Jesse Gilbert (sevenpieces) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2011-07-20 23:38:00 |
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Entry tags: | jesse gilbert |
Who: Jesse Gilbert and Voldemort
What: His Hello piece for the Resistance
Where: The shores of Loch Ness.
When: Deathly Hallows part 2 opening weekend.
Warnings: Kidnapping, death. What? Voldemort was never a nice guy.
It wasn’t often that Jesse had to travel so much in order to make sure his work would be perfect. Normally things fell into place for him quite easily, but when you have other people to consider, and a message that you want to be so very specific...a little trouble is always worth going to. For Jesse, that meant apparating halfway across the globe several times during the last couple of days because the things he needed were not going to follow the rules of convenience and be found in the same place. Still, when he thought of the end result, the means were so very worth it.
So here he was in the height of summer in Britain, which of course meant that there was a steady downpour of rain. The abandoned, half-rotten wood cabin behind him wasn’t going to do much to keep the damp from the merchandise, but that didn’t exactly matter now, while everything was still fresh. He had all the pieces for his puzzle now. It had taken a lot of work, a lot of searching. Thankfully, there were a ridiculous amount of people who were fans of the franchise, enough that they would go to the extent of dressing up. Enough that owned replicas of wands, or other such memorabilia. The hardest part, he supposed was finding the older representations. Still, hard or not, he had them now.
The waters of the loch were choppy, stirred by both the wind and heavy rain that had plastered his hair to his head. This would be the perfect location. He could almost see Hogsmeade in the distance, almost taste the magic that kept it hidden from mundane eyes. It made an otherwise surprisingly drab landscape sparkle with colours only seen at the periphery of vision. It made the rainwater tingle on his skin. You certainly couldn’t deny there was something magical about the area. Unless you were a muggle. They had such a tiresome way of looking at the world and making it so very dull.
Muggles. Truly they made your stomach turn. Still he wouldn’t need contact with so many at once for a while after tonight. Jesse turned, his boots squelching in the mud at the waters edge. There was no point in waiting any longer, and the rain wasn’t going to let up. The only thing it seemed likely to do right now was flood the whole damned area. He opened the door to the old cabin and surveyed the innards, a sneer on his face as if he had no particular love for anything he saw before him. That was true. The cabin held dozens of people, all with familiar glassy stares, just waiting to be commanded.
“Pick up any items I assigned to you, and let’s get moving.” He ordered, stepping back so that he was no longer blocking the doorway. As much as I enjoy this, I do not understand why you feel the need to join this group. Jesse rolled his eyes at the voice that echoed through his head. Voldemort had never understood this sort of thing. He saw himself as the greatest wizard alive, and while that may have been the case, it blinded him to his flaws. He might wish to have power and immortality, but the road to such things was rarely one that could be taken without allies, and where better to start garnering allies than with this so called ‘Resistance’. Jesse didn’t much care for whatever political agenda these people might be going for. All that mattered to him was the ability to cause havoc, and destroy the lives of those who happened to come from the same universe as him. If he could use these people to further those ambitions, then so much the better. It was always useful to arrange matters so that other people could take the fall for it if needs be.
His group of muggles had started filing neatly out of the door, though once they were outside they slowed, mingling in a little lost group. Did he really have to do everything for them? “This way.” He sighed, moving purposefully forward, following the shoreline a little further under the cover of trees. These people had been gathered from all over the world, from the premieres over a week ago to Harry Potter parties, and of course, the crowds over the opening weekend. And truly, it was a work of art. For the most part, he had managed to find people that really resembled those people he had previously fought. Not the film representations of them, but how they had really looked in their past lives. There were inconsistencies here and there. You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to find an entire family of gingers that resembled the originals closely enough, let alone the twins...but all things considered he had done exceptionally well.
He had the Order of the Phoenix, and had even transfigured the one that resembled the werewolf to allow claws to spurt from his nail beds. Stand-ins for each of the Weasleys. There were children from Hogwarts, those that he assumed Harry most cared about. And of course, the Trio. He was particularly proud of the time-turner that adorned the girls neck. They really did make just about anything these days. Each of the figures carried a wand that was almost exactly the same as their counterparts, though these twigs were not magical in the slightest. All that was left was to give his ‘Harry’ the scar and be done with them all.
Jesse pulled his own, nondescript wand from his belt. It was a poor excuse for a wand, but being the talented wizard that Lord Voldemort was, he could easily bend it to his will, and it was far safer than trying to regain one of his own wands. There was no need to blow his cover just yet. Pointing the wand at the forehead of a bespectacled boy, he smiled brilliantly. “Now this, I imagine, will hurt quite a bit, but I’d much prefer it if you stayed silent. I don’t have time for screams tonight.” The green eyes that looked back at him didn’t betray any comprehension, though as the magic began to cut into his skin, pain did seem to shimmer across them. Once the lightning bolt was carved out on the boys head, red running down his forehead, Jesse glanced at the others. His George puppet wasn’t looking too great after losing his ear two days previously, in fact he was almost surprised that the man hadn’t succumbed to infection earlier. Everyone else looked fine, though far too placid.
Maybe he did have time for screams.
Dropping the Imperius curse with a dismissive wave of his hand Jesse smiled at his gathered crowd. There were a few seconds of disorientated blinking before everyone started voicing their questions. Where were they? Why were all these people here? Who was he? Their snivelling little ways made him sick. And that lovely little spell that Severus had cooked up...well, in some ways that was far more interesting than the usual killing curse. The man that was already screaming at his werewolf claws went down first, now screaming in new pain as his body was ripped apart, blood gushing from wounds. Then the panicked questions rose into a frenzy of panicked screaming. From then on, Jesse used a variety of spells and curses to dispose of the rest of them. So long as they would still be recognisable to his old foes when they were found and photographed...that was all he cared about.
His bloody faced ‘Harry’ was the last one he took care of. A simple spark of green light shot out and stopped the raven haired boy dead. Literally. The immediate area was littered with bodies now, some in the woods, others having run toward the water. Half of them were missing chunks of flesh, others looked like they had just fallen over and refused to get up. It would definitely be a puzzle the local authorities would have a hard time figuring out. Jesse pointed his makeshift wand toward the sky muttering the word “Morsmordre.” He scrunched up his face against the rain as he watched the dark mark take shape above him. Maybe he could use something a little more...specific. A couple of waves later, and the words ‘Viva la Resistance’ appeared in a black cloying smoke below the skull floating through the air. Both would stay there despite the rain for a good twelve hours. More than enough time for the scene to be found by locals.
Then, he was simply gone.