The next steps Date: Wednesday, 1 October, 2001 Time: Late at night Location: Just outside Naffterton Characters: Bellatrix Black
She preferred solitude when she worked. No one else's state to be concerned with, instead of turning inward she let her thoughts seep out, her awareness billowing out and trailing behind her like shadows in the night. The locket that cemented her disguise was in an easily accessible pocket, as for such an errand it was imprudent to risk her public identity. Merlin, it was ridiculous to think that for some reason muggles would desire a world where she could walk among them, unchecked. Such niaeve little mice, oblivious to the fact that they should fear a snake in their nest. But never fear, Bellatrix would reeducate them. She would remind them why witches were the stuff of nightmares and cautionary tales. Greedy little beasts, all they could see was the benefits they could glean from the magical world. Their greed outstriped their fear, the healthy fear that was their only deliverance. Muggles didn't really need to be completely exterminated, provided they knew their place. Somewhere along the lines they had forgotten. This would be her great gift this age; she would give them fear of what they could not understand and of which they could never be a part.
The muggle of choice, this unremarkable Kevin Wade was chosen because he seemed so very simple and only drew her notice for the occasional letters he wrote to his newspaper lauding the offensive banner of 'glorious integration.' He had a fascination for all things magical, which worked well for what she intended. Possessing a collection of wizard gold, an abhorent idea, had proved to be a convenient trait. Silly little muggle playing with magic was likely to burn himself, even some muggle would be able to see the sense of that. Things had already been set in motion, the purchase already processed. Now all that was left to do was wait for the little beasties to arrive, likely in the next couple of days. Muggle Kevin Wade had been under her control for the past week, the key to the strength of her spell was the complete, unwavering belief that she had the right to control him, to command his every thought and action for her own purpose. That this particular purpose would claim his life not only didn't trouble her, it was in fact part of the design. It was the easiest way to tie up loose ends, really.
Lucius knew what she was up to. It seemed it was simply his habit to indulge the lady of his house in her quests for amusement. He saw the political wisdom in it as well. An all-out war wasn't desirable; there were too many risks, too many unknowns for such foolishness. Cultivating tension, however, spoke to her soul. Supremely confident that the right sort of tensions could sway grand events, she knew the beautiful, perfect effect panicked fear would undercut muggle enthusiasm for blending the worlds. Fear bred irrationality, violence, and still more fear. The magical world just needed to be reminded why they had to keep themselves pure, and such base thrashings of the muggle lot were clearly necessary.
Her silent steps stilled in front of the small, sad little house. Cloak drawn around her, a faint charm obscured her presence into something forgetably mundane. Even if she were to pass a muggle at this hour she'd draw no more notice than a cat ambling along the path. Drawing her wand, she began casting charms and wards to conceal and protect the home. Once the package arrived, she would know. More importantly, it would protect the cargo from detection. This was going to be divine. She saw no need to involve Regulus in this, especially not with the whole Sirius situation so ambiguous. It wasn't that she did not trust Regulus, the faithful Black, but there was no need to burden him with this. Perhaps she would tell him when the work was done.
Ah, this was the joy to this sort of plan, when everything was running smoothly on the eve of completion. It reminded her of the evenings before her birthday, when party plans were set in place and she knew her father would be waiting for her in the morning for them to have a private breakfast in his study. The tradition had been shared between them for as soon as her younger siblings had been old enough to be present at the breakfast table. She was rather covetous of their father's attention. As she'd grown older his disappointment that she had not been born a boy faded and intensified at the same time. It was her mother's fault, she believed, something for which Bellatrix had never really forgiven her. But as time had gone by, she knew her father loved her as dearly and valued her as highly as any son he could have had, and no compliment was higher. He'd be proud of her now, she knew. Though she had no children of her own, she'd play mother to the whole magical world. The idea spread her lips into the sweet, eager smile of her childhood. Turning back to the path, her steps were light. A tinkling, bell-like giggle flittered through the air. It drew the attention of a fox in the adjacent field, the only observer to Bellatrix Black skipping down the lane as though she hadn't a care in the world.