Chapter 3 : Chapter Two
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She watched as the Reverend put the bottle down, his hands shaking slightly from he intoxication. “I’m bored,” he said.
“That’s not my fault.” Rebel stated. “I’m here to entertain you as much as you’re here to entertain me. You can’t get what you don’t give.”
“Do you want me to do the chicken dance?”
“Well, you’re outta luck. You may be hot, girl, but by no means are you that hot.”
“What a shame, and here I was ready to get on my knees.”
“There’s still time.” The Reverend said.
“Not really,” Rebel got up and left her seat vacant. Leaving the Reverend ready for his next appointment as two burly men walked in the room. Rebel waited outside the cramped bedroom and put her ear as close as she dared to the door, hoping to listen to their conversation.
“When are you going to get rid of her?” One of the men asked, his voice smoke roughened and harsh. “The girls’ a fucking virgin skank, we’ve got no use for her.”
The Reverend laughed, the sound was full of the irony Rebel felt. “No one can be a fucking virgin, Lion. Oh, you funny goose.”
Rebel heard a sharp banging sound from inside the room and flung the door open. “What the bloody hell was that?” She asked just as the Reverend put some sort of muggle contraption back inside one of the pockets of the grungy trench coat he always wore.
“Rebel, darling, just in time. Go get Cheetah and Ape to take the bodies away. And don’t worry about it.”
Well, that’s one thing she could do. She was actually quite good at not worrying.
“They weren’t there.”
Ron spun around on his heel. “What do you mean they weren’t there?” He spat. “The map said they would be.” Distress closed in on him like a black storm. How could they not be there?
“Well, they weren’t,” Kingsley said as he dropped down into an office chair. “Trust me. When you’re in a big empty cathedral like that, looking for two people and you don’t see them, well, you just know they’re not there. And if there is something you can do about it, Weasley, be my guest and do it.”
Ron sat on the edge of his desk. “There was nothing?”
One of the rookie Auror’s piped up. “Not really, but it was all prepared like they were going to sacrifice somethin’ or other.”
Kingsley spoke next. “They had two chairs out, back to back, and a bunch of rope laying on the floor. Nobody said anything about sacrificing.”
Ron shook his head; he knew the look of anguish on his face must have been really getting to the new recruits. “I was just expecting…” he trailed off weakly.
“Yeah, we know what you were expecting, Weasley. Someone call the Malfoy kid, I need him.”
Ron looked at Kingsley, “he’s talking to you?”
“One word answers, but yeah, he’s talking to me.”
Ron huffed when he saw Malfoy, after hearing about what he had done to Neville, Draco looked like nothing more than the Pureblood brat Ron had always associated him with being. He walked into the office.
“They weren’t there.”
Draco twitched his lips.
“Hermione Weasley and Luna Longbottom weren’t in the cathedral.” Shacklebolt clarified.
“Is it the wrong cathedral?” Kingsley pressed.
He shrugged. “Maybe you should wait and see.”
Ron kicked the leg of Kingsley’s chair. “That was not an one word answer.”
The older man rolled his eyes. “One word answers and riddles. Did you have any idea what he meant?”
“Of course Ronald has no idea what I mean.” Draco hissed. “Stop talking about me like I can’t hear you. What I meant was, just wait until the next attack marked on the map happens and then go and see if the dearly beloveds are in the fucking cathedral.” The boy hissed. “That’s what I would have done first. Not bombing through St. Basil’s the second I knew what was going down. Motherfucking bastards.” The kid slid into one of the office waiting chairs in the corner. “Oh, and someone came by today. Ding-dong ditched and left you some cookies, Weasley. I brought them with me. They’re all formed in the shape of half a broken heart with Hermione, Luna, you, and Neville’s name on them. They’re actually quite good.”
Kingsley swooped down and pulled Drcao out of his chair by the collar of his shirt, crinkling the fabric under his tight grip. “That’s not funny boy, just because you got your heart—”
“Did you not hear what I just said? I brought them with me. I’m not lying. I had one just to make sure they weren’t filled with poison. I put the plate on one of the desks in the other room.” Draco swatted Kingsley away and planted his heels firmly on the ground, all the while smoothing out his shirt.
Ron leaped out the door, reappearing seconds later with an old blue and white ceramic dish with the cookies piled on it wrapped in clear plastic. He tore the plastic off and threw it to the ground. Taking one of the cookies, he put it in his mouth and bit down. Pulling the remnants of the cookie away from his mouth, he looked inside the middle of the it, seeing nothing until…
“Oh my god!” He threw the cookie and the cockroach to the ground. The bug pulling its legs out of the crumbled half-cookie.
“That,” Ron heard Draco say from the corner, “certainly did not happen to me.”
