CHAPTER 10: ROUNDS

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"You trade in your reality for a role. You trade in your sense for an act. You give up your ability to feel, and exchange, put on a mask."

-Jim Morrison

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Lucius Malfoy swept in, superiority soaked into every strand of platinum blonde hair on his head and his snake-headed cane clicking as he walked. He nodded graciously to Regulus.

"Well met, Mr. Black," he greeted.

Regulus nodded in reply. "A pleasure as always, Mr. Malfoy."

"Your parents aren't in this evening as I understand."

"You understand correctly. My mother is in Scotland and my father is away on work at present."

"Please extend my regards the next time you speak with them."

"Of course."

Lucius smiled—a smile Regulus had never seen reach his eyes—and then walked past to either greet Bellatrix or explore the refreshments. Regulus nodded in greeting again, this time at the aging Avery with his tall, stocky build and incredibly dirty boots. Kreacher had probably flinched leading him inside the house.

"Young Mr. Black," he growled gruffly in greeting, and then also walked off. Regulus greeted the rest of his guests as they stepped up, some helping themselves to refreshments before speaking to him. Crabbe, Dolohov, Goyle, Macnair, Mulciber, Rosier, Travers… They were well-known and secretly hated faces. He'd seen most of these people do hideous things, and how they could all gather and pretend that they were anything less than monsters was almost beyond belief. And he was one of them.

"Sniveling slithering simpering Severus!" sang Bella tauntingly as she skipped over to where Severus Snape was lurking in the corner of the room trying not to draw attention to himself and avoid exactly what Bella had begun. Poor bloke. Because of his half-blood status and inadequate social skills, he'd been ostracized among the Death Eaters from day one. Though Regulus was just as new as Severus, his family status and his well-bred manners had earned him automatic—albeit grudging—respect from most of the members. Severus, however, had no such leg up. And Bella thrived by taking advantage of the weak and unprotected. Regulus would've liked to help Severus, as they had been friendly in school and he held respect for the talented young man, but he knew not only was it useless but also social suicide to put himself on the line that way. It was survival of the cruelest here, and he would only incur Bella's wrath upon himself and the condescension of the rest if he were to show sympathy for Snape.

"You know, there's this marvelous invention called the bath, you greasy rag of a man," Bella was remarking. Snape was staring fixedly ahead, trying to control himself because everyone knew fighting back only further provoked Bella.

"Bella," Regulus said conversationally to try and distract her from her victim, "Will your husband be joining us?"

She turned and came back toward Regulus as she spoke. "No. He and Rabastan have work elsewhere." The way her lips twisted up as she said 'work' made it clear it was the Dark Lord's dirty work they were employed in. "But I believe I told you that before, you daft gargoyle." She sauntered over to the drinks and moved Barty Crouch Jr. from her way with her sharp nails clamping onto his ear and pulling. Barty ducked away making a noise of pain, and slunk over to Regulus who was still standing beside the armchair.

"Good to see you, Barty," Regulus greeted. Barty had been a friend—rather a follower—of his throughout school. Barty nodded, looking grateful for the friendly words. He was an interesting member—the son of a high-profile Ministry worker, Barty Crouch Senior. Of a very different mold from his father, he'd been sorted into Slytherin upon arriving at Hogwarts and it was not long before his cruel and selfish tendencies pointed him in the Dark Lord's direction. His membership was a highly-guarded secret, of course.

"You too," Barty replied. "Have you been keeping busy?"

"More or less. I've been doing the jobs he assigns to give me the opportunity to prove myself and my usefulness. It keeps me occupied."

Barty nodded, looking almost…wistful. "He hasn't given me the chance yet. I don't think he trusts me. It's understandable what with my father…" He trailed off, looking frustrated and bitter. "I wish he'd give me the chance to prove myself. This is the first time he's even allowed me to come on our usual rounds like this. They all say I'm still young, but I'm the same age as you," he griped. "You look older, though, that's the thing."

"And I know the less I say, the better," Regulus replied. "Something you have yet to learn."

Barty scowled; Regulus was referring to a meeting a few weeks prior in which Barty had made a spectacle of himself trying to help make plans and speak as if he were one of the older, experienced members.

"I just get into things sometimes," Barty grumbled. "I get excited."

"Yes. We all noticed."

Barty sighed and then snapped his fingers at Kreacher. "Elf," he commanded. "Fetch me a Firewhiskey."

Kreacher obediently did as he asked and Barty brooded as he sipped his drink while the others talked among themselves. Severus Snape slunk quietly over them and leaned against the chair next to Regulus.

"Severus," Regulus greeted formally. Snape nodded curtly in reply.

"How do you stand your relatives?" he muttered in an undertone. Regulus smiled slightly.

"I don't," was his answer. "I've learned to deal with them with many years' experience but generally work to avoid them."

