Celebwen Telcontar: Hopefully you will all like this!

Balrog: Really?

CT


The dragoness sat in the catacombs, blocking the seaward entrance and exit that Harry had blasted there when she had first arrived. She yelped as something hard hit her in the middle, and then looked down. It was the creature again, trying to rip her flesh off. Well, that just wouldn't happen. Dragon flesh was so much more durable than anything else that it was often used by wizards for battle robes. The flesh of the dragon got progressively weaker as the time passed that the hide had been removed from the parent creature, however it was still very hard. And Maggie's skin was impervious to anything, including sharp headbuts and biting from a rather anxious werewolf.

Beside the werewolf was a thin, sad looking Black Ghost Dog, much like those that haunted gibbets and hangmen hills, a nasty creature that Maggie could see and that scared her witless. She had never seen a Black Ghost Dog before, but she knew that seeing one meant one of two things… her life was coming to a close or this was the place of a former execution site. As she had never seen the Black Ghost Dog before now, she could surmise that she was going to die. She would be dead soon, and she had a strong suspicion that it had to do with the werewolf. The lycanthrope could see the Black Ghost Dog as well, and so she believed that she and the werewolf would kill each other. Possibly he would injure one of her wings and they both would go tumbling off of the cliff. It was a strong possibility. Until then, though, she kept her claws latched tightly into the floor of the catacombs. This could just be a site of ancient man-contrived deaths.

The werewolf sniffed, then howled. It attacked a wall, where Maggie knew there was an infirmary-like room that held the Nazi Harry had attacked in his viper form.

"What goes on there? What is that? you let me out, you mad people! I must report back to the Reichsfuhrer!!" the man cried in German, pounding on the door. Maggie snorted, and the Black Ghost Dog looked rather unimpressed with the entire thing then went to sleep, which Maggie figured was not a ghostly trait. Perhaps the dog was simply a dog, then, but she would not let her guard up.


The older man landed in the receiving room, looking around. This room didn't have the abhorrent Semite stink that the one in Wannsee had, Jews had owned that one once, but it was beautiful. It was as beautiful as the mansion in Wannsee had been, during the conference to deal with the Jewish storage problem.

"Uncle Wulf," Lucius began. Wulf looked at his nephew. The man looked good, Wulf could see that. Suddenly the door opened, and an older man stepped in. He was paunchy and heavy set, and he carried a swagger stick. It fell from the man's nerveless fingers as he saw Wulf.

"Reichsprotektor Heydrich?" the man whispered in shock. "You're alive?! But how?!"

"Reichstag President Göring. You are alive. That is a pleasant surprise," the older man said calmly, smiling at his old associate. The two of them began to speak for a time, sitting at the table and eating their appetizers while the other guests were doing the same. A man in black with lank, greasy black hair sat on Göring's other side, looking rather suspiciously at his food. He glared at the food, and then began eating with one hand, the other underneath the table.

The white haired man looked at Göring, who leaned close to him.

"Do not eat the food, General. It is laced with flunitrazepam," the Reichstag President said in low tones. Heydrich raised his eyes and mimed eating, speaking to Göring while seeming to bring his food to his mouth but setting it down after getting in a more animated conversation with Göring. He enjoyed speaking with a high-level Nazi again; it reminded him of old times. So much now he had to speak with his extended family, who were as dense as a brick. How they could look so Aryan and act like the lowest yet most arrogant Jew was beyond him.

"So, Severus," the heavy-lidded woman, Lucius' sister in law if he remembered correctly, began. "I hear that you begged the Dark Lord for the Potter bitch's life, did you? Did you love her, ickle baby Sevvy?" The woman began to laugh, an insane sound that raised the hairs on Heydrich's neck. "The Dark Lord had begun to doubt your loyalty, Severus. Be grateful we are here now, or you would be dead. Being Dumbledore's dog as you are, it is disgraceful!" The woman's words were spat out like so much poison.

"We shall interrogate him seperately, Hermann," Heydrich said in German, looking pointedly at the supposed traitor. "I know of and have access to a potion that will cause the truth to be told."

"Very good, Reinhard. Why the sudden want to dish out justice?"

"It may not be our job to do justice, however I am curious as to his presence here and why the others are so unimpressed with him; he seems no different than the others." The two of them got back to mock-eating, Heydrich using slight of hand to hide the fact that he was not eating. He could have used wandless magic, however that would have been made suspicious by Göring.


Severus had gotten a letter earlier that day, and had arrived at the manor precicely at five, as the Portkey had been instructed to do. He was now seated beside the host, a wide-girthed German man, and a German-speaking Malfoy, Wulf if he remembered correctly, living in the Southern portion of France. He never noticed Wulf at Death Eater meetings before, but it was conceivable that he was there.

He performed some diagnostic charms on the food before him, and as he saw that it was laced with a Muggle sedative, he Vanished it in small 'bites' before he could be knocked unconscious. As he saw other Death Eaters falling into their plates, he stage yawned and lay his head on the table as if it was too heavy to hold up and waited for what was to come


Celebwen Telcontar: How was that?

Balrog: Interesting.