsing dangerously.
How many times do I have to get it into your thick skull, Grandpa? I had nothing – I repeat, I had NOTHING – to do with what happened ON Halloween. If you want to bully someone, look at Blaise and Millicent!
You provided them with the weapons, thus it is your fault, brat!
Don't you have someone else to torment or torture?
My followers are busy planning their revenge and Ollivander's screams have become boring.
Wonderful.
While he was forced to entertain the pissy Dark Lord, Harry was forced to watch as his best friend continued to miss as many Quaffles as he was catching and batting away, which added to his frustrations. Then, of course, there was the tiny tiffs between Ginny and Dean whenever one of them missed a pass or the not-so-subtle flirtatious remarks between them when one of them scored.
Which, thanks to Ron, was quite often.
You might want to nip those two love birds in the bud, Harry, Voldemort commented unhelpfully. Or are you scared you'll Crucio one of them … You feel very angry …
Harry found his knuckles turning white with how hard his hands were gripping his broomstick. The Dark Lord laughed at his expense, clearly enjoying the potent vexation he could feel running through Harry.
What's the matter, Harry? he purred. You're not jealous of the boy, are you? Because if you are, I would advise to see a Mind Healer. I would advise to do that anyway since there is nothing normal about you-
What the hell do you mean?
Harry demanded, keeping his eyes on his Beaters aiming for the Chasers and Ron in order to try and keep his emotions in check.
Well, have you not noticed how much that Weasley girl looks like your mother? Voldemort replied, rather carefully for his doing. Red hair, snarky, intelligent – all she's missing are those green eyes of yours. Diving into the Freudian, are you not, Harry?
Never had such a wave of revulsion washed over Harry when his nemesis pointed all of this out. Had he consciously noticed all of this, no – he most certainly had not. Possibly had Voldemort not said a word, Harry would never have seen it and gone on with his life in blissful ignorance. Very likely, the Boy-Who-Had-Zero-Luck-When-It-Came-To-His-Love-Life would have developed feelings for Ginny, precisely because of the qualities Voldemort had just listed.
Now … Harry shivered in disgust at himself.
You're awfully quiet all of a sudden, the Dark Lord sounded way too pleased with himself for Harry's liking. Did I hit a bit of a nerve, Harry?
Shut up,
was all Harry could growl back.
I will take that as a yes – ah! Would you look at that, another Quaffle into the goal. Are you sure you would like to stick to the nepotism route, Harry?
The Boy-Who-Was-Really-Going-To-Enjoy-Paying-Voldie-Back-For-This-Nonsense chose to ignore his petulant foe for the rest of practise, no matter how many snarky and biting comments the Dark Lord made about the performance of his team. Harry was sorely tempted to mentally batter Voldemort a couple of times when Snakeface started humming Weasley Is Our King.
Bloody Melpomene and her love of music! At least his plant was now making herself more useful helping Neville and Luna.
Eventually, the Dark Lord piped down a little and just decided to watch in silent jubilation, which somehow vexed Harry more than Grandpa's inane commentary. The Saviour Who Wished Someone Else Would Save His Sanity practically wanted to kiss the ground when practise was finally over, heading immediately to talk to an extremely dejected Ron.
His best friend stayed apart from the rest of the team as they headed back to the changing rooms, kicking grass and keeping his face hidden in shame. Harry steeled himself as he approached. Ron still barely looked up in his direction.
"That was better than last time," Harry tried to console him.
Both Ron and Voldemort snorted derisively at the exact same time.
Don't lie, Harry, that is not going to help, Voldemort smirked.
"We both know that's not true," Ron unwittingly agreed with the Dark Lord. "I am not improving, Harry. I don't think I am going to improve either."
"Don't say that," Harry chided.
"Why not? It's true. Everyone knows it," Ron scoffed. "I hear Slytherin is already planning their victory party."
As they should!
Shut up, Tom!
Harry's frown deepened. "Then we should make them regret their over-confidence! We will trounce them this coming Sunday."
"Nah, mate. We won't, not with me on the team," Ron gave a sad smile. "I'll happily resign and let McLaggen play. That way we still stand a chance-"
"I'd rather have Buckbeak on the team than McLaggen!" Harry spat out with enough vitriol to surprise both Ron and Voldemort.
Have you practised your Crucio, Harry? It might actually work this time-
SHUT UP, TOM, OR I'LL CRUCIO YOU!
Surprisingly, Voldemort complied, but Harry could still feel the Dark Lord's insufferable glee at the venomous rage rocketing through the Boy-Who-Was-Indeed-Close-To-Successfully-Casting-the-Cruciatus-In-His-Current-State.
"But Harry-" Ron attempted once more to protest.
"No ifs, no buts and no talk of you resigning!" the Boy-Who-Was-Determined-To-Give-His-Best-Mate-Some-Quidditch-Glory scolded him. "You are on the team, and that is that."
"Harry, we both know that this is not going to get much better," Ron continued to wilt. "The Slytherins are going to make a complete mockery of us because of me. Oliver Wood is going to write me a Howler when he hears!"
Ron's shattered confidence was more than Harry could take. He started to frog march Ron back to the changing rooms and into the showers while his blood boiled dangerously. "I will think of something, Ron. Until the game, you will avoid the Snakes and stop bringing yourself down, do you hear me?"
Ron I-Know-Better-Than-To-Cross-An-Angry-Harry Weasley did not answer, since he knew better than to argue with his best friend at present. Once more, Ron and Lord Voldemort actually agreed on something. Ron allowed Harry to push him into the showers and permitted himself to enjoy the hot waters for a moment. Lord Voldemort had opted for reading a new article for a moment to stop himself from bullying Harry out of sheer boredom. Harry himself waited in the changing room with the Half-Blood Prince's book and smiled a little when Ron actually came out of the showers, whistling to himself.
But of course, what the Fates give, they could take away and their favourite little whipping boy was Harry I-Can't-Seem-To-Ever-Catch-A-Break-From-Gods-And-Entities-Alike Potter. The peace was maintained through-out the entire time Ron was getting changed and then the Fates decided to pull the rug right out from under their feet.
