June 21, 2009 - Afternoon

Four bikers were riding in a tight formation, heading northeast on the A30 from Cornwall into Devon at a steady pace. They had left the Lestrange estate outside Penzance earlier in the afternoon with every expectation of returning no later than nightfall, bringing with them the Dark Lord in his latest incarnation. It was the longest day of the year, and they had plenty of time.

Three of the four Death Eaters were astride classic black Harley-Davidson hogs, while Alecto Carrow, who just had to be different, rode an acid-green Kawasaki. She took the point position, and, as the only female biker, had been given responsibility for both navigation and refreshments. Her brother Amycus brought up the rear. Rabastan, with Salazar's rod carefully strapped into a sidecar, rode in the protected middle position, hugging the guardrail. Rodolphus flanked him on the outside.

Since billowing Death Eater robes and silver masks were impractical when riding a motorbike, they wore tinted helmets and black leather. In emerald studs on the back of their jackets the words THE FOUR HORSEMEN were picked out.

Rodolphus liked the name - indeed, he had chosen it. The four of them were, so far as Muggles, Mudbloods, and blood traitors were concerned, harbingers of the Apocalypse. They were the most loyal of the Dark Lord's followers, bringing him back to finish what he had started.

Rabastan and Amycus also liked the name. Calling themselves horsemen appealed to their traditional values. Both were suspicious of Muggle technology, with Amycus even more of a Luddite than Rabastan. It had been a struggle for Rodolphus to coax them onto Muggle machines in the first place. He finally succeeded by convincing them that motorbikes were just like horses, except they drank petrol instead of water. (He further reminded Amycus that Sirius Black had been the first to ride an enchanted Muggle motorbike, playing to the squat Death Eater's schoolboy crush.)

Alecto disliked the name. She thought it was sexist, not to mention inaccurate. However, THE THREE HORSEMEN AND A HORSEWOMAN just didn't have the same ring to it. So Rodolphus told her to suck it up and that after thirty years as a Death Eater, she should be used to misogyny by now. If Alecto wanted equality, he said, she was free to join the bloody Order of the Phoenix. She snarled and grumbled and subtly rebelled by picking out a racing motorbike fast enough to run rings around the wizards' Harley-Davidsons, but she had capitulated. They were THE FOUR HORSEMEN and that was that.

Alecto held out her arm, signaling that they should pull off into a rest area. She swung her green Kawasaki onto the off ramp, barely slowing, and the three wizards lumbered after her on their bulkier motorcycles.

After dismounting, they huddled around a picnic table, looking at a map of the West Country. Alecto distributed biscuits and passed around a flask of pumpkin juice.

"Draco didn't find the kid, did he?" Amycus asked.

Rodolphus shook his head. "No, I hoped that the Mudblood he's panting after would lead him to the boy, but he failed us yet again."

"Slimy little creep," Amycus editorialized. "I wouldn't trust him as far as I can throw him. Without my wand."

Rodolphus nodded his agreement. "My nephew is utterly untrustworthy," he opined, without irony.

Their mistrust of Draco was grounded in nothing more than their own paranoia, which some would argue was simply a sensible and well-adjusted reaction to serving as a Death Eater. Everyone really was out to get them.

"Fortunately, our Lord and Bella planned for this possibility," Rodolphus continued. He handed over a wand made of yew, thirteen and half inches long, to the female Carrow. "His wand will find his own flesh and blood, no matter what wards and charms have been used to hide the boy."

"Point me," Alecto muttered, holding the wand poised over the unfolded map on the table. The wand spiraled in ever tighter circles, like a planchette on a Ouija board, until it centered over the village of Stoke Tadfield.

"Only about fifty kilometers to go," she announced.

As the Carrow siblings embarked on a vicious argument over whether the A38 or back roads would be the more efficient route, Rabastan turned to his older brother, rubbing his hands in anticipation.

"I can hardly wait," he said, rubbing his hands. "It'll be like old times - torturing Longbottoms into insanity. D'ya think Neville will hold out as long as old Frank?" he asked.

Rodolphus grinned evilly. "I'm more interested in whether I can make Luna scream like Alice."

"I did like visiting Luna in the Malfoy dungeons," Rabastan agreed nostalgically. "Mebbe we can share."

"Did you figure out where we're going?" Rodolphus demanded of Alecto. He now was rather eager to get there.

The witch nodded. "We'll take the next exit. Follow me."

The four of them mounted their motorbikes. With a roar of engines and a cloud of exhaust, they were off.

They were getting closer. Very close indeed.

(x) (x) (x)

There was no convenient motorway leading from Malfoy Manor's location in rural Wiltshire to the equally bucolic village of Stoke Tadfield in Devonshire. That meant that Draco was driving the Bentley along narrow, twisty country lanes, blithely oblivious to both the speed limit and how Harry was being jostled about.

"Oi, Malfoy! Slow down a bit, why don't you?" Harry called from his precarious perch on the folding convertible top.

Draco craned around to glare at him. "Put a Sticking Charm on your arse, Potter. Getting to the Longbottoms' before my uncle can resurrect the Dark Lord is a bit more important than your comfort."

"Eyes on the road, Draco," Hermione reminded him, knuckles white.

"Sorry, angel."

As the Bentley passed through a crossroads at more than quadruple the posted speed, a flashing blue light to the rear signaled that the local constabulary did not appreciate Malfoy driving his car as though it were the latest model of racing broom. The Bentley plunged down a leafy road. The blue light followed.

Draco sighed and took one hand from the wheel (much to Hermione's dismay) to make a complicated gesture over his shoulder with his wand. The flashing blue light faded into the distance as the police car rolled to a halt, much to the officers' amazement. That would only increase when they opened the hood to see what Draco had Transfigured the engine into.

"How much further is it?" Harry whinged.

"Not much further," Hermione said, directing Draco to turn right at the next crossroads. "We'll be there soon."

"Soon, and Merlin willing, we'll be there in time," Draco muttered fervently, eyes fixed on the road and foot planted on the accelerator.

They, too, were getting closer.