An Ill Wind - Mod Journal (illwindmod) wrote in an_ill_wind, @ 2009-06-07 23:01:00 |
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Bellatrix & Rodolphus Get Started
Bellatrix was tingling. Not with nerves (there was not a nervous bone in her body) but with anticipation. She knew they would be victorious. They would destroy the Order, they would bring an end to the war and distance the Ministry from the Death Eaters all in one brilliant night. As much as she was not a woman who was generally prone to planning, she knew that this was not a thing to be done on impulse alone and between herself and Rodolphus, the plan was flawless. An attack on Albus Dumbledore's brother was sure to bring the Order running. And then when they saw the full strength of the Dark Lord's army rampaging through the town and realised they were so hopelessly outmatched, they would have no choice but to call for reinforcements. Yes, their noble martyr complexes would be their undoing. That and the fact that they would have no choice but to fight or flee by foot.
Under the cover of a disillusionment charm and with hood and mask firmly in place Bellatrix apparated to behind the Hog's Head, just outside the edge of where she knew the wards fell. The orders had been passed out to the others and they would be arriving shortly but the last thing they needed was someone like Thorfinn Rowle apparating into the middle of the street and scaring off the people - their intended collateral damage - before they could even bring the Order out of hiding. No, there was a plan and for once even she was going to adhere to it. At least in theory. Which meant that she had to resist the nearly overwhelming urge to kill the goat that she swore was staring at her despite her disillusionment charm. Lifting her wand, she carefully began testing the wards on the dingy old pub to ensure that they were all still as she expected.
Rodolphus was ready to put his mistakes behind him. Sending Yaxley after Meadowes had been impulsive and idiotic; it was behaviour he rarely exhibited. This, this he and Bellatrix had planned meticulously, including leaving the other Death Eaters out of it until it was absolutely necessary to involve them. Now it would be systematic. Dumbledore's Order would arrive, and the Dark Lord's Death Eaters would take them out, one by one. He took a moment to savor the sounds of the village, passersby laughing and chit-chatting with no idea of what was about to take place. He could already taste the satisfaction, the praise he and Bellatrix would receive from their Dark Lord.
Rodolphus was standing just outside of the Hog's Head, disillusioned the same as Bellatrix, waiting patiently for her to do one last check on the wards before the others would arrive. His hood was up and his mask on, his wand clutched tightly between his fingers, a slight smirk that no one could see playing on his face.
Satisfied with the wards, Bellatrix lowered her wand and went to her husband's side. There was a brief, almost affectionate brush of her hand against his arm as she nodded a silent confirmation that everything was as it should be. While she would have gladly set these plans in motion without any impetus beyond a desire for carnage, to see every last member of Albus Dumbledore's band of vigilantes bleeding upon the street, this was, at least in part, for Rodolphus. And Narcissa thought she did not know how to be a proper wife. Then again, her sister would not exactly appreciate a carefully planned slaughter to allow her husband to redeem himself to the Dark Lord as a gift. A thought of the temper tantrum she was sure to encounter once Narcissa realised her bridal shower had been used as a cover briefly darkened her thoughts, but no, she would not allow her mood to be ruined.
"The wards, then," she said lowly as she stepped back and turned away from the bar, pointing her wand towards the edge of the town. The anti-apparition wards were not the traditional kind, but rather a darker, more obscure version intended to trap. The Order would be able to apparate in, but not out. As would the Death Eaters for that matter, although personally Bellatrix thought it was a rather convenient way to ensure none of their own side did not attempt to flee in a fit of panic as well. Quietly murmuring the incantation, she began moving her wand in broad, sweeping arcs as if she was casting a net over the entire village. Really, she was.
They wanted to enclose the entire village, to provide no way out for anyone, those fighting and the 'innocent' included. Rodolphus joined in with his wife, facing the other direction, laying the wards over the far-reaching corners of Hogsmeade, where sleepy homes sat under the chilly evening and Scotland's sky. Rodolphus relished in the naivety of the village's residents and quiet charm, and over the Order--nothing more than a band of mudbloods and bloodtraitors, idiots and whores--and the fate they would meet at the hands of the Dark Lord's most loyal servants. Rodolphus smoothed the ward around the village gracefully, stopping only when it knitted with Bellatrix's. "There," he said softly, smile evident in his tone. "Now we wait for the others. Then we relish in our success, my Bella."