Ron and Harry were heading out of the Hogwarts-side exit of the changing rooms, when they abruptly halted in their tracks. They had come across Dean and Ginny, with the couple playing tongue Quidditch with each other quite overtly.
Oh for the love of Merlin, Harry found himself grumbling, with no semblance of jealousy in his voice at all. There went Ron's good mood …
Harry, make them stop. They are offending my eyes! Voldemort of course had to start complaining at that point.
Happiness offends you in general. Deal with it, Harry retorted coldly.
No it doesn't! I simply had to tolerate Avior and Alice's lovey-dovey behaviour for more than a day! the Dark Lord almost sounded as though he was pouting, which made Harry blanche for a moment.
However, Ron seemed to be just as offended as Voldemort because very soon, his face was an impressive red colour, somewhere between the same shade of red as his hair and the Gryffindor uniform that he was wearing.
"Ginny?! What the hell are you doing?!"
The couple sprung apart, Ginny almost just as red – though whether it was because of anger or embarrassment, one could only guess – and Dean firmly refused to meet either Harry or Ron's eyes, taking a great interest in the changing room floor. Ginny, however, glared at her older brother.
"It's called kissing, Ronald. I am sure you have heard of it," Ginny sassed angrily, causing Lord Voldemort to actually snort in Harry's head. "You would be doing it too if you had a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, to speak of."
Harry really had to bite into his own cheek to stop himself from laughing at this point. Meanwhile, Ron was getting redder with extra irritation as well as embarrassment.
"I know what you're doing, Ginny. We all know what you have been doing! That is part of the problem," Ron – as usual – stubbornly did not back down at all. "You should not be kissing in a place where other people can see."
She should listen to her brother, Voldemort commented unhelpfully.
Shut up, Voldie, Harry sighed.
"Oh, please! No one has ever cared about people kissing, except you!" Ginny shot back immediately. "Seriously, Ron, what in Merlin's untrimmed beard is wrong with you? You were never this bad with Percy and Penelope! Even Malfoy's flirting attempts with Harry go unnoticed with you – why don't you stop being so jealous and find someone to kiss and leave me to my own goddamn business?!"
Ron spluttered. "T-t-that's just completely off the point!"
"Is it? Is it really, Ronald? Because I don't think you learned the lesson from the Yule Ball," Ginny was not finished by a long shot. "How about you pluck up the courage and ask a girl you like out for coffee before someone else does? Because I hear that Cormac McLaggen has his eye on Hermione."
"What has that got to do with anything?" Ron actually sounded bewildered and even Harry wanted to do a facepalm at that.
He is asking to get cursed, Voldemort sighed dramatically.
Harry really wished that Grandpa would keep his commentary to himself, because it was almost like Ginny had heard the Dark Lord and had concurred completely; she drew her wand and pointed it at her older brother. Ron, fortunately, had remembered what Ginny's Reductor Curse had done to Antonin Dolohov last year and had the good sense to run for his life, screaming incoherently for mercy.
The Boy-Who-Knew-Better-Than-To-Underestimate-Ginny-Weasley-Especially-When-She-Was-Angry followed suit quite quickly, making sure to avoid all eye contact with his friends as he went by.
"I'm sorry!" he called back meekly as he ran out the door and into the cool November air.
Neither a curse, nor a hex, nor a jinx flew past his ears, so he supposed that counted for something!
Captain Cueball really had the nerve to laugh at his expense at this point. Yes, Ginevra Weasley is indeed truly your Bella. I would dearly love to see who would win between them in a duel. Though, I have to say, she is not as intimidating as your mother was-
Tom, shut up. It was a genuine compliment, brat! Lily would have immediately followed through on her curses- GRANDPA! You have made your point! No dating girls who look like my mother! And no courting boys who look like your father, and thus like you,
I'm not called you so don't worry!
Voldemort once more spluttered indignantly; Harry couldn't help but smile triumphantly, which only made the Dark Lord bristle even more. It was at this precise moment that the Saviour-Who-Really-Needed-A-Holiday-And-Soon sensed that Tommy the Locket was trying to get his attention as well from his inner cloak pocket.
The incessant humming gave that away, as well as Tommy's prodding at Harry's fledgling Occlumency walls. For a moment, Harry wanted to take the Locket out and put it on his version of time out by stuffing it into his school bag somewhere amongst his books. Tommy really hated it down there.
But then an evil idea struck Harry that made him smirk.
How would dear Grandpa Tom react to his precious talking Locket being there with him and being buddy-buddy with Harry?
What are you plotting now, you flea? the Dark Lord demanded, clearly sensing that Harry was starting to beam with mischief once more.
The Boy-Who-Was-Really-Determined-To-See-How-Far-He-Could-Push-Voldemort's-Patience only continued to smirk as he fished the Locket out of its pocket and allowed Tommy further into his head.
Exactly as Harry had predicted, Tommy had some rather choice words for him. Uninvited? I am the Dark Lord! I do not need an invitation, Correction – with Your sis – you mean to tell me that
Harry, how many times do I have to express my deep abhorrence for being put into your pockets- Tommy had already started badgering and just as Harry had hoped, Voldemort had blanched at hearing the voice.
What in Morgana's name – who are you?! the Dark Lord demanded.
Oh, you're here as well are you, dear 'father'? Tommy shot back with far more relative ease. Did you come here uninvited again?
She has also been giving me some very interesting bedtime stories,
Harry felt the need to add brightly.
No one asked you, brat! I will have a word with Nagini about who was foolhardy to help her and make them wish they were never born!
You really do have a penchant for overreacting, 'father'.
I agree with Tommy. You both here is giving me a headache, so one of you has to go. Have a good day, Grandpa!
WHAT?! WHY AM I BEING SENT AWAY?! I WAS HERE FIRST!
And it's my head, so I get to choose who stays,
Harry pointed out happily.
HARRY, DON'T YOU DARE-
Lord Voldemort really should have known better by now. The Dark Lord soon found himself pushed back into his own mind as Harry shut the Link on him, choosing Voldemort's soul fragment over Lord Voldiebrat himself, which induced a rather jealous strop into the man. A strop, that soon Nagini was bearing the brunt of.
