Confessions of a dangerous nature...
Jul. 19th, 2006 11:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
iambetadraconis"Find Rabastan's current location," Rodolphus had said, "And determine just what my 'dear brother' is up to."
In the semi-darkened room, a Disillusioned Mulciber sat, disguised as a hatstand, waiting for Rabastan to return. The spell he'd used to find Rabastan's current lodgings had told him that he'd been here earlier, and if Mulciber's gamble was right, Rabastan would return soon enough.
That didn't make the waiting any easier for him, but where Rodolphus was inclined towards impulsive, violent behaviour, Mulciber was calm and centred, willing to remain wherever he was in order to achieve his ends. He didn't always enjoy the wait, but wait he would, because to his Hufflepuff's reckoning, only those willing to work for what they want will get it.
Patient. Dilligent. Willing to toil for their ends.
Able to sit in a one-room flat in order to spy on one of your fellow Death Eaters so that proper information can be gathered while your arse begins to smart and your legs cramp.
'Where is that boy—?'
The answer came in the form of a cracking sound, telling Mulciber that someone had just Apparated in.
Rabastan.
True to the description Plott had given, Rabastan had indeed changed, and changed a lot, and all in such a short time too.
It could convict him of treason, but Mulciber knew that sudden changes in appearance do not a traitor make, as he'd calmly told Rodolphus before leaving on his assignment.
"He'd have to say something—anything—incriminating, before we can be certain that he is a traitor to the cause and to the Dark Lord," he'd argued, and in the end Rodolphus relented.
Reluctantly.
Rabastan stood in front of a mirror, examining himself in the near-gloom of the room.
"Time to go," he said, as Mulciber listened in.
"You intend to go back?"
"To Milliways? Yes."
"Milliways? What is 'Milliways'?" asked the mirror.
"Bar at the end of the universe, and the place I'd been staying for several months now."
"I see," the mirror said, not really understanding any of this. "I take it you're satisfied with whatever it was you intended to find out?"
"I am. I've been here for over a week now and if the Dark Lord intended to have me killed for treason he could've done so by now. I wasn't exactly stealthy when it came to my movings about."
"What makes you think he'd kill you for treason?" the mirror asked.
Rabastan sighed. "If he knew everything that happened in the bar, he'd have me murdered in the most creative manner possible."
"And what happened in this Milliways?" the mirror asked.
"Many things, but mostly a new hope that I can establish a life outside the Death Eaters. I've wanted a sanctuary from them for so long, and although Azkaban is hell, it did give me some reprieve from the Dark Lord's machinations."
"You ... do not want to be a Death Eater?"
"I never did, but I ended up as one regardless, didn't I?"
"So you did," quipped the mirror.
And during this discourse Mulciber sat, feeling an overwhelming urge to apprehend Rabastan right where Lestrange stood, and take him back to Voldemort for questioning and execution. Rabastan had said enough to ensure that he would be executed too.
But he remained where he was; the odds were there might be more confessions to be made tonight.
"I never did," Rabastan repeated. "I'm not like Rodolphus, who delights in torturing and killing innocent people. I just did it because that's what was expected of me. Hating myself each time I took a life or caused someone to suffer. I kept this all to myself though, and in time convinced myself that the Dark Lord's reasonings were good enough that I could at least justify what I did, while wishing for a better way to achieve change.
"Then I found Milliways, and there I met people, the most important of whom was Gorlim. He too had a dark past, and had gone through his own series of hells before coming into the bar. We met, we talked, shared firewhiskey and discovered we had a lot in common. Enough to make us ... brothers of the soul, in a sense."
Rabastan took a breath at that, to collect his thoughts.
"We both have our regrets, but thanks to him I have an opportunity to move on, and to, one day, tell the Dark Lord that I no longer desire to serve him."
"He will kill you for that."
"But I'd be free of him forever if he did."
A shuffling sound, and for a moment, Mulciber didn't know what had made it. And then he knew. It was himself. Unintentionally he'd moved, and Rabastan was looking about the flat for the source of the noise.
"It seems you're not alone," the mirror pointed out somberly, while Rabastan inched towards the door.
"Maybe, but I'm not remaining here to see what it is..."
Mulciber knew what Rabastan was thinking. If it was a person, and that person were a Death Eater, he'd be facing the Dark Lord this very evening.
Sure, it would be nice to find out it was a rat scurrying about the room, but in the time it takes to identify the sound source one would lose precious moments better spent on removing oneself from the premises.
That meant Mulciber had a choice: make his move to grab Rabastan or remain where he was.
Just then a mouse came into view, and Rabastan let out a sigh of relief.
"Just a mouse," he said quietly as it moved about the flat. "But still, I think it might be better to leave. Go back home so I can go back to Milliways."
Mulciber watched as Rabastan placed his hand on the doorknob, turned it, and stepped outside.
He had a lot of information to deliver to Voldemort, and the sooner he left, the sooner the Dark Lord would learn all that Mulciber had heard tonight...
What a surprise for Rabastan when he turned the knob. It took him several moments to take stock of the situation, to realise that, somehow, he'd come back.