"Alright, everyone," Avery growled loudly. The voices hushed. "It's time to go. We'll hit the usual spots for show and I have some special places where we've heard of some resistance gatherings. Also, the Dark Lord has a couple new places in mind as well. Everyone mask and follow Regulus."

Follow Regulus. How he'd like to lead them all off a cliff. This time, however, he was only in charge of leading them to a broom closet. He slipped the silver mask out of his robe and slid it into place. Masks on top of masks. Who was he beneath them?

When everyone had become one of many silver skull masks, Regulus walked out, leading the group to the back of Grimmauld Place where they kept a prestigious collection of broomsticks, some for Quidditch, some meant for racing, and some merely for show. A line of sleek black ones on the far wall were what this lot used for "rounds" as they called it. Regulus led them inside, illuminated the candles along the walls with a flick of his wand, and stood aside politely, waiting for everyone to choose a broom before he chose from what was left. Granted, they were all of superb quality and condition, so it was not that much of a sacrifice.

"All right," Avery growled, pulling his hood up around his head. Others did the same. "With me. Keep to the usual ranks. Macnair, Goyle, with me. Crouch, take the center. To the square in Fernwitch." He Apparated away with a pop. A resounding chorus of pops rang out as members followed.

Regulus looked at Barty's blank face and asked, "D'you know where that is?"

Barty shook his head. They were the last ones still in the room. Regulus grasped his arm and Apparated. He found himself in the dark square of Fernwitch village off to the right of the gathered group. He kept hold of the disgruntled Barty's arm and pulled him into the center of the ranks. He then moved back to the lower right outside.

"All present?" Avery inquired gruffly, looking behind him and scowling at Barty as if the boy had done something wrong.

"All here," Rosier replied.

"Keep your wands sheathed unless we come under attack," Avery instructed. "If so, do not hesitate to retaliate. Alright. Fly."

The group rose into the air—luckily Barty was keeping up—and began gaining steady speed as they followed Avery's point.

The flight was long. It was merely a tool to show off their power and make it seem as if there were more of them than there actually were and that we were everywhere and working constantly. It demonstrated their presence to their enemies and to their friends, inspiring fear in the former and giving encouragement to the latter. They flew above areas known to be harbors of their enemies, but luckily tonight none stepped out to attack. And they flew through dark towns friendly to their cause and received roars of appreciation from those in the streets and those who leaned out their windows.

Passing through nighttime London, they flew high above generally as to not panic the Muggles, but they lowered themselves in front of Ministry entrances where workers passed through constantly. The fear on their faces was empowering; the close formation made it feel as if they were one being, and as one being they could pick off any of these helpless workers they so wished. Some suits and ties dropped their briefcases and took off running, and others preformed safety enchantments hastily where they stood on the cobbled street. But the formation passed by as if passing through was not their intention at all but merely in-between where they came from and where they had to go. The relief on the faces of people who assumed they were not the victim tonight (although doubtlessly someone else was) was classically human.

Most of the members' favorite part of the night was flying through all-magic towns and terrifying the villagers by their mere presence. Parcels and coats were dropped as they scattered in fright in the group's wake. Mothers dashed back into homes making scenes of themselves with shouting and failing arms. After an initial flight-via-foot response, the villagers in the streets remembered they could Apparate and did so. Shouts, calls, and the frightened cries of children rose in the warm night air. Fathers slammed doors and gripped their wands tightly, gathering their wives and children. Some brave ones even rushed out of their homes, wands at the ready.

Bellatrix broke ranks as she often did to ride through the town terrorizing the people with her chilling cackle. The Eaters lost some of their discipline as jeers and harsh, cruel laughter rose from their ranks. Regulus clearly heard Barty's high-pitched cackle and Severus' shoulders were shaking with mirth though Regulus couldn't see his face because of his mask. He himself kept silent. These roles could so easily be reversed. He could be the unsuspecting man reaching for his wand as he yelled to Lenna to Apparate away. And the children were children, for Merlin's sake. He would never be as callous toward that as his fellows.

Before the villagers could organize themselves much more or call upon Aurors or the Order, Avery led them up and away on route back to Grimmauld Place. The night's work had been as easy as could've been hoped for, but Regulus' limbs ached, he was cold despite the night's warmth, and all he could think about was getting home and watching these people leave so that he could climb into bed with Lenna.

When they finally got back to Grimmauld Place (Apparating in front of it because through it could be Apparated out of, Grimmauld Place could not be Apparated into), Regulus led those of the party who did not wish to leave immediately back to the grand fireplace room in which they had gathered earlier. Kreacher was oddly absent; usually he would receive any enterers of the house. Regulus led his guests into the room and got rid of their broomsticks with a wave of his wand. Masks lowered and more of the Black family's quality beverages began to disappear. He of course had to stand around and be hospitable. After he'd shared a few words with those who wished to speak with him, he slipped out of the room and walked slowly down the hall, passing his hand across his forehead.

He rounded a corner and halted abruptly in profound surprise.

Lord Voldemort was walking toward him down the handsome hallway.

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