Chosha's Notes

Way, I'm back with another Celestin chapter. Thank you to those four who reviewed, but if you didn't and are reading, thanks for reading as well. I hope people enjoy this chapter too! So, without further ado, lets get the show on the road!

Disclaimer: I know it, you know it. I don't own HP. That belongs to JK Rowling-sama.

Last time on Celestin

Celestin discovers the Quidditch world cup is starting and that Death-eaters will attend, so gets ready for his next 'assignment'

Chapter Two

The Death-eater Massacre

The day of the Quidditch world cup was fast approaching and spirits were at an all time high. Even those who couldn't get tickets to see it were still infected by the upbeat aura and couldn't wait to see the pictures in the Daily Prophet, or hear the action on the radio. The only people who didn't seem to be having much fun were the ministry members who were organising it, being run to the bone to make sure everything was ready for the big day.

In a misty moor, miles away from civilisation, the campsites were covered in a blanket of thousends of tents, some of them more odd than others. Most looked like any other tent you could buy in the muggle world. However, there were a few things that made you instantly know that no one non-magical was camped here. Some tents supported chimneys, or bell pulls. Then there were some tents that could be nothing but magical, one looking like a miniature palace – complete with peacocks, while another had several turrets. One even had its own water feature.

Celestin couldn't help but chuckle to himself as he walked unnoticed amongst the sea of tents. Even though the wizards were all meant to have arrived incognito to avoid raising the suspicions of the Muggles who owned the fields, they had done something of a poor job about it. He found it all rather hilarious. He had already spotted an old wizard walking around wearing nothing but a long, flowery, ladies night-gown (much to the horror of a ministry wizard who was desperately trying to get him into normal muggle-men's clothes). Celestin was thankful it wasn't too windy, otherwise many would be scarred for life. He had seen a little boy playing with a wand that had caused a slug to turn into the size of salami, only to be accidentally squashed when this mother came out to scold him. Celestin was struggling to contain his laughter at the boy's squeals of 'You bust slug! You bust slug!' He had also spotted a large group attempting to put up a tent, but the eldest man with balding red hair seemed to be having a bit too much fun with a mallet. Meanwhile, two girls and three boys (most of whom also had red hair) were attempting to get him to actually use said hammer on the pegs.

He knew that the World cup would be starting in a few hours time in a large stadium that had been set up on the other side of the woods at the end of the fields. It was made of what seemed to be pure gold and was probably large enough to fit the Westminster Abby at least ten times over. The place was covered from head to foot in almost every known muggle repelling charm known to wizard kind. Even though Celestin had more important aims he would be fulfilling, he was definitely not going to miss out in watching the Quidditch world cup himself. The wizard sport fascinated Celestin, ever since he had first seen one with Marius when he was six. Indeed, the world cup was a once in a lifetime trip, and despite ulterior motives for being there, Celestin was going to make the best of it.

There was the small problem of not having a ticket, though, which was why Celestin wandered in the stadium's direction now. He could find a spot to watch the action without being spotted before. He had already bought from a salesman a pair of omnioculars, but these were only partly to watch the match with.

This was the second and, arguably, most important reason for sneaking into the ministry guarded stadium. Here there would be many people, and some of those numbers were most definitely Death-eaters. If Celestin could get into the stadium, he would be able to see those whom Marius had reported to be supporters of Voldemort. If he could find out the average number of Death-eaters in the crowd, Celestin would be able to estimate the best plan of attack. Then, it wouldn't matter what the number was…they would all meet the same fate.

As Celestin got closer to the woods, the tents began to thin out, before he disappeared into the trees. Carefully, be moved through the undergrowth, keeping his eyes and ears open for any sign of human life. The woods had been set up as an Apparation zone, so he had to make sure he would not be spotted. Thankfully, he neither saw nor felt anyone. However, he wasn't about to let his guard down. As the trees began to thin out once more, Celestin slowed his pace and crouched down to observe the few ministry wizards that stood guard. Celestin was hardly surprised. The famous world cup players were probably within, plus they didn't want anyone to sabotage the equipment. However, all of them looked tied – some were even dropping asleep. Celestin smiled. Shame on them, but good luck for me.

Carefully, he tapped himself on the head with his wand. From where his wand touched his head, cold trickles seemed to run down his body, covering him, as if he had tipped cold water on his head. He held a hand up to his face and smiled at what he saw…or in this case, didn't see. The spell he had used hadn't turned him invisible exactly, but it had transformed him, clothes and all, into the exact colour and texture of the scenery behind him. It made him feel like a human chameleon. The Disillusionment charm, as it was known, was something of a speciality of Celestin's. After all, on his previous missions, he had used it to move unnoticed to his target. Of course, it also had its other uses.

