Tickling An Angry Alpha and Lady Malfoy One More Time
It was almost a source of abject disappointment for the Boy-Who-Had-Expected-To-Be-Kidnapped-and-Tortured-By-Now that not only had Lord Voldemort not sent him another stupid song as an alarm clock through their connection, but there had been no Death Eater attacks or assassination attempts once again! It was almost as though the Dark wizards were going to anger management or something! There hadn't even been a trace of werewolf poop in the garden of the Burrow!
No dead Muggles either or Muggles that just happened to disappear into the Wiltshire landscape with no trace left of them.
The only way Harry knew that Old Snakeface and his Death Munchers were annoyed with him was the stabs of pain that his scar now and again fired off. Most people would have been grateful to escape with their life each time, but the Boy-Who-Saw-Death-As-A-Fun-Challenge grew more and more agitated at the lack of reaction for his enemies.
Plus, Nagini had apparently not seen the new python as a threat but instead had teamed up with her! Harry had seen it once through a vision during the night; he had laughed manically during the night as he watched Nagini and the ball python chase down Wormtail from one end of Malfoy Manor to the other. Harry was very tempted to make some Team Nagini and Ball-Python T-shirts but decided to hold off on that idea until he learned what name Captain Red-Eyes had decided to give the new snake.
So, the first thought that entered the mind of the son of Prongs when he woke up the morning after sending some 'presents' that he thought would have at least made Fenrir Greyback attempt to track his suicidal butt, was this: how can I make these people try to kill me sooner rather than later?
Ron was still snoozing – well, snoring – when Harry tiptoed out of the room and decided to go to the bathroom and take a shower so he could do some plotting in peace before the Menace to His Plans that was his sister-from-a-different-family woke up and decided to put him on a metaphorical leash again. He was tempted to send dog-training DVDs and videos since it would mean forcing the Malfoys to buy a television but Harry knew that if dog grooming kits did not make Fenrir homicidal enough, the DVDs wouldn't either.
Plus, Fenrir, Narcissa and Draco were very slowly starting to bore Harry – after all, there were at least ten different members of Voldemort's Inner Circle who could be amazing targets! Fenrir, Narcissa and Draco would only be getting one more round of presents, Harry decided. He would then focus on three new targets, since they were likely to give him some more entertainment!
Maybe the goblins could help? Harry knew that Gringotts' goblins didn't like wizards all too much, despite managing their monetary affairs. The goblin rebellions were enough to say that for certain! Who knows, maybe the goblins also had a few ideas to spare?
"OH NO, HE'S GONE! Someone track down Harry this moment. Ginny, check your dad's shed right now! This is not funny, Fred! He may actually finally be kidnapped – George, go and put the radio on and keep your ear open for any death announcements."
Harry sighed. Three minutes – he had a peaceful shower for three minutes before Hermione the Prank Alarm had started shouting again.
"Hermione, cool it! I hear the shower!" he heard Ron shout back, clearly not very happy at the rude awakening he likely got. "You're not going to be able to stop him until he's satisfied or he has found someone more fun to prank – you know this! Just let the idiot piss off his Dark Lords and werewolves; so far, no one has gotten hurt."
"Except perhaps You-Know-Who's feelings," Harry heard George snicker as he walked by the bathroom door. "Morning, Harry!"
"Morning, George!" Harry called back.
"Yep! He's still here and still alive!" George announced. "I don't need to switch the radio on. Yippee!"
"I am going to keep an eye on the phones in Dad's shed anyway," Ginny stated as she walked by. "I have a funny feeling the phones might start ringing soon."
"No, you're keeping an eye on the phones in case Dean calls again!" Fred quipped almost immediately.
"Shut up!"
"I don't see why you're so embarrassed, sis. It's not like you're dating Vincent Crabbe," George added.
"Who in their right mind would even think about dating that guy?" Fred snorted.
"I heard one of the Thestrals had a crush on him but that quickly abated apparently!" Harry could not resist shouting as he rinsed the last of the shampoo out of his unruly hair.
The twins guffawed all the way downstairs. Harry got out of the shower, got dressed and then headed downstairs too, trying to make sure that he avoided Hermione as much as he could; even at breakfast, he made sure to sit as far away from his sister-from-another-family as he could manage in order to eat his food in peace without feeling that cold, Basilisk glare on him at all times. Harry did pity Molly a little; she looked about ready to go back to bed.
"At what time is your Gringotts appointment, Harry?" Molly asked kindly as she served up some fresh toast.
"Eleven-thirty," Harry answered immediately.
"Good. Do you mind using the Floo Network again? I know the last time didn't go very well but-"
"I'll be fine," Harry reassured with a reassuring smile.
"If you get stuck down Knockturn Alley again, we can always put out a Missing poster and have Narcissa Malfoy's Hit Wizards find you for us," Fred chuckled, earning himself a scowl from his mother.
"Fred!" Molly and Hermione chorused sharply.
It was only when Harry started on his second helping of eggs that Ginny came to have her breakfast, blinking in absolute bewilderment and had a face that clearly translated to something along the lines of 'I can't believe that just happened'.
"What's the matter, Gin? Do we already have new gnomes again?" Ron asked, thankfully waiting before he finished his mouthful before eating, or he would likely have lost an arm and a leg to Hermione's wrath.