*You sent the Locket to Harry, did you not, Nagini? Do not think of lying to me!*
Nagini had not been phased in the slightest, and instead started giggling at the furious expression carved on her old friend's face. *Oh, so you finally found out, did you, Tom? Nagini was starting to think you would never figure it out.*
Voldemort's red hues pulsed at this point. *Do not look so pleased with yourself!*
Nagini continued to look pleased with herself. *Why not? Nagini managed to prank you. Nagini never manages to trick you or prank you because you cheat.*
*This is not a prank, Nagini. You sent a part of my soul to my mortal foe!*
*Tommy can help the Harry hatchling better than you ever could, Tom. You should be happy-*
*HAPPY?! Why should I be happy?! This is a disaster, Nagini. What do you seem to know that I do not? Nagini! I order you to tell me!*
*You will first take a few deep breaths and count to ten, Tom. Nagini will not help you while you're shouting.*
*I AM NOT SHOUTING!*
The steam had been well and truly coming out of Voldemort's ears at this point. His followers made the executive decision to stay out of his way for the remainder of the day as much as possible to avoid any Boglins and stray Imperiuses. Unfortunately for Ollivander himself, he soon found that he was acting as entertainment for the infuriated Dark Lord as he was forced to stub his own toe repeatedly against his cell wall.
####################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################
Never in his entire life had Lysander Avery been so hopeful that someone would actually forget his birthday. After seeing the shenanigans the Potter boy and Team Prank had pulled for the Carrows' and Rodolphus's birthday, he silently prayed to every single deity that might have a semblance of mercy on him that his would go by completely unnoticed by the Boy-Who-Now-Ruins-Birthdays-As-Well-As-The-Peace-And-Quiet. He breathed a serious sigh of relief when no tickets to some Muggle contrivance came to Malfoy Manor – Lysander really did not want to deal with any headache inducing madness so soon after the dust had settled after Halloween.
People were still taking Dreamless Sleep, putting up anti-spirit wards around their beds and the flamingos had been practically nailed down into the garden with Bella berating the lifeless creatures for daring to be immune to any of her magic. The television had been put under several different enchantments and protection spells just in case it could ever be possessed again. Their Lord had gotten rid of all the mirrors in his room; Rabastan was also not himself.
The youngest Lestrange, though he continued to maintain excellent quality in his smoothies, was strangely dower, pensive and quiet; a state that his friends and colleagues were no longer accustomed to seeing him in. Rabastan barely looked anyone in the eyes and was jumpy when addressed. Not even Rodolphus could get his brother to relax or lower his new defences even for a second. The only one who did not get some kind of flinch or cold glance from Rabastan was Reed.
No one questioned Rabastan on his behaviour, however. Almost everyone was focused on plotting their revenge on the Boy-Who-Might-Not-Have-Opened-The-Veil-But-Had-Been-A-Pain-In-The-Backside-For-Months and his circle of equally irritating friends, as well as to arrange presents for Lysander. Lysander himself had been quite concerned, admittedly.
Mainly because he soon could not distinguish between which were his presents and which of his friends' pranks. For an entire day, the dining room and the parlour had undergone an extreme make-over with fireworks, grimoires and arts and crafts being spread everywhere. Lysander had been surprised by how many of his friends and colleagues had listened to Alice's mini history lesson about 'Guy Fawkes night on the 5th of November'. Nagini and Thalia would create 'outfits' out of ribbons and then promptly shed them again when told off. Then there was also Tsar and the rest of the kitties, who enjoyed getting themselves caught in practically anything and everything. Teddy Ruxpin had been tied up into ribbons and wrapped in about a thousand layers of wrapping paper because the accursed teddy bear had been making fun of everyone for freaking out due to an impromptu haunting. Even their Lord had gotten involved; he had created some kind of necklace that Lysander really hoped was not for him because chances were, the object hid a rather nasty surprise inside.
Chances were that it was either meant for Harry I-Ruin-Dark-Lord's-Moods-For-His-Poor-Innocent-Followers-To-Deal-With Potter, or it was going to be sent to Draco in order to give to Dumbledore. After all, the Dark Lord had not rescinded his orders and until he did so, Draco was to stick to the plan.
"This will definitely go off with a bang!" Antonin cackled gleefully as he tinkered at his odd firework creation.
"Dolph, what are you doing? It's not supposed to go there! Yes, I know, Mr. Mupples, Dolph should have let me do this."
"Bella, for the one hundredth time, I know what I am bloody doing! It's not the first time I made a firework display!"
"Augustus, Fenrir, those do not look like dragons at all!" little Izzy scolded with a pout. "Try again!"
Fenrir looked a bit miffed at being given orders by one of his youngest wolves. "Izzy, you will watch-" he tried to discipline the lippy little madam, but it seemed that Izzy really was not having it.
"And you will not ruin Lysander's birthday present!" Izzy retorted primly, folding her arms.
"Izzy, he can hear you, you know!" Phoebe hissed.
Lysander bit into his cheek to stop himself from chuckling. Merlin and Morgana were really putting his resolve to the test, however, because Thalia, of course, started tittering to Nagini.
*Hey Nagini, Thalia thinks Fenrir needs to go to an art school.*
Oh boy. Lysander braced himself, as did his father and Balthazar.
*What makes you say that, Thalia?*
*He needs more 'pawsitive' expression!*
Fenrir growled in the direction of Thalia while Lord Voldemort looked ready to hex the werewolf in the next century. Down went a few heads onto the table while Izzy, Phoebe and some of the other children tittered away at their Alpha's expense. Unfortunately for Fenrir, his reaction had set Thalia off again.
*Hey Nagini, Thalia thinks that Fenrir should never go into comedy.*
"Why's that, Thalia?" it was Walden who asked, smirking away at Fenrir after putting another rocket into his firework display that ended up looking rather similar to one of the Weasley twins' Pigmy Puffs. Lysander really hoped that wasn't for him but chances were high given Walden's sadistic delight in embarrassing his friends on their birthdays.
Lysander still remembered the stuffed singing raven Walden had gifted him for his eighteenth birthday – and the mimic he had given Lysander because he thought it was funny to replace Lysander's trunk with a mimic for his seventeenth birthday. It had taken a better part of a day to remove the creature with the help of Professor Slughorn and Lysander had to wait until the weekend to get a new trunk. Then there was the permanently angry and sassy skull hookah that had been his present for his nineteenth birthday; that thing had been practically indestructible and utterly insufferable that the only thing that worked was locking it away in an enchanted glass case.