Careful not to knock any of the undergrowth, Celestin emerged from the woods and slowly approached the stadium. Normally, he would nave been much more careful, but with the ministry 'guards' as tired as they were, they weren't nearly as observant as they would have been to see the background shift a little as Celestin approached. Carefully, Celestin slipped past the guard at the entrance, before moving as soft as a cat up the purple-carpeted stairway until he came to the highest point he could get – the top box.

The box sat exactly in the middle of the opposing goal posts, twenty purple and gilt chairs stood in two rows. However, Celestin didn't make for the seats. Instead, he pulled himself up the wall behind the seats and crouched there like a panther watching its prey. Taking one of the seats would be too risky. After all, although the seats cost an arm and a leg to reserve, there were still very rich magical families who would no doubt have taken all of them. It would be very bad for his cover if someone sat on him – not to mention traumatic for him, too. Celestin chuckled at the image and made himself comfortable on the stadium wall.

He didn't have long to wait. A deep, booming gong sounded from somewhere within the stadium. Celestin watched as dozens of Irish green and Bulgarian red lights flickered on, lighting the way through the woods to the entrance. His sensitive hears picked up cheers, shouts, laughter, snatches of singing coming from the campsite and a trickle of people began to appear from the path through the woods, that soon became more dense and swelled like a flooded river.

Celestin pulled out his omnioculars as people began to trail into the stadium itself. Omnioculars looked like brass binoculars at first glance, until you took in the dozens of knobs and dials that were scattered all over the surface. Celestin spun a dial near the base of the omnioculars and held them to his eyes, focusing on the people as they came into the stands. The dial allowed him to see the faces of each person clearly, even those on then lowest seats at the opposite end of the stadium.

Celestin almost jumped when a strange little creature staggered onto the top box below him. It was only a few feet all with long, bat-like ears and a large, tomato-shaped nose. It seemed to be wearing some sort of tea towel like a toga. Celestin watched the creature with a little interest. He knew what it was – a house elf. And one, he noted with a little amusement, that obviously disliked heights. It took one look over the edge, squeaked and shot to a chair, covering its face with its hands. It gulped then looked at the chair next to it.

'You stay where you is, and be good, Master Barty,' The creature said, before hiding its face again. Celestin raised an eyebrow. There was no one else sitting on the top box just yet. Interesting… he thought with a frown. He shrugged and went back to surveying the crowd. But it's not my concern.

The stadium was filling up quite fast now and even the top box began to fill with people after the house-elf arrived. Celestin even recognised one group in the box to be the red-haired family he had seen in the campsite. However, he grimly noted at least twenty of the people were death-eaters Marius had informed him about, but he was positive there were others that had wormed their way out of Azkaban. A surprise attack then…

Finally a man barged into the box wearing what looked like Quidditch robes of some sort, but the man's stomach stretched at it in a way that the horizontal stripes were certainly not flattering. His face reminded Celestin of a school boy's, if not for the slightly squashed nose. He beamed at the people in the top box excitedly. 'Everyone ready?' he asked ecstatically. 'Minister – ready to go?'

The minister for magic, Cornelius Fudge, seemed quite happy with the arrangement. 'Ready when you are, Ludo,' He said comfortably. Celestin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The upper classes were way too conceited. Especially this particular fool.

The man named Ludo whipped out his wand and, directing it at his throat, said 'Sonorus!' The spell magnified his voice so much it could be heard over the roaring sounds of the now packed stadium. It seemed to shake the building's very foundations. 'Ladies and Gentlemen…Welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!'

The spectators all screamed and clapped, while thousends of tiny flags waved - all singing the national anthems of either Ireland or Bulgaria. Celestin settled down to watch the match. Might as well enjoy myself while I can, he thought. After all, the targets won't be leaving. It's only a matter of time…

0C0

The woods were dark; the only sounds were the slowly dying muffled celebrations and singing of the Irish after their stunning victory over Bulgaria. The stadium and woods itself, however, were silent and unmoving as a graveyard. The shadows covered every inch of the woods, except for the occasional, tiny break in the canopy, where soft moonlight shone through. Not that Celestin cared about this. To him, the less light there was the better, as it made his hiding so much easier until game time. He was crouched in the thick leaves of at tree several feet from the campsite, watching like a green-eyed hawk. Everything he was wearing was jet black. His bandanna, T-shirt, trenchcoat, trousers – everything. He blended easily into the shadows. He looked kited out for war. The holsters on his belt held Dies and Nox, while the belt itself was lined with various capsules containing anything from poisons to antidotes. Strapped across his back was a long sword, the type that can be wielded either one or two handedly. The steel was about as wide as his hand and as long as the length of his leg. Along the blade itself were carvings depicting an eastern dragon, while Kanji runes of power were carved below it. The metal itself seemed to glow a soft, bluish hue. Celestin could feel the air around the sword vibrate and felt as tendrils of magic brushed him impatiently. Celestin chuckled and touched the hilt with a fingerless-gloved hand.

