evandrusmulciber-blog

[evandrusmulciber-blog]

Evan smiled, not looking up from the book of curses he’d been perusing in the Malfoy’s old library. “My dear Miss Parkinson, didn’t anyone ever tell you that patience is a virtue?” He thumbed to the next page, running a finger across the aged text and skimming for anything new or useful. “I’d be happy to move for you, if you tell me what business you have in here first.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Would you like to finish whatever you’re doing now or move out of my bloody way?” Her voice was unpleasant and strict, but lacked the normal venom that usually dripped from her words.

[evandrusmulciber-blog]

Cassius, Ginny, Hermione

“Ooh, a stimulating list. This makes for quite the difficult decision...”

Fuck: Shocking, I’m sure, but Hermione would be preferable. Marrying Mudblood filth is out of the question, of course, but I must reserve the ‘kill’ spot for another.

Marry: Cassius, of these three, is the natural selection here. Particularly with that face.

Kill: Ginny. It shouldn’t surprise anyone, really, but we have unfinished business. Besides, I’m sure she’s just dying to see Daddy again.

[evandrusmulciber-blog]

EXCERPT FROM THE FACT FILE #2

Moral Alignment: Neutral Evil MB Type: ESTJ-A Hogwarts House: Slytherin Wand: Yew wood with a dragon heartstring core, 13 inches, rigid Patronus: Pheasant (has never needed to produce a patronus) Ilvermorny House: Wampus Western Zodiac Sign: Scorpio Chinese Zodiac Sign: Pig Primal Zodiac Sign: Squid Element: Fire Celtic Animal: Wolf/Hound Celtic Tree: Reed - The Inquisitor Personality Role: The Warrior Enneagram Type: Types 3 & 8 – The Achiever & The Challenger Temperament Type: Choleric Positive traits: Resilient, charismatic, perceptive Negative traits: Sadistic, impatient, controlling Pet peeves: People talking back to him; people (besides Voldemort) trying to control him; not getting what he wants; having to wait for anything

[evandrusmulciber-blog]

EXCERPT FROM THE FACT FILE #1

Full name: Evandrus Caecilius Mulciber Age: 39 Birthdate: October 30th, 1959 Height: 6’ 2” Blood status: Wizard (Pureblood) Gender: Cis male Sexual orientation: Bisexual Blood type: A+ Socio-economic class: Upperclass in both wizard and Muggle circles Occupation: Death Eater Hometown: Mountsorrel, Leicestershire, England Current address: Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England Hair color: Black Eye color: Blue Important Locations:

Malfoy Manor – current base of operations

Mulciber Family Home – abandoned after First Wizarding War

Hogwarts – alma mater

[evandrusmulciber-blog]

norsefenrir:

“Muggles and Firewhiskey? Sounds like a damn death trap. Count me fucking in.”

“Delightful!” The werewolf had a better sense of fun than Evan was accustomed to. He delved into a hidden pocket in his cloak, and from its undetectably expanded depths proceeded to remove two bottles of fire whiskey. “One for you, and one for me. I shan’t stop you if you decide to indulge yourself.” He liked Fenrir better when he’d had a few drinks anyway. “With a little craft, we should be able to spread this quite far.”

[evandrusmulciber-blog]

Evan didn’t care much about the amount of stumbling and bumping into people that was rampant at this foolish event. It wasn’t as though one could expect better of Muggles, particularly drunk ones. So the apology of the young man in the... well, it looked like a sort of bat costume... was brushed aside with little to no care.

“No matter,” he replied, eyeing the costume. No magical tampering; probably just another Muggle unwittingly awaiting the slaughter. “A word of advice; if you’d rather not inconvenience yourself or others, draping it over your arm will keep it out of your way.” And keep you in once piece for me to play with later, he thought to himself.

Harry walked around the party, feeling more ridiculous as the time went on. He knew he should have picked an easy costume like Ron. This one was too hot and the mask made his face all hot and sweaty.  Also he was finding it hard to walk with a cape. Which didn’t make any sense because he was use to wearing cloaks, but this cape seemed to be specially made so it would trip the wearer of it.  Harry was trying to  untangle his cape when he accidentally bumped into someone. 

“I’m sorry. This cape is impossible.” He apologized to the stranger. 

[evandrusmulciber-blog]

A smile curled Evan’s lips in a manner that would likely have made a Cheshire Cat proud. “That would be quite something. It took five of the best trained Aurors to take my eye. You think you alone could do better?” The magical eye in question glinted at her, helping him better see which of his compatriots he’d stumbled upon just now. The Parkinson girl; of course it would be. “Why waste the energy trying when you could be enjoying the festivities to come? You need only put up with being jostled by filth for a few hours more. Save your anger for the upcoming fun.”