To Lysander's knowledge it was still there back at Avery House, hidden in the deepest, darkest depths of the attic.
Lysander was soon knocked out of his train of thought by Thalia's reply. *Because Fenrir does not have any 'bite' for comedy, of course!*
Fenrir spluttered in protest while ripples of laughter ran around the room. Lysander allowed himself to chuckle. Frankly, he thought that Thalia had held back a little and she could really have shredded him but chose not to in order to save her own scales a little.
"Thalia," Lord Voldemort attempted to chastise.
The Dark Lord really should have known better.
What? You can't sit there and tell Thalia he will have a crowd of people howling with laughter, Tom!*
"I'll make you howl in fucking pain if you don't watch it, snake!" Fenrir exploded.
*Oooooo touchy,* Thalia sassed, intimidated in the slightest. *Got fleas in your fur, Fenrir? You might need to ask the Harry hatchling for more anti-flea shampoo.*
Lysander genuinely feared that the banana-coloured ball python was close to being skinned alive, especially with the concerning amount of growling from the werewolf and the fact that Fenrir's body coiled, the young Avery genuinely feared that his Lord would forgo a Boglin entirely and either Crucio or Imperio Fenrir to stop him from attacking Thalia.
"AH HA! I HAVE FOUND THEM! AT LAST!"
All eyes turned on Alecto, who was uncharacteristically happy while holding up a magical order magazine from some shady zoologist as though she were Rafiki and the magazine was Simba. For a moment, there was an uneasy silence as everyone just stared and blinked at the Death Muncher, who was starting to turn as red as her hair.
Alecto cleared her throat. "Apologies … my Lord …"
Antonin started to cackle once more. "How fucked is Lysander on a scale from one to ten?"
Lysander blanched at this.
"Hey! It is not Lysander's present. I have that already," Alecto protested, before she started to smirk a little. "I found the perfect revenge against Potter and his little friends! Let us see how arrogant they are after their wands, desks, tables and beds have been eaten!"
Amycus could not resist grinning with unadulterated glee, which earned himself a muffin to the face, courtesy of Mr. Mupples.
"Why you ugly-"
"MR. MUPPLES IS NOT UGLY, AMY!" Bella screeched, causing half the room to cover their ears.
"Tell him to stop throwing muffins then, Bella!" Amycus shot back.
It was Balthazar who ignored the ensuing bicker match between Bella and Amycus and had the guts to extend his hand, silently demanding Alecto to hand over the magazine so he could have a look to see what exactly she was plotting. Alecto was suddenly more than a little reluctant to show what exactly she was plotting, but Balthazar was having none of it. With a nonverbal, wandless Accio, he summoned the magazine to him – despite Alecto clinging onto it with rather embarrassing desperation – and taking a look as to exactly what his fellow Death Muncher was so excited about. Not so subtly, Corban and Jugson peered over his shoulder to also have a look.
To say that Balthazar Mulciber was not happy with what he saw, would rather be an understatement. Corban and Jugson were beaming with sadistic pleasure but tried to put a stopper in their emotions when they saw Balthazar's hands curl into the magazine, crumpling it up rather.
What had gotten Lord Voldemort's oldest follower and one of the few people the Dark Lord actually called a friend so angry?
Tibetan woodmunchers.
These bugs were termite-esque in appearance, with bodies that were evolved to adapt to their surroundings, akin to a chameleon, and made cockroaches look squishy and easy to kill. The buggers started off about the size of a caterpillar and could grow to the size of a small dog after a full round of feeding. They were so named because of their high wood-based diet. Anything made out of wood would be fair game to them – anything. That included desks, chairs, window frames, beds, roofs, doors, beams, columns … and wands. The critters were known to be quite the problem for Asian wizards because they could gorge on wands as though it was a Michelin star meal.
"You really are a fool, aren't you, Alecto?" Balthazar sneered.
Alecto attempted to look innocent; it really did not work very well.
"Balthazar, come on! They're funny!" Jugson smirked.
"No they are not! Whole Hogwarts will eventually be devoured by these little nightmares," Balthazar shot back, shooting Jugson a dirty look.
"I think you might be overreacting, Balthazar," Corban gave him a pointed look. "If Dumbledore is as good as the Order of Flaming Chickens claims he is, he will find a solution for these buggers before they can do any real, lasting damage."
"Balthazar," Voldemort had gotten rather tired of being patient at this point. "Explain."
It was safe to say that Alecto was slightly grey at this point. Balthazar did one better and simply held out the magazine for his oldest friend to summon and have a look for himself. Voldemort was more than happy to oblige; Thalia and Nagini were already eagerly awaiting the arrival of the magazine and had their snoots in it before their grumpy master could even have a peak for himself.
*Eeeeew, what are those?*
*They're bugs, Thalia.*
*They look naaasty – once again, it is proven that Alecto has no taste in presents,* Thalia shook her head primly, ignoring the not-so-subtle glares that were being sent her way by both Carrows. The banana-coloured ball python then smirked as Voldemort lifted the magazine away from his snakes so he could have a look at what bugs his snakes were talking about. *Hey everyone, what do you call an insect with pureblood manners?*
Lysander already pinched the bridge of his nose. Lucius looked set to summon Nansi again for some morning spirits; he had only just woken up from nervous drinking because of what happened on Samhain.
"We don't know! Tell us, Thalia!" the young werewolves chorused.
*A ladybug.*
Snorts and sighs echoed around the dining room once more as Thalia tittered away happily. Nagini patted Voldemort's head gingerly with her tail as the Dark Lord attempted to recover from the cringe that raced through him. Lysander smirked as Lucius sobbed into his orange juice.
"Thalia, please," Voldemort begged before his snake could line up another one-liner.
Thalia pouted, but she decided to actually listen for a change, which only made Lysander more concerned. After all, Thalia was not really one for taking orders from their Lord unless it benefited her.
