A Meeting Calling for Action

Standing upon a small balcony on the second floor of D'Eath Manor, the dark witch allowed herself a short sigh before raising her wand and sending the Dark Mark up into the sky. She hadn't sent any prior notice of this meeting, but she needed to converse with her Death Eaters. Katrina-Carlotta hadn't been intending to call a meeting so soon, but her hand had been pushed. If there was anything the woman didn't like, it was not having complete control of a situation.

Striding towards their regular meeting room with swift, measured steps, the Headmistress seated herself at the head of the table. She stayed silent as people slowly began to filter in, greeting them with nods and the occasional polite smile. The witch had news, and none of it was particularly good. Finally, upon noticing that everyone she'd expected to be was there, Katrina-Carlotta cleared her throat.

"My apologies for the late hour, but there are two things of importance which we must discuss. Firstly, my intelligence has informed me that James Blood has managed to gain a rather powerful ally in Fenrir Greyback. The Blood Pack was enough of a problem before, but I fear that things may have just gotten infinitely worse. Greyback is not someone to be taken lightly. If any of you hear so much as a whisper on either or their locations or doings, I want to know," the woman stated, tone slightly sharper than it normally was in these meetings. As much as Katrina-Carlotta hated having faults, she could admit to herself that she was stressed.

"The next thing involves something of a back story. In the Forest of Dean, there are two huts. They were created along with the very first Death Eaters and Order of the Phoenix members, long ago. Inside one hut, is a magically updating list of every single one of our members. In the other hut, it is the same for the Order. The lists cannot be removed from their huts, and the magic ensuring it stays that way is incredibly strong. This forest has always been a place of peace, but I fear that might very shortly be changing," Katrina-Carlotta informed all in the room, before leaning back in her chair.

"Upon finding out about these lists, as they were originally created so that the leader of each group can keep track of members, I started to wonder about how to best exploit this knowledge. I seem not to have been the only one with this idea, as it seems that the Order of the Phoenix has their eyes set on our list. While it cannot be removed from its hut, it most certainly can be copied by non-magical means. I don't think I have to inform you how disastrous it would be if they got even a glimpse at our numbers. At the end of the month we must enter the forest, make sure that no-one gets near our list, and if at all possible, get a copy of theirs," the Headmistress announced, voice trailing off into something dangerously soft towards the end. It would be interesting, most certainly, to see what the Death Eaters would think of this.

Pansy wasn't sleeping, she was tired, her eyes were sore, but she wasn't sleeping.The reporter had recently slacked in her journalistic ability. Since her expose with Khaat Lupin she had kept off the map, granted it seemed wise as to not offend the Ministry too much, but a fellow Daily Prophet reporter had beaten her to a juicy article about Gideon Pierce, the new deputy Minister.

The reporter had managed to set up a meeting with Ana Levski, an interview for the daily prophet. However one thing that Pansy hadn't done was write up the interview, there were questions that needed answering and Pansy was taking Lupin's advice that saying all knowledge wasn't a mark of power, Pansy's power was what in she didn't say.

Ana Levski had responded, when asked who was responsible for the forged law: 'One of the attorneys at the Ministry is responsible, though I'm not disclosed to inform you who it was.' One of the attorneys. Was it a coincidence Gideon Pierce, the new deputy minister, had previously been a ministry attorney? Pansy didn't think so.

The witch had done some more investigating of her own but had found nothing else, Pierce had a pretty empty background profile. All Pansy knew was what had been reported in the Daily Prophet. She needed more information. Of course the witch could write up the interview - the timing was almost perfect - and aim suspicion to Gideon Pierce but the timing was that. Almost perfect.

There would be a better opportunity to launch the interview, name and shame Gideon and that opportunity would be after Gideon was more settled and comfortable in his new position of power. After the meeting Pansy would ask to talk to Katrina-Carlotta in private, divulge her recent discoveries and await command from her leader.

