Azkaban -- limited OPEN
Who: OPEN to anyone who would reasonably be there -- Death Eaters, Aurors, bring 'em in
When: 4 July, dawnish
What: That whole destruction-of-Azkaban thing
Why: 'Cause a) it needs to happen, b) we need to free the other Death Eaters, and c) Bellatrix wants her revenge on that damn place
Even in the dead of summer, the Isle of Azkaban remained cold, windswept, and foggy. Bellatrix refused to shiver. She'd given enough of her emotion, enough of her soul, to that life-draining place. Being back on the accursed island disturbed her more than she really cared to admit. 'Just this one morning,' she thought, 'and then this wretched place will never claim another martyr. Not another righteous soul will have to suffer its bleakness.'
Bellatrix had assembled her strike force from the best that the Death Eaters had available, what few of the original troops remained, and which among the new recruits she felt she could trust with a matter of such importance. There were only a few Dementors in the attacking company. They were sworn to the Dark Lord's direction, but an oath from one of those creatures only went so far, and even Bellatrix doubted her ability to control more than a few of them. The scant handful would do the job, though. They knew who they were to feed on, and so long as they were not prevented in that, they had no cause to disobey and turn on their tentative allies. It did amuse Bellatrix, though, that some of her comrades were made somewhere between edgy and downright terrified by them.
The misty spray off of the ocean was dampening her clothes, and in some places creating fog so thick Bellatrix lost sight of some of her comrades. 'I just hope these morons remember to look before they hex this time,' she thought. 'We can't afford any more friendly-fire casualties.' She'd given the new recruits specific instructions not to fire deadly shots aimlessly through the mist if it became too dense to see through, nor in the pitch-dark corridors at the middle of Azkaban's labyrinth.
She glanced over her shoulder at the assembled Death Eaters, ready for the strike. The sun could not pierce through the fog, but lent it instead an eerie, haunted glow, splintering the light and fracturing it weirdly. Bellatrix considered it a favourable omen. "You know where you're each to go," she called out, and hoping that she spoke truthfully, and that they all remembered their instructions, to split up in smaller groups and find as many of their captured colleagues as quickly as possible. "If you see an Auror, kill it first, ask questions later. We're not here to take captives, and I have no interest in showing mercy. If any of the other prisoners wish to defect, we take them to our Lord, and for glory's sake don't arm anyone we don't already trust." She turned her face back to the fortress, and without further instruction, started the climb up to the mammoth iron gates, two Dementors acting as flanked guards in her wake. As soon as she was within range of the few windows, she pointed her wand at them, gathering moisture on the glass to obscure their approach to anyone who might be looking out.
'By Salazar's pointy beard, these lackeys had best do exactly as I say,' she thought, clenching her fingers tightly around her wand. 'If anything goes amiss, they will be regretting it.' If this endeavour went awry, the Dark Lord would be taking out his displeasure on her -- and Bellatrix had no qualms about taking it out in turn on her own underlings, and she had made damn sure each one brought on this mission knew what he would suffer if his error caused her any headaches.
When: 4 July, dawnish
What: That whole destruction-of-Azkaban thing
Why: 'Cause a) it needs to happen, b) we need to free the other Death Eaters, and c) Bellatrix wants her revenge on that damn place
Even in the dead of summer, the Isle of Azkaban remained cold, windswept, and foggy. Bellatrix refused to shiver. She'd given enough of her emotion, enough of her soul, to that life-draining place. Being back on the accursed island disturbed her more than she really cared to admit. 'Just this one morning,' she thought, 'and then this wretched place will never claim another martyr. Not another righteous soul will have to suffer its bleakness.'
Bellatrix had assembled her strike force from the best that the Death Eaters had available, what few of the original troops remained, and which among the new recruits she felt she could trust with a matter of such importance. There were only a few Dementors in the attacking company. They were sworn to the Dark Lord's direction, but an oath from one of those creatures only went so far, and even Bellatrix doubted her ability to control more than a few of them. The scant handful would do the job, though. They knew who they were to feed on, and so long as they were not prevented in that, they had no cause to disobey and turn on their tentative allies. It did amuse Bellatrix, though, that some of her comrades were made somewhere between edgy and downright terrified by them.
The misty spray off of the ocean was dampening her clothes, and in some places creating fog so thick Bellatrix lost sight of some of her comrades. 'I just hope these morons remember to look before they hex this time,' she thought. 'We can't afford any more friendly-fire casualties.' She'd given the new recruits specific instructions not to fire deadly shots aimlessly through the mist if it became too dense to see through, nor in the pitch-dark corridors at the middle of Azkaban's labyrinth.
She glanced over her shoulder at the assembled Death Eaters, ready for the strike. The sun could not pierce through the fog, but lent it instead an eerie, haunted glow, splintering the light and fracturing it weirdly. Bellatrix considered it a favourable omen. "You know where you're each to go," she called out, and hoping that she spoke truthfully, and that they all remembered their instructions, to split up in smaller groups and find as many of their captured colleagues as quickly as possible. "If you see an Auror, kill it first, ask questions later. We're not here to take captives, and I have no interest in showing mercy. If any of the other prisoners wish to defect, we take them to our Lord, and for glory's sake don't arm anyone we don't already trust." She turned her face back to the fortress, and without further instruction, started the climb up to the mammoth iron gates, two Dementors acting as flanked guards in her wake. As soon as she was within range of the few windows, she pointed her wand at them, gathering moisture on the glass to obscure their approach to anyone who might be looking out.
'By Salazar's pointy beard, these lackeys had best do exactly as I say,' she thought, clenching her fingers tightly around her wand. 'If anything goes amiss, they will be regretting it.' If this endeavour went awry, the Dark Lord would be taking out his displeasure on her -- and Bellatrix had no qualms about taking it out in turn on her own underlings, and she had made damn sure each one brought on this mission knew what he would suffer if his error caused her any headaches.