Fic
Title: Honor
Summary: Antonin and the Prewetts meet for the last time
Characters/Pairings: Antonin Dolohov, Fabian and Gideon Prewett, mentions of other unnamed Death Eaters and Voldemort
Genre: Drama?
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 (death)
Word Count: 1132
As an aside, I wrote this in response to (and inspired by) alohachary1851’s A Normal Day. It is significantly different and demonstrates who “my” Antonin Dolohov is, without taking away (I should think) from her fantastic story.
Antonin feels like the last of a dying breed and in a way, maybe he is. At Hogwarts, Riddle and a select few, including Antonin, held court in Slytherin, rewriting centuries old House-rules, dictating law, and meting punishment. Although discpline could be harsh, it was fair. From third year on, Antonin, Mulciber, and Nott enjoyed immense prestige. They all secured spots on the House team, and those five years Slytherin took both the House and Quidditch cup.
Things were so different then. There was no killing or torture. Riddle simply held court. All was clean and orderly. All was fair and good.
Now. Now things were different. This new generation called themselves Death Eaters. Gone were the Knights of Walpurgis. The Death Eaters were cruel, direct, and barbaric. A witch had been admitted to the inner circle. And the aristocracy was forgotten. Even the lowest of purebloods could find service! And worst of all, the Death Eaters targeted other purebloods.
Antonin stood outside the flat, regarding the simple white door before him. Inside he could hear laughter and the sound of dishes in the sink. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath.
“Let’s go, old man,” one of the Death Eaters hissed through his mask, his wand at an offensive and sloppy angle. The hand was shaking.
“Yeah,” snarled a second. “If you aren’t going to go in, step aside and allow the real men to enter.”
“Have you even ever killed, Dolohov?” taunted the first. The other three snickered. “Why don’t you watch our backs for ickle Muggles then and make yourself useful!”
Antonin did not answer, but stepped back and gestured to the door. The eager one blasted the door off its hinges.
“In the name of Lord Voldemort-”
“Oh Merlin, not them again,” interjected a voice from inside.
“Come back later, lads? We’ve just sat down to a pot of tea,” said a second voice, all too casually.
“Insolence,” roared the first Death Eater. “Brothers Prewett, this-”
“‘Brothers Prewett’?” came a derisive snort. “Are we in a fairy tale, Gid?”
“Rubbish! I don’t believe in magic, my dear Fabian.”
Antonin settled back against the hallway wall, frowning. Why couldn’t they just come around and be reasonable? Life could only improve for wizards under the rule of Lord Voldemort, especially for purebloods.
The four young Death Eaters finally entered the flat and fanned out around the twins as if they were two un-bobbed manticores, leaving Antonin a clear view of the brothers. Fabian was calmly holding a cup of tea that appeared to have a wolfhound romping around the surface. Gideon still had a floral print napkin tucked into the front of his shirt. They were taunting them. The trap had sprung equally.
In a heartbeat, Fabian flung the contents of his cup at the nearest Death Eater. Not tea at all. Although Antonin could not see his comrade, he noted the acrid stench of burning flesh, and the wizard crumpled, screaming. Simultaneously, Gideon drew his wand from under the napkin and wrapped his nearest opponent in a full-body bind. The other two Death Eaters froze up leaving the Prewetts time enough to pantomime high fives before directing their wands to the young Death Eaters.
“Now,” said Fabian calmly, almost conversationally. “Before we dispose of you, I find it difficult to believe you’re operating on your own-”
“As brilliant as Voldemort’s forces are regardless,” came Gideon with a chuckle.
“So who’s holding your leash?” finished Fabian.
Antonin finally stepped into the apartment and over the first body. “I am.”
All four heads turned in unison. Gideon sneered first.
“Dolohov. Arrogant as ever.” The significance of the Knight’s uncovered face was apparently not lost on the twins. “We were wondering when you’d show up here. Your little minions here are getting sloppy.”
“More like pathetic,” spat Fabian, although his attention remained on the other two Death Eaters who were appeared reassured by Antonin’s entrance.
Antonin twirled his wand in his left hand, surveying the cocky brothers. “My Lord no longer has patience for these games,” he said after a moment’s reflection. “You must join us or you will die.”
“You have a street name, you know,” said Gideon, a strange look in his eyes. “They call you the Pureblood Executioner.” Antonin flinched; the twirling stopped. “So who’s the real blood-traitor, Dolohov? We may love Muggles but at least we don’t murder those we support.”
