WHO: Drystan Travers & Jasper Greengrass. WHEN: Backdated to a few days before the Little Hangleton incident. WHERE: Jasper's mansion & then a London neighbourhood. WHAT: Jasper and Drystan tag-team on the unsuspecting Auror Williamson to carry out the Dark Lord's command. Thankfully, it's only kidnapping. For now.
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Informing Jasper Greengrass of his visit had paid off. Drystan walked easily into the wards that had been adjusted to admit him to the grounds of the Greengrass mansion and he made his way to the front door, where he merely had to wait a few moments before the family house elf opened the door for him. Shifting the promised bouquet of wildflowers and a stolen map of Little Hangleton from one arm to the other, he stooped down low to stare the shivering house elf squarely in the eyes. A moment or two passed in which the terrified elf almost lost consciousness before Drystan’s completely blank face was animated with a wide grin and he winked.
“Go on, you filthy piece of shit. Tell your master I’m here.”
The elf couldn’t have disappeared to take the message to Jasper soon enough.
Jasper had already had the study arranged for Travers’ visit, and had ensured that Aglaia would not have to meet with the man in any capacity. The last thing he particularly cared for was letting his daughter near such unsavory characters. She might catch his classlessness.
He waited in the study until Link popped in, the poor elf nearly frightened out of its wits by Travers’ attitude and falling over itself to inform its master of his guest. Jasper sighed disparagingly and waved the creature off, ordering him to begin his dinner preparations before stalking out of his study to greet his comrade.
Of all people it had to be Travers, the most classless of their cabal, whom would be told to work with him. It was bad enough that he was stuck leading an attack. Even worse that he’d be stuck leading it with that Bellatrix woman and Travers (Malfoy wasn’t so bad). Still, that paled in comparison to this individual assignment. Having to track down an Auror, kidnap him, bring him to the Dark Lord and on top of all of it, he’d be with Travers.
Jasper forced a smile when he saw the other man, extending his hand cordially, just as Aglaia had told him to do. He would at least try and make this painless.
“Mr. Travers, I hope I find you well?”
Drystan had been keenly studying an antique vase before the older Death Eater appeared to greet him with the forced politesse of a child cleverly cossetted into his knickerbockers by a strong-willed mother. He made a mental note to thank the old man’s particularly eye-pleasing daughter later. For now, he set down the vase (for which he had ill plans) and gave Jasper Greengrass his full attention.
Yes. He despised the man. His soft flesh was a reminder of the eternal enemy of youth: age, and Drystan had no respect for age paired with a weak will. Jasper reeked of it, and it was the Dark Lord’s directive that was keeping him where he was at that moment.
But then he was too quick to let the aversion show. The man had many other merits, namely his wealth and his passable capacity for Dark Magic, and as long as that combination was backing him, Drystan saw no reason not to do what he did next.
“‘ello, then, pops,” he said brightly and then -- ignoring the older man’s hand -- charging at him with a hug. “You find me very well indeed. And you’re smelling nice too. Always a good sign.”
Stepping back, he pressed the wildflowers in his host’s hands.
“As promised. Where’s the meeting?”
And, for a second, Jasper had hoped this would be painless. A pity, really, but the best laid plans of mice and men... He twitched as Travers embraced him, resisting the rather extreme urge to shove the man away for daring to presume such intimacy. When the flowers were pressed into his hand he had a similar reaction of nausea, though he suppressed the sneer that almost formed and smiled instead, slipping them into the old vase Travers had been holding
“Yes, well, I do my best to remain hygienic,” Jasper replied haltingly as he turned to lead Travers down the hall. “We shall meet in my study. The elves are preparing dinner, and it shall be delivered to us once they’ve finished.” A bit of ice slipped into his tone. “I’m sure you’ll find it to your liking.”
“I’m sure I would,” Drystan responded, clapping the old man on his shoulder. The comment about hygiene was ignored as senility. “Is that painting new?”
The question about the newness of certain things was repeated as they made their way towards the study. Along the way, Drystan picked up an apple from a fruit display and bit into, only to find out it was made of papier-mâché. Well, he ingested the mouthful he had and threw the rest over his shoulder. Once in the study, he proceeded to Jasper’s imposing desk, unceremoniously pushed away family portraits and spread out the map of Little Hangleton.
“Twenty eight square miles. Six squares. This is the number of houses and estimated population. We set the parameter. We set off the Dark Mark. We get to work. We’ll need to use expelling charms on the houses to make sure everyone is outside. Then we finish them off and move on.”