A sigh was heaved from the corner but Ron didn’t look up until the disgusting bug was squished firmly under his foot. “Ron,” Kingsley’s deep, heavy voice reverberated from the corner. “Go home, see your kids. I’ll deal with this. And him.” Ron knew without a doubt Kingsley was talking about Draco, who was still standing where Kingsley had left him.
“There’s nothing to deal with,” Ron said, sadness creeping into his voice against his better jugdment. “It’s the Insane’s. There isn’t anything more than that.” And with that, he disapperated.
Roald put on his fluffy night socks and climbed into bed beside his wife. Tugging the nightgown down over his withering buttocks he flicked the light to the lamp off. “Good night, Rosie.” He said to her back.
Something shifted in the corner, and a shadow emerged from the depths. “Good bye, muggle.” Said a voice coming from the hulking figure. Roald saw a bright green light, and nothing else, ever again.
“…and Rosie died last night—”
Ron flicked his head up, disoriented after having disapparated. “What?” He screamed at the skinny Auror with the paper in his hand. “What was that?” Hurriedly he gripped the Prophet out of the man’s hands and scanned over articles so fast words blurred together. “What about Rose?” He whispered so soft that if someone hadn’t been standing right next to him nobody would’ve heard. The Auror he had taken the paper from pointed at a little squared off box in the corner.
“Here, sir. I was just takin’ a look.”
Ron huffed a sigh of relief.
“Roald and Rosie died last night, the first official attack on muggles the Insane’s have done. It has been reported that no progress has been made on the seizure of these bandits.”
“So,” Shacklebolt entered the office the old fashioned way, through the door. “We don’t make any progress on the Insane’s yet the Prophet reports we have, and then we find the map with the hiding spot for the Weasley/Longbottom rescue and the Prophet says we have made no progress, how delightful.”
He sat down in one of the chairs by a houseplant in the corner. Ron came and sat on the edge of the desk in front of him. “I think we should put Draco in charge of telling us what the Insane’s mean.” Ron says into the silence.
“We should put Draco in charge of telling us what you mean, that made no sense.” Kingsley shot back.
“He should be the…the interpreter. No one else seems to have a clue what all these random attacks mean. He might just be able to help us.”
Kingsley seemed to puzzle on that for a moment. “The boy’s useless. I wouldn’t trust him to clean my toilet.”
“Kingsley,” Ron pleaded, “throw me a bone. He was probably right when he said Hermione and Luna would be in the cathedral after the Insane’s attacked their next target. I’m not lying when I say that he is the only person who could help us with this, besides one of the Insane’s.”
Kingsley looked at him funny. “Alright, Weasley. That’s your loss, not mine. Lets hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”
Ron looked Malfoy up and down. The blond seemed uncomfortable on being scrutinized as he was and Ron decided to call him on it. “You look uncomfortable.”
“No shit, eh.” Draco squirmed some more. “The man told me you wanted me to ‘interpret’ what the Insane’s are doing. I’m not sure if I’m exactly what you would call qualified for this position. I was kinda hoping it would be something like attic duty again. For old time’s sake.”
“Draco,” Ron said his first name through gritted teeth. “I just need you to tell me what you think it means. The new attacks as well as the old ones. I need to get some sort of idea on this mystery before it all comes crashing down and the Reverend is the new Voldemort.”
“Why can’t you do it?” Draco asked. “Isn’t that your job, to ‘think outside the box’ to ‘imagine the impossible’? I don’t see why you need me, in a matter of time Hermione and Luna will be saved and the world will be returned to normal because you’ll defeat this guy Reverend and it’ll just be like it was before.”
“Please just help, Malfoy. That’s all I’m asking of you.” Ron hated pleading with this guy, but it was all he could do to stop from breaking out in hysterics.
“Ron,” Draco’s voice was full of remorse. “I can’t help you. Just like Kingsley said. I’m absolutely no use to anyone.”
“Way to go, Shacklebolt. He has the lowest self-esteem in the entire world and it’s all you fault because you’ve called him pathetic one too many times.” The roof in Grimmauld Place creaked everytime someone walked across it.
“Don’t forget his father. There was not one day in that kid’s life Lucius didn’t beat him down and make him raw.”
Ron scowled at the back of Kingsley’s chair. “Go apologize. And bring him cookies, maybe then he’ll help.”
“He won’t help because he thinks it seems like a lot of work. It’s a lot of stress anyway, you add a lazy teenage boy in the mix, then you get full-blown impossible.”
Ron could hear someone running through the halls, their feet slapping the floor in a sick flesh-against-wood sound. “I can’t believe you won’t even fess-up to it. What are you, like, sixty years old now?”