Voldemort's attention was already on the Tibetan woodmunchers; a sadistic glint had entered his ruby hues but there was also an undertone of slight … concern? It made Lysander worry even more. There was a moment of rather sharp tension as Voldemort took a moment to consider something and his gaze fell upon a slightly sweaty Alecto.
"Only one batch," was the only thing out of their Lord's mouth.
The tension dissipated a little at the lack of Boglins and Unforgivables being thrown around. Alecto, though, seemed as though she was going to risk either one or both because she had opened up her mouth, clearly set on protesting the decision. Fortunately, Rabastan too spied the danger and shoved one of the apples he was going to use for his smoothie into Alecto's open mouth.
"Do not push your luck, Alecto," Avior warned her, also seeing the potential danger.
"No one asked you, Avior," Amycus sneered.
"No one asked your opinion either, Amy," Antonin pointed out. "So you don't really have the right to-"
BBBBBRRRRIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGGGGG!
An eardrum-shattering chorus of, "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!", ensued; chairs went flying backwards as wizards and werewolves alike went flying to the window while Narcissa and Lucius glowered as the offending orb already started heading towards them.
Predictably, Antonin was quite put out. "Why are they back now – no one was outside on Gatewatch!"
"Antonin, I don't think Gatewatch is necessary – there is only the Amazon van outside!" Augustus pointed out before the Russian got too pouty.
"Wait, only one? Hehehehehehe, Lysander's fucked!" Walden started rubbing his hands in glee.
"I think the Brat didn't know what to send for Lysander's birthday," Rodolphus smirked coldly.
"Yes, Mr. Mupples, it is rather odd that there is only one filthy rat to deliver Lysander's presents – what is it, Mr. Mupples? What do you mean, Lysander will be catching monsters? Mr. Mupples, what do cards have to do with that?!"
I am going to bed early, Lysander already decided internally. He really did not like the sound of monster hunting, especially if Harry I-Somehow-Find-New-Ways-To-Torture-Poor-Innocent-Dark-Wizards-With-A-New-Mangfangled-Contrivance Potter had anything to do with it.
"Do you think it is Kevin or Ryan at the wheel?" one of the younger wolves asked.
"Hmmm? What do you mean, wolf?" Avior asked kindly.
"That is the name of two of the drivers," Izzy explained. "Another one is called Wendy."
Corban suddenly sensed a new game brewing. "Are we going to be switching from guessing the colours to guessing which bloody Muggle is delivering our humiliating excuse of a present?" he dared to ask.
"Corban, why are you giving the children ideas?" Travers sighed.
"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy! I am alone today so I can make this rather snappy; wonderful to see that your guests have not been sent to their rooms again."
"Hey, it's Kevin!" Sebastian identified happily.
"For whom are your deliveries this time?" Narcissa sounded truly numb and dead inside.
"A Mr. Lysander Avery, ma'am!" came the very predictable answer.
# Happy birthday to you …# Nagini, Thalia, Antonin, Walden, Izzy, Phoebe, Rabastan and Bella all started to sing in eerie harmony.
"Oh shut the fuck up!" Lysander huffed, already feeling a pulsing begin to take from in his head.
"Now, now, son, we all knew this was going to happen," Avior looked waaaaaay too giddy for Lysander's liking! "Face your birthday fate and you can send Team Prank your own version of the firework prank."
Firework prank?
Oh no. So that was what his friends were planning!
Between fireworks and the Tibetan woodmunchers, there was positively no way that Hogwarts would still be standing in time for the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin; Lysander had rather secretly been looking forward to the rather detailed and rambling letter that Blaise Zabini was going to send. He rather did not want to pick up the Daily Prophet and read the headline: HALF OF HOGWARTS EXPLODED DUE TO DARK MAGIC FIREWORKS.
He wanted to have a headline about Umbridge the toad being exploded by salt sprinkled onto her by the children at St. Mungo's, and not the destruction of the only place on the British Isles that were safe for magical children to learn their craft.
He was soon being pulled out of his train of thought by the excited chatter around him and watching Augustus and Antonin head downstairs to help Kevin – apparently – unload his van and everyone started keeping count on the number of boxes that the Brat had decided to send for Lysander's dreaded birthday. There was a sliver of hope lurking in the very recesses of Lysander's mind that whispered that the Boy-Who-Somehow-Was-Not-Skinned-Alive-By-An-Angry-Snape-Yet would have gone easy on him on the account of Lysander not being as well-known as his friends.
But the rest of his rational mind knew that was highly unlikely given Team Prank's record up until now.
Bugger.
Lysander's heart truly began to sink as one box after the other was unloaded after that dreaded van, especially when his fellow Munchers lost count but the werewolves continued to count well and truly into the hundreds.
Finally, the werewolves stopped counting at one hundred and twenty.
Goody. It seemed that no birthday outing had been planned and the Potter Brat had decided to compensate for it by sending Morgana-knows-how many boxes with Merlin-knows-what inside of them!
What had Mr. Mupples said about monsters and catching monsters?
What kind of Muggle nonsense revolved around that, because Lysander was fairly certain that the Golden Boy was not about to switch to magical pranks? The youngest Avery could hazard a guess at what it could be from a magical stand point but had not the foggiest idea what Muggle thing concerned themselves with catching monsters. After all, the Statute in Secrecy was still in place, or there would have already been some kind of international meltdown.
Was it some kind of book? No, that would have been sent to Rabastan or Augustus. It could be some kind of toy or game – it was in line with the Boy-Who-Seemed-To-Have-Nothing-Better-To-Do-Than-Bully-Anyone-Who-Crossed-Him current track record. Perhaps it was also a movie? That could not be ruled out either.
Whatever it was, even the werewolves who had at one point been Muggle-raised, such as Reed, Crystal, Rhydian and Lydia, were just as confused as the wizards were and were muttering amongst themselves as to what it could be.
This can't be good, Lysander felt his heart sink even more as Antonin, Augustus and Walden (who had snuck out to help with the boxes) came back with two levitated boxes each, looking way too giddy for the young Avery's liking.
"Lysander, get ready for birthday pain!" Antonin announced happily, plonking both of his boxes down in front of Lysander's breakfast plate with a flourish of his wand.