Terms of endearment, particularly of the possessive variety were always a risky venture when it came to Bellatrix. If caught in the wrong mood, they were a quick way to provoke a fit of indignant protest on how she most certainly did not belong to anyone and possibly a bit of flying decor. But not now. Not on the night of what was sure to be their victory. Instead she turned back to her husband with an unseen (albeit predatory) smile of her own and slipped her hand into his, giving it the faintest of squeezes. "For our Lord," she murmured, the words a reverent sort of promise. The brief moment was interrupted by the sound of the cracks and pops of apparition all through the village and Bellatrix shifted into battle mode, dropping her husband's hand and raising her wand.
Death Eaters Arrive/Bellatrix Trips the Wards/The First Patronus is Sent Out
When the sounds of apparition had finally quieted, Bellatrix moved towards the front of the pub and took a moment to drop the disillusionment charm that allowed her to blend into their surroundings. When Albus Dumbledore's brother looked out his window, she wanted him to see just who had come calling. It took a fair bit of concentration on her part but she began systematically dismantling the wards protecting the bar. Hardly the most difficult wards she had encountered (it was still a public establishment after all) and it certainly helped that with all of her reconnaissance, she was quite intimately familiar with them but she needed to move both quickly and carefully. It certainly would not do for Aberforth to believe this was in any way an accident. The odd assortment of protective layers surrounding the pub were neatly unwoven one by one - general protection spells, deterrents against thieves and ne'er-do-wells (odd considering what she knew of Aberforth Dumbledore's clientele, but regardless), something she did not even want to consider involving goats, all of them fell at her wand. And then she reached the innermost ward. Nothing more than a simple spell to preserve the integrity of the building itself but it was the one she wanted. With a burst of magic she gave what could only be described as a violent shove against the ward, intended to look as if she had in some way erred in what was otherwise a carefully executed attack. That ought to get the old man's attention.
Though those walking in the streets shrank off at Bellatrix's sudden appearance outside, uttering silent screams and fleeing with nowhere to escape, the patrons of the Hog's Head were blissfully unaware, nursing their drinks to Oldies' Hour on the WWN, which Aberforth played every night religiously. Behind the bar and wiping out a dirty glass with a dirty rag, Aberforth slowly felt the change in magic around the old place as Bellatrix stripped each warded layer, the hairs on the back of his neck tingling. At first it didn't seem something to be alarmed about, perhaps just a disturbance. It happened sometimes in Hogsmeade, a village overrun with all sorts of witches, wizards and other beings. They added a certain flavour to the air and the atmosphere. But as Bellatrix dug deeper, Aberforth realized that something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. He set down the glass and began moving toward the large open window at the front of the place, where there sat a currently empty table, two drained drinks and a blown out candle. He pushed aside the musty curtains, and, just as Bellatrix dismantled the last ward (sending a frightening chill straight up Aberforth's spine), he spotted her. Standing there. A Death Eater. A bleeding Death Eater in the middle of Hogsmeade, stripping the wards on his pub.
Aberforth pulled out his wand, and without a second thought--and knowing that Albus was prancing about in Egypt looking for Dedalus Diggle--cast a patronus and sent a message to the Order for help. His voice boomed in the small bar for a moment, and his customers looked up in surprise. "Wands out," he instructed with a grunt, holding his tight in his hand as he let the curtain fall back and he stepped away. "This could be bad."
Perfect. If Aberforth Dumbledore could have seen the twisted grin spread across Bellatrix's face, he might very well have wondered how anyone could be so depraved that they were obviously gleeful at the destruction to come. But all that was visible of Bellatrix were her eyes and she stared hard at the old man's as he peered out his window. With her wand still raised, her eyes remained locked on his for a long moment until he had retreated back into the bar. And then the last ward fell.
As much as she loved fiendfyre, even Bellatrix was rational enough to realise that now was not the time. But that did not mean she could not burn the dingy pub to the ground while she waited for the Order to come running. A giant ball of fire erupted from the tip of her wand and went flying for the front door, exploding in a blast of searing heat and shards of wood. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of red light flying towards her from some bystander with notions of playing the hero and she was distracted only long enough to deflect the attack and kill it's caster before turning back to her project. Her art. A series of silent incendios flew to the roof and the dried, cracked wood was immediately set ablaze. Another fireball then, this time through the now-ruined door and into the pub itself. Straight for the bar. Bottles exploded in fiery bursts and flaming liquor poured down to the floor as people screamed and ran all around her. This was chaos at its finest.