Draco flung open the door of the study in the Black house. “Ron, they attacked again. Hermione and Luna are in the cathedral.”
Cado was shocked at how fast they got all their recruits lined up and on the same page. Both Auror’s and Order members lined the streets of Russia. The bright exterior of St. Basil’s cathedral looming in front of them, looking like some sick muggle fair game.
“Brookinsing, get to the back of the lines. This isn’t a time to be messing around.” Shacklebolt yelled at the Auror-in-training. Normally Cado would lead the recruits in, as part of his training, and was slightly shocked to be told to go where he didn’t belong.
Cado loomed to the back of the lines, and sat waiting for the cue to go. He saw Marks, just as he finished, give the discreet o.k.-go, sign with his hands, and marched seamlessly in with the other Auror members. Within seconds they had the entire cathedral surrounded both inside and out, a ring of recruits circling the foyer, and in the centre stood two chairs back to back. Cado didn’t need anymore of a warning sign to suddenly yell, “Retreat!”
Just then people flooded the space. Priceless artifacts smashed to the ground as the Insane’s made a surprise appearance. The two occupied chairs that had currently been in the middle exploded into life, seeming gymnasts flipped from the chairs and hurled smashed pieces of wood at the running Auror’s. Most of the shards hit home when Cado saw his peers go down, scraps of wood protruding from their backs. Looking at the walls where the Order members had been lined before, Cado noted most of them were down as well, their throats having been slit open by the Insane’s when they had caught them from behind.
Someone came up beside him. Her hair flowing behind her in a bright red flag as she kept pace next to him. Her skirt looked like something she had hijacked from the nineteenth century, cut far above her knees while her legs were clad in thigh-high boots brought from the new era. She jumped on him and pinned him to the ground just when a chair flew at them. Wood shattered on the wall, and he saw her face clearly.
Her skin was flawless; she had deep brown eyes and a small nose and mouth. She looked perplexingly like a muggle cartoon character, and Cado would’ve probably thought she was a gift from heaven if he didn’t hear what she said when she opened her mouth. “Get the fuck out of here. Otherwise, you’re all dead.” She got off him and watched as he slowly made his way back to his own two feet. He didn’t know what to do until he saw the Reverend emerge from the shadows. He new clearly that he had to run or die.
30 minutes before.
“She’s my wife, Kingsley, therefore, Neville and myself will be making way to the cathedral to rescue them.” Ron could barely hold himself together. The only thing he could possibly think was that Hermione was coming home.
“We need men on the scene that are not completely love struck so that they can take care of the situation with practiced and unbiased care.” Kingsley stopped in front of the broom closet and Ron held the door open so the man could get what he needed. “What if it’s a trap, Weasley? You’re the director of the Auror’s, you are far more use to the Wizarding community alive over dead.”
Ron just laughed. “Kingsley, Hermione’s coming home. I need to rescue her.” Kingsley looked at him funny, and then before Ron knew it, he had his hand on the base of Ron’s neck and thrust his head into the door, banging it open with a sickening thud as Ron keeled over, unconscious.
“Rebel, come here.” Reverend commanded from the centre of the foyer. She bounded over, landing right in front of him.
“That was Cado Brookinsing.” She told him, whispering quietly in his ear.
Reverend leaned in to her to keep their hushed conversation private. “Do you think you could pay him a visit later?”
Rebel nodded her head and stood beside the Reverend, who continued too look at the gathered posse as though they were the utmost vile things he had ever seen. “When I say, ‘take Hermione Jean Granger Weasley and Luna Elizabeth Lovegood Longbottom to the cathedral, tie them up, and leave’ did you hear ‘don’t take the two annoying captures to the cathedral, then continue to slaughter all the oncoming Auror’s and Order members, just because the guy in charge didn’t specify what exactly he wanted’?” Reverend looked down at Rebel. “Did you hear that?”
“Nope.” She said, a slight giggle escaping from her throat
“Did I imply that?”
“What do you think would be an appropriate consequence for their disobedience, darling?”
“Well,” Rebel stated, looking at her peers uncomfortably. “You could just slap their hands really hard and leave them with a warning.” She swallowed. “But, you’re probably not going to listen to me and kill the majority of our small, and never-growing, cult.”
“Right you are, my loyal companion. Who should be first?”
The Reverend leaned his head to her ear and whispered. “Feel free to leave. I’ll never understand why you came to the Insane’s when death makes you queasy, but I respect your morals.”
Rebel leaped to the door of the cathedral and jumped down the steps. But not before she heard the Reverend give the death order. “Now, turn to the person on your left, draw your wand and Avada Kedavra them.” He laughed as she heard bodies fall to the ground as the most loyal and dedicated Insane members killed each other waiting for their penalty.
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