WHO: Orvil Scabior, Scooter McGee, Alan and Andrea Spinnet WHAT: A couple snatchers invite themselves to dinner with the Spinnets WHEN: 22 February, evening WHERE: Wales WARNINGS: Violence
After weeks moving from temporary campsite to campsite, the Spinnets were growing weary. They’d had enough magic to keep themselves warm, but food was scarce in the Welsh wilderness, and they were both growing weaker with hunger by the day. They’d resorting to eating from the dumpsters behind pubs in some of the tiny villages they’d passed through, and they were getting good at covering their tracks.
But it was still a drastic change from the isolated comfort of the Order’s safehouse. When they’d finally found suitable shelter in an abandoned fishing shack at the edge of a lake they didn’t know the name of, they’d decided to stay as long as possible. It’d been a week and they’d finally let themselves relax, even if only a tiny bit.
“I’ll start the fire,” Andrea said, glancing up at her husband, who was trying to work out how to clean a fish they’d caught by complete chance that afternoon.
Alan made a noncommittal sound in response. But before he could get started, a sound from outside stopped them both mid-motion. They exchanged a glance, their stomachs sinking simultaneously. The perimeter ward had been tripped. Maybe a fox, maybe a deer. Maybe something worse. They had company.
Scooter had never planned for this Snatcher gig to be a long term thing. He'd taken it on as a side job for some extra money at Christmas time, since it seemed like his hours at The Owl Emporium kept getting cut thanks to this newfangled muggle technological jingle jangle, but had ended up staying on longer. There were still snatchees to be snatched, after all, and it was a bit more exciting than a 9 to 5 desk job. Kept him in shape, too, what with all the running.
They always seemed to run.
This bunch seemed like they were planning on staying put for a while, yet, given the sad attempts at starting a fire. "That fish you've got there?" he asked, glancing back at Scabior as they approached. "Hope you have enough for everybody if you're gonna be stinkin' up the office heating up fish."
“My dear old mother always offers a cuppa to anyone who crosses her threshold herself,” added Scabior. “Smells a mite less too. Now, if you come along quietly, there’s no need to make a fuss.” Still, his wand was out and a predatory grin was on his face.
Please, oh please, make a fuss…
“In fact, allow us to help you out with that fire.” His wand flicked towards the pair and the flames whooshed into action, the fire larger than necessary. A second gesture and the now flaming fish levitated several feet above it, not improving the smell of the place exactly.
“I hope you at least filleted it beforehand,” he added.
Andrea jumped back from the flames, her hand trembling as she held her wand out in front of her. “Stay back, both of you,” she said, though she didn’t sound nearly as confident as she’d intended. “We’re not going anywhere.”
Behind her, Alan abandoned the fish and did the only thing he could think of — he threw the knife in his hand at the nearest snatcher and dug his wand from his back pocket. “Your dear old mum should’ve told you to call before you drop by.”
"This is public property, bub. I don't think there're rules about politeness if you're squatters, pretty much," Scooter replied, dodging out of the way even though the knife was clearly aimed at Scabior. Could'a been one of them boomerang knives. You could never be too careful. "And hon, I'm just sayin', it'd be a might lot dumb of you to try staying put right now, all things considered." It would just make them easier to snatch. (And that was fine by Scooter, frankly, but it only seemed neighbourly-like to let them know that they were making a dumb decision.)
"But fine then, you stay put and we'll just get you to come quietly," he said, aiming a stunner at the lady.
The knife was indeed not a boomerang knife. And was heading straight for Scabior, but he ducked and it sailed harmlessly over his head, clattering against the wall behind him. “First rule of knife fights, never throw one unless you really know what you're doing,” he said. “More often than not, you just end up short of a weapon-”
(He grinned at that.)
“-and even for people with experience in such matters, all knives are weighted differently. So it takes a while to get used them. I prefer a Bowie myself.”
A bone twisting curse was flung in the man's direction. Well, he had started it…
Despite some basic instruction while they’d been at the safehouse, neither Spinnet was well versed in duelling. They’d have been goners weeks ago if the Death Eater who’d barged in on them hadn’t, for whatever incomprehensible reason, let them go.
Andrea’s first instinct was panic, and at the sight of the stunner, she threw herself on the ground.
But Alan was fully frozen, paralyzed with fear as Scabior’s curse struck him in the arm. He couldn’t keep hold of his wand and it fell along with him to his knees as a guttural cry escaped his lungs.
A few feet away, his wife’s heart hammered in her chest as she took a shaky aim, a deep breath, and fired off several stunners at the two snatchers.
Scooter couldn't help being distracted by the man's screams -- he definitely had the look of one of the Snatchers who got a bit more violent when bringing someone in, but Scooter certainly didn't have the stomach for it. Azkaban was going to be bad enough; there was no reason to torture the mudbloods first. But Scabior was definitely much more In Charge than he was, and Scooter wasn't about to bring that up to him.
He wouldn't've gotten the chance to anyway, as one of the woman's stunners slammed right into Scooter's chest, knocking him unconscious.
The man In Charge swore, sending the now charred fish flying into the air to take the stunner aimed at him. “Bloody useless, half of them,” he said, not sparing his fallen comrade a glance. “D’you want a job?”
“You’re not serious,” Alan said, clutching his arm to his chest and taking deep breaths to regain his composure.
“Of course he’s not,” Andrea muttered before firing off a blasting curse in Scabior’s direction. Hoping it would distract him, she picked herself up and ran to her husband’s side. He may have lost his wand, but she still had hers, so she did the only thing she could think of to save their lives.
With the crack of a disapparation, they were gone.