Taking a seat at the table Pansy smiled sourly across the table at a pair of death eaters who had been engrossed in a conversation about the new daily prophet. Thankfully the witch didn't have to listen too long as the sleepy babble began to die down as Du Hunt brought news to the death eaters.

So the Order planned on finding who exactly were enlisted death eaters? It wasn't exactly a secret Pansy was a death eater, no doubt some intelligent wizards had their suspicions due to Pansy's stance on issues she reported in the daily prophet, but it wasn't public information. If Pansy were to be shamed as a death eater it could well lead to the end of her career in journalism. Her career that gave her power and placed the death eaters in a perfect position to plant propaganda. The witch wasn't one for dueling or wand on wand scuffles but this was something worth fighting for.

'Do we know anymore information about the Orders plan of action?' Pansy asked, her eyes narrowing with intent as they met Du Hunt's, hoping for something they could use to their own advantage.

"I know that they'll be expecting us to enter the forest soon. I would love to wait them out, but that would dramatically increase the chance of them finding our list, and that's not something I'm willing to risk. They'll likely try to trick us somehow, and it only makes sense for us to do the same," the Hogwarts Headmistress told Pansy, leaning forwards in her seat as she did so.

"There is one thing that will provide something of a challenge. We cannot kill anywhere near the huts. The magic will not allow it. This has always been a place of peace, and it seems that someone long ago wanted to ensure it stayed that way. Most of your spells and curses should work, but anything too terribly damaging will not. This gives us something of a disadvantage, and it limits much of many of your spell repertoires. We will need to spend much time strategizing," Katrina-Carlotta admitted, lips pursed.

This would not be easy. To succeed, the Death Eaters would need to work together. Individually, they were all remarkably capable people. Together, they were a mess of relative strangers, not willing to pool their talents in an attempt to be more successful. No wonder the group hadn't gotten very far in recent years. Her eyes flickered in the direction of Rivah Trenton. They'd need her brain.

The magic was not nearly as seductive as those who wielded it over the weak and impressionable, those who did not understand the true and unparalleled addiction that was power. Some said that black magic bled a black soul, that it turned a true and beating heart as hard and as dark as coal. For those who merely dipped their toes into the stagnant pool, those who did not immerse themselves fully, the slope would slide them down into it regardless of how long they held their nerve against it for it always won. Dark magic would seep into their veins like a vengeful gangrene, destroying all in its path until nothing good was left. That real benevolence was personified by the house, the manor that had once belonged to the repentant, the ones that had thought twice, thought right the second time but still acted on the first. It lost them everything, you see, and evidence of their being there was etched into the beams that upheld the shaky lead roof. The Malfoy crest, worn and blasted away in places by mistimed spells. Evidence of centuries of nobility, scrubbed away in mere decades. Now, too, it did not even have their name on the deed.

Combing his fingers through his hair, Stewart Harding smoothed his hair down before the cracked mirror hung over the fireplace in the formal sitting room just off from the atrium. Flames were spitting merrily in the hearth but it did little to divest the house of its near constant chill and as Stewart clasped his cloak around his throat he found himself mourning the loss of his apartment, his mind wondering after why he’d indulged his curiosity. He would never make a Death Eater but he’d make a great scholar of their craft. His hand fiddled idly with the snake clip that held his robe together. It was ancient but a scouring charm had lifted much of the grime and negligence-induced age from its surface. Now it was in pride of place once more, at the hollow of a man’s throat. Both man and item, however, seemed to acknowledge that they were wrong for each other. Nevertheless, they took to each other for the practicality and what they gained. For Stewart, warmth, for the piece, a right to see the world as it had done before, with its sparkling emerald gaze.