"And, remember, if you start crying you will make Harry dance from one end of Hogwarts to the other so if you want to weep, go and take a bath," Walden added with a smirk as he and Augustus did the exact same thing.
Already a crowd had gathered around the boxes; Nagini and Thalia were soon prodding the packages with their tails and coiling themselves around them to shake the parcels. Things definitely moved inside of them but fortunately, it did not appear that they contained anything that was live! Lysander doubted that his heart would be able to take it.
It also would not be able to deal with the Cruciatus that was silently being threatened to be thrown at him by the not-so-subtle glare that the Dark Lord's piercing gaze was throwing at him so Lysander quickly hurried back to his spot and took the first package, easily opening it with a nonverbal Cutting Charm.
Whose bloody birthday is this supposed to be? he grumbled to himself as he attempted to ignore the excited tension rising around him.
Lysander took a fortifying breath and peered inside. The moment that he did, he thought perhaps that he was getting way too adept at predicting the mind of Harry Why-Can-I-Never-Be-Normal-Oh-Wait-I-Get-Too-Easily-Bored-For-That Potter. Had Lysander made a bet for money and smoothies, he would have won it hands down.
"Lyssssander, what hasss the Brat sssent you?"
Lysander gulped a little at the annoyed tones in his Lord's voice. He did not verbally answer, however and simply decided to let his 'presents' speak for themselves. One by one, the youngest Avery revealed to his fellow Munchers and the Greyback pack the latest trove of nonsense.
Several copies of Pocket Monsters Red, Pocket Monsters Green, Pocket Monsters Blue (these were so new that they were still in Japanese) soon littered the table, along with another games console that Lysander did not recognise, in addition to hundreds upon hundreds of small plastic packets that felt like they contained cards in them. But of course, that was not all – because of course not!
Plushies and collectible figures joined the growing mountain of knick-knacks, all of them in the forms of strange and sometimes adorable monsters that no one in the room had ever laid eyes on before. The most predominant creature, however, was this yellow, chubby mouse with red pouches on its cheeks with a tail in the shape of a lightning bolt, a button nose and black eyes. To say that Lysander felt rather despondent as he did this, would be an understatement.
"OH MY GOD THEY ARE SO CUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUTE!"
Quite a few ears had to be covered as several of the girls in the room – yes, Bella included – completely lost it at the sight of these adorable critters. Several of the yellow mouse plushies were already claimed – Bella being on of the fastest to do so, which made Rodolphus look rather murderous.
Pikachu was apparently the name of the thing, according to the tags on their ears.
"Hey Dolph, I think you might need to relocate to the sofa again!" Antonin thought it would be a wise idea to joke about, which earned him a few burning and icy curses being thrown his way which he had to dodge almost at lightning speed.
Why me? Lysander internally despaired as the toys continued being taken left, right and centre with Rabastan secretly claiming this brown and white fluff ball called Eevee, Alecto claiming a fox-like creature called Vulpix and even his own father taking a Pikachu to give to Alice. Augustus, Walden and the werewolves were more interested in the video games, each snagging a copy of either one of the three for themselves with the one with the orange dragon creature being the most popular.
Nagini and Thalia had swiped a couple of the creatures as well and bought them over to Voldemort.
*Look, Tom! There a snake creatures as well. These walkers have good taste,* Nagini commented.
Voldemort observed and studied the purple rattlesnake-like creature and the much bigger purple cobra-like monster with a haughty expression and lifted them up with wandless telekinesis. "Except that the Muggles could not find something better to call them than 'cobra' and 'snake' backwards," he sniffed. "With 'cobra' being spelled incorrectly-"
*Why do you always find something to complain about, Tom?* Thalia huffed in irritation, *One of these days you will be renamed to Lord Flee From Anything Happy instead of Flee from Death!*
Lysander watched with wide eyes as Thalia slithered back to the pile of toys and came back with a plushie of an extremely cute bipedal creature with a yellow fluffy tail, a fluffy yellow collar and a fluffy yellow tuff on its head with a red body. 'Flareon', said its tag; Thalia plonked the creature in front of the Dark Lord.
*There! You cannot complain about this one!*
Voldemort glowered at Thalia. For a moment, Lysander believed that the ball python was about to be hexed – finally – into the next century for her big maw. However, the entire situation was saved by the last person that the young Avery would have expected, but in hindsight probably should have.
Thorfinn Rowle had been going around, taking a few of the miniatures and the plushies with a look in his eye that made Lysander want to book himself back into Azkaban – the Galvanist was up to something and he knew that meant trouble for everyone involved. Including Team Prank, somehow. Thorfinn had to effectively bribe a few of the Greyback pack into relinquishing their plushies with the solemn oath that he would return them afterwards because 'he desperately needed the creatures' anatomical layout'.
Uh oh.
As it turns out, there was only one Flareon plushie and Thorfinn was forced to approach his Lord in his currently wrathful state, while trying to temper his eagerness in case his joy made Voldemort too angry. Lysander was on the verge of pinching the bridge of his nose as his brain decided to register that Thorfinn's behaviour was rather … adorable.
"E-e-excuse m-me, m-m-my Lord?"
Thorfinn had not sounded this nervous in months and to hear the apprehension back in his voice did not sit well with his fellow Munchers, funnily enough. It also bugged Lord Voldemort a little, who glared at his follower for doing so.
"Yessss, Thorfinn? What isss it?" he demanded.
*Tom, stop turning Thorfinn into the Death Stutterer,* Thalia chided lightly.
Lysander saw Thorfinn bit into his cheek for a moment to keep himself composed. "M-may I b-borrow your plushie? You will get it back-"
"Thorfinn, that is not necessssssary-"
*Yes, it is, Tom,* Nagini disagreed easily.
"-but I need to borrow it to study its anatomy," Thorfinn finished, sounding ever so slightly sounding more confident. His eyes had regained their full glint of mischief at this point. "I promise, it will be worth it, my Lord."
It had been a while since Thorfinn had truly been inspired; he had not been designing automatons since the nanny bird for his revenge on the Boy-Who-Was-Making-Their-Lord-Pout-More-Than-Izzy-When-She-Doesn't-Get-A-Cookie. Given this fact, intrigue started spreading around the room but Lysander could not help fear the consequences of this burst of inspiration rushing through his old friend.