Ginny pursed her lips for a moment and then looked at Harry. "Dean would like me to tell you that his mum just bought too much kitchen ware and has asked if you want to 'donate' it to that 'good cause' you have been supporting…"
The Boy-Who-Had-just-Been-Given-A-Good-Idea-On-A-Plate lit up instantly. "Tell him 'yes, I know they would love it! Please do so'," he responded giddily.
"Oh! You have been supporting a charity, Harry?" Hermione smiled for a moment. "Which one is it? My parents support several people charities and animal charities so I could help you pick another one – wait a bloody minute!"
It suddenly seemed to dawn on her that this 'charity' might not be a literal charity at all, if the fake innocent look on the Boy-Who-Had-The-Most-Diabolical-Mind-And-Frankly-Should-Have-Been-Put-Into-Slytherin's face. One could almost see the fake halo around his head and the violin music playing!
The twins started snorting with laughter.
"Oh. No. You. Don't!" Hermione snarled.
"What?" Harry asked with a teasing tone to his voice. "We both know that our mutual friend's kitchen is probably in a serious need of an upgrade and if Mrs. Thomas is kind enough to donate her stuff, I think it is rather rude not to make use of it. Plus, it really is a waste of Mrs. Thomas' money if the stuff doesn't get used. You don't want the Thomases to waste money unnecessarily, do you?"
The Witch-Who-Was-Very-Quickly-Losing-The-Will-To-Live pinched the bridge of her nose. "How – Harry, Malfoy Manor very likely has no bloody plug sockets! How are they going to use the stuff if they can't plug them in?"
"Oh I am pretty sure that Narcissa or Draco will be petty enough to find a way to make them work," Harry replied brightly, beaming. "If not, the elves will put them to very good use indeed."
Hermione's face was red with frustration, steam practically coming out of her ears. Harry knew he had her cornered, morally speaking, and she knew it as well, and naturally didn't like it at all. "Fine!" she snapped. "But you are not sending them anything else!"
"Actually," Ginny spoke up again, "Harry, I also had your aunt on the line, for once. Apparently your cousin needs to speak to you soon about something. She actually asks if you can call somewhere in the afternoon."
Harry blanched. "Aunt Petunia?! Really?! Are you sure it was her?"
"To be honest, no, but she does sound as shrill as the last time," Ginny replied as she piled her plate with beans and toast. "I have no idea what your cousin wants to talk about. She didn't say."
"She didn't ask if I am dead yet?" Harry could barely believe his ears.
"Nope!"
"Weird," Ron commented, this time with his mouth full, causing Hermione to give him a sharp kick in his shins. "OWW! Woman, really?"
"Chew with your mouth closed!" she answered firmly.
Harry rolled his eyes and went to prepare for his meeting. Since it was a little chilly out, surprisingly for an August morning, he went to get the jacket Dudley had given him for his birthday – yes, a birthday present from Dudley! No, the sky was not falling yet – and then stepped into the Weasley fireplace, soon followed by Ron and Hermione.
He had rolled his eyes. "Hermione, I don't have any confetti bombs or dung balls or fart cushions on me – I am heading to an important meeting. I do have the capability of some restraint."
"Well, clearly not enough!" the Muggleborn witch shot back. "But no, we are not coming to baby sit you. I have seen some new books at Flourish and Blotts' that I wasn't able to buy the last time-"
"-and I am being dragged into it," Ron sighed. "As long as we get a drink and lunch at the Leaky Cauldron I frankly don't give much of a shit. We will meet you in the lobby of the bank, mate."
"OI! Get a move on!" the twins chorused. "It's almost eleven!"
Harry took a deep breath, then took the dreaded Floo Powder and stated "Gringotts Bank!", and braced himself as the green flames leapt up. The Boy-Who-Had-No-Luck-With-The-Floo-Network prayed to anyone who would listen that everything went right this time and he wouldn't get stuck in the chimney of the building next door to the bank, or even worse – the chimney of the bank itself! He knew he would not survive the pictures and reports the Prophet would publish and then Draco and his friends would have the perfect comeback for the rest of the flipping year.
No thank you!
Merlin was feeling merciful today, apparently, because the Floo Network spat him out into the lobby of Gringotts Bank. The bad news was, he had been flung out in a manner akin to a bin bag and thus he was responsible for soot spraying out into several corners, causing a few goblins to grumble and hop down from their seats to clean up the mess.
Harry could only chuckle nervously, dust himself down and apologise profusely for causing such a mess. Fortunately, the commotion did alert Griphook to his presence, and the goblin arrived quite quickly to save the rest of the Boy-Who-Hated-Wizarding-Travel-Methods' bruised pride.
"I see at least some of the young wizards know the importance of punctuality," Griphook grinned at him. "I am sure you may have figured out for yourself but I am the Accountant for the Potter vaults, which is why Mr. Hagrid knew to approach me with your key when you were eleven. Normally, the Potter Heir isn't informed about financial matters until they are seventeen but considering your … unique circumstances, we at Gringotts decided you need to be informed a year earlier than normal."
