Deliver for the death eaters

Chapter 19

Walden Macnair is very pleased to report that he slept very well last night, thank you very much. The Dark Lord had given his precious prank the green light and he could barely sit still at breakfast with excitement. He had no idea how the Potter boy was going to receive it, or even if he was going to be able to keep it, but Macnair contented himself with the fact the Secret Spiller was likely going to record was Dumbledore was doing and saying, or McGonagall or even Severus Snape and then spewing it out at random intervals. That in itself would be worth it, given how embarrassed or angry or mildly irritated each person would be.

Macnair had gotten up bright and early to make sure that he could prepare the Secret Spiller for its journey, write a letter, send them both off with his owl Jehoshaphat – a very ill-tempered owl who had blood red eyes and hated everything and everyone – to make sure that they would arrive with the rest of the parliament of mail owls that would be descending on Hogwarts' students.

Unfortunately for his friends and rivals, it meant having to put up with a smug Macnair who could not wipe the smirk off his face, even when he got shot in the back by one of the young werewolf's NERF guns. Yaxley had tried to get Macnair to at least frown by Charming Macnair's smoothie to taste of sewage, but Macnair had simply dispelled the Charm on his drink and continued drinking happily.

Even Voldemort was very tempted to just hex, curse and jinx his follower for being too happy, especially when he heard Thalia and Nagini laugh at him, because it only meant one thing. Thalia had a joke lined up.

*Hey Nagini, what do you call a very happy Death Eater?*

*I have no idea, Thalia, tell me!*

*A problem!*

Voldemort was counting to twenty in Parseltongue in his head again. He almost regretted allowing Macnair to send that stupid box to the Brat; the Dark Lord silently hoped that his other Death Eaters would not get any ideas of their own any time soon. Apparently, according to his snakes, Macnair had enough for ideas to go around!

Morgana have mercy on me, he grumbled to himself.

He waited for Harry's snarky comment to come through the Link, but Voldemort was pleasantly surprised to notice that the boy had not heard him, or if he did, decided that the comment was too easy to react on.

Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, was still up for debate.

Unfortunately, Morgana was having way too much fun bullying Voldemort to stop now.

"Mr. Mupples, stop throwing a strop! I don't know how your friends are doing at Hogwarts, Mr. Mupples – I will write to Drakey-poo today, OK? ... Don't worry, Mr. Mupples, Walden has not sent anything too bad to your papa because Walden knows he will lose his balls otherwise!"

Macnair gulped as Bellatrix's glowing eyes fixed on him. Fortunately, Mr. Mupples started bobbing again, drawing Bellatrix's attention back.

"Yes, Mr. Mupples, Dracula was a fun movie ... Hmmm? ... What do you mean, does he look like someone I know?"

Rabastan frowned to himself. "Now that I think on it, that actor of Dracula did look a lot like Sirius Black ..."

"Oh, you saw that too?" Avery Senior sighed with relief. "I thought I was going mad for a moment."

"Unless you start talking to Mr. Mupples as well, I don't think anyone will ever think you're mad, Father," Lysander Avery reassured with a chuckle.

Bellatrix ignored them and continued listening to her plushie. "I don't understand – Mr. Mupples, there is no need to pout. ... What? I don't know if your papa will write today, Mr. Mupples. He may do – Mr. Mupples, he is probably busy with school!"