Who: Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange. When: August 6th, 1998. Where: A secret location, somewhere in Romania. What: Brothers plotting and talking trouble. Naturally. Rating: PG for bad words and violent conversation?
Rabastan strode into the isolated house in which he and his brother were currently residing. The proper resident and owner of the house was, of course dead, although anyone in town would think he was still alive and had seen him walking around just that afternoon. Rabastan had taken advantage of the ample amount of hairs available on a corpse and was out under the guise of Polyjuice. Ah, one of his favourite potions.
"Honey, I'm home," he drawled out in a dramatic voice, arms spread wide to an empty foyer. Snappily dressed in a grey suit and sharp black tie and someone else's face, although the potion was wearing off and hints of Rabastan were coming through. Especially the eyes.
"Ro, where the fuck are you?" he added as his leather dress shoes clipped against the hard wood floors. The house was nice. Too bad the owner would never enjoy it again. He had papers in his hand and he shook them so the papers rattled in a papery way.
"I've got a little surprise," the last word came out in a mad-capped sing-song.