“And it is about blood, isn’t it, Antonin?” Fabian asked so quietly the Knight had to strain to hear.
“If you do not stand with us, you stand against us,” Dolohov responded, surprised at the uncertainty in his voice.
“Ah yes,” said Gideon quietly, sadly. “It is that simple, isn’t it?”
“Just kill them already,” snapped one of the Death Eaters. Everyone ignored him.
“My Lord gives you a fortnight to decide.”
“But-” started the same Death Eater.
“Silence!” roared Dolohov. “You know nothing!”
But it was too late. Both Death Eaters turned to regard him. “This is mutiny, Dolohov.”
With a downward swipe of his arm, Antonin shot a jet of brilliant purple that struck the nearest Death Eater and sent him crumpling to the ground, blood spilling from his mouth in a great stream. Antonin felt the crackle of magic behind him and turned just in time to see a jet of green streak past him. Apparently the burnt Death Eater had recovered enough to-
Antonin whirled back to regard the twins. Fabian had a surprised look on his face. He fell to his knees, and then to the floor. Gideon dropped his wand.
“Merlin, no. No.” He fell to his brother’s side, cradling his head in his lap. “No, no.”
Antonin rounded on Fabian’s murderer with a snarled Avada Kedavra and before anyone had time to react, Antonin felled the other standing Death Eater with the Killing Curse. The third would bleed out in a matter of minutes, and the fourth was still paralyzed.
Gideon stroked his brother’s face and closed his eyes as if unaware of the sudden turn of events. Tears streamed unchecked down his face. “Do it then, Dolohov,” the wizard said, looking up.
“Pick up your wand,” Antonin demanded.
“I will not give you the satisfaction.”
“The honor then.”
“You have no honor. You are no better than a monster. Pureblood Executioner indeed.”
* * *
Antonin retched into the trashbin. The recently Obliviated young Death Eater sneered.
“Getting weak in your old age, Dolohov?”
The older wizard said nothing and turned his back on the twin bodies laid out next to each other.
“We lost some good men,” said the younger wizard.
“Did we,” Antonin said blankly. As they exited the flat, Antonin could still hear the dishes splashing in the sink.
Amanda//Slytherin
Can I get an Antonin Dolohov tag, please?
Summary: Antonin and the Prewetts meet for the last time
Characters/Pairings: Antonin Dolohov, Fabian and Gideon Prewett, mentions of other unnamed Death Eaters and Voldemort
Genre: Drama?
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 (death)
Word Count: 1132
As an aside, I wrote this in response to (and inspired by) alohachary1851’s A Normal Day. It is significantly different and demonstrates who “my” Antonin Dolohov is, without taking away (I should think) from her fantastic story.
Antonin feels like the last of a dying breed and in a way, maybe he is. At Hogwarts, Riddle and a select few, including Antonin, held court in Slytherin, rewriting centuries old House-rules, dictating law, and meting punishment. Although discpline could be harsh, it was fair. From third year on, Antonin, Mulciber, and Nott enjoyed immense prestige. They all secured spots on the House team, and those five years Slytherin took both the House and Quidditch cup.
Things were so different then. There was no killing or torture. Riddle simply held court. All was clean and orderly. All was fair and good.
Now. Now things were different. This new generation called themselves Death Eaters. Gone were the Knights of Walpurgis. The Death Eaters were cruel, direct, and barbaric. A witch had been admitted to the inner circle. And the aristocracy was forgotten. Even the lowest of purebloods could find service! And worst of all, the Death Eaters targeted other purebloods.
Antonin stood outside the flat, regarding the simple white door before him. Inside he could hear laughter and the sound of dishes in the sink. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath.
“Let’s go, old man,” one of the Death Eaters hissed through his mask, his wand at an offensive and sloppy angle. The hand was shaking.
“Yeah,” snarled a second. “If you aren’t going to go in, step aside and allow the real men to enter.”
“Have you even ever killed, Dolohov?” taunted the first. The other three snickered. “Why don’t you watch our backs for ickle Muggles then and make yourself useful!”
Antonin did not answer, but stepped back and gestured to the door. The eager one blasted the door off its hinges.
“In the name of Lord Voldemort-”
“Oh Merlin, not them again,” interjected a voice from inside.
“Come back later, lads? We’ve just sat down to a pot of tea,” said a second voice, all too casually.
“Insolence,” roared the first Death Eater. “Brothers Prewett, this-”
“‘Brothers Prewett’?” came a derisive snort. “Are we in a fairy tale, Gid?”
