#evandrus

Adel-ram slowly lifted his head up to look at kat, grunting a bit under his helmet “why are you searching for the runt? Is he in trouble again?”

“Oh my, that’s an awful lot of people to sort through. Let me see…”

Harry Potter. Should go without saying, but he would be the crème de la crème of torture victims.

Bellatrix Lestrange. I’m sure that sounds odd and perhaps rather rude, but I can assure you it would be purely for scientific reasons. She’s such a loose cannon, and has such eclectic tastes, that I’ve often wondered exactly what she would consider torturous. It would be most stimulating to find out. And wiping that lunatic grin off her face would be fun

A Weasley. It doesn’t particularly matter which one, of course; one Weasley is much the same as the next. Blood traitors all, and Order rats to boot.

The Longbottom boy, I forget his name. Bellatrix and her posse did an admirable job with his parents, but they allowed him to grow into adulthood and become a veritable nuisance. Time to send him to a bed next to Mother and Father, I think.

A request I got months ago and finished just now, not without a significant amount of pain! 2022 is really not being my year, art-wise 🏳️

Evandrus had actually been having a good day. Once the nervous young intern had escorted him to the offices of the Obliviators, the tardy Chief Obliviator made an appearance, and Evan allowed the young wizard to slip away. He pondered the curious sort of shield around the intern, whose name he’d forgotten to acquire, as Chief Overbrook spouted apology after apology for his lateness. Such excuses were wasted on a man like Evan, particularly when his interests lay elsewhere.

“Spare me your sycophancy,” he drawled, cutting Overbrook off without looking at him. He strode languidly through the Obliviator headquarters, past desks and cubicles, their occupants eyeing him with curiosity. Whispers began to scurry around room as the employees speculated his identity and purpose. Overbrook followed him, trying to maintain a facade of composure in the face of Evan’s scrutiny. “You were late to meeting me. I had to resort to allowing an intern to escort me here. You’re already down several points for that affront alone, so it would be in your best interests to focus on impressing me with your department’s achievements.”

“Yes, of course, sir.” Overbrook looked as though he might fall faint, despite his stiff posture. Over the next few hours, Evan was given a tour of the Obliviators’ wing, their many offices and various sub-departments. He looked through their Obliviation records thoroughly, scanning them and jotting down notes on pertinent information as Overbrook sweated through his jacket from nerves. Finally, when Evan indicated he was tired of the behind-the-scenes look, Overbrook lead him back out to the large front area where they’d begun. “And finally, we have the main floor here. This is the hub of our operations—”

“I am aware.” The bite in Evan’s voice shut the Chief Obliviator up at once as he slipped his wand out of his sleeve and pointed it at his throat. A muttered spell, and his next words echoed throughout the Obliviators’ wing. “Good afternoon, Obliviators. Your presence is required immediately on the main floor. Failure to arrive within the next minute will result in the removal of your wand hand.” After using the counterspell, he lowered his wand and waited, posture relaxed but coiled to spring. Behind him, Overbrook swallowed loudly. There was a flurry of activity as witches and wizards poured out of side halls and offices. Within a minute, the main floor was packed wall-to-wall with faces ranging from scared to bored to intrigued.

“Is this everyone?” Evan asked, glancing at Overbrook with his magical eye.

The wizard looked at the crowd for a moment, then finally nodded. “With the exception of young Desmond. Er, the intern who escorted you here. I sent him on an errand to another department. I’m sure he’ll be back soon, though,” he added, seeing that Evan was eyeing him intently.

Very well. It was one intern, and if need be he could have a chat with the boy later once he returned. “Then we’ll start,” Evan said, and turned his attention to the assembled Obliviators. He didn’t put his wand to his throat again. In fact, he barely raised his voice, but every eye was on him as he addressed them.

“Obliviators. I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you who I am and who I represent, so we shall skip the formalities for the time being. By now, you’re all aware of the great changes being made to our community. We’re making strides in wiping all trace of Muggle blood from the wizarding world, and this has been possible with the cooperation of everyone here at the Ministry. And in no small part thanks to you. However—” Evan couldn’t hold back the sneer that curled his lip “—there have been an increasing number of incidents involving a certain group of terrorists and Muggle sympathizers. And while my compatriots and I are dealing with them, we recognize that institutions such as the Ministry are prime targets for this ‘Order’ and their reprehensible agenda.

“We cannot allow weakness anywhere in the Ministry, particularly not amongst the Obliviators. So I am here to make sure you understand what is expected of you.” He began pacing down the rows of desks, a panther in his black robes stalking among deer. “You are, of course, to  go about your normal daily duties. In the process of these duties, if you are called upon for a special assignment, you will accept and carry it out without hesitation. Your records on the assignments and tasks you perform must be up to standard; any fault in your record keeping will hinder the overall operation of the Ministry and our cause, and you will personally be held responsible for any such failures. If you see or hear anything which could be of use to us in bringing down organizations like the Order and their sympathizers—be it out in the field or here within the Ministry—you will make a full report of it to your Chief so that we may act on that information swiftly. Failure to comply with these directives or any new orders from your Chief, who reports directly to myself and my companions, will be met with the harshest of punishments.”

The room was silent as he spoke. No one dared make so much as a peep. Hardly a breath could be heard, as though all present had forgotten how to breathe. Only Evan’s soft footfalls on the carpet and his voice hung in the air. Their fear was palpable and he soaked it in greedily, magical eye scanning carefully for anything out of place. Not just the people, but the desks, their clothes, the coat rack by the door... anywhere that might be charmed to conceal things which the Obliviators might wish to hide from him.

“Furthermore, you should not think of the new, higher standards you’re being held to as restrictions. These protocols are in place to help weed out potential weakness, and safeguard against the radical schemes of the Order. We cannot and will not allow this office to become a breeding ground for Mudblood-lovers and dissidents.”

