Gerald Avery (tenebrisme) wrote in disorderic, @ 2018-01-02 22:19:00 |
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Fifteen Muggleborn wizards walked down the main thoroughfare in Diagon Alley. Their shoulders apace, footfalls in perfect regimental rhythm as they marched through the snow-lined streets. With the moon high, full and bright, the torches outside of the Leaky Cauldron created too much competition for ambiance. They were quickly snuffed out, bringing many of the evening's patrons to the window. One, tapping on the window, asked if there was a flash mob in progress. But no music manifested. One by one, fourteen Muggleborns paired off and made to bow to one another, their wands at the ready. They were crude, nasty little wands. Tiny nubs good for mauling spells and the basest dark work. Seven pairs of Muggleborns took ten paces, turned and fired their initial volley to the sounds of shattering glass and shouts. The next volley came and blood now marred the freshly fallen snow. Shouts became shrieks. As one Muggleborn won and their partner fell to the snow, they re-paired down the line until by and by, each fell. The lone survivor, the fifteenth Muggleborn, stood in the middle of the wreckage and waited. There, materialising within a cloud of black smoke, a hooded figure in a mask placed a wand at the Muggleborn's neck. From the wand-point up, the flesh melted from the bone and though the maw gaped and the air was filled with the scent of char, the fifteenth made no move but to stand still until each bit of skin was cooked from the skull. Then, as if to blossom, a snake arose from the Muggleborn's gullet and slid down to curl at the shoulder. "The time has come and gone for phoenixes," came a deep, clear voice from behind the mask. "Now, is the time for obeisance." And with a laugh, the Death Eater soon became smoke again, only to crack the doorframes of the houses it passed along the street until it fled out of sight. |