“Watch where you’re going, you dolt!” she snapped at a passerby who stepped on had bumped into her, not for the first time. Pansy was never much of one to party, but that didn’t mean she was happy with having to, essentially, work the event. Especially one with hundreds of scantily clad women wearing cheap imitations of her heritage and culture. Upon being shoved again, she spun on her heel. “I swear, if you run into me one more time, I’ll make sure you don’t have a foot to run with anymore…” She glared darkly in their direction.

[evandrusmulciber-blog]

“Quite far, if I have my way.” Evan’s fingers drummed on his wooden staff as he watched the bartenders making drinks as fast as they could. What better way to placate their soon-to-be prey, he reasoned. Uncharacteristically, he’d been roaming close to the bar this evening, watching drinks be passed across the counter and giving his staff (concealing his wand) a small flick at every one he saw. At least, everyone he saw go to someone who he didn’t recognize as a fellow Death Eater.

“Of course, not so far as to be numb to the surprise we’re unveiling later,” he added, casting a sideways smirk at Flint from under his costume’s helmet. “That would spoil everything. But far enough to make them... pliable.” Defenseless. Weak. Prey sitting in wait for the slaughter. Well, Muggles were that already, so it was only fitting wasn’t it?

Being in a costume was beyond ridiculous–preposterous, even–but Marcus knew it was essential to remaining incognito for the remainder of this strange Muggle event. He knew that if they had all arrived in Death Eater costume, they would have attracted too much attention to themselves. No, no–it was much safer to just blend in. Which is exactly why Marcus was stationed at a table near the kiosks selling food, watching pensively as people moved to and fro.

“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.”

[evandrusmulciber-blog]

norsefenrir:

“That’s the fucking thing. There’s already booze in it. Damn kids just don’t want to be able to taste it.”

“Is that so? Well, it certainly had me fooled. I thought it was alcohol free. Only one thing for it then. Time to break out the Firewhiskey and allow these creatures a chance to taste true intoxication. They won’t know what hit them. Should be most entertaining.”

[evandrusmulciber-blog]

“I find adding some choice ingredients will see to that. Are you a whiskey man or a vodka man?”

“This hunch punch shit is too fucking sweet.”

[evandrusmulciber-blog]

EVENT #3 — The Witching Hour

"No troop, however great, that looked on the eye would withstand him. It was always covered with seven cloaks to keep it cool. He took the cloaks off one by one. At the first, ferns began to wither. ... At the seventh, the whole land caught fire.”

All Hallow’s Eve has never been the night of frivolous merrymaking for Evan that it was for the Muggle world, or even the more idiotic parts of the wizarding world. Hallowe’en represented a night of true mayhem since his earliest years, a night on which his father would take him in masks of death and ancient fear to torment the surrounding Muggle suburbs; when he and Avery would strike fear into the hearts of those who stood in their way, first at Hogwarts and then at the behest of their Master. Eventually, it became the night of the Dark Lord’s fall. Now that he’s free once again, Evan has found that his old Hallowe’en spark has returned. While Bellatrix finds the holiday distasteful, Evan finds it a perfect time to remind those in his path of the elder days when myths and legends were as real to Muggle-kind as cars and phones are today. When demonic threats stalked their lands, plagued their nightmares, and gave them cause to make protective jack-o-lanterns and disguises in the first place.

Tonight, Evan stalks London’s biggest Hallowe’en bash as the legendary figure of Balor, the one-eyed Celtic demon god of death, destruction, and blight. For once, his magical eye is on full display, peeking out like a golden firebrand from beneath a twisted helmet of horns, while his natural eye is charmed into invisibility. His armor glints blackly in the dim light as he passes through the crowds. In one hand a staff of black wood conceals his wand, while in the other a whip of magical fire astounds the clueless Muggles who see it. They might not recognize Balor exactly, but there’s no mistaking the demonic energy this costume presents, and they pass the wizard compliments on his extravagant attire while simultaneously edging out of his path. How right they are to flee; if only they knew the true threat he poses to them.

[evandrusmulciber-blog]

top 5 order members to torture

“Hmmm. This is rather similar to the last one, don’t you think? But I suppose the former list is merely victims; it doesn’t specify what they would be victims of. This is specifically torture. That was also not exclusively Order members. So I shall approach it thus.”

Draco Malfoy. With his parents watching, naturally.

A Weasley. Again, any will do, so long as all the rest are watching.

Minerva McGonagall. She was always obnoxious as a teacher. Would it be petty of me to carve some failing marks into her for the tests she failed me on?