This, then, was the mercurial shift that unnerved so many of his own colleagues. From near whimsy to absolute lack of emotions and a near mechanical precision was what he was known for.
“Main exits are here, here and here,” he pointed them out on the map. “And the raised ground level here gives a view of almost the entire village. We need to station the likes of Montague and Macnair to keep watch. Speak.”
“No. No. New to me, not new in general. My daughter just bought that one. That’s not a real--” Jasper had sighed as Travers bit into the decorative fruit, catching it after the other man -- barely a man, more some kind of animal -- tossed it over his shoulder and placing it back in its stand, turned to conceal the sizable bite. In the study, he resisted the urge to chastise the man for so rudely pushing aside his possessions, though he couldn’t suppress the glare that escaped as he listened to the man speak.
It was unsettling, how serious Travers became when he set about this sort of business, but Jasper had to admit he preferred this attitude than the previous, jovial one -- the command to speak in his own home, as if he were some kind of dog was not, however, appreciated.
“I disagree. Better to have one of the four of us on the rise, in case instructions need to be delivered to those below,” Jasper said, calculating. If he could place himself there, he’d likely be out of harm’s way while still being able to tell the Dark Lord with complete honesty that he played his role in the raid to the fullest. “I’d suggest myself, as you younger sort are better suited to dueling than I. From that vantage point, I can direct if the need should arise, while still throwing down curses of my own.”
He looked over the map, noting the houses Travers had gestured to, shaking his head as he considered his words.
“An expelling charm to bring them out complicates matters. Better to simply set the houses ablaze, destroying them all within it,” he said, pointing at one house as an example. “Fire -- perhaps your precious Fiendfyre -- blocking the exits, trapping them inside. We leave them to be consumed, and move on to the next. Faster, easier, more fittingly cruel for such filth. Thoughts?”
“Never one to enjoy being in the fray, are you, Jasper.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a comment that was meant to be as acidic as it sounded. However, Drystan did not dwell on the self-serving suggestion from his older comrade and moved on to the next one, which sounded reasonable enough.
“Controlled explosions would do,” he said, finally. “Young Evan Rosier can be charged with the responsibility of the explosions, and his brother can be responsible for containing them. Not a single twig is to be harmed outside the limits of the village as it is. This is a message for Cadwallader, not Thatcher.”
When Jasper mentioned Fiendfyre, a ghost of a smile appeared on his face and he nodded, bowing his head once again to look at the map.
“For the end. In the end, that. Before we leave. We don’t want to burn our pretty foot soldiers before they do their work. And Williamson -- what do you know about him?”
Jasper bristled at the comment, but made no reply, keeping his attention on the map as Travers spoke. He nodded at Travers’ suggestions. The less stable Rosier did enjoy his explosions and was indeed more than capable enough at inflicting such damage -- with his brother there to keep him pointed in the right direction. The two of them would do quite nicely.
“All I’ve managed to gather is that he was only recently promoted from trainee to full Auror,” Jasper said, reciting the information he’d collected. “Halfblood, single, London resident. Really rather insignificant other than the fact that he’s an Auror.”
“How is such a vermin worthy of the Dark Lord’s attention?” he asked, more a question for himself as he studied the map one last time. His brow was furrowed in concentration, which hinted that his mind was racing to formulate an answer. He wanted to know the man’s worth before he set out to hunt him with Jasper.
He looked at the older Death Eater, half expecting him to offer more information, but found nothing there.
“Can we tempt our esteemed colleagues within the Ministry to provide us with more of his history? Aurors are a dime a dozen. Our Lord chose this one. It would do us well to understand why, don’t you think?”
“It’s possible the Dark Lord wants him precisely because he isn’t terribly notable. He will still have access to Ministry information, but he shan’t have his guard up,” Jasper said crossing his arms over his chest. “No one will even notice he’s missing, right away, giving our Lord more than ample time to take with him before disposing of him. He’s a weak link in a strong Ministry chain. Let’s not question the opening we have, merely use it.”
A light pop behind him indicated that a house elf had arrived, and when Jasper turned he saw the creature carrying a large silver tray over to the desk, placing it on the one spot not covered by map.
“Beef carpaccio, Sirs,” the creature said with a bow to each of them. “With an entree of steak tartare, aller-retour as the Master prefers, served with capers and onions and the traditional raw egg. Will there be anything else?”
“No, Link. Dismissed.” Jasper said, waving the creature off. Though all of the elves were sworn to secrecy regarding anything they might hear in his home, he still preferred not to discuss the Dark Lord’s business before them. With a bow and a pop, the elf vanished, leaving them to their meal. “But wouldn’t he have an incredibly low clearance level? Bound to be locked out and away from things of true importance.”
