Hook, Line, and Sinker Ⅳ

Five Death Eater's appeared on the grounds of the old Carrow manor. Alecto Carrow giggles with glee as she watches her brother spew slugs with every other breath. "Really, brother, what an embarrassment being hit by such a childish curse!"

Shut up!" Alecto Carrow croaked as another burst of slugs flew from his mouth as his pudgy sister stepped away from him in disgust.

"My poor Snyde would have so dearly enjoyed this!" Empusa began to wail again, despite having been rather cheerful the entire time torturing muggles until she'd been pinned to a post. At which point, she'd only managed to escape by setting fire to half of the town before apparating away.

"Whom did we lose?" Rabastan Lestrange urgently inquired as he counted them all.

"Arty Clanx and Aeron," croaked the burly Death Eater, Seth. "They almost had the Prewett brothers and got one of them really good until Auror Clements came to their aid. Clements took out Clanx first and then Auror Vinovich got Aeron."

"They are of no importance they did not bare the dark mark," Alecto said with a great deal of satisfaction as she pulled her sleeve to reveal the dark mark on her pudgy, pale arm.

Seth looked about to explode when the doors swung open to reveal the figure of Lord Voldemort. They all instantly fell to their knees at seeing the Death Eaters gathered behind them. "And where have my loyal brethren been this evening?" The crimson-eyed wizard coldly asked.

They all instantly fell to their knees as Rabastan says, "We were given reliable information that a dark artifact was to be found in Caithness. And so, we went there, but it would appear that the Aurors were informed as well, and a battle burst forth between us."

"How very interesting, Lestrange, and pray do tell what occurred?" Lord Voldemort purred.

"We inflicted terror and destruction on the muggles," Rabastan said with a hint of satisfaction. "Several muggles were killed including Auror Vinovich, who died by my hand." The Death Eaters gasped at the feat as the old veteran Auror had been known to be a most powerful witch. However, what Rabastan neglected to mention was that he only gained the upper hand because he attacked her from behind.

"And did you leave the dark mark?" Voldemort said with some excitement.

"Yes, Dark Lord," Rabastan said with some pleasure as more than a few Death Eaters appeared to be jealous including Corban Yaxley. However, Rabastan's gaze was not on Yaxley's but on that of his older brother. Had he known any better he could have sworn there was a hint of aversion on his brother's face, before carefully remaining blank.

"You have pleased me, Lestrange," Voldemort announced with a great deal of pleasure. "You will be rewarded for this and have done much to redeem the Lestrange honor."

"Thank you, Milord," Rabastan sincerely said as his elder brother remained icily unimpressed.

"Ah, and what of Fenrir Grayback?" Voldemort asked as he scanned the group. "He was to meet with me later this evening, but he does not appear to be with you."

There is a long pause as Rabastan carefully answers, "Grayback was killed by Auror Vinovich prior to my killing her."

Voldemort seems about to erupt in anger, before just as abruptly cooling down. "It is of no importance, there are plenty of wolf pack leaders to deal with. The death of a werewolf is missed by no one," Voldemort said with disdain as the rest of the Death Eaters behind him chortled with laughter.

Seeming rather amused by the response, Voldemort says, "Now tonight, we celebrate the first kill of our young Rabastan Lestrange and the death of those lesser muggles!"

"Here, here!" Cried out a few brave, foolish Death Eaters!

Rabastan Lestrange, the hero of the evening was personally allowed to remain at Lord Voldemort's side in triumph, while the other four Death Eaters part of the attack were allowed to walk closely behind them. But strangely enough, he found that he was not as happy as he thought he would be.

With an unknown emotion twisting feeling his chest, Rabastan recalled the image of the dying Auror in his mind. Hardening his heart, he quickly concluded it was merely nerves as it was his first time. The unease would quickly fade away that was all there was to it.

*

On special nights, the Monarch is closed to the general public. An old weathered man with neat-cut white hair and a light sweater sits at the bar instead of his usual place at the back of the pub. "Another one, Sanderson?" Asked the lean bartender, Bertram.

"No, I've not yet finished my beer," Sanderson mused as he gazed at the liquid still found at the bottom of his mug.

Suddenly, the front doors burst open as two burly figures marched in. "They took the bait boss," said the smarter of the two thugs, Floyd.

"I thought they would," Sanderson said as a slow, sharp wolfish smile appeared on his face.

"And they killed, Auror Vinovich," breathlessly interrupted the other brawny wizard named Hyde. "It'll be all over the morning papers tomorrow. The ministry and the masses will all be baying for their heads."

"Good," Sanderson said as he downed the rest of his beer. "Another please, Bertram." Bertram soundlessly places another ice-cold beer before him as Sanderson lovingly traces the rim with his finger. "I do love it when a plan comes together. But especially, when an opponent uses the strung-out rope to hang themselves. It makes things so much easier."

Hyde and Floyd happily march back outside to get more information leaving only the bartender, Bertram, and Sanderson alone in the bar. "You're not happy with the results, why old friend?" Sanderson finally asked upon seeing the bartender wipe the same spot on the mug twice.

"I feel as though we still played into their hands," Bertram admitted. "They wanted attention and power and now they have it. They'll be all over the papers tomorrow."

"Yes, but now we have a lead to follow to the snakes that killed my cousin!" Sanderson hissed. "And when I find their nest, I'll crush it!" The mug in his arms burst into pieces showering them both with glass and beer.

Wet and a bit sheepish, Sanderson says, "I don't suppose you'll put it on the tab for old times' sake, Bertram?"

"NO!" Bertram growled as he proceeded to dry himself and wipe himself clean. "I'll be sending the bill home."

"Bertram, please," Sanderson suddenly pleaded. "Clarice will not be happy at all!"

"You blew up my mug!" Bertram hissed back.

"I'll buy you a whole box of them!"

"It was one of a kind!"

"Nonsense, I know for a fact that you bought it at some pawn shop!"

"Exactly."

There is a long pause of silence as Sanderson opens his mouth to speak, but a rather pointed glare from Bertram shuts him up. Rather gloomily he gets up from the bar to head home like a beaten dog. Because that was exactly what was waiting for him at home. A stern beating.