By now, Griphook had led Harry to an office and had gestured to the rather confused young wizard to take a seat. "Your parents were rather good with their money, leaving you a trust fund in addition to the rest of the vaults, as you saw for yourself." Griphook laid out a few property lists in front of Harry. "Regarding Potter properties, Potter Manor has been maintained, Yarrow House and Misthill Tower. The property in Godric's Hollow has never been … fixed, mostly because the rest of the wand-wielders view it as a memorial site, believe it or not."
Harry honestly had no idea what to say to that, especially when he saw the rubble and remains of the house where the fateful attack took place.
"Several other properties were converted into safe houses during the war, upon your father's request," Griphook continued, forcing Harry out of his train of thought. "They were put under the control of Albus Dumbledore."
This made Harry sit up bolt up-right, his attention caught instantly. "Really?"
"Oh yes, your father signed off on them personally. I am afraid if you do not agree with his decision, you will have to wait until next year to officially override his decision. However, what you are permitted to do as Heir Apparent and the only surviving member of House Potter, is to request a monitoring of uses and expenses," Griphook informed him.
The Boy-Who-Could-Smell-A-Scheme-From-A-Mile-Off nodded despondently. "Something tells me that might be wise. Griphook, may I ask what may be a very stupid question?"
The goblin blinked in shock. "Of course, sir. You don't need to ask permission to ask questions here."
"How is it that my family is this wealthy?" Harry frowned, shaking is head at the documents in front of him. "I mean, I knew my parents left me money, but I didn't know about all this," he gestured to them.
Griphook frowned. "Your magical guardian did not inform you, Mr. Potter?"
Harry scoffed. "I don't have a magical guardian. I live with my aunt, uncle and cousin in Little Whinging, Surrey."
Something dark entered the tiny, beady eyes of the goblin opposite him. "Is that so? How very interesting. Because that is not what we were told. We were all reassured you were safe and sound with a magical family."
Harry barked out a mirthless laugh. "If that was the case, I wouldn't have felt like such an outsider the moment I was told I was a wizard and accepted at Hogwarts."
Griphook seemed to be processing this information. For a moment, there was a look of fury in his eyes but that quickly dissipated under a curtain of forced control. "Well, we will get to the bottom of this later. As for the answer to your initial question, Mr. Potter, your grandfather Fleamont restored his family's fortune with a line of highly desired potions amongst wand-wielders. His success made your family as rich as they once had been in the time of Ralston Potter."
"I see," Harry stated to himself quietly.
So it seemed that once again, information was being withheld from him. Well, that simply wouldn't do.
"Now, I have a few questions of my own, Mr. Potter. About your recent spending activities. I must say I am very surprised to see you looking as thin as you are considering the amount of chicken nuggets, burgers, chips, ice creams and pizzas you bought at one point. I won't even get onto the topic of those creepy toys you bought. And, what in the name of everything that is good and holy is 'Amazon'?"
Harry chuckled nervously. "It's a … rather long story, sir."
The goblin blinked at him – clearly not used to being called 'sir' – and smirked slightly when he saw the mischievous, cunning glint in the eyes of the young Potter. "Well, I do not have any other meetings for the day, Mr. Potter. Tell me the story."
So Harry did. By the time the young wizard was finished, Griphook had toppled off his seat a total of ten times, splitting his sides laughing – he was cackling so hard that the sound echoed through the corridor and had caused several goblins and wizards to stop what they were doing and look around in undisguised concern.
Once he managed to regain the ability to breath, Griphook composed himself, got back onto his seat and shook his head. "Never in my life have I heard someone be this idiotically suicidal," he commented through slight chuckles. "How you have not been killed yet, forgive me, is a miracle, Mr. Potter."
"I agree – but then again, Captain Cueball hasn't been very good at killing me," Harry grinned, causing Griphook to splutter again.
"I take it that you do not intend to stop sending these … 'gifts', Mr. Potter?" Griphook asked, a knowing glint in his eyes.
Harry chuckled evilly. "Mr. Griphook, I am only just getting started."
The smirk on Griphook's face grew. "Good. Do not hesitate to let me know how I can help in your endeavour. Finally, the personal matter – we have the Last Will and Testament from the late Lord Black, your godfather, and it falls to me to inform you that you have been named as your godfather's heir."
Harry froze to his seat. Griphook, however, was grinning. "He left a … condition for you to be presented with the ring, however."
"Condition?" Harry repeated in a whisper.
Smirking from ear to ear, the goblin handed him an envelope. Harry, fighting off his tears, took and eagerly opened it, taking out the last letter Sirius probably ever wrote. As soon as Harry began to read, he started to half cry, half laugh.
Dear Harry,
If you are reading this, I have likely been snuffed out on the battlefield and your family Accountant has told you what I have done! You are a better option as heir and Lord Black than that poncy excuse of a son my cousin Narcissa has given Lucius – plus, you will put the money and name to a much better use!
I am sure by now Griphook has told you I have a condition for you to be named Lord Black: you are a Marauder's son and a godson of one. I want you to cause as much trouble and mayhem for enemies to our name and your Potter name as you can! If you haven't already begun …
Yes, I know you well, Harry. You have much of James, and Lily, in you; I wouldn't be surprised if you have already begun. I know you will do me proud.
See you in the afterlife,
Sirius
"I'd say Lord Black's condition is being fulfilled, if your withdrawals are anything to go by," Griphook chuckled.
