Argus and his companions had been lingering outside of the Lovegood home for a while now. He'd stopped counting the minutes what felt like long ago. It hadn't been that long, but the chill in the air was becoming biting, he could feel it through his robes. Which, by the way, were nondescript and black and, he knew, criminally unfashionable. He was set apart only by the white silk gloves on his hands - otherwise, his identity was completely hidden by the mask under his hood.
Shifting his weight uncomfortably, Argus began to grow impatient. When was that idiot going to signal them? Potter and his allies had to be there by now. Did this man want them to kill his daughter, or worse? It bothered Argus enough that he had to return to the scene of his previous crime. Now he was made to wait, like a dog.
Just as he was about to glance down at the pocket watch he always carried, a flicker of light in the kitchen window caught his eye. Not merely a flicker, but a distinctly rhythmic series of glows and ebbs. There it was. Perhaps Lovegood was not as moronic as he appeared. Motioning to the other with him, Argus moved to the house, entered the kitchen and indicated to Lovegood that if he made any noise, there would be trouble.
As Lovegood disappeared up the stairs, Argus waited for a few moments before following, quietly as a cat. The three Death Eaters paused at the top of the stairs, just outside the door. From here they had an only slightly impeded view of the room - sure enough, there was Potter, and the tall gangly ginger, and the girl (with, Argus noted, ghastly hair).
Argus looked back at Rodolphus, tilting his head questioningly.