Inglourious Muddbloods, Part 3 -- Starring Arthur the Apache
anonymous
November 28 2010, 19:49:09 UTC
The scene they left behind, bloodied, scalpless Snatchers looked all well and good, except for one thing. One of them was trying to crawl away.
“Canada,” said England, and Canada looked up from his small collection of scalps for a moment.
“Hm?”
“Grab that one, the one crawling away, for me.”
Canada picked up his knife.
“Don’t kill him.”
“Death Eaters need to die.”
“Don’t worry, boy, it’s not like we’re going to show him mercy,” said England. Canada shrugged and walked over to grab the Death Eater by his shirt and drag him over to where England stood. the Death Eater clutched pointlessly to a stick, a former wand, shot to little more than splinters, that shot off magical sparks uselessly.
“Handcuff him,” said England.
“I don’t have any handcuffs,” said Canada.
“Anyone have any handcuffs?” asked England, and all the nations busy mutilating corpses looked up at him in confusion. Damn, nobody had thought to bring handcuffs. And why would they? They were there to kill Death Eaters, not arrest him. “All right then, tie him up.”
Canada obeyed, wrestling a piece of bloodied, mangled shirt from the Death Eater and tying his hands behind his back.
“Hey, Death Eater,” said England, “What’s your name?”
The Death Eater only stared back at England with now-soulless, fearful eyes.
“You’re going to live, so don’t worry about that. You’ll even get to go back to your master. But, before I return you, I need to know. What’s your name?”
“Evan.”
“Evan… what?”
“Rhodes.”
England smiled. “Well then, Mr. Evan Rhodes. Aren’t you lucky, you’re the only survivor of your little gang. So, smile, because you’re going to be plagued with a little something called ‘survivor’s guilt.’”
The Death Eater’s face tried to remain stoic, but England knew that he was actually taking in every word. So, he continued, “You do know Harry Potter, yes? Of course you do, you’re here to find him, to capture him. And so, of course, you also know the legend of him, that he was the only survivor of his family, the only survivor of Voldemort’s purges. Do you have any idea what that’s like?” England thought for a moment. “Oh, I suppose, now, you will.”
Canada was about to go back to scalping the remaining Snatchers, even though most of them had already been. Now that Germany had gotten the hang of it he was going through the rest of them very quickly while America showed Romano how to do it again, only grinning and teasing at Romano’s verbal abuse.
“No, Canada, come over here. I want you to watch this.”
Canada took a deep breath and walked in front of the only live Death Eater, right beside England.
“However, Mr. Evan Rhodes, when you learn how painful this survivor’s guilt is, you might try to use a memory charm on yourself. And we, well, we can’t have that. So,” said England, finally taking his knife out of its sheath, “We’re going to fix that.”
***
Lucius Malfoy ordered a fellow Death Eater to bring in the surviving Snatcher, a young man whose eyes seemed to be staring at the far wall - no, at many, many meters beyond the far wall.
“What is the mark? Show it to me.”
Lucius hesitantly brushed the Snatcher’s bangs aside, showing the fresh lightning-bolt shaped scar there. For a moment, the Dark Lord himself almost flinched back at the sight of the scar, at the idea of the power of love in that scar that could destroy him.
“We’ve managed to heal all of his other wounds, but that, that would not heal, it wouldn’t even fade. It must have been cut with an enchanted blade.”
“So, these aren’t muggles,” said the Dark Lord, “These are wizards with muggle weapons.”
“Yes, probably.”
“Mudbloods,” Voldemort hissed.
“Likely.”
“Well then,” said Voldemort, speaking now to the Snatcher, “These ‘mudbloods’ allowed you to live, did they? Why?”
The snatcher swallowed, his voice quiet. “They wouldn’t say… say why… they only asked, ‘how does it feel to be the boy who lived?’”
The scene they left behind, bloodied, scalpless Snatchers looked all well and good, except for one thing. One of them was trying to crawl away.
“Canada,” said England, and Canada looked up from his small collection of scalps for a moment.
“Hm?”
“Grab that one, the one crawling away, for me.”
Canada picked up his knife.
“Don’t kill him.”
“Death Eaters need to die.”
“Don’t worry, boy, it’s not like we’re going to show him mercy,” said England. Canada shrugged and walked over to grab the Death Eater by his shirt and drag him over to where England stood. the Death Eater clutched pointlessly to a stick, a former wand, shot to little more than splinters, that shot off magical sparks uselessly.
“Handcuff him,” said England.
“I don’t have any handcuffs,” said Canada.
“Anyone have any handcuffs?” asked England, and all the nations busy mutilating corpses looked up at him in confusion. Damn, nobody had thought to bring handcuffs. And why would they? They were there to kill Death Eaters, not arrest him. “All right then, tie him up.”
Canada obeyed, wrestling a piece of bloodied, mangled shirt from the Death Eater and tying his hands behind his back.
“Hey, Death Eater,” said England, “What’s your name?”
The Death Eater only stared back at England with now-soulless, fearful eyes.
“You’re going to live, so don’t worry about that. You’ll even get to go back to your master. But, before I return you, I need to know. What’s your name?”
“Evan.”
“Evan… what?”
“Rhodes.”
England smiled. “Well then, Mr. Evan Rhodes. Aren’t you lucky, you’re the only survivor of your little gang. So, smile, because you’re going to be plagued with a little something called ‘survivor’s guilt.’”
The Death Eater’s face tried to remain stoic, but England knew that he was actually taking in every word. So, he continued, “You do know Harry Potter, yes? Of course you do, you’re here to find him, to capture him. And so, of course, you also know the legend of him, that he was the only survivor of his family, the only survivor of Voldemort’s purges. Do you have any idea what that’s like?” England thought for a moment. “Oh, I suppose, now, you will.”
Canada was about to go back to scalping the remaining Snatchers, even though most of them had already been. Now that Germany had gotten the hang of it he was going through the rest of them very quickly while America showed Romano how to do it again, only grinning and teasing at Romano’s verbal abuse.
“No, Canada, come over here. I want you to watch this.”
Canada took a deep breath and walked in front of the only live Death Eater, right beside England.
“However, Mr. Evan Rhodes, when you learn how painful this survivor’s guilt is, you might try to use a memory charm on yourself. And we, well, we can’t have that. So,” said England, finally taking his knife out of its sheath, “We’re going to fix that.”
***
Lucius Malfoy ordered a fellow Death Eater to bring in the surviving Snatcher, a young man whose eyes seemed to be staring at the far wall - no, at many, many meters beyond the far wall.
“What is the mark? Show it to me.”
Lucius hesitantly brushed the Snatcher’s bangs aside, showing the fresh lightning-bolt shaped scar there. For a moment, the Dark Lord himself almost flinched back at the sight of the scar, at the idea of the power of love in that scar that could destroy him.
“We’ve managed to heal all of his other wounds, but that, that would not heal, it wouldn’t even fade. It must have been cut with an enchanted blade.”
“So, these aren’t muggles,” said the Dark Lord, “These are wizards with muggle weapons.”
“Yes, probably.”
“Mudbloods,” Voldemort hissed.
“Likely.”
“Well then,” said Voldemort, speaking now to the Snatcher, “These ‘mudbloods’ allowed you to live, did they? Why?”
The snatcher swallowed, his voice quiet. “They wouldn’t say… say why… they only asked, ‘how does it feel to be the boy who lived?’”
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America + Canada = Master Scalper? Pure win.
This fill is being bookmarked; it is very well written, and I'm enjoying how well you're combing Harry Potter and Hetalia, Author!Anon!
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You are also my hero.
this is all.
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