The pops of Apparation sounded in the atrium and Stewart turned, with a wave of his hand blotting out the light in the hearth. Darkness filled the room and he watched as the shadows roved across the floor against the faint light sliding into the room from underneath the door. He swallowed, feeling a hard lump in his chest, then, steeling himself, he retired from the room, striding through the atrium and entering the meeting room behind the group of Rookwoods – if his knowledge of heraldic crests was anything to go by – two of whom looked the most strained to be there. Stewart took a seat, shadowed somewhat by the low light in the room, and he turned his gaze briefly to his mother, a half-smile sliding over his mouth before he extinguished it, averting his gaze to the pale faces of those about the room.

Pansy Parkinson-Nott. Augustus Rookwood. Athena Rookwood. Theodore Rookwood. The latter two wearing those strained expressions. More Death Eaters filled the room. Yaxleys. Macnairs. Gibbons. Names that Stewart had committed to memory, their family crests shining on their breasts. There they all were. As though the war had not ended. His mother at the helm. He felt a stab of pride, recalled his disdain for their organisation but reminded himself that he was no different. He supposed that his crimes were all too similar to theirs only they believed their actions were to a higher purpose. Stewart? He just wanted the gold. The glory of it. The reputation – albeit that was a slight inconvenience. And that was why he took names. Tonight, he was William Holden. Perhaps tomorrow, he’d be Stewart again.

“Madame du Hunt,” Stewart leaned forward, his mother’s name rolling off of his tongue, his tone ever so slightly wry for he bore well the irony of the situation. However, as William Holden she was not his mother. No, a bakery chef from Atlanta was his mother. So, perhaps indeed rather, William Holden leaned forward, his palms stretched across the table, respect glinting mischievously in his eyes. He cast his eyes across the table, resting briefly upon Pansy before lifting back to his mother. Oh, no, Madame du Hunt, rather.

“Perhaps it might be pertinent to split our forces,” he winced a little, a barely visible twinge of his neck to the side as his mouth deliberated over the word ‘our.’ “Then it leaves a chance that the Order might also do the same. It would be dreadful after all, wouldn’t it, if something should happen to Grimmauld Place. Or perhaps, even, someone they care about greatly – someone they’re all invested in. If they are distracted then perhaps we would stand a better chance of protecting the list and taking theirs, also.”

You have got to be kidding me.

Two huts. Huts. The word itself prompted one to snort, or if possible, thin one's mouth so completely in contempt that one might call for liposuction as a preemptive measure against extreme damages. A list of the names of the members of the two most powerful organisations in existence (in the 90's maybe, Albus was sorely tempted to call them unbelievably inept now), located in huts of all places, in the exact same forest. He hadn't been aware that deforestation was such an overpowering menace in Great Britain that if the Order of the Fried Turkey and the Ones Who Ate Death For Breakfast had simultaneously got the brilliant idea of hiding the lists in a forest, they would happen upon the exact same one.

As for they themselves. The lists. Why, why in the name of Voldemort's most sacred Horcruxes should the need of lists of the names of people belonging to secret magical organisations ever arise- was a little beyond Albus' comprehension. Oh of course, just in case Isabella should ever forget that Yvonne was the girl in the black robes that liked going on 'Crucio-Muggles' trips with her; and Yvonne in turn should ever fail to remember that the great, big hideous snake-and-skull tattoo scrawled on her arm was the sign of her allegiance to the greatest Evil Overlord in all of existence instead of the result of a drunk trip to the nearest Chinese tattoo parlour.  Or mercy be, if the Death Eaters ever felt the blind need to be caught by the government as members of this massively Dark organisation owing to this list and be herded up like obedient little sheep.

He was standing, unobserved, in the shadows of the meeting room until everyone donated their shilling of good advice, then he walked up; nondescript brown hair and blue-green eyes of the familiar disguise coming to light as he approached the back of Katrina-Carlotta's high-backed chair. His tone was sparse and dry enough to parch marshlands. "Playing Capture The Flag in a jungle now, are we?"

