#tle starter

It'd been while since Digg had dropped into Hogsmeade. Tapping into the WWN had had him chasing the news, wanting to check out these new and improved Inferi, see who would win in a battle of brains versus bombs. Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to find any on his own, so he figured it was 'bout time he ran back to Hogsmeade. See if he couldn't find some bright-eyed Order member to tag along with next time they went out on the field. 

When a giant bonfire greeted him in the courtyard of Hogsmeade, a grin split his face. Been awhile since he'd seen a party -- and so many unfamiliar faces. Good. He'd been getting bored. 

He approached, nudging into someone on the outer perimeter of the party. "What's the occasion?" 

Catching sight of the lone figure outside the ring of warmth provided by the glow of the fire, watching the action rather than enjoying it, Marcus adopted an easy grin and wandered over. 

"Hey," he greeted. "The party called. Wants to know why you're missing it."

Blood curdling screams was something which fell upon Bellatrix's ears with grace and a loving embrace, they were something that she lived for and something that she wished she would hear whenever her eyes shot open and her pupils were once again introduced to the bright sunshine. Screams was something that she craved, more than nicotine and more than warm blood slowly making its way down her arm. More times than not, Bellatrix Lestrange always received her wish on a daily basis. It didn't matter who she had made scream, whether it be a stranger looking for safety or a beggar wanting refuge in the manor, Bellatrix would always find pleasure in their screams and cackle to herself as she walked away, waiting for death to arrive and take the witch or wizard as its own.

Wanting to hear someone scream was what brought her to Hogsmeade Village. For many hours, she had been dancing around England, just waiting for the perfect moment for someone to pass her, because that was when the real fun would start and Bellatrix would get her fix. After four hours of prancing around the country (and running into many Inferi) did Bellatrix finally relocate herself to Hogsmeade. She hoped that the small Wizarding village would be a breeding ground for screams, and she wasn't wrong.  Placing a mask over her voice was something which Bellatrix had become an expert at, so sounding panicked and scared was something which rolled straight off her tongue.

Glenda had spent the whole morning sorting silverware and was utterly bored.  She had managed to slip away and quickly made herself disappear into the one of the forgotten rooms of the extensive Malfoy Manor.

Sitting gracefully on a windowsill in a room filled with furniture covered by cloths, Glenda had a cigarette balancing delicately on her fingertips. It was cold and the chill from the open window flushed her cheeks but she ignored it. Exhaling out the window, she heard footsteps approaching.  Christ sake no one ever comes in this wing...if this is someone else trying to get an extra roll off of me...I might just....

Not moving until she felt the presence of someone in the doorway, the blonde turned towards the figure with a placid, disinterested face and large expressionless eyes.

"What?"

–– "Unless you've come to bring me more cigarettes, I can assure you that I am not interested."

Life at the Manor was becoming unbearable. Narcissa could handle it - she had to; who else was there to take over? - but just sometimes she wished for a moment of peace. Though Andromeda's visits were increasing in number, the time between stretched on with infuriating ease, whole days and weeks slipping by like sand between her fingers. Without her trips to Hogsmeade, there was no doubt that she would disintegrate like Bellatrix, who kept mostly to her rooms, drank dangerous amounts, and practiced her hexes out the window.

Narcissa stood on the balcony overlooking the main drive, her eyes drawn to a space of ground some distance away to her left. Though she couldn't see Bellatrix, her sister's delighted yells and jeers sounded along the building, magnified whenever a spell was particularly successful. The targets shuffled fifty or so meters outside the Manor's walls, bodies emaciated, decaying. They no longer wore clothes and were instead nothing but human shadows. When the wind cast at the right angle, she could hear their whispers.

The air was brisk and cold as a snap. Lifting her head to the steely sky, Narcissa closed her eyes, feeling winter settle in her bones. Inside it was as gloomy and austere as ever, though the atmosphere had taken on an ugly shade. Alcohol was running low; tempers high. The prospect of travelling to Hogsmeade seemed to disgust her wards, as did regular changes of clothing. There were only so many air-freshening charms one could cast.

At one wild whoop, Narcissa refocused on the gaggle of undead. One of them was now missing an arm, the rest gathering around to inspect the damage, moaning faintly in confusion. (Or what she imagined to be confusion, for they couldn't think, could they?) Bellatrix's laughter echoed manically. 

Tearing her gaze away, she rested her elbows on the broad stone lip of the balcony. One moment of peace: that was all she needed.

What - ah... Who -