#iabevent

SARIA YOUNG AS...SANDY OLSSON 

         ↳ my head is saying, fool forget him... my heart it saying, don’t let go...

Growing up from foster home to foster home, Grease was one of Saria’s favorite movies. She was shocked to discover that the film never made it into the Wizarding world upon her arrival at Ilvermorny -- this prompted her to track down an old TV set, bringing it and her copy the following year to school with her. It was an instant hit within her house. Saria has never felt mature enough to don the signature look, but this year -- despite that there are still very few wizards who even know what her costume is supposed to be -- Saria tracked down the perfect pair of red heels and styled her hair to the sky... though the cigarette is merely spelled to look like it’s been lit.  

Elvira counted out the Order members who kept a vigilant eye on the streets below. There were roughly a half-dozen of them, four of which were known to her from the previous accounts of her Death Eaters. Though they looked common and insignificant, they had proven to be rather troublesome targets to catch. But send in a mild threat and an easy invitation for disguises and those good-for-nothings were sure to come running for their noble cause. The witch looked at her own troops for the evening- she had at least twice as many men and women at her disposal, plus herself. The mission couldn’t have been easier even if she had willed it. 

“The Mudbloods will be dealt with later. Focus on taking down as many of the Order’s numbers as possible. No survivors.” She murmured to them, waiting until the crowds below were large enough before she gave them the signal to begin their mission. Black cloaks and silver masks flew into the middle of the streets, curses flying in all number of directions as the Death Eaters closed in on their prey. Screams erupted from wizards and Muggles alike as the confusion and lights were followed by the sight of people dropping to the ground like flies. As anticipated, the Order members pulled out their wands, immediately casting protective charms and distracting spells in order to protect the fleeing civilians.

What the Order did not expect was for the Death Eaters to separate them from one another, a pair targeting each specific member of the rebellious group, save for Elvira’s specific choice. The wizard that she had selected for her message was a rather delectable target, and even without her Legilimency, it was easy to tell who he was with that flaming red hair. “Arthur Weasley, isn’t it? Dear Lucius has said so much about you. You’re a traitor to your own kind, a muggle lover.“ Elvira sneered, a binding hex flying towards her target with alarming accuracy,

To his credit, he didn’t flinch at her, deflecting her spell and sending one at her in kind. He only raised his chin up a little higher as he accepted her challenge. “You almost make it sound like a bad thing. Unfortunately, your attack on the fine Muggles of London ends here.” 

A Disarming Spell was sent towards the witch and was countered without so much as a second thought. She practically laughed at his face at his ridiculous declaration, shaking her head with amusement.  “My dear, we’re not here for the Muggles. We’re here for you.“ The witch sent a series of spells towards him, viciously lashing out without providing the Weasley with much room to retaliate.

Admittedly, Weasley was not nearly as terrible a duelist as she had anticipated. Years of confronting Death Eaters seemed to have given him some level of ability in countering her wide variety of hexes and spells. Elvira frowned, recognizing that the more time she wasted with him, the likelier it was that reinforcements would soon come his way. That simply wouldn’t do. Thinking quickly, she changed targets to one of the many Muggles who were fleeing the scene, casting a curse that would surely kill them. As anticipated, the wizard screamed out. “No!” His attention left her in favor of the Muggle and there, an opening presented itself just as he cast a Shield Charm upon them. What a typical bleeding heart Gryffindor; a complete disgrace to Purebloods everywhere. Elvira pounced on his moment of distraction with a well-timed spell.

“Confringo!“

A blast of heat shot out of her wand, hitting the Order member right in the chest and sending him flying several meters away. Even across the sounds of chaos, she could hear the telltale sign of ribs cracking as Arthur Weasley smacked into a brick wall. The wand that had previously protected him has flown from his hand, landing just at her feet. It snapped easily beneath her shoe, letting out a few measly sparks in its passing. Its owner in question groaned, attempting to get up and failing as his bones creaked in protest. He had nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide from her. All that remained was the kill itself- to symbolize his organization’s fall from grace.

Elvira crouched down to look at the fallen wizard, shaking her head in a mocking display of regret. It was over, and they both knew that there was no escape for the Order member. No, a wizard like this has only one fate left for him, after all he had done to defy her master. “What a waste. Your family would have gone far had it not been for your disgusting attachment to Muggles. It almost pains me to spill such pure blood.“

Arthur stared back at her defiantly. “Pure blood has nothing to do with a person’s character. You’re so blinded by what Voldemort says that you don’t even realize that your numbers grow thinner by the day. And for good reason-“ He let out a wheeze as Elvira kicked him in the ribs, her wand threatening the space between his eyes.

“You aren’t worthy to speak his name you filthy blood traitor.“ She hissed, a curse lingering on her tongue as he tsked at her. The insolence!

It took him some time to regain his breath, yet her anger didn’t stop him from talking. “How many of those Muggles have escaped during this thrilling conversation of ours?“

The peculiar question caught her off-guard, and she found herself replying in a carefully measured tone. “Enough. What does it matter?“

“Because they matter.” What was stranger was the fact that Arthur dared to smile at her, seemingly satisfied. “You’ll regret underestimating them one day, you know.“

The witch stared at him coldly, inclining her head ever so slightly. How typical of a blood traitor to remain defiant to the end; it was almost admirable. "We’ll see about that. Goodbye, Mr. Weasley. It has been a pleasure." She brought a hand up to his cheek, savoring the thrum of life beneath her fingers as she brought her wand up to his temple.

“Avada Kedavra“

Elvira watched with childlike fascination as a comforting burst of green overwhelmed her vision, extinguishing the light that lay in the wizard’s defiant gaze. She greedily sucked in the last vestiges of warmth from her newest corpse, reluctantly parting ways from him as she heard Goyle Sr. shouting out her name across the newly born battlefield. The others had succeeded in their mission as well, adding five more to their overall body count for the evening. The witch let out a huff of annoyance, but decided to cut her quiet gloating short, opting instead to take advantage of her latest boon. After all, anything less than complete and total dominance over the entirety of London would hardly be acceptable.

She placed her wand at her throat, casting a tacit Amplifying Charm so that her voice rang loud and clear to all those in her vicinity. “As you can see around you, the Order has broken against the might of Lord Voldemort and his faithful servants. Starting tonight, things will now be run differently.“ Elvira paused, lips curling into a vicious grin as she drove her heel into Mr. Weasley’s chest. “These attempts to usurp our lord and master will no longer be tolerated with the same graciousness as He has shown to you all these past few months. Any who do so much as think to defy him will be brought to justice swiftly and without mercy, just like dear Arthur here. Consider this your final warning, the Order of the Phoenix cannot protect you from us.“ Or namely, from her. With that said, she aimed towards the sky, the Dark Mark rising into the air for all to see.

“I can’t help but wonder,” he mused to himself, observing the line of people waiting for doctored up drinks at the bar. “How far gone they’ll be by the end of the night.”

Ron cleared his throat, and with the deepest voice he could manage said, “Evening.....” Nothing good, nothing bad, just a casual greeting meant to be exchanged in passing.