'Hush now, Masamune… It won't be long now.'

The sword, Masamune, was no ordinary sword. While Celestin had been in Japan with Marius, an ancient magic binder had created it for him. They had told him their request and he knew their cause and had crafted his finest work. He crated Masamune, a living sword, bonded to his very being. It would allow no one but Celestin to hold the blade. If anyone else tried, the sword would either make itself too heavy to be even picked up, or it would instantly destroy him. The sword, however, recognised his presence and seemed to hum at the touch.

Celestin went over the plan in his head once again, making sure he had looked at all the possibilities. That was one of the first rules for a good assassin. One cannot just go charging into a situation without looking at all the probabilities and options available. To do otherwise could mean certain death.

After the display everyone had seen at the match, It was a certainty that there was going to be much celebratory drinking. He knew that this would mean that the Death-eaters would be rather intoxicated, thus stupid. He already knew how these people acted. They were very proud people, so he was sure that they would have their 'reunion' by reminding everyone that there was a hell of a lot of them still at large. And when Death-eaters celebrated, they were never subtle about it, even back when they were at their peak in Voldemort's reign. That would give him a slight edge over the seemingly overwhelming odds. Of course, they probably didn't think the 'infamous assassin' would come here, watching, waiting…

As if on cue, a sudden scream burst from the Ireland campsite and Celestin's eyes flashed. His sensitive ears could hear people running, noises like gunfire and loud, drunken jeers and yells. He could see the occasional burst of light as something caught fire, see figures fleeing towards the woods for safety. His eyes landed on a crowd of wizards, tightly packed, hooded, wearing masks. More were joining, pointing and jeering at figures floating above them. Celestin leaned forward a little in the tree and squinted, trying to make out the figures, recognising them as the muggles who owned the campsite – Mr Roberts and family, he believed. What they were doing was sick, twisted and so very, very predictable.

Celestin smiled darkly, slipping on a silver-lined, black mask, marked with a winged sword, which covered his eyes and part of his cheeks. He leaped from the tree, landing with a cat-like grace on his feet and ran at lightning speed towards the group. The first thing he was going to have to do was save the muggles. They would only get in his way otherwise.

He weaved his way round the fleeing people, circling round the back of the hooded crowd. He flicked his wrist and his wand slid out of its holster into his palm. He took careful aim.

'Acco Muggles,' He said, calmly. The whole floating family screamed as they were pulled roughly from the death-eaters levitation and flew over towards Celestin. With another casual flick, he transfigured a tree into a pile of cushions, where the Roberts landed roughly. The woman and children sobbed hysterically. Celestin looked at Mr Roberts, who was clutching his family close.

'W-what are you?' He gasped out.

Celestin just looked at them calmly. 'It hardly matters. You should go, before things get much worse.' He turned his back to them and drew Nox from his belt.

It seemed to have taken the death-eaters a moment or two to realise their 'Play things' had been snatched from their spell. Some loudly complained, until one right at the back of the group caught sight of Celestin. Celestin grinned back and fired. The man barely managed to widen his eyes as the bullet smashed through the mask and into his skull, straight between the eyes and exploded out the back of his head. The muggle woman and children screamed somewhere behind him. Everyone fell silent.

'Who the hell are you?' One of the number sneered, his voice muffled behind the mask. Celestin had to admit, the guy had courage…or perhaps he was just too drunk to appreciate the danger he was in. None of them seemed to be upset that a member of their group was dead.

Celestin cocked his head to one side, a cold smile settling onto his face. 'Well now, what would be the point in telling you that?' He asked. 'After all, It would be pointless to give my name… to one who is about to die.'

The group began to laugh, first one, then the rest. Perhaps they were too intoxicated to realise that this young man standing before them seemed to emit such a powerful aura. Celestin could understand how ridiculous it must all seem to them.

'You must be dreaming, boy, if you think you can take us on,' a cold voce said from the crowd. Celestin smiled.

'Perhaps…twenty against one is hardly reasonable odds…for you, I mean.'

The confidence faded in some of them there and then, but others seemed to not be able to take such a blow to their pride so easily. Several drew their wands…but that was as far as some of them ever got.

