adding up hours to their demise.
I hurt. I really hurt all over, but the memory of last night, knowing that Fenwick is dead and this time there will be no ‘where the hell has he gone, I only left him here five minutes ago’ makes up for that. I knew the man would put up a fight, and one hell of a fight it was.
After my meeting with the minister, which was pleasantly unproductive, but deceptive enough for my liking, I used that lovely image reflector I discovered deep in the cellar, and finally got to work. Unfortunately, it only works once, but that once was spectacular. Thus, everyone saw ‘me’ leaving the Ministry. Only lasted ten minutes, but that was all I was after. I’m just glad people still have the sense to stand aside for a Malfoy, otherwise I would have walked through some people and that could be difficult to explain away.
And then we waited. It was a long wait, a cautious wait, an uncomfortable wait, but when it was finally late enough, and I knew nobody but night shift Aurors (who were at least a floor above me), Fenwick and Rookwood were around, it was quite literally cloak and dagger time. I snuck down to the department, where Rookwood was hanging around, doing a much better job of being inconspicuous than the last time I was in an ambush with him, thank Merlin. Luckily all he had to do this time is keep a watch, and he’d already told me how to get past the wards, replace one with a sound muffling ward so no alarm could be raised, and I’d brought him cloak and mask, we were safe from recognition, but we still needed to stick to the shadows.
After sneaking into the department properly, I saw him, just a mass of floppy hair bent over several pieces of parchment and numerous other items. Before I could even cast a spell in his direction, he’d whipped around and got to his feet, throwing a curse even I didn’t know in my direction. I ducked, and watched it hit the wall, a little worried, but I wasn’t going to let the mudblood scare me. I pulled my wand out and decided that pathetic little cutting and blasting spells weren’t going to deal with him like so many of the others. Instead, I flicked my wand and muttered an ancient spell I’d never got to work before, but there they were, a wave of spiders separating us, and charging towards him. It was a bit of a shame he stopped them with a simple line of fire drawn on the floor. I fired back a blasting spell, at the wall behind him instead of the man himself, and smiled to myself when a brick or two flew out and hit him on his back. I recalled the spiders that were left, a little disappointed with that spell, and took several steps closer, firing a snake over the dying flames of his defence, but he was up quickly and in enough time to block it and send it flying back at me. Then the bastard sent me flying back into a shelf of glass vials, and no wonder Caius had to remove all those shards later on. Fine, first blood to the mudblood. I clambered back to my feet and resorted to a primitive cutting spell, just determined to spill some blood in return. This worked and there was some satisfaction when red started to blossom onto his white shirt. If he wanted a duel, he’d get a duel. I flicked my wand at the objects on his desk, to send them flying towards him, hopefully some of the sharper ones would make contact. I didn’t get to see if any did, as half of them started to fly back my way, and I had to jump over and behind the desk to avoid them. He was starting to get the upper hand. I didn’t like using Unforgiveables unless completely necessary, they were much easier to trace, and so crude, but if I had to and he was winning, I’d get out the Killing Curse and never look back. I shot a quick fire spell over the top of the desk, then had a look around. Some of the things I’d fired had hit him, and he was obviously hurt, and now scrambling quickly away from the fire I’d started, desperately trying to put it out with his wand. It was certainly hot in here.
Seeing my upper hand may be coming back, I jumped over the desk and fired a Petrificus Totalis at him, but he protected himself from that too, dammit. I kept going, though, pinning him back with another spell I’d learnt out of those old books, like an invisible hand pressed against his chest. I had him in my sights now and all those desperately cast cutting spells and others which hit my stomach and thighs (the only range he could manage with me pinning him like that), I pressed on and ignored, even though otherwise I would have fallen over in sheer agony, the bloodlust was driving me on. I had him right in a corner now, and moved my wand to pin his hands above his head, forcing him to drop his wand, then replaced the spell with my own hand, pulling my wand away. He was still struggling, the filthy worm, but with a swift movement of the tip of my wand across his throat, his warm blood spurted out all over me, and was hot against my skin, as it was soon everywhere and soaking through my robes. A bloody murder, but not one I was going to get caught for. I searched through his things, at least thankful for the gloves I was wearing, no evidence left here, bar his bloodstains and a messy office. I found a large bag, which looked like it might be designed for a tent. Possibly that tent in the corner which was a mass of canvas and poles and totally not the shape of the bag. I had left him to bleed to death in the corner, hoping that his blood stains would get mixed up with mine at least, so pulled the bag back over and started to cram his body into it. Damn, it didn’t fit. I yanked a knife out of my pocket, which I put there for emergencies, not for stabbing people to death a-la-Bellatrix, and hacked at his head and arms, determined to make him fit. I shoved all the body parts in the bag and was not too pleased in being dripping with blood. It wasn’t supposed to be this messy. I was about to pick the bag up and get out of here when Rookwood came to the door and warned me the Aurors were rushing back in, someone had sent a help signal out. I glanced over where the corpse had been and dammit, there was his wand and a bloody handprint next to a magical device. The bloody mudblood had come up with a warning system. Shit.
I grabbed the body and my wand, then pulled Rookwood with me, down to the back exit I knew existed somewhere down here. Once out in the street, I told him to get out of here and go and wake Caius up, I’d be with them later. Quite a bit later. I apparated to a vague bit of countryside, definitely not the same one as before, this was up in the North Yorkshire Moors, and there was a raging thunderstorm, which I was quite thankful for, as it washed some of the blood off me. I hacked at his body, cutting it into pieces and scattering them amongst the bracken. I wasn’t about to bury the body, but I was doing what Caius called ‘making cause of death plausibly non magical and/or disguising anything which might make it obvious who did it’ only Caius talked like that, and it was an easy enough thing to do. The thing is, we want them to know who’s dead, and we want them to be horrified, but we only want them to know it was a Death Eater and nobody specific. I rested against a lonely tree on the barren landscape, and set light to the bag I had used. Then I got the hell out of there, through a series of deceptive, and far too tiring, apparitions, to end up meeting Caius several roads away from his house, about to pass out.
But it was done. And despite being a bloody mess, it’s satisfying. As far as I’m concerned, Benjy Fenwick was one of their four best wizards, along with Dumbledore, Moody and Shacklebolt. Let’s see that put the fear of Merlin into them. After all, I just killed an Unspeakable in their own back yard.
And now, to lay low and play the concerned family man. Eaaaaaaaasy. I do enjoy being a suspect with no discernible evidence against me, only suspicion. I just have to get the blood off me. All the blood. But it's worth it. I don't want Draco to have to do the same thing. I want the world to be right for him.
Mr Fenwick is dead. For anyone questioned, I left the Ministry at four o’clock after a chat with the Minister, then went home to my wife, son, and Rodolphus came for dinner. Understood? And as always, none of you know Mr Rookwood, although I doubt they’ll come asking you about him.
Prewetts next, gentlemen. That’s a team effort. Then maybe we’ll go for Shacklebolt or Meadowes, I’ll have to see what He wants from us. Also, watch it, Fenwick created a kind of warning system. The others might have something similar.
Good job last night. Did you get back alright? And yes, now you're off the throttling list. For now.
I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks. Draco is a fussy little thing. And a loud screamer. Do you know how big this house is?! And yet he still wakes me up. Demanding boy, though. He’s definitely got some Black in him, that’s for sure.
((I took some liberties with Rookwood. If this ain't alright, Jaz, tell me and I can fix it up. I just wanted Benjy dead.))