There was no accusation in his tone, only curiosity. It wasn’t in him to question the Dark Lord’s motivation, but then again he prided himself in being one of Riddle’s followers who actually considered all sides of the story before jumping headlong into a situation.
“Perhaps a relative. Perhaps a close relationship with someone high up. I agree that his obscurity will make it easier for him to be taken, but there is some link here that we need to keep a look out for.”
As the house elf appeared and recited the menu, Drystan didn’t forget to give the gangly thing a sneer for good measure before it was dismissed by its master.
“I don’t trust these things,” he spat as soon as Link disappeared. For the moment, the map was forgotten. He rolled it up briskly as he prepared himself to consume the meal. He hadn’t eaten properly in a few days, and although it was the last of his worries to have a full stomach, he realised that he needed it to keep him working.
He finally pulled up a chair and critically regarded the mass of spoons, forks and knives of various sizes that the house elf had placed beside his plate and with a groan of annoyance, he picked up the largest fork and knife and started working on his food, without waiting for Jasper. “Theirs is a magic we have yet to understand,” he commented as he ate another mouthful of the beef. “Because we think they are lesser than us. But their whole kind should’ve been stripped of magic as it has been of clothes. Up to no good, these vermin.”
“They’re meager servants, Travers,” Jasper said with a roll of his eyes as he settled to start on his own plate. “Their own magic binds them to serve us and, quite frankly, I find it rather handy. It’s an equal partnership. They do our bidding, wait on us hand and foot, cook and clean and attend, and we refrain from grinding them into the dirt they’re worth.” He smirked as he took a mouthful of food, chewed it without pleasure. He’d never cared for such rare meat but, of course, the guest’s wishes were to be the first attended.
“As far as Williamson,” he said thoughtfully after a few moments. “His clearance level would be low, yes, but clearance levels aren’t all they seem to be in the Ministry. Merely by being an Auror, he has access to a wealth of information, and should the Dark Lord place him under the Imperius Curse... well, he’d be able to sneak into the Ministry easily and take files regardless of clearance. Cause quite a stir. It isn’t our place to question the Lord’s views. We must simply regard it as his wish and perform it for him.”
Snarling briefly at Jasper’s dismissive comments about the house-elves, he exorcised the thought of a debate regarding the matter and concentrated on the more urgent and important matter at hand. The Dark Lord indeed did nothing without there being a valid and valuable reason behind this. If he had indeed chosen Williamson to be a victim for his cause, then Drystan was not going to question it further. Additionally, the thought of Voldemort performing a perfect Imperius Curse on the man was impetus enough for him to speed up and finish his dinner; chew through meat and produce and whatever else was set before him.
“I do so adore you when you make sense, Jasper. It’s a rare and wonderful occurrence,” he said, after finishing his glass of wine. The next moment he was on his feet. “Shall we go then or do you need to rest for a bit?”
Jasper sighed, but smiled at that backhanded compliment, following Travers to his feet somewhat reluctantly. He’d hoped to take this somewhat more cautiously, but the thought of getting Travers out of his hair sooner rather than later was far too tempting. He eventually nodded, hardly excited by the prospect of tangling with an Auror, even a junior one.
“I’m sufficiently rested,” he said, a bit venomously. “Please, lead the way, Mr. Travers.”
“With pleasure, Jasper. Do let me know if you need me to slow down at any point.”
Apparition was out of question, so it was going to be good old walking in the beginning. Out of the house, past the prized shrubbery the likes of Jasper and his daughter fawned over so much, and then to the road. Here, however, something changed. There was a car parked underneath a tree. A black car, obviously stolen and magically kept hidden from the view of any pedestrians that may have passed by it. Drystan walked towards it and opened the door on the driving side, and then gestured for his older companion to join him.
“Well. Hop in, then. It’s going to take some time to get to Williamson’s residence.”
“I am quite capable of keeping up,” Jasper mumbled under his breath as he followed. He was more than a little glad to have Travers out of his home, even if he was still stuck with the man. Hopefully, they’d be done with Williamson quickly enough and he would be able to see Travers out of his life for another joyful and altogether too-brief spell.
The car was simultaneously surprising, and utterly predictable. Travers’ continued utter lack of class made it clear what the vehicle’s origins were comprised of, and Jasper had no doubt that besides any cloaking spells placed on it, it would be utterly mundane. Well, he supposed it was better than walking after Williamson, at least, and he stepped into the passenger seat without comment, waiting for Travers to get this travesty over with.