Harry flushed with pride.
"Now let's go through your properties, your vaults and thus your ability to cause more mischief for the Dark Lord and his followers – other than the ten thousand Galleons for Mr. Remus Lupin, you have a lot more funds at your disposal. Here are the properties…"
Unfortunately for Griphook, the Boy-Who-Could-Get-Distracted-And-Bored-At-Any-Moment started to shut his brain off very, very slowly, already excited at the prospect of yet more money to spend on trying to cause Voldemort and his Death Eaters as many headaches and heart attacks as he could!
Frankly, the politics did not interest him right now.
Get through it, and then we can get back to business, he told himself.
Fortunately, it seemed that Griphook noticed that he was losing the young Lord already and decided to leave it there for now before Gringotts became part of Harry Potter's pranking campaign.
Despite the fact the boy amused him, Griphook did not fancy being on the other end of the boy's unique wrath.
When the meeting was over, the Boy-Who-Now-Had-Too-Much-Money-And-Therefore-Ammunition practically skipped out, too many more vaults richer, the Black signet ring around his finger, and now more eager than ever to see how many shitty songs and Death Eater torture fests Old Snakeface was going to send that particular evening.
As they had promised, Ron and Hermione were waiting for him in the Gringotts lobby, Hermione reading one of her new books while Ron was attempting to read a Quidditch magazine that was balanced against the pile of books Hermione had evidently dumped onto his lap. Both raised their heads simultaneously as they heard someone approach; Hermione immediately looked worried while Ron grinned.
"How did it go, mate? We heard someone dying of laughter. Wasn't Griphook by any chance was it?"
Harry smirked. "Why, yes, Ron, it was."
"Oh no," Hermione sighed. "He knows."
"About my pranks, yes he does. He knows the full story now and is rather impressed," Harry reported happily as though he were a child reporting about his glowing report card to his parents.
"Anything else?" Ron asked eagerly, Hermione glaring at him for being too nosey.
The grin on Harry's face grew. "Yep. Apparently, I am the new Lord Black."
"NO WAY!" they both chorused, the Leaning Tower of Books, cascading to the floor instantly, Hermione diving after them.
"Yes way," Harry stated as he helped to gather the tomes off the floor, looking extremely pleased with himself. "Money is no longer an issue when it comes to buying presents for our little Death Muncher friends!"
"Christ," Hermione cursed as she gathered her books. "Well, let's just get you back to the Burrow before you get any premature ideas or we somehow run into the Malfoys-"
"Oh, please, don't say that out loud, I want to get lunch not get jinxed. Wait a minute … oh bloody hell! Hermione, why in Merlin's sweaty armpits would you say that? Draco alert! Draco alert!"
Ron had spotted the tell-tale bleach blonde hair, stepping through the front doors of the bank, followed by his mother, whose brow was furrowed in an unusually sinister way, and around four other people Ron, Harry and Hermione did not recognise. Unfortunately for them, the group was dangerously close to the fireplaces, so running over there, grabbing the Floo Powder and making a quick escape was out of the option.
As quickly as she could Hermione threw Harry a book and cast a non-verbal spell over the three of them as they dived behind books and magazines, praying to anyone who would listen that the Malfoys and their party would walk on by and not notice them at all.
Fudge tart, fudge tart, fudge tart, Harry chanted internally as he tried to take some interest in the History book Hermione had tossed to him on Magical Military Campaigns of Medieval Europe.
"Do you think we will have another delivery from Potter tonight?" the Golden Trio heard Draco ask his mother. Much to Hermione's horror and the abject amusement of Ron and Harry, the Malfoy heir sounded almost giddy at the prospect.
"Hopefully not. It will already be a mammoth task to explain to your father why we still haven't gotten rid of even half of those hideous garments I was sent," Narcissa retorted grumpily. "The quicker we get this over with, the better."
"Why? These meetings are so boring!" Draco complained.
Lady Malfoy huffed in irritation. "Then sit by one of those three people over there with … our friends. Compose yourself; it will not take long."
SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT! went the mental alarm inside Harry's head.
He pretended to be turning the page as he heard and felt Draco mutter as he did as his mother said. Of course that bleach-blonde ferret just had to choose to sit next to the Boy-Who-Thought-His-Game-Was-Now-Definitely-Up! Malfoy wasn't the only one who sat next to Harry – one of those guys did as well!
"Excuse me? Do you mind moving up a bit?" he heard a gruff voice ask Hermione (she was in possession of Book Mountain; it was highly likely to be her!).
He heard both Ron and Hermione shuffle their butts along the bench.
"Thanks," the same gruff man stated.
Unfortunately, as if matters couldn't get worse, Draco had taken an interest in Harry's book shield. "Oh! Magical Military Campaigns of Medieval Europe! That is very interesting. Are you enjoying it? I have always enjoyed reading Philippa Malkin's work."
Harry swallowed quietly. He didn't trust himself to speak so only made a quiet hum of affirmation. He had hoped that the Ferret would take the hint. Taking hints was not in Draco's repertoire, much to everyone's disappointment.
"I still think the magical campaigns in France and Germany are some of the best ones, especially when it came to boggling the minds of the Muggles-"
"Draco," the man on the other side of Harry chastised. "I think the poor fellow wants to enjoy his book in peace."
Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou-
"They need some better taste in reading material," the gruff voiced man opposite commented. "A few of those books are so basic, sixth and seventh year Hufflepuffs would be able to understand them!"
"Anto – Anthony, shush!" the man next to Harry hissed. "Don't be rude."
"Oh come on, Bast – Bastian, you wouldn't be caught dead with these books," the gruff man muttered. "Oh wait, you listen to Muggle music! Of course you would be caught dead with these books."
Harry found he needed to bite into his cheek quite hard to not only stop himself from laughing, but to stop himself from revealing to a Death Eater that they were sitting next to the very person who had been making them miserable for a month and a bit. Unfortunately, Ron snorted and Hermione gave him a sharp kick judging by the "For fuck's sake, woman!" that came from Ron's direction.
Only, it didn't sound like him, well not entirely. It sounded like Ron, only ten or fifteen years older. However, none of the people around them seemed to notice, judging by the hearty laughs coming from all four of them. Including Draco.
The Boy-Who-Had-An-Unbelievable-Amount-of-Sheer-Dumb-Luck was as relieved as one could get when Narcissa Malfoy returned around fifteen minutes later; Draco and his Death Eater bodyguards left with curt goodbyes and not soon afterwards, Harry, Ron and Hermione made their escape back to the Burrow.
"Merlin, that was close! Ron, you absolute idiot! You were lucky I put a charm on our voices or they would have sussed it out immediately. Why do we always find ourselves in these situations? We couldn't have called for help if we needed to, I hope you two realise that! We are lucky one of those Glamoured Death Eaters surprisingly had some manners or we would have been toast! Are you two even listening to me?!"
Harry and Ron had already had their ears closed as they stepped out into the Burrow's living room, Fred and George preparing to go to work with a grin and Ginny shaking her head at the Golden Trio's antics.
Molly soon put Ron and Hermione to work around the house while Harry was permitted to go and see if he could get a hold of his cousin again. It gave him a moment to comprehend everything that had happened in such a short time.
One: he was now Lord Black.
Two: Draco actually seemed to like the pranks!
Three: Lucius Malfoy might be coming out of Azkaban soon.
Well, Harry decided he would need to keep an eye on the Prophet about it so that he could send Lucius a rather interesting welcome home present!
But first, he needed to deal once more with Fenrir and Narcissa.
He dialled the Dursleys' number, prayed once more that Dudley would be alone for the evening but forced himself to already begin smiling in case of the person on the other end of the line being Aunt Petunia.
But it seemed that the Fates were enjoying his campaign of chaos and mayhem too much because of the fourth beep, the line was picked up.
"Cousin, is this you?" Dudley asked, sounding half eager and half worried.
"Yes, Dud. I'm still alive – just about," Harry grinned. "Though we did have a close call just now. Bumped into Draco and some Death Munchers at that bank I told you about."
"Oh, shit! How did you get out alive?" Dudley wanted to know immediately.
"Hiding behind books and Hermione using magic on our voices to make us sound different," Harry replied with a smirk.
"Jesus. You got away with that? How thick are these people?"
"Very. But we knew that already," Harry chuckled. "So, Ginny said that you wanted to talk to me. What is it?"
"Stupid question: why did she not just get you?" Dudley questioned.
"Well, the phone is in the shed and we were having breakfast-"
"Who the fuck puts a phone in a shed?!" Dudley spluttered. "Why can't those people just be more normal – oh wait."
"Yeah, asking wizards to be normal? Not going to happen!" Harry smiled. "So, what's up?"
"Well, my mate Malcolm has a younger brother, right? He's into graffiti, but the good kind of graffiti, like, proper street art. That kind of thing," Dudley began. "Problem is, Malcolm's ma has found his canned paint and has thrown them out – only, he has like a bunch more of them in the garage but somehow she hasn't found them yet. Malcolm has asked a bunch of us to take 'em, but you know what Mum and Dad are like. The same goes for Piers, Den and Gordon and then I remembered your little prank war with Voldemort and his Death Munchers. Should we send them the canned paint?"
It was no exaggeration to say Harry could hear angelic requiems and arias being sung in his ears at this precise moment.
"Canned paint? As in, proper spray paint?" Harry's eyes were shining.
"Yeah. Ain't no other kind for proper graffiti, cousin," Dudley half-chuckled.
"Send them addressed to Draco Malfoy and I will pay the sending cost," Harry promised.
"Great! Thanks for this, Harry," Dudley sounded uncharacteristically relieved. "So, have you thought of anything else to send them?"
"My friend Dean's mum has bought too much kitchen stuff by accident, and he asked if he could send them to the Malfoys. Like, there was no even debating the matter so I just need to think of one more thing to send to my old werewolf chum," Harry smirked.
Dudley started chortling to himself. "Hey, cousin, question: how flipping hairy do werewolves get? Are they like in the movies?"
"Erm, kind of but they're bigger and scarier, especially if they don't drink the Wolfsbane Potion," Harry replied. "Why?"
"I was thinking, why not send your werewolf hair removal stuff?" Dudley suggested, clearly grinning on the other end of the line. "You sent grooming kits, so why not just rub that in a little more?"