“Rubbish! I don’t believe in magic, my dear Fabian.”
Antonin settled back against the hallway wall, frowning. Why couldn’t they just come around and be reasonable? Life could only improve for wizards under the rule of Lord Voldemort, especially for purebloods.
The four young Death Eaters finally entered the flat and fanned out around the twins as if they were two un-bobbed manticores, leaving Antonin a clear view of the brothers. Fabian was calmly holding a cup of tea that appeared to have a wolfhound romping around the surface. Gideon still had a floral print napkin tucked into the front of his shirt. They were taunting them. The trap had sprung equally.
In a heartbeat, Fabian flung the contents of his cup at the nearest Death Eater. Not tea at all. Although Antonin could not see his comrade, he noted the acrid stench of burning flesh, and the wizard crumpled, screaming. Simultaneously, Gideon drew his wand from under the napkin and wrapped his nearest opponent in a full-body bind. The other two Death Eaters froze up leaving the Prewetts time enough to pantomime high fives before directing their wands to the young Death Eaters.
“Now,” said Fabian calmly, almost conversationally. “Before we dispose of you, I find it difficult to believe you’re operating on your own-”
“As brilliant as Voldemort’s forces are regardless,” came Gideon with a chuckle.
“So who’s holding your leash?” finished Fabian.
Antonin finally stepped into the apartment and over the first body. “I am.”
All four heads turned in unison. Gideon sneered first.
“Dolohov. Arrogant as ever.” The significance of the Knight’s uncovered face was apparently not lost on the twins. “We were wondering when you’d show up here. Your little minions here are getting sloppy.”
“More like pathetic,” spat Fabian, although his attention remained on the other two Death Eaters who were appeared reassured by Antonin’s entrance.
Antonin twirled his wand in his left hand, surveying the cocky brothers. “My Lord no longer has patience for these games,” he said after a moment’s reflection. “You must join us or you will die.”
“You have a street name, you know,” said Gideon, a strange look in his eyes. “They call you the Pureblood Executioner.” Antonin flinched; the twirling stopped. “So who’s the real blood-traitor, Dolohov? We may love Muggles but at least we don’t murder those we support.”
“And it is about blood, isn’t it, Antonin?” Fabian asked so quietly the Knight had to strain to hear.
“If you do not stand with us, you stand against us,” Dolohov responded, surprised at the uncertainty in his voice.
“Ah yes,” said Gideon quietly, sadly. “It is that simple, isn’t it?”
“Just kill them already,” snapped one of the Death Eaters. Everyone ignored him.
“My Lord gives you a fortnight to decide.”
“But-” started the same Death Eater.
“Silence!” roared Dolohov. “You know nothing!”
But it was too late. Both Death Eaters turned to regard him. “This is mutiny, Dolohov.”
With a downward swipe of his arm, Antonin shot a jet of brilliant purple that struck the nearest Death Eater and sent him crumpling to the ground, blood spilling from his mouth in a great stream. Antonin felt the crackle of magic behind him and turned just in time to see a jet of green streak past him. Apparently the burnt Death Eater had recovered enough to-
Antonin whirled back to regard the twins. Fabian had a surprised look on his face. He fell to his knees, and then to the floor. Gideon dropped his wand.
“Merlin, no. No.” He fell to his brother’s side, cradling his head in his lap. “No, no.”
Antonin rounded on Fabian’s murderer with a snarled Avada Kedavra and before anyone had time to react, Antonin felled the other standing Death Eater with the Killing Curse. The third would bleed out in a matter of minutes, and the fourth was still paralyzed.
Gideon stroked his brother’s face and closed his eyes as if unaware of the sudden turn of events. Tears streamed unchecked down his face. “Do it then, Dolohov,” the wizard said, looking up.
“Pick up your wand,” Antonin demanded.
“I will not give you the satisfaction.”
“The honor then.”
“You have no honor. You are no better than a monster. Pureblood Executioner indeed.”
* * *
Antonin retched into the trashbin. The recently Obliviated young Death Eater sneered.
“Getting weak in your old age, Dolohov?”
The older wizard said nothing and turned his back on the twin bodies laid out next to each other.
“We lost some good men,” said the younger wizard.
“Did we,” Antonin said blankly. As they exited the flat, Antonin could still hear the dishes splashing in the sink.
Amanda//Slytherin
Can I get an Antonin Dolohov tag, please?