Lord Voldemort – ever the drama queen – left Thorfinn dangling in suspense a moment longer while taking a sneaky Legilimens dive into his follower's mind, just to see what kind of designs the Scandinavian had in mind. Unfortunately for the Dark Lord, it seemed that Thorfinn had prepared for the likelihood that he would try to take a peek because Voldemort soon found himself facing some rather Occlumency shields around that part of Thorfinn's mind.
Why was everyone putting Occlumency shields up these days? It wasn't really very fair!
"Very well, Thorfinn. You may take it," Voldemort acquiesced graciously, which made Thalia pull a face of really-don't-you-dare-pretend-you're-being-nice-Tom.
Thorfinn brightened in an instant and happily took the Flareon away, already heading to his chambers with his cloak pockets rather full.
*Even if you said no, Thalia would have brought it to him anyway,* the ball python stated primly.
Voldemort glared at his most insubordinate snake. *That's because you are like Nagini – you both simply cannot keep your snoot out of my business!*
*True, but it is mostly because Thalia will spend the rest of Thalia's days making sure you stop being Lord Grumpymort, Lord Mopeymort and Lord Flee from Happiness,* Thalia sounded way too matter-of-fact for her doing.
*You are helping to make me grumpy!*
*That's because you let yourself get annoyed by Thalia.*
"EWWWW! This caterpillar thing shot string at my Charmander!"
"My Charmander just learned Ember!"
"Shouldn't it already know how to do that?"
"Shut up, Amy."
"Augustus, you know I am right. And who in their right mind lets a ten-year-old have a fire monster as a pet?"
"Shut up, Amy!"
"My Bulbasaur almost died to fucking bug!"
"Rhydian, language!"
Of course the children were already playing the Merlin-be-damned game! As were Augustus, Mikah, Fenrir (surprisingly), Rhydian, Crystal and Lydia. The vein in Voldemort's head really started to pulse at this point and he got to his feet, took his cursed necklace prank and stormed out of the room about childish nonsense corrupting his allies.
Lysander let out a sigh of relief.
Only to then realise that in front of him lay empty wrapping paper and ribbons; Teddy Ruxpin had managed to escape once again.
Oh no …
####################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################
"I am going to die, Hedwig."
"Hooooot hoooot."
"I am not being overly dramatic! Look at this."
Draco was more ashen than the Grey Lady as he turned the box around and showed his friend the contents of it. Hedwig simply blinked in confusion at the necklace within – a rather pretty one, with lots of diamonds and sapphires – and gave Draco a pointed look. He had been chatting about his latest frustrations about the Cabinet to Hedwig when this unpleasant surprise arrived.
"Hoot hoot?"
"No, Hedwig, that is 'not it'," Draco huffed. "It is from the Dark Lord. I know it. The bird that bought this is from the Malfoy owlery. Which means that it is cursed and I … I will have to somehow get to Dumbledore…"
"Hoot? Hoot hoot?"
"I … I can't tell you that … I'm sorry…"
Now the snowy owl looked concerned.
"I mean, I have prepared a little for this eventuality but that doesn't mean that this is going to be easy," Draco continued, glaring hatefully down at the Dark artefact that could potentially bring him more problems than he had bargained for. "Plus, I have Saint Potter and his friends to contend with. If they figure out what I am doing, they will do what they do best and meddle."
Hedwig could not argue there. She wisely kept the fact that they were already onto Draco and his Vanishing Cabinet task to herself. Draco really did not need the extra stress at present.
The Malfoy heir started to pace as the gears in his head started to whirr a little faster. He had to find a way to get the necklace to Katie Bell and have his spelled little puppet deliver it to the Headmaster without any witnesses. He had heard that she had missed Gryffindor Quidditch practise and it had made Draco curse internally the moment he had heard.
The half-blood witch was a known Quidditch fanatic and her absence from the field would have been noted by everyone, including Harry I-Seem-To-Smell-Plots-From-A-Mile-Off Potter. Draco had to make sure Katie would actually show up to play for the match against Slytherin before he had to deal with his rival in a duelling settling.
That outcome was one that Draco was extremely keen to avoid. For all his many faults, Scarhead could duel. He had fought off Dolohov and Mulciber, and had survived the Dark Lord. Draco was unlikely to win against Harry, and he knew it.
Draco sharply closed the box and smiled softly at Hedwig. "Good night, Hedwig. Thank you again for listening to me."
He registered the snowy owl's soft, concerned goodbye as he left the owlery, necklace safely tucked underneath his arm. The Malfoy heir used the same route back as he normally did when sneaking out in the evenings. After all, the last thing he wanted was to deal with a Prefect, Filch or one of the staff.
Even Uncle Severus, whose mood had been positively foul after Samhain. Draco had no idea what Lily Potter had done to him but whatever it was, it had gotten to the dower man in a way that Draco had never seen before. They had known each other, that much was clear to Draco, but exactly in what way he was still curious about.
Just before he reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room, however, Draco's luck ran out.
"Good evening, Draco."
The all-too-recognisable drawl made the Malfoy heir halt right in his tracks and pray silently to Merlin and Morgana before turning around and facing his godfather, who was regarding him rather suspiciously.
"Professor," Draco answered formally.
Professor Snape's gaze did not waver. "I should really deduct points from Slytherin and put you in detention for your nightly escapades, Draco, but considering the fact Slytherin cannot afford any more missteps at present, I will settle for a very good explanation."
Draco felt his forehead suddenly become a little clammy and a small gulp escaped him. "I … I couldn't sleep," his brain came up with the excuse rather quickly. "So I went for a walk and I went past the Owlery."
"I see," Severus Snape did not look entirely convinced. His gaze fixed itself onto the box. "And what is that?"
"A prank from the Dark Lord."
The words had left Draco's mouth before he could stop them.
It was safe to say that the Potions Master really had not expected that answer, because Severus Snape started to blink three times rapidly.
"Excuse me?"
Draco tittered nervously. "Yes. I did not expect it either! It's a good thing it is not for me."
"Who is it for then?" his godfather was really not going to let this go.