Celestin grinned, his hand on the hilt of his sword and –he vanished! Some looked around in confusion, until they heard a scream. The spun round to find Celestin at the other side of the group as three men collapsed from the hiss of a live blade, blood splattering the mask of the man closest. He brought the sword down with a double-handed arc and sliced the man in half, his scream cut off sharply. Masamune seemed to quiver with excitement and lust for battle.

Celestin felt the vibration of magic coming towards him and turned in time to see a red beam come towards him. Eyes wide, he dodged, rolling to the side in front of the muggles and pulled out Nox, shooting three in the jugular. They went down at once, spraying fountains of blood from the arteries. Several spells were shot their way, but Celestin yelled 'Protego!' and the spells were deflected back at them. Celestin glanced at the muggles, who were sitting as if petrified. Celestin felt a slight flare of anger. Why the hell were they still here!

'What are you waiting for?' he snarled at them as he struggled to keep up the shield under the battering of spells. 'Get outta here already!'

It seemed to be the cold slap to the face they needed. They bolted. Celestin kept up the shield a little longer before dodging to the side and he cut through the wand and slashed the chest of a death-eater unfortunately enough to be standing closest, splattering Celestin with blood and gore. He didn't pause, he used Nox to blast apart the skull of another death-eater, but had to dodge when someone shot a Secare curse at him from somewhere behind. He barely managed it – the curse would have blasted apart his head, but his spin to meet his opponent caused it to barely miss his temple, just snagging on the cloth of his bandanna, which fluttered to the ground. Celestin shot the Death-eater in the chest, sending him ploughing backwards.

'Avada Kedavra!'

Celestin hissed and dove to the side as a blinding green light shot in his direction, but caused him to dive into another Secare. He pulled back in time, but not unscathed. He hissed as it ripped robes and dug in skin. It burned and stung, but it was better than the alternative. He jumped behind the remnants of a half-burned tent, gasping for breath and pulled out Dies. Taking a deep breath, he turned and shot five in seconds, sending fountains of red into the air as the collapsed, before ducking as more spells shot his way. Regaining his breath, Celestin put the guns away and leaped at another with Masamune, who tried to block him with a shield, but Masamune sliced straight through and his head detached from his shoulders, drenching him with the red stream from the gaping hole. Tentacles of jet black light lashed in his direction, and Celestin jumped away, skidding to a halt in front of the trees.

'There they are! The Death-eaters!'

Everyone froze.

Shouts were coming closer, soon followed by 'Stupefy!' Death-eaters went down, hit by red light. Celestin half-chuckled.

'Ministry wizards. It's about time they showed up, wouldn't you say?' He smirked coldly at the masked man he had been facing, locking pale grey eyes with icy green. 'You're in luck, Death-eater. You're life was spared…for the moment.' And he pulled out one of the small capsule from his pocket and slammed it into the floor. It broke, billowing out thick grey smoke.

The approaching wizards and surviving death-eaters were caught in the smog, making them cough and choke. It seemed like hours when the smoke finally cleared.

One of the ministry wizards looked round wildly. 'Where's that guy? The one with the sword?'

In the confusion, no one was sure what happened, but when the smoke had cleared, they could find no sign of the assassin anywhere among the bodies of death-eaters. However, something caught their eye. A piece of slivery looking paper fluttered to the floor.

'You, don't let those death-eaters escape!' Said the wizard who seemed to be the leader of the group, an oldish looking man wearing what looked like a banker's suit. 'And you, look for that man!'

As the men dashed to do as the wizard said, the man leaned down to pick up the glistening sheet. He flipped it over and hissed and what he saw.

'Barty? What's wrong?' asked one of the remaining wizards.

The one called Barty held up the card. On it was a strange symbol. It bore a golden sword, the hilt baring outstretched eagle wings. 'It's him.' He said, his voice oddly shaky. 'It was the assassin!'

Unbeknownst to them, Celestin, under the cover of his Disillusionment charm, peered round the edge of the trees and melted into the shadows, as if he had never been there at all.

TBC

Chosha's Notes

So, Celestin's 'offed' more Death-eaters, and we've got ourselves some action. I'm contemplating raising the rating, but, I ask you're opinion on that. So, what do you think? I hope you enjoyed, but I would love to hear from you. Please review and tell me you're thoughts, questions or constructive criticisms.

Next time on Celestin:

Celestin escaped the ministry, but he's not off the hook just yet. Can he escape, as well as seem completely harmless. Lord, don't draw attention to yourself Cel! Next episode: The-Boy-Who-Returned

Ja ne for now!

Chosha Kurenai xXx