Along the same lines, Albus Dumbledore. Obviously, the chance for that has escaped me, but it would have been a delight for obvious reasons.

Finally, although Harry Potter would be a natural addition to this list, I’d like to have a crack at that Mudblood friend of his, Granger.

[evandrusmulciber-blog]

top 5 potential victims

“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.

Lucius Malfoy. Obviously, his son deserves a helping of pain, but Lucius’s desertion has been sitting poorly with me. More and more as time passes. It’s a personal thing, you see.

[evandrusmulciber-blog]

What a perfect day for a bit of light-hearted prowling. Diagon Alley was in shambles, a husk of its former self, and the sight of the dwindling shops gave Evan cause to smile. It had always been a haven for Mudbloods and their families, traipsing around every summer for school supplies as though they had the right to be here. It was revolting, and he was happy to see it crumbling around them. Though he did miss a few places, of course—no one made wands like Olivander, and he’d enjoyed the Quidditch supply store as a boy (or rather, harassing the other kids who went in there to ogle at new brooms).

As he passed the apothecary, he caught a flash of a slightly familiar face. He couldn’t be certain that he knew her, precisely, nor where he might have known her from, but he felt certain that he’d seen the girl somewhere before. Well, it wasn’t as if he had anything else to do. This was a free day for him, so why not do a bit of digging? So he waited a bit and then followed, strolling casually as though browsing.

She was cautious as she went about her business, and perhaps she felt him watching her surreptitiously because she was doing her best to stay out of sight. Evan slipped around a shelf, scanning the contents vaguely as though considering a purchase. Meanwhile, he kept his ears pricked for the sounds of her steps, until they headed for the end of his row. He kept his eyes up on the ingredients as he made to head her off, and felt a hum of satisfaction when she collided with his chest.

“Oh!” Evan replied, startled tone and wide eyes giving the impression of a surprise he didn’t feel in the slightest. “No no no, you’re fine! I wasn’t watching where I was going. Are you alright?”

Kadrea was trying to make her trip through Diagon Alley quick. She felt uneasy being out in the wizarding part of the world, feeling like there were Death Eaters looking for prey around every corner. Standing in the Apothecary, her last stop, she felt that aching hint of someone’s eyes locked on her back. She steeled herself, trying to walk nonchalantly around to the other side of the shelves, trying to get a peek of whoever might be eyeing her.

In her narrowed focus on the possible threat, she failed to notice the other person rounding the shelves from the other sided. She collided into them.

“Jesus Christ!” she exclaimed, a little more loudly than intended. She placed her hand over her heart, shaking her head and stepping back. “Sorry, sorry. I wasn’t expecting you there.”

[evandrusmulciber-blog]

Protocol | Self Para

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.

By the time the alarm began sounding ten minutes later, Gilbert was a drooling husk of a human on the floor, his eyes staring blindly at the legs of his desk while he muttered gibberish. Evan thought the message had gotten across loud and clear, if the tear-streaked and fear-riddled faces of the rest of the employees were anything to go by. Evan didn’t spare his latest victim another glance as he strode to the door, witches and wizards shrinking away from him as he passed. “Overbrook, get rid of him while I go see what the fuss is about.” Perhaps there was more entertainment to be found. Yes, this was definitely a very good day.

[evandrusmulciber-blog]

☂

“@elvirablanche I wouldn’t normally ask, but do you by chance have a tea set you’re willing to part with? Mine just met an unfortunate end.”

“Credit where credit is due, @elvirablanche was simply spectacular to watch in action today. A real professional, talented. #snakesdoitbest”

“Last meeting was cut short, quite literally, so I’ve time to spare. @elvirablanche can you recommend a good wine for my evening in?”

[evandrusmulciber-blog]

“Ah, perfect.” Evan’s smirk widened. An intern with the Obliviators, what luck. This should speed things along nicely. “Then you’re just the person I’m looking for. I’m here for the inspection.” He eyed the young man, camouflaged magical eye searching for signs of untruths. It was hard to tell, though—oddly enough, he seemed to have some sort of... thin shield about him. Like a membranous layer of soft light. Fascinating. Was this some sort of protection afforded the Obliviators, to shield against misfired spells? Or was it something else? “Your Department head, what was his name... Michael Overbrook. He was supposed to be here waiting for me. But if he’s not up to the task of seeing me around the department, you’ll do.”

“What am I doing here? Oh, I forget things. That is to say, I make others forget them. You know, writing down the names of those who are Obliviated during the day, fetching the coffee without the sugar and such. That sort of job. I have a fancy clipboard and everything, not that you really need to concern yourself with that. I’m- I’m sure you have quite the full schedule. So dreadfully sorry- What were you here for again?“