#direvent2

The evening wasn’t really anything to write home about, but Elphias did, at least, have a little bit of fun. Despite the fact that there were many students around, and drunk witches and wizards were the bane of his existence, the company he’d found were quite tolerable, and after a whisky or three he found himself laughing and smiling. He was in a good place in the room, able to see everything and everyone without it being obvious that he was watching. All three of his sisters were in sight and enjoying themselves. He was glad to see them have fun while they still could.

Elphias checked his watch every time there was a gap in the conversation. The hit was going to happen soon. If Elphias could slip away then he would assist in the attack, but he knew that there were already plenty of Death Eaters involved so he wouldn't be in any sort of trouble if he didn't managed to get his cloak and mask on. He was befriending potential sources of ministry information, just as Dolohov had ordered.

When you are offered free drinks, you take them. That was Walden Macnair's philosophy on life. So his appearance at the Three Broomsticks was mostly for the free drinks. Mostly. He also had one other reason to be there. That night, they were planning an attack. He didn't want to ruin his image, so he tried to keep out of everyone's way for the most part. He had talked to a handful of people, but had mostly just sat around and drank the night away.

When the lights went out he slowly sat up, on his way to a drunken sleep at one of the tables, and looked around. Was it time already? It must have been, for when the lights went back on there was a mangled body in the middle of the room. The lights went out again, and this time Macnair stood up. He was dressed in his black robes with his mask on, now.

He was drunk, but the moment had sobered him up enough to be useful. People were swarming around him, just a blob of bright colors to him, until he reached out and grabbed one of them. The person in his arm solidified when he touched him, and he realized he had grabbed one of the students. Perfect, the younger the better.

"Don't move. Give me your wand." He pushed the boy against the table with one hand and used the other to frisk him, pulling his wand free and shoving it in his pocket, switching it for his own wand.

This had been one eventful night for Alek Mulciber. He had been introduced to a muggle invention called "mace", ran into a handful of his friends there at the party, including Snape and Avery, and had seen Dolohov again after what felt like ages, but in turn had only been a few months. He had ran into Peter Pettigrew after the attack and had gotten to have some fun with him, and now, Alek was watching as the mess at the Three Broomsticks was being cleaned. He sat on a set of stairs across from the pub, watching through a window as they cleaned up the mess inside. He took a drag off of the cigarette he was smoking and leaned back against the door of the closed shop behind him, looking up as he let out another puff of smoke.

It was a nice night out, and no matter what had happened today, it had been a good one in the end. It was about one in the morning, therefore, almost time for Alek to head back to the castle. He didn't want to go back yet, even if he did want to catch up with his friends about what had gone on after the attack. He hadn't seen any of them after that, and he wanted to see if they had had as much fun as he had.

This wasn't supposed to be happening. Not yet. And because Peter had been clinging desperately to the idea of not having to face Death Eaters and chaos as this for at least another one and a half year, everything about the situation was throwing him off. A panic he had never experienced before soared through his body, wrapping itself around his throat so it was hard to breathe, settling in his stomach and making aches shoot through it. He had to get out. 

He was already moving before he could contemplate this decision, pushing himself through the crowds anxiously, this time happy that he tended to be invisible in big crowds. His eyes closed to the terrors, ears shut, he tried to ignore the churning of his gut – because this was wrong. This was everything he detested, happening right in front of his eyes, and he was walking away, eyes fixed on the dark floor. 

It was selfish and cowardice, everything his friends were not and would never be, and he did not like the fact that he was walking away, but he couldn't stop –– he could not be there any longer. However, walking through such a chaos with eyes extremely busy trying not to focus on what was happening in front of him proved to be rather inconvenient. Because even though his eyes were fixed on the dark floor, he didn't notice the loose floorboard, his mind too occupied trying not to hear the screams, and stumbled, only to crash into someone.

His mouth opened to apologise instinctively, but he stopped himself when he looked up, Alek Mulciber's eyes looking back at his. Mouth still open, Peter could swear his heart skipped a beat. Not good not good not good. The words echoed through his mind as he took a step back, trying very hard to remain calm and very much failing.

Amycus couldn't have picked a better night to rile up his little sister, really. For she was angry, frustrated, and itching for a fight, and the plans she and the people she worked with had set into motion earlier that night meant that she would quite easily be able to get rid of all of her pent-up frustrations, possibly even more than that. When the lights flickered, the redhead didn't even flinch, a roll of her eyes all she was able to muster as the lights went out and people began to panic; or at least, those who were sober did. It wasn't her job to deal with their pre-planned victim, and so all she had to do was sit there and look pretty as the lights came on and the scream of the first person unlucky enough to see the mangled corpse swam around the room. It wasn't until the lights went out for the second time that she even had to lift a finger, though that wasn't to say she wasn't ready.

By the time the lights came back on for the second time, Alecto was stood with her hood up and her mask on, a black cloak covering her lithe form as she grabbed the person nearest to her; a sweet, little redhead that the elder female couldn't care less about, her hand wrapping none too lightly around the young girl's pretty little throat, her free hand moving to jab her wand against her unnamed victim's collarbone, her lips dropping down to brush against the redhead's ear, voice no more than a raspy whisper.