Then he rounded her chair, walking to the left of the long table where a dozen more were seated, because his mentor needed to see his face now, to understand surely what this looked like. "Does anyone else think it highly convenient how the existence of lists which we knew nothing of till now, supposed to be our greatest weakness, suddenly came to be known to us and the Order at the same time? Highly convenient to someone who is a friend to neither of us," like the werewolves, "who....say, would like the two organisations to destruct fighting one another, thereby leaving the field clear?  

Really, if the du Hunt hadn't been spearheading it, he would never have considered assisting the celebrated ranks of the Death Eaters.

But of course there was protocol to be followed, and he could scarcely pass sarcastic comments to the Head Death Eater regardless of how they were normally, if he hoped to retain a scrap of his private identity. So he inclined his head, dropped down in the empty seat next to the black-haired man who'd come up with the only decent idea up till now, and smiled. "Regardless, if our ancestors really were so," inept, "-fond of organisational skills as to leave behind the warrant for all of our arrests, something must be done." A slight shake of the head towards the left. "Mr. Holden's idea holds merit. Not a major Order member, but perhaps a family member, or someone who holds affection in their minds. They haven't yet grown stomachs to sacrifice hostages yet. Someone accessible."

Someone like a family member. Like a Potter. Like a Potter who'd be taken hostage willingly.

The thought rebelled a bit, in some old, stagnant portion of his mind. His mind had no difficulty in refreshing newer memories. In remembering messy hair, and glasses, and brown eyes that he'd thought he'd never see again. In remembering Teddy, Lily, Athena, the kids.......his family, converging around James Potter. Like they always did.

Someone who'd turn on them when they came to rescue him.

He met Katrina-Carlotta's dark eyes across the table and smiled.

So this skirmish in the forest would be mixed with acts of trickery. Well, the death eaters certainly were skilled in that area. The majority of the faction were ex-Slytherins who had more cunning than the heavily Gryffindor-populated Order who had a tendency to march on without suspicion. However in order to overcome the Order in the battle they would need to unite, work together and cooperate. This was something they hadn't worked well on lately. The faction had new members arrive, old members leave, some members were more active than others and it really didn't help for inter-faction relations. Du Hunt was right. They needed a plan and a good plan at that.

Stewart Harding was a fellow Daily Prophet reporter. Pansy wasn't going to deny the fact that his joining of the death eaters had upset her slightly. The witch liked to feel powerful, the other death eaters always relied on her to provoke some sort of public reaction in the favor of the death eaters but now it appeared she had a rival. Anybody else would have called him a colleague but Pansy wasn't anybody else. She was vindictive, cruel and enjoyed the limelight and authority she had whether it was in her head or not. Stewart took some of her limelight away, granted he hadn't wrote anything in favor of the death eaters just yet but that didn't mean that he couldn't... Pansy really needed that promotion to become a senior reporter and editor.

Another death eater was next to speak. He seemed to have some sort of brains behind him raising a good point. What had provoked all of this? This sudden surprise event? And how had the death eaters found out about this and the Orders intentions? How did they not know Blood was behind it, setting the two lead factions up against each other so he could swoop in and take them out when they were weak?

Blood is dangerous. The words of Khaat Lupin rang in Pansy's head. She didn't like to admit it but since their interview the reporter had newly found respect for the new Mother.

'Before we press on you raise an interesting point.' Pansy said strongly glancing towards Albus then to Du Hunt, 'How do we not know James Blood isn't behind this? Or somebody in the ministry who wants us gone so that they have no opposition?'

Pansy was talking about Gideon. Not that she was one hundred percent sure Pierce was the problem causing the marriage law but regardless of who it was the witch was sure the other death eaters would understand that she was talking about the person behind the forgery - except perhaps Henry Yewbeam who simply sat in the corner.

Henry had kept his head down the entire meeting, choosing not to speak but to simply listen. It was a miracle the wizard had even attended the meeting, having gone slightly M.I.A lately with his drug obsession and avoidance of work and hearing preparation. Pansy didn't need to know the wizard well to know this. He'd lost weight from not eating, held dark shadows underneath his eyes and his clothes were scuffed having not been washed in ages.... The standards of the death eaters clearly was falling.