Back to Milliways.
"Well, I was going to go back tomorrow, but it seems as though the bar had other ideas..."
In the semi-darkened room, a Disillusioned Mulciber sat, disguised as a hatstand, waiting for Rabastan to return. The spell he'd used to find Rabastan's current lodgings had told him that he'd been here earlier, and if Mulciber's gamble was right, Rabastan would return soon enough.
That didn't make the waiting any easier for him, but where Rodolphus was inclined towards impulsive, violent behaviour, Mulciber was calm and centred, willing to remain wherever he was in order to achieve his ends. He didn't always enjoy the wait, but wait he would, because to his Hufflepuff's reckoning, only those willing to work for what they want will get it.
Patient. Dilligent. Willing to toil for their ends.
Able to sit in a one-room flat in order to spy on one of your fellow Death Eaters so that proper information can be gathered while your arse begins to smart and your legs cramp.
'Where is that boy—?'
The answer came in the form of a cracking sound, telling Mulciber that someone had just Apparated in.
Rabastan.
True to the description Plott had given, Rabastan had indeed changed, and changed a lot, and all in such a short time too.
It could convict him of treason, but Mulciber knew that sudden changes in appearance do not a traitor make, as he'd calmly told Rodolphus before leaving on his assignment.
"He'd have to say something—anything—incriminating, before we can be certain that he is a traitor to the cause and to the Dark Lord," he'd argued, and in the end Rodolphus relented.
Reluctantly.
Rabastan stood in front of a mirror, examining himself in the near-gloom of the room.
"Time to go," he said, as Mulciber listened in.
"You intend to go back?"
"To Milliways? Yes."
"Milliways? What is 'Milliways'?" asked the mirror.
"Bar at the end of the universe, and the place I'd been staying for several months now."
"I see," the mirror said, not really understanding any of this. "I take it you're satisfied with whatever it was you intended to find out?"
"I am. I've been here for over a week now and if the Dark Lord intended to have me killed for treason he could've done so by now. I wasn't exactly stealthy when it came to my movings about."
"What makes you think he'd kill you for treason?" the mirror asked.
Rabastan sighed. "If he knew everything that happened in the bar, he'd have me murdered in the most creative manner possible."
"And what happened in this Milliways?" the mirror asked.
"Many things, but mostly a new hope that I can establish a life outside the Death Eaters. I've wanted a sanctuary from them for so long, and although Azkaban is hell, it did give me some reprieve from the Dark Lord's machinations."
"You ... do not want to be a Death Eater?"
"I never did, but I ended up as one regardless, didn't I?"
"So you did," quipped the mirror.
And during this discourse Mulciber sat, feeling an overwhelming urge to apprehend Rabastan right where Lestrange stood, and take him back to Voldemort for questioning and execution. Rabastan had said enough to ensure that he would be executed too.
But he remained where he was; the odds were there might be more confessions to be made tonight.
"I never did," Rabastan repeated. "I'm not like Rodolphus, who delights in torturing and killing innocent people. I just did it because that's what was expected of me. Hating myself each time I took a life or caused someone to suffer. I kept this all to myself though, and in time convinced myself that the Dark Lord's reasonings were good enough that I could at least justify what I did, while wishing for a better way to achieve change.
"Then I found Milliways, and there I met people, the most important of whom was Gorlim. He too had a dark past, and had gone through his own series of hells before coming into the bar. We met, we talked, shared firewhiskey and discovered we had a lot in common. Enough to make us ... brothers of the soul, in a sense."
Rabastan took a breath at that, to collect his thoughts.
"We both have our regrets, but thanks to him I have an opportunity to move on, and to, one day, tell the Dark Lord that I no longer desire to serve him."
"He will kill you for that."
"But I'd be free of him forever if he did."
A shuffling sound, and for a moment, Mulciber didn't know what had made it. And then he knew. It was himself. Unintentionally he'd moved, and Rabastan was looking about the flat for the source of the noise.
"It seems you're not alone," the mirror pointed out somberly, while Rabastan inched towards the door.
"Maybe, but I'm not remaining here to see what it is..."
Mulciber knew what Rabastan was thinking. If it was a person, and that person were a Death Eater, he'd be facing the Dark Lord this very evening.
Sure, it would be nice to find out it was a rat scurrying about the room, but in the time it takes to identify the sound source one would lose precious moments better spent on removing oneself from the premises.
That meant Mulciber had a choice: make his move to grab Rabastan or remain where he was.
Just then a mouse came into view, and Rabastan let out a sigh of relief.
"Just a mouse," he said quietly as it moved about the flat. "But still, I think it might be better to leave. Go back home so I can go back to Milliways."
Mulciber watched as Rabastan placed his hand on the doorknob, turned it, and stepped outside.
He had a lot of information to deliver to Voldemort, and the sooner he left, the sooner the Dark Lord would learn all that Mulciber had heard tonight...
What a surprise for Rabastan when he turned the knob. It took him several moments to take stock of the situation, to realise that, somehow, he'd come back.
Back to Milliways.
"Well, I was going to go back tomorrow, but it seems as though the bar had other ideas..."
