Flight of the Stars

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, Harry's kid wouldn't be named "Albus Severus". I think that's proof enough.

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"Dangerously having the time of our lives.

These boys are just poisonous thorns in our sides.

Starting fires wherever we go,

Watching them gamble everything they own,

Singing oh, oh-oh-oh, oh,

Trouble."

~ Trouble by Valerie Broussard

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The Mudblood took her seat at the right hand of Tom Riddle, and Gordon Macnair's hatred festered.

She stacked her notes into a neat pile, smoothing out any crinkles - even the sound made his chest burn with loathing! - and smiled at all of the gathered Death Eaters. Gordon refused to call them by their disgusting new name - Knights of Wrepulgis, or whatever it was. Too much had changed since the Mudblood had arrived, and he wanted to retain whatever he could. And if that included even small things, like keeping the original name for their group in his mind, so be it.

He cursed the day she had walked into their meeting for the first time.

He screamed against it.

He dreamed of putting his hands to her throat, squeezing the life out of her, feeling her bones snap, seeing the fear and panic in her eyes - no, he must not indulge in thoughts such as these. He might actually turn them to reality, and that could not happen yet.

It would. Just not yet. It was not time.

Not time.

Not time.

But soon.

Very soon.

The Mudblood cleared her throat. "Well. We're back."

Everyone laughed. Except for Gordon. He wanted to wipe the grin right off of her face. Maybe he could break her nose. Just a little break. Nothing major. It might satisfy this craving.

"As you all know, we're going to approach this slowly. We won't be rushing into the Ministry and destroying it. It's going to be a subtle infiltration, and each of you has an extremely important part to play."

They murmured amongst themselves, and Dolohov nudged him, his face tight with tension. "Try to relax, Gordon. You look like you want to murder someone."

Oh, did he. He'd never wanted to murder someone more in his life. But patience. Patience. He'd get the revenge that he craved. Patience. All would be taken care of.

"We will not disclose the details of your roles here," Tom said. "After the meeting, you will all come and see us privately, and we will tell you your task in secret." His eyes looked around the room, and Gordon stared, eager for eye contact. Tom's eyes merely swept over his, and he felt strangely disappointed. "You will not, under any circumstances, reveal your task to others. Is that clear?"

They all nodded, Gordon included. Maybe Tom would finally notice him. He hadn't paid him any mind after that horrible night in the Chamber. Gordon still bore the scars from that, still woke up screaming. And yet he still sought Tom's approval.

"You're all dismissed."

"Wait - that's it?" Carrow asked, surprised.

"What else were you expecting?" the Mudblood asked curiously. Gordon imagined stabbing her, the point piercing through Slytherin's locket, which she always wore around her neck. That helped, a little. No filth such as she should be able to wear something as precious as that locket. That belonged to a pureblood.