"And what if we can’t?”

Evan stopped and turned slowly to look over his shoulder. A man of about middle age had risen from his desk, trembling from head to foot. But unlike Overbrook, this man’s jaw was set with determination and his eyes were hard as they bored into Evan. “What if we can’t carry out these... these heartless, disgusting directives? What if we won’t be a part of this madness?”

“Gilbert, sit down,” Overbrook hissed, but Gilbert ignored him. “Please, sir, pay no attention to him—”

“What if we refuse to be your pawns, eh?” Gilbert continued, now seeming to tremble more from anger than fear. “I for one won’t have none of this. Thirty years I’ve given to this job, thirty years of guilt at what I’ve had to see and erase from people’s minds. Thirty years of guilt over them Muggles what I’ve had to Obliviate, making them think their loved one died in a terrible gas explosion rather than being blown up by a madman and other such horrors. This ain’t an easy job, but I do it ‘cause it’s necessary. And now you waltz in here telling us that you elitist bastards want us to rat each other out, dig up dirt on friends and family, Obliviate Muggle-borns into madness and turn innocent Muggles into walking vegetables? Well, I’m not having it. You and your bastard of a master can get stuffed for all I care. I won’t be a part of it, you hear? I wont!”

Gilbert panted, seemingly overcome by his outburst. The room, already quiet before, was now deathly still. Evan blinked, head cocked slightly, face inscrutable. “I see,” he said at last, voice a low murmur, almost thoughtful. “You certainly have strong feelings about this. Almost admirable.”

His wand whipped through the air, sending Gilbert flying upward to hit the ceiling with a loud thud. Several people flinched, more doing so when the wizard fell back to his desk, scattering papers and shattering his desk lamp under him. He barely had time to get his breath back when Evan snarled, “Crucio,” pulling it right back out of his lungs in a scream. The hair on Evan’s neck stood up as his adrenaline soared, and his face twisted into a mask of cruel delight as he watched Gilbert writhe on the desk. He didn’t let up until Gilbert had squirmed straight onto the floor.

“This is your choice,” Evan announced to the room at large. “You can stand with the Ministry and with my master’s cause, and be hailed as heroes who helped purify our world. Or, you can join Gilbert here when he’s carted off to the irrevocable spell damage ward of St. Mungo’s.” He loomed over Gilbert, who was shaking on the floor and staring up at him with wide eyes. Evan merely smiled at him again as he raised his wand.

“My my my, aren’t you nosy? Very well, though I shall have to give it some thought. There’s hardly been any time for such considerations lately.”

Elvira, though I can’t see that happening. She takes far too much pride in herself to be open to my whims. Good for her. Besides, she’s a married woman. Only a fool would dare insert himself in that tense little quagmire.

There was a little blonde thing running around at that ball the Order threw. I only caught a few glimpses of her, but she sounded like she’d be fun to pin against a wall. Though I think that of many people.

Dear old Barty. Though he is long beyond comprehension anymore, what with his soul having become dementor fodder, I would happily have had him once upon a time. And he’s not dead, technically, so I don’t feel so bad about mentioning him. Dear me, I sound almost sentimental, don’t I?

The Nott boy that Elvira has been keeping an eye on has an exquisite face, doesn’t he? I suppose I’ll add him here, though he’s rather young for my taste. His parents were always easy on the eyes.

“I take it you expect me to be generous and not place myself first? In truth, I’d place the Dark Lord first, but he is well above us, so for lack of being able to list him:”

Myself (please, as though anyone else is worthy of such placement)

Elvira Blanche. We share certain interests which I know our master deeply appreciates. I’m surprised he keeps others besides us around.

Bellatrix Lestrange. I award this position grudgingly, however. I haven’t the faintest clue what my master sees in her—she’s volatile and reckless, and frankly insane to a degree that I would’ve though had outlived its use by now. Yet he seems to favor her, and I wouldn’t dare question him openly over it.

Severus Snape. Surprising, I’m sure, but I must give credit where credit is due. The wizard who finally killed Dumbledore deserves a high place on this list indeed. Particularly after so long spent behind enemy lines. Though I did still doubt his loyalty for the longest time, it was good to see him finally prove himself beyond a doubt. Brought back fond memories of school.

Barty Crouch, Jr. Now there was a wizard I could almost love, it’s true. His double face was much more impressive than Avery’s, and I heard much of his exploits while his fool of a father ran about trying to find us all. The way in which he dealt with the Longbottoms was astounding. I was in a cell near him in Azkaban. We had a good long while to talk. When he was smuggled out, I said nothing. Didn’t need to. I knew the moment he could, he would do what the most loyal of us would do. And he didn’t disappoint. Shame he was given to the dementors.

Alexander Barrett. For all that he seems a mindless lapdog, he’s an obedient and ferocious one when he puts his mind to it. I like his style. The Death Eaters need more new blood like him, who bend to the Dark Lord’s will so easily and protect our interests with such… finesse.

Greyback. He’s a bloodthirsty beast, but his methods are wholly remarkable and produce fascinating results. Though I do wish his leash was a little tighter.

Guinevere Delacroix. She’s new enough that I know very little about her, but if my master has deemed her worthy, it is not without reason. And particularly as she’s so young, and her way with Greyback is admirable to watch. I intend to keep a close eye on her.

I must put Dominic on here somewhere, mustn’t I? I suppose here is as good as anywhere for a close friend with the constitution of a wet rag. Still, he enjoys the finer points of torture, he is a fantastic tactician, and he did eventually return to us. I’m given to understand he was even there the night of our master’s return, though apparently he blubbered in fear as is proper. Still, he came back.