Lorcan had listened in silence. He let them lay out their plans and merely allowed it to play out amongst the members that were more interested in battling than he was.

When Pansy asked her question, Lorcan finally spoke.

"Mrs. Parkinson-Nott raises an excellent point," he said. "First, I have no objection with you getting those old lists and most likely destroying the old huts in the woods. That's a bit of cleaning up that does need managed. However, in so doing, we cannot allow ourselves to be entirely side barred from a greater threat--the threat of the wizarding world from the marriage law and what it threatens to do to delute magical blood and destroy us all. If that happens, it won't matter if the Order knows who we are or if we know who they are.

"To Ms. Parkinson-Nott's point, though, who might know that we are aligned so deeply with the Minister at this point, outside of the fact that we were there, with a number of others who are either known Order members or known neutrals when Blood's lair was broken up? We can probably waive that off as sheer coincidence if we were pressed. If there is someone from the Ministry who suspects, we must be exceptionally careful. If, however, there is someone who definitely knows, then we might very well have a traitor in our own midst.

"Ms. Du Hunt, should you find that to be the case--if one of the Death Eaters has betrayed us--I trust you will kill them quickly, please, before they do us all more harm--especially if it, in the end threatens all of England." He realized his words sounded perhaps ruthless, but, in all reality, they were.

"As to Blood," he said, "I've been doing my homework. Slugs and Jiggers has been more than a bit busy with a glut of requests for wolfsbane, and with that comes endless gossip about Blood. There was no James Blood ever at Hogwarts--or anywhere else for that matter. Not until recently--not that I've found at least. The name is probably an alias.

"There are more than a few rumors about Blood, though. The man you speak of is supposed to have been bitten as a young boy by Mr. Grayback. It seems to me to be a fair assumption that since he shares the same fundamental political agenda as Grayback that Blood's allegiance to Grayback is not new. Rather, I think Grayback may be at least his inspiration if not his mentor.

"The only reason I can come up with that either Blood or Grayback might be interested in the huts in the woods now after all this time is to set us up for an ambush--both us and the Order. Neither one of them have any reason to be putting a priority in meddling with Ministry affairs right now. They seem to prefer taking a much more murderous approach.

"There is another possibility. There may be someone who has a completely different reason for wanting to cause us to fragment and weaken. We might want to play that a big closer to the vest and make sure that does not happen. 'Divide and conquer' is a relatively simple but effect approach that we can easily prevent, I think.

"Your idea is a good one," Katrina-Carlotta admitted to the man she knew as William Holden. Little did she know that the man before her was truly Stewart Harding. If she had been able to see beyond the disguise, her response would have been a very different one. "However, I fear that reducing our numbers may not be the wisest idea. By my last calculations, the Order has more members than we do. Further diminishing our man power will not mean good things for the defense of our list."

"The idea does have merit," the dark witch continued, eyes landing upon a disguised Albus Potter, "so I'm not saying no. I'm saying that it will happen another day. Right now we need to focus on the matter at hand." She'd ignored Albus's sarcastic comments, allowing her lips to quirk and little else. However, as he began to speak of kidnapping, his eyes and landed directly upon hers. If she hadn't known him so well, she would have seen nothing in his eyes. As it was, she saw a glint of something dark. It took her a moment to comprehend what the wizard might be thinking, but when it finally hit her, Katrina-Carlotta blinked once in surprise. His plot was extraordinarily devious, and most certainly proved that he fit in with the people around him. Repressing the urge to gently press into his mind as she had in the past, the Headmistress inclined her head ever so slightly, before breaking eye contact.