As soon as Jasper was seated in the car, Drystan tended to the handbreak and put the car in gear. It wasn’t the classiest way to travel, especially since Drystan drove the car at breakneck speed on narrow roads that weren’t designed for handling his need for dealing with the distance between him and his target as soon as possible. But he was used to it, and with his eyes on the road, he paid no attention to Jasper, who was being made to sit through the rush, the cut corners and the narrowly missed other vehicles once they were in London proper and advancing towards the fated Auror’s dwellings. Drystan whistled all the way through the brief journey, and after the twenty minutes that it took for them to find the exact location of their target’s house, the car was finally stopped, and the engine turned off.
“Two minutes’ walk from here,” he spoke finally and opened the car’s door to step out into the night. If Jasper had disapproval written all over his face, he didn’t have the time, the patience or the interest to read it. The old bastard could have his thoughts, he wasn’t there to participate in an old wives quarrel with the man he had been partnered with. “Wand at the ready, darling.”
The car ride had been harrowing enough to make Jasper rediscover religion, praying silently as he gripped the sides of his seat with white knuckles, convinced that this would be the end, that he would end up splattered like some pathetic muggle wretch. He had just finished calculating how much would be endowed to his children on his passing when the car stopped and he glanced over at Travers, wondering how this creature posing as a man could even be possible as he stepped out of the car.
“Masks,” he hissed as he followed, pulling up the hood of his cloak to hide his face. Travers may not have anything to lose were he identified, but Jasper certainly wasn’t willing to take that chance any time soon, certainly not on the sort of low-tier mission this was turning out to be.
“Good idea,” Drystan responded almost cheerfully. A brief concealing charm was put on the car and then finally, he worked with his mask and the cloak as he walked. Soon enough, however, all cheer was drained away as he neared the Auror’s house. Jasper may have already written down this mission as something not worthy of his presence, and it appeared so by the expression on his face before he had donned his Death Eater’s mask, but for Drystan, it was of utmost attention and importance. It was what had been asked of him, and he wasn’t going to fumble by undermining the nature of the assignment, as simple as it may have looked.
The lights were on inside the Auror’s house, which was proof enough that he was present inside. The question was whether or not he was alone.
“We take Williamson and kill anyone else who might be in there,” he spoke up a few yards away from the house and then proceeded to the front of the house. From here, wand drawn, he gestured for Jasper to knock on the door.
Jasper sighed behind his mask at that gesture, feeling his usual pre-attack nerves building rather quickly -- a feeling he could only assume was made worse by his partner on this mission.
“I’ll knock, and then I should probably keep to the rear, in case anyone comes,” he said finally, as if he were issuing instructions instead of asking Travers’ opinion. To emphasize that point, he rapped his knuckles onto the door before the other man could respond, and took a big step back to give Travers room to take care of whoever answered. He imagined Auror Williamson would be the paranoid sort who’d demand a bloody password before he even unlocked the door, let alone opened it. Fortunately for them both, it seemed the trainee was still a bit naive about his own safety, as a young man with sand-coloured hair opened the door without any ado. Jasper recognized him quickly as the Auror they were seeking, and smiled behind his mask as he recognized what two masked men coming to call meant for him, reaching for his pocket, undoubtedly to retrieve his wand.
Jasper’s suggestion, which was too cowardly in theory and practice as far as Drystan was concerned, merely received a nod in response as he replaced his older comrade in front of the door. The Auror they were here for was careless with his own security, and that carelessness provided more than enough time for Drystan to use his bulk. When Williamson thrust a hand in his pocket to no doubt retrieve his wand, Drystan simply reached out, grabbed the man by his neck and pushed him inside the house.
“Shut the fucking door,” he growled over his shoulder to Jasper, “and search the house.”
Jasper obeyed the order, seeing that their largest threat was already put quite out of commission by Travers’ brute force. The door shut, he quickly pushed past the two of them to let Travers handle the Auror on his own. He could surely be trusted with that sort of task -- he was more suited for it, certainly.
The rest of the house proved to be blessedly empty as Jasper snuck through it, the only occupant besides Williamson being an old grey cat which was easily disposed of before Jasper made his way back to the entrance and the other Death Eater.
“All clear,” he said with a smile. “How’s our new friend?”
By the time Jasper returned to the main room, Williamson had received a silencing hex and was without his wand, which uselessly rested on a chair beside a window in two pieces. But even with the man in a chokehold, Drystan couldn’t prevent Williamson from spitting at Jasper’s feet. Drystan did, however, elbow him in the face for the display.
