What Would Rhys Cadwallader Do? (cymru) wrote in disorderic, @ 2018-03-16 09:47:00 |
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Entry tags: | byron kettleburn, rhys cadwallader |
WHO: Byron Kettleburn & Rhys Cadwallader.
WHAT: Snarky bros killing fake DEs.
WHEN: Today!
WHERE: The Gentle Green.
WARNINGS: Nah.
“We’re going to get you in fighting shape if it’s the last thing I do,” Rhys was saying as he put the finishing touches on the scarecrow he’d set up for target practice out behind the Gentle Green. He’d dressed it up in an old black tablecloth and topped it off with a Death Eater mask he’d fashioned out of a discarded foil pie plate, complete with angry eyebrows—a sure sign of probable evil. Once he appeared satisfied with his creation, he turned and hobbled back toward Byron. “Don’t think of me as your friend whose life got ruined by Rodolphus Lestrange. Think of me as your friend who duelled Rodolphus Lestrange and lived,” Rhys said with no small degree of snark. “Stick with me, and you’ll be fine. Now, go kill it.” Byron glanced between the makeshift Death Eater and his friend, eyebrows raised. “Isn’t it a bit useless to kill it when it’s not fighting back?” He didn’t mention that he didn’t particularly know how to kill anything — at this rate, he’d be the other friend who duelled a Death Eater and had his head cut off. “Not that I don’t trust you know what you’re talking about, but…” Rhys rolled his eyes. “Use your imagination, mate,” he teased. “You’re a writer, for Helga’s sake.” He paused for a beat, then got a better idea. With a flick of his wand, he levitated the Death Eater dummy and quickly summoned it, sending it sailing toward his friend. That was enough to add a certain level of urgency to the exercise — enough that Byron swallowed down his next quip and flung his wand out in the dummy’s direction. The blasting curse that burst from the end of it was weak, but it was enough to stop his foe mid-air. It fell to the ground with a thud and Byron angled a glance at Rhys. “Something tells me that’s not gonna work against the real thing.” Rhys shrugged. “If you hit it in the eyes or knees or genitals, it probably would,” he said confidently. He raised his wand again, and with it, the dummy. “You really only need to stop them long enough to get away, not a full-on duel. I take it you're not planning on challenging any of them to a street fight anytime soon, are you?” Byron let out a short laugh. “I think I’d stand a better chance surviving a duel with a dragon,” he said. “But that’s an option if I ever want someone to take my life off my hands for me.” “Hmmm, dying is not an option, thanks.” Rhys said, frowning. He nodded toward the scarecrow. “Kill it again.” After considering it for another moment, Byron glanced at Rhys again. “Got any tips for how to tap into that murderous urge?” “Murder requires intent. Mens rea . You could consider this self-defense.” Rhys said matter-of-factly, unable to shake his old law-reciting impulses. “It's him or you. Your boy needs his father. Take it down.” He caused the dummy to swoop in what he hoped would be a menacing manner. It was more than menacing enough for Byron, whose first instinct was to duck. He just managed to fight off the urge and flung his wand arm out at the last minute to cast a hasty slicing charm across the dummy’s chest. It wouldn’t have killed anyone, but it was something. “Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath and giving Rhys a look that bordered on sheepish. “That would probably just piss a Death Eater off more.” Rhys gave him a hearty, encouraging pat on the back. “It’s a good start,” he said, not wanting his friend to feel discouraged. “It could buy you some time to apparate away, so that’s not nothing. How is Terry, anyway? Have you heard from him lately?” “Not very much,” Byron said with a sigh and dropped the anticipation of another attack from his shoulders. “They’re censoring everything that comes out of there. Sometimes he’ll review my Daily Prophet articles.” He angled a grimace in Rhys’ direction. “Usually amounts two thumbs down. And I’ve still got to tell him about his friend. The Death Eater’s kid.” Rhys casually whisked the fake Death Eater around in a circle as he spoke, brows creasing with concern. “I feel like teenagers give everything two thumbs down,” he said sympathetically. “He’s a smart lad, I’m sure he understands why you’re doing what you’re doing. How do you think he’ll react to the news?” Byron shook his head but followed the figure’s path with a wary eye. “I don’t know. I’ve written a dozen owls in my head but I guess I don’t —” He frowned. “I don’t know him well enough. And I don’t know if anything I write will actually make it through to him.” “Perhaps you can make up some kind of code. He’s a Ravenclaw, he’d probably love cracking codes,” Rhys suggested gently. “When my brother went to school before me, we used to send all kinds of coded letters back and forth for fun.” With a sudden twirl, the dummy swooped toward Byron and bopped him softly on the head. Byron gave in to the urge to duck then, swatting at the dummy with his hands. He took a deep breath as he straightened up a few feet away and turned a scowl with no heat behind it on his friend. “How is it that you didn’t end up in Ravenclaw, again?” Rhys grinned playfully. “You know, I was a hatstall, but I apologised to the hat for being a nuisance, so I guess that tipped it in the Hufflepuff direction,” he said. “Just imagine, I could’ve been annoying you and Lumos both in your own house all those years. Wouldn’t that have been fun?” “It would’ve been,” Byron said with a grin before he caught sight of the dummy from the corner of his eye and flinched despite its not having moved. “Fuck, that’s not even the real thing.” He breathed out a laugh. “I don’t know how you ever did this.” “Never stand between a Hufflepuff and doing the right thing,” Rhys said with a chuckle. He paused, however, then frowned slightly. “Perhaps that didn’t work out too well for me. But… y’know.” He waved his wand and caused the dummy to bob toward Byron—more slowly this time. He wanted to help Byron practice, not give him a heart attack. “Worked out well enough,” Byron replied, gesturing up at the inn and pointedly side-stepping the fake Death Eater to continue making his point. “If not for the war, you’d have it made out here.” Rhys wrinkled his nose slightly despite his usual insistence on putting on a happy face. “It’s mind-numbing.” he admitted. Byron angled a curious glance at him. “Is that a euphemism for boring?” “Torturously boring,” Rhys frowned. “But I shouldn’t complain. There are a lot of people with nothing.” Wanting to change the subject, he twisted his wand and caused the fake Death Eater to bob by upside-down instead. Byron drew in a sharp breath again when he saw it and let it out in a laugh. “Who needs Death Eaters when I’ve got friends like you?” He reached out to land a weak punch on the dummy’s torso. “We all want what we can’t have, I guess.” “Such is the human condition,” Rhys said, feigning a sage nod. “Now let’s destroy this thing—I’m too lazy to drag it back inside.” After considering the thing for a moment, Byron shook his head. “All right, you asked for it…” Holding off a grin, he rolled up his sleeves and ran a hand through his short hair to slick it back. Only then did he take aim at the ‘Death Eater’. “Depulso!” |