"As far as the rather suspicious timing of the dilemma in the Forest of Dean, I have little to tell you. Other than the timing, there is no reason to believe that the Blood Pack is behind this. However, there is no proof leading us to believe that they are not. It is certainly something that will need to be kept in mind. I am having somewhat of a difficult time figuring out what could be achieved from this, however. The magic prevents anyone from killing or grievously harming another being within a fair radius of the huts. Unless this is to be a diversion, I don't see any way for the werewolf packs to gain from this. Of course, we will have contingency plans in place for if this is all an attempt to distract us," the woman stated, hand flexing comfortingly around her wand under the table.

"The same thing goes for the Ministry. The government being responsible for this is a lot less likely, but we can't rule it out. Besides, keeping a close watch on the Ministry can hardly hurt," Katrina-Carlotta admitted. With the Marriage Law and everything that came with it, now was hardly the time to completely discount the Ministry's involvement in anything.

"You are correct, of course, Lorcan. While dealing with the little situation at hand, we mustn't loose sight of the bigger picture. The Order, while problematic, is not our most dangerous enemy as of late. As to suspecting that we may have a traitor in our midst, well, everyone here is intelligent enough to know that I would not be pleased," the European stated with eyes directed at Lorcan, only occasionally breaking away to scan the room in a well-practiced sweep. Katrina-Carlotta held a healthy amount of respect for the man, and often discussed Death Eater affairs with him in order to get a trusted second opinion.

The woman lifted her chin to look at the celling, and when she brought her head back down her eyes were calculating and sharp. "If any of you are betraying us, I advise that you tell me. I may not be kind, but I am fair. The aftermath of a confession will be nothing in comparison to what I will do when you are caught. For you will be caught, and then I will tear your entrails from your body over and over until your are begging to die," she announced coldly. Katrina-Carlotta was almost certain that there was no traitor, but just in case there was, the reactions to her little speech would certainly help her catch them.

"That information is very helpful," she said calmly to Lorcan after her previous words had sunken in, "I'll look into Slug and Jiggers." Sending a small quirk of lips in the D'Eath's direction, Katrina-Carlotta sat back in her chair, ready to listen to whatever reactions were to come of her words.

'So we really have not got much to go on. We don't know the Orders strategy. We don't know if Blood or the Ministry are involved. Wouldn't it be best to simply sat hidden in the defense?' Pansy suggested before quirking an eyebrow as a new idea provoked her: 'Or maybe destroy our own hut and prevent the Order from acquiring our list. I'm sure you don't need a list to know who is in your faction.'

It seemed like a decent idea to the reporter. Du Hunt no doubt could remember who was a death eater and who wasn't, who was associated with them and who wasn't. It they destroyed their own hut it would protect them and they could then go on the attack and occupy the Order's list. How Pansy would love to get her hands on the Order's list.

Once the civil unrest was settled, the Lupins back in power it would bring the Order back to the prime seat as their number one rivals, who knows what use a list of their members could be used as in the future. Blackmail. Publicly outing them or discrediting them in the prophet. The mere thought excited Pansy, something that was shown through the glint in her dark eyes.

Katrina-Carlotta barely managed to keep herself from sighing. "If only it was that easy," she said, "the huts can't be destroyed. There is incredibly impressive warding on them both preventing such." The dark witch would hardly call herself an expect, but she knew a fair bit about warding, and whomever had cast this magic knew what they were doing. By her estimations it would take years of work by professional ward-breakers for the magic to fall.

"After this fiasco is over, I'll be casting wards around out hut, over the ones already there, to prevent anyone from entering without my express permission. I would do so now, but the Order has proximity sensors up in the forest. As do we. This is why fighting is our only option, as soon as either group enters the forest, the other will know," Katrina-Carlotta admitted with a wry quirk of her lips.

The Hogwarts Headmistress couldn't help but wonder if Jack Dyllan was doing the exact same thing she was, in the Order Headquarters. She didn't know too much about how the other group worked, far too little as far as she was concerned, but the European would be willing to bet that a parallel meeting would be taking place very soon, if it hadn't already.