Harry cackled maniacally. "Ooooo yes! Now we're cooking!"
"You want me to make the Amazon order?"
"Errr do ducks like bread? Yes!"
Dudley laughed. "Let us see if you survive this time, cousin. Piers betted that you would at least have gotten a death threat from the last one – he's going to flip when I tell him you didn't!"
"Tell Piers I am trying my best here," Harry grinned.
"I'll pass the message on. Have a good day, cousin."
"You too, Dud!"
###########################################
Voldemort was slowly losing the will to live. It had not even been two days – not even two days – since the Brat's last prank and Nagini and Thalia, as he had decided to call the snake, were already causing head-splitting headache after headache and bullying peacocks, Wormtail and Death Eaters at any given moment. Thalia was an early riser and at any given moment would crack some of the most Morgana-awful jokes Voldemort had ever heard in his life! Every single time he tried to get her to shut up for one minute, Nagini would scold him for 'being unjustly mean to Nagini's new friend' and thus would refuse to speak to him until he apologised to Thalia for his 'poor sense of humour'. It was made worse by the fact that Bellatrix and Mr. Mupples routinely checked in on the 'living eggs' that everyone was baby-sitting. Yes, Dark Lord included.
To make matters worse, the children and members of his Death Eaters were continuing to listen to the Muggle singers and bands at every moment they could get when they were not working or flying or being general nuisances. Indeed, several of them had been caught singing to their 'stones' because Bellatrix and Mr. Mupples had ordered them to do so. Fenrir and his werewolves would complain and then some of them would distract themselves from the pain with their toys while Fenrir went to punch something and to plot how best to bury Potter's feet somewhere in the Malfoy garden.
Draco was preparing himself for his Death Mark ceremony that would take place soon, somehow with little issues. His friends kept themselves occupied with games and reading – they had put the Ouija board aside for a bit because they swear the thing was actually possessed – and now and again, a few of them went to the window in order to keep an eye out for any Muggle vans.
Snape, Yaxley and Avery were forced to be out on Watch Out For Muggle Vehicles patrol since their shift got stolen the last time. Narcissa and their Lord had one of their 'Harry Senses' go off, whatever that was supposed to mean, and had forced the three of them to drop what they were doing to go and stand outside like a bunch of knuckleheads and stand there watching the gate.
Severus was already quietly making a Nightmare Potion to feed to the Potter Brat the next time he had the opportunity to, especially since when he reported to Dumbledore about what the boy was doing, the deluded old fool simply smiled serenely and said, "Severus, let the boy have some fun. Merlin knows he needs it. If it is putting a smile on someone's face, it is all worth it."
Yes, the old codger was aware that Voldemort was at Malfoy Manor. No, it did not change his opinion!
"Surely the boy must be running out of money by now," Yaxley grumbled.
"He is a Potter and the only living one at that; I bet he has more than enough to keep this up," Avery answered with an exhausted sigh. "I just hope he does not vex our Lord any further than he already is. Nagini and Thalia have really been testing his patience and we're fortunate no Cruciatuses have been flung around!"
"No, those are going to be saved for Lucius and the others," Yaxley snickered, glee glinting in his eyes.
Avery smirked slightly but that quickly disappeared when he realised something. "Oh Morgana, I just thought of something! Do you think Potter will send anything when Lucius and the others get here?"
Yaxley and Snape paled simultaneously. They had not thought of that!
"I think the likely answer is yes," Snape responded gloomily. "The boy will simply start changing his targets, if he has not already decided to do so."
"How has he not become bored of this yet?" Yaxley exclaimed. "I mean, if this boy gets lethally bored at any given time, why does he keep sending these pranks over and over again to the same place?"
"Because we are all in the same place," Avery gauged. "He knows where we are now and that means he has a fresh bunch of targets to choose from. Now, if you were to just stay at Yaxley Manor, you wouldn't have a problem!"
"Yes, I would! I would be dead for disobeying orders," Yaxley shot back, glaring at him.
"Oh yes," Avery smirked. "Momentarily forgot about that. Sorry!"
"I hate you," Yaxley snarled.
"Now, now, Corban, you need to calm yourself before you get one of your rashes," Snape stated silkily with a smirk.
Steam was coming out of their fellow Death Eater's ears at this point. "I WILL NOT GET A RASH!"
"You're getting one already," Avery smirked.
Yaxley began grumbling incoherently under his breath while Avery and Snape exchanged Cheshire grins with each other. Yaxley really was too easy to vex.
Then they heard engines outside the grounds and the three of them composed themselves in a second. Yaxley was ready to draw his wand while Avery's countenance contorted, a dark look coming onto his face. Snape kept his neutral but stern expression. They all knew how to deal with these Muggles by now.
"So … colours?" Avery asked.
"I am not Rabastan! I refuse to play this game," Yaxley scoffed.
"Rookwood and Macnair played the game too," Snape pettily pointed out.
Yaxley glowered at him. "My point still stands!"
"Well, I say red," Avery stated.
"White," Snape drawled.
"Corban, you take brown," Avery decided.
Yaxley gaped. "I refuse to participate-"
Avery once more took no notice. "Brown it is! Let's see who is right!"