"Eeeeerm …" Draco felt his brain struggle at this point. "It's … it's for Potter! Yes. I probably should not have told you that, Uncle Sev. Good Merlin, is that the time? I had better get to bed. Good night!"
Before the Head of Slytherin could question his godson further, Draco used Snape's bewilderment to escape. As for Snape, he decided to allow Draco to slip away for now, his eyes narrowing. He knew that Draco was lying; it made Snape only the more determined to discover what the Dark Lord had ordered Draco to do.
####################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################
"I can just about stomach the humiliation that comes with tolerating Mr. Mupples – I will not be replaced again by a Merlin-be-damned electric mouse!"
"Dolph, you are overreacting-"
"I have only recently gotten my bed back, Bella! Don't look at me like that – I will not sleep on the sofa again for the sake of that strange creature!"
"It's a Pikachu-"
"I DO NOT CARE! ALL I CARE ABOUT IS NOT HAVING TO RUIN MY BACK FOR THE SAKE OF ANOTHER PLUSHIE!"
Mr. Mupples sat back in silence on the armchair in Mama Bella and Uncle Dolph's room, sighing quietly to himself as the umpteenth bicker session erupted once more between the two. Ever since the arrival of the newcomers sent by Papa Harry's cousin – Mr. Mupples had tried to correct his friends in their assumptions but of course, no one was listening to him – old wounds seemed to have opened.
The My Pet Monster knew Rodolphus was not going to be sleeping on the sofa again – their Lord would not allow it, for one – but it did not seem to matter. Rodolphus now had a festering resentment against all plushies, including Mr. Mupples. It bothered Mr. Mupples only a little bit. Most of the time it was quite funny but now that there were plans being made for a human child, Mr. Mupples didn't see the funny side as much.
"You are being ridiculous, Dolph!"
"No I am not! I have to deal with your snoring, your hogging of the sheets, Mr. Mupples's paw in my face – I can't take any more nonsense!"
"I DO NOT SNORE! YOU TAKE THAT BACK! A LADY NEVER SNORES!"
"DO I NEED TO RECORD IT FOR YOU TO BELIEVE ME?!"
It was at this point, Mr. Mupples thought it was best to go and take a walk. Mama Bella was always sensitive about her snoring and Uncle Dolph was about to hexed black and blue. The plushie Death Muncher shuffled out of the room, and decided to take a pensive stroll along the corridor of rooms that belonged to the rest of the Inner Circle, the dulcet tones of Bella and Rodolphus getting more and more distant. It allowed Mr. Mupples a moment alone with his thoughts.
Especially regarding the precious item belonging to their Lord that was still sequestered away at Hogwarts that was at Albus Dumbledore's mercy. The Cup was fortunately in Mama Bella's vault, safer than its brethren. Tommy was safe with Papa Harry but the same could not be said for the Ring and its friend. Then there was Draco's not-so-secret task. So far, Papa Harry and his friends had not meddled, but that would not be the case for long.
Mr. Mupples wished that he could actually be of some use in either case.
"Out for a little walk, are we, Mr. Mupples?"
Uh oh.
The plushie Death Muncher had a sinking feeling in his stuffy stomach as he turned around and looked up at a sadistically happy Amycus. There was a cold look in his eyes and there was overt malice in his smirk that would have made Mr. Mupples gulp if he had the ability to gulp.
"You really should know better than to go anywhere without Bella," Amycus purred, drawing his wand. "Maybe I can do Rodolphus a favour and teach you that lesson at the exact same time?"
Before Mr. Mupples could question the wizard or react in any sort of way, a Stunner hit him squarely in the chest and sent the plushie flying back a couple of feet. With a self-satisfied smirk on his face, Amycus prowled forth, nonverbally conjuring a bag as he did so, levitating Mr. Mupples up and stuffed him into the bag.
Still smirking and feeling extremely pleased with himself, Amycus headed straight for the owlery, ignoring the panicked squirming that soon started to come from inside the bag. The night was as cold as his heart and colder still were the glares from the owls, whose peace and quiet had been disturbed by Amycus's arrival.
It really seemed that Amycus enjoyed dancing with death that evening because he had decided to risk his fingers by choosing Jehoshaphat as the owl to deliver Mr. Mupples to the Potter Brat.
"HOOOOOT!"
"Jehoshaphat, come on! It's just one little delivery," Amycus attempted to sound charming, but it did not really work.
"HOOOOOOOT HOOOOOOT!"
"What do you mean, rest? You have to admit that it has been a while since Walden sent you to deliver anything. Besides, don't you want to see Hedwig again?"
Amycus tried emotional blackmail this time. Funnily enough, that seemed to do the trick this time because Jehoshaphat cooled down considerably and gingerly stuck out his leg for the wizard. The Death Eater was all too happy to tie the moving bag to the owl before the spiteful creature could change his mind.
Jehoshaphat soon took to the air, unaware of the crime he was aiding in while Amycus triumphantly made his way back to Malfoy Manor, nigh on whistling with glee as he did so. Little did the Dark wizard realise, that he had been watched.
################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################
I have a feeling that Amycus has no idea just how badly of a miscalculation he has just made! Bella will likely have more than just his guts! Thank you, Rebe Marauder, for the idea! I also wish to thank Silver Wolf for the idea for the magical bugs. I did change it a little because your idea fitted the Death Munchers' sadistic nature a little more. Tuckersdad, I think you may have handed me the best ending idea for the story … I am definitely keeping it in the back of my mind.
To answer a question from Rebe Marauder: yes, Neville and Hermione are also able to understand their own familiars, Trevor and Crookshanks respectively. I thought it a nice addition that wizards are able to communicate with their familiars.
Also, I am in the process of backing up all of my works on Wattpad and AO3 per requests from some of you. Especially since went down a couple of times, I find myself being quite concerned. After all, just because these stories are my sandcastles in someone else's sand pit that does not mean I do not wish to protect them. So, if you want to, keep an eye out for the back-ups!
On both sites, I am Kingmaker'sUmbreon. I do not go by any other name.
I wish to thank everyone for their continued support and love for my story and also everyone for sending me your wonderful prank ideas!
Disclaimer: I definitely don't own Pokemon or Harry Potter.
Kingmaker'sUmbreon