“Spirited, it seems,” Drystan responded. The quicker they could get out of the house, the better. He didn’t want to linger there any longer now that the mark had been captured. With a come on hissed into his ear, Drystan used his free hand to grab a fistful of Williamson’s hair and drag him towards the door. Still, the Auror, possibly strengthened by adrenalin, slipped out of the Death Eater’s grasp and pushing Drystan with all his might, blindly lunged at Jasper.
Jasper gasped in shock at that display, flying backwards like a frightened cat to avoid the charging Auror, arm flailing in between to try and hold him at bay. He managed -- barely -- to collect his wits enough to fire a stunning spell at the man, who stumbled into unconsciousness at his feet, landing in an unceremonious pile.
“Why the Hell did you leave him conscious?” he snapped, still shaken by the ordeal. “He could have killed me!”
Jasper’s reaction was more distasteful than what the now-unconscious Auror had done. Drystan shot the older Death Eater a venomous look and charged to push him away from the pile that was Williamson. Despite his young age, the man was tall and bulky through a mix of muscle and girth; Drystan kneeled beside him to check his pulse.
“Fuck your stars, Greengrass!” he hissed as he busied himself with straightening Williamson’s tangled limbs. “For the precise reason that we bloody well cannot drag him out of here. This is a muggle neighbourhood. Do you want these people to call their law enforcers on us?”
Something needed to be done, and quickly. Jasper’s hysterical display meant they needed to take an alternate route into dragging the Auror from his apartment to the car. The Levicorpus would look too suspicious, and since Drystan seldom believed Jasper had enough strength to carry even himself at this point, he knew he had to do most of the work here.
“You bloody stay here with him. I’ll bring the car to the front door. We have to carry him to it, and quickly. Don’t even fucking think about firing another spell if it isn’t the Morsmordre.”
“Well excuse me for acting in my own self defense!” Jasper sneered, straightening his robes and looking down at the Auror as Travers made a general busy-body of himself. He almost snapped that he didn’t take orders from him when he concluded that, really, Travers’ plan wasn’t so bad, after all. And this way he could relax a bit while Travers went and got the car like the nice little servant-class rat he was.
“I’ll cast the Mark when you return. Be quick about it!” he snapped instead, prodding Williamson in the side with his wand and finding him quite satisfyingly unconscious. A swift kick to his ribs wouldn’t rouse him, he decided, but he’d wait for Travers to go out for that.
Grunting, and flashing his teeth at the older Death Eater to prove his theory that Drystan was no more than an animal (he knew what the likes of Jasper Greengrass thought of him; he did not give a shit), he rushed out of the house. Outside, he took a moment to survey the street and the windows of the other houses. Lights flickered in some, whereas some were dark. It was late; the street was only host to alley cats and the distant noise of traffic and someone’s television set being on too loud. He reached the car and lifted the concealment charm, revved up the engine and brought it in front of the unlucky Auror’s home.
“Help me stand him up,” Drystan said, once back inside the house. Crouching down, he checked on Williamson’s pulse and then pulled him up into a seating position by grabbing his arms. “We’ll drag him outside between us. Lay him down in the back seat.”
Jasper glared a bit when given orders, but knew better than to fight at this point, helping Travers get the unconscious Auror up and into the car as quickly as he possibly could. Soon enough, he’d be done with the man, and back home where he belonged. Back with a nice brandy and a bit of rest.
“Get us out of here,” he said firmly once he was in the passenger seat. “Let’s get this over with...”
Hauling a tall, well-muscled Auror was not an easy task, but given his own bulk and weight, he was able to do it with Jasper pretending to help, or so he thought. Once the unconscious man was in the car and the older Death Eater was in the passenger seat, he got into the car and shut the door loudly.
“With pleasure, Jasper, with pleasure,” Drystan muttered, putting the car into gear. “Did you remember to put up the Morsmordre, though? Your age is getting to you. I’ll keep the engine running. Do it instantly.”
“Of course I didn’t forget,” Jasper snapped, lying through his teeth. “I was just waiting for you to be ready for it.” Leaning out the window, he pointed his wand above the Auror’s residence, smirking as he hissed: “Morsmordre!”
The ghostly skull took shape above the Auror’s house, signalling the conclusion of their task, and the beginning of a new wave of terror that was specifically targeted at Magical law Enforcement personnel. Drystan leaned forward in his seat to stare briefly at the eerie green mark of the Dark Lord in the sky and then sat back, driving the car away from the house with their hostage.