Yaxley clenched his jaw and his lips curled into a sneer. The sneer did not dissipate when the vans pulled up. Surprisingly, it was only two Royal Mail vans and the white van that told them an avalanche of boxes was about to ensue once more.
"We could just hex them a little," Yaxley muttered.
"No," Snape contradicted.
"I know a good curse that will put them into St. Mungo's for a while-"
"No, Corban!" Avery cut across sharply. "We don't have permission! Not even Bella and Mr. Mupples have permission."
"Fucking Mr. Mupples," Yaxley growled.
"Careful there, Corban. You almost sound jealous of a plushie monster," Snape commented with a cold smirk.
"Excuse me!" the Muggles had gotten out of their vans.
"Let me guess: deliveries for Draco Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy and Mr. F. Greyback?" Avery called back to them.
The three Muggles stood there, utterly gorgonised for a few seconds, before chorusing, "yes!"
"Ring the bell," Snape told them. "We are only guests here."
He really was getting quite exhausted with having to tell different Muggles the same thing over and over again. Why could the companies not just send the ones who were already familiar with the surrounding area?
BRRRRRRIIIIIINNNNNNGGGGGG!
*The Muggles are back with more presents! They're back with more presents,* Nagini and Thalia were singing as they followed their disgruntled Dark Lord to the parlour.
The boy had better not be giving more presents to his already spoilt snakes!
The Death Eaters were setting records with the amount of time they took to Apparate in and out of their rooms and into the parlour where Narcissa had been taking a well-earned nap. Narcissa knew that she had to brace herself; her 'Harry Senses' had told her that once again, she herself was going to be a target.
Much to her chagrin, everyone was starting to make bets on what the Brat had done now, including Bella, that blasted monster of hers, Rodolphus, Rabastan and the Carrow twins, who had been the most vocally against the pranks being permitted to enter Malfoy Manor throughout. Well, they were once they knew the Dark Lord was out of earshot.
Draco and his friends were seated on the sofas, quietly praying as the silver orb floated in front of Narcissa.
"Deliveries for Draco and Narcissa Malfoy, I assume?" she asked sighing in exhaustion.
"Yes, ma'am! Also an extensive delivery for Mr. F. Greyback," the Muggle from the white van added.
"NO! NOT AGAIN!" Fenrir was officially done with life. "NO, NO, NO, NO, NO-"
"Fenrir, the vans are coming in," Dolohov announced with a grin.
"I AM GOING TO RIP HIS EYES OUT AND FEED THEM TO THE SNAKES!"
Nagini and Thalia looked affronted.
*Eeeeew, human eyes are disgusting,* Thalia complained.
*I never just eat human eyes for a reason,* Nagini added.
Fenrir naturally couldn't understand the snakes so he kept ranting. "I WILL MAKE SURE THERE IS NOTHING LEFT OF THE LITTLE SHIT FOR THE AURORS TO FIND!"
*Hey, Nagini, what do you call a werewolf with poor manners?* Thalia continued.
*No idea, Thalia, tell me.*
*A Big Bad-Manners Wolf!*
Voldemort, who could understand the snakes, wished he had a nose so that he could pinch the bridge of it but instead had to settle with putting his head in his hands.
Meanwhile, Snape, Yaxley and Avery had signed off on the delivery – with Yaxley being the sucker who had the honours to do it and the man had to really restrain himself to not jinx the young girl in front of him – and were helping cart boxes into the house. Some of them were conveniently labelled. A few of them – four – had DRACO written on the sides with black sharpie and there were two boxes with NARCISSA on the sides. Fenrir's boxes – all twenty of them – were not labelled.
"Wow, the boy is showing some level of restraint," Macnair commented when he counted the meagre amount of boxes.
"Only four?!" Blaise couldn't help but splutter. Draco was glaring at him but the Zabini heir couldn't give two Knuts about that. "Hey, Drake, I think Harry might be getting bored of sending you presents."
"Shut up," Draco muttered.
"I wish the boy would get bored of me already!" Fenrir wailed.
"Awwww, you don't like your presents, Fenrir?" Mulciber teased lightly.
"I fucking hate them!" the werewolf growled.
"I don't think you're going to like these ones either," Rabastan informed him, looking perhaps a little too gleeful at the look of deadly fury entering the eyes of the alpha.
"I don't think Cissy will like her presents either," Bellatrix sang. "No indeed, Mr. Mupples, I agree; the presents will be awful. I don't know, Mr. Mupples, maybe she will but it is up to our Lord to decide if we can take one little Muggle the next time to experiment on. Yes, I know, Mr. Mupples we need to test the dress before we send it-"
Bellatrix's rambling was cut short by the arrival of Yaxley, Snape and Avery levitating a box each behind them as they entered the room. They tried to maintain their composure as Voldemort silently ordered them to put the boxes on the coffee table in front of the Malfoys. Narcissa glared at hers as though Avery had put a dead cat in front of her while Draco immediately used a Cutting Charm to open his.
The Malfoy heir put his hand into the box, frowned as he felt something cold, cone-shaped and metallic and lifted it out. Draco pulled a face of abject confusion at the eye-achingly colourful can with a red lid on it and began turning it in his hand, studying it closely while everyone frowned in confusion. Well, everyone, except Severus Snape.
"What is that?" Gregory Goyle couldn't keep the question out of his mouth.
"Ssseverusss?" Voldemort hissed, catching the knowing look in the Potions Master's eyes almost immediately.
This boy is really pushing it, Severus grumbled to himself. "They are spray paint cans, my Lord. Muggles use them to … paint things onto buildings but not tasteful artwork. It's always some kind of monstrosity."
Draco looked aghast at them.
Narcissa's eyes flashed dangerously. "Draco, you will not – and I repeat NOT – use those things anywhere on our grounds!"
"Don't worry, Mother, I had no intention to," Draco reassured as he dropped the can back in his box, looking absolutely disgusted. "Stupid Potter has no taste – this shouldn't surprise me – but why does he have to be so obvious about it?"
However, no one noticed the beady, eager look in Blaise's eyes.
The reason why was because they were focused on Narcissa next. Lady Malfoy refused to open her own box, so Rodolphus did it for her. The Death Eater started lifting out contraption after contraption that none of the purebloods had ever seen before, but Snape did and because of that, his face disappeared into his hand.
"What in Morgana's name …" Amycus Carrow shook his head. "What are those?"
"Snape, do you know?" Macnair asked eagerly.
Snape wished the Earth would swallow him whole. "That," he pointed towards the contraption to the left, "is called a coffee machine. That one there," he pointed to the second, "is an electric mixer – Rodolphus, put that down, that's a whisk that is supposed to go into the machine! And that there, is a juicer."
"Are they torture devices?" Bellatrix asked eagerly.
"No. They're kitchen instruments," Snape sighed.
"Kitchen instruments?!" Narcissa repeated, her tone going up several octaves. Her eyes darkened at the implication. "That snivelling little toerag! He thinks my kitchen could be improved by these mongrel devices!"
The poor windows that had been fixed painstakingly by the lower ranked Death Eaters cracked once more.
"What do we do with this?" Rodolphus asked, holding up a wire with a weird head at the end with three metallic spike-like things.
"That's a plug," Snape sighed. "These things run on electricity."
"Oh but that's OK! We can make them work!" Rabastan stated happily.
"No, no, no, no, NO!" Narcissa snarled. "You will not!"
"CAN SOMEONE PLEASE KILL THIS CHILD ALREADY?!"
"Fenrir, what hasss the boy sssent you thisss time?" Voldemort asked as serenely as he could manage.
The alpha seemed to have short-circuited somewhat because the answer the Dark Lord got was something incredibly intelligent that sounded like this, "ghaksldpfokgngkkdd!"
It was Mulciber who was brave enough to step closer to the irate werewolf and peered into the box. His eyes widened considerably, almost bugging out of his eyes as he lifted out a small cube carton with VEET written in blue on the front with a colour scheme of blue, white and pink.
For the first time, Severus Snape actually had to force himself to not even smile, let alone laugh! Oh good Merlin and Morgana, this boy really did have a death wish!
Nagini and Thalia were thoroughly confused, however. *What is that, what is that, what is that?* they hissed in perfect sync.
"Sssseverusss, explain!" Voldemort demanded.
"It seems Potter has deigned to send Fenrir some hair removal cream," Snape responded obediently, sending the entire room into a fit. "For women."
This last bit broke everyone further, including Fenrir's own pack!
"I AM GOING TO FLING HIS ARMS INTO THE CHANNEL AND HIS LEGS INTO THE IRISH SEA!"
Thalia did not seem to get the hint. *Hey, Nagini, hey, Tom, what do you call a werewolf who is in need of hair removal cream?*
Voldemort braced himself. Nagini lit up. *No idea, Thalia, tell me!*
*A werewolf that needs a waxing phase!*
Bloody hell, Voldemort thought to himself as Nagini started contorting and hissing with laughter.
"I assume no one hasssss found the boy yet," he stated out loud.
"Not yet, my Lord, but I have this funny feeling we might have accidentally missed him. No idea why," Dolohov responded candidly, maybe to his own detriment.
"I don't know when that is supposed to have happened," Macnair grumbled. "We only went out once to Gringotts and to check with Mr. Burke if he had a Vanishing Cabinet. There was no sign of Potter there."
Interestingly enough, no one seemed to notice the knowing smirk on Rabastan's face as he turned away to help get rid of and unpack some of the other boxes. He had a funny feeling that they indeed had met the Boy-Who-Was-A-Pain-In-The-Butt-To-Find at Gringotts, along with two of his friends.
But Rabastan was not going to ruin their campaign of pranking. It was just too much fun to see it end so prematurely.
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Whooohooo, Fenrir is even more murderous now! Thalia and Nagini are making Voldemort's life a little bit more interesting and apparently some of the Death Eaters need to get their eyes and ears checked. Oh dear … But what will our Boy-Who-Can't-Stop-Pranking come up with next? Who will be the next target? Stay tuned to find out!
I hope you guys enjoyed it! A reviewer had a good idea for hair removal cream that I had to do and two of my friends gave me ideas for spray cans and kitchen stuff that I just needed to get out of the way before I forgot it. I was writing this while watching Eurovision; my favourite is of course the Breton band with Finland as a close second so forgive me if it took a bit longer to write.
Keep sending me your ideas! I love to hear them!
Kingmaker'sUmbreon