This chapter is about the Death Eaters on Guy Fawkes night/Bonfire night.

For those of you who don't know, Guy Fawkes night is a tradition that dates back to 1605, when King James was on the British throne. He was a protestant Christian, and a group of catholic Christians decided to rent one of the rooms under the houses of Parliament, fill it with gunpowder, and blow up King James and whoever else may be present when Parliament met.

Needless to say that their plan did not go well. A letter was recieved by one of James's courtiers, warning him not to go to Parliament, the give away line being: "Retire yourself into the country... they shall receive a terrible blow this Parliament, and yet they shall not see who hurts them."

The King was naturally suspicious about the meaning of this letter, and ordered guards to search underneath the houses of Parliament.

They found a large pile of gunpowder barrels right underneath the room where Parliament met, and waited until the last moment to catch the culprit.

The poor guy chosen to set light to the gunpowder was called Guy Fawkes, contrary to popular belief, he wasn't the leader of the gang. He was, for want of a better comparison, the 'Wormtail' of the group. The 'Voldemort' of the pack was a chap called Robert Catesby.

The guards caught Guy as he was about to set light to the gunpowder, and arrested him.

He was tortured to tell the king's men who else was involved in the plot, but boldly refused. The other conspirators were tortured, and eventually were hung, drawn and quartered, a rather nasty form of death, I won't go into details.

King James decided to make a big thing of his victory, and made November the 5th a time when people would build a bonfire and put a 'Guy' on it, just to warn any other catholics that they could not defeat the King.

Nowadays, not only do we have a bonfire and Guy burning on it on the night of November the 5th, but we also have firework displays, representing the gunpowder. Right now, in fact, I'm hearing some outside my window. (Not right outside, of course, quite far away.)

I have to say that this time of year is particularly significant in my family, as two of our ancestors were in the gunpowder plot, Robert and Thomas Winter. I do not know whether this is something to be proud of ashamed of, but I think it's pretty cool:)

Anyway, I decided to have the Death Eaters celebrating bonfire night as a majority of them are British. I know that there is some mystery hanging around Dolohov's origins, many believe that he is a graduate of Durmstrang, but no matter.

In my other fic, involving the Troupe, since a majority of them are American, I shall have them celebrating Thanksgiving, something that I probably need to research before writing about. All I know is that it is in November (the 23rd?) and people eat turkey! Any Americans out there who can tell me any more please do!

Anyway, I believe I have ranted long enough. Just a bit of background info so you know what's going on.

----

The Death Eaters on Bonfire Night

"Remember, remember the fifth of November,

Gunpowder treason and plot,

I see no reason why gunpowder and treason,

Should ever be forgot.

Remember, remember-"

"WILL YOU SHUT UP RABASTAN!" Voldemort cried, as Rabastan began to chant that blasted poem for the twelfth time running.

"How many times do we have to tell you?" Rodolphus asked his brother. "You do not have to recite, and/or sing an appropriate poem and/or song every time we go out somewhere."

"I have never done anything like that!" Rabastan said indignantly. "When have I ever done anything like that?"

"Well," Bellatrix said, sitting in the seat behind and filing her nails. "How about when we went on a camping trip and you started singing 'We're all going on a summer holiday...'"

"Or when we went to the Bath and West show," Dolohov added. "And you were singing: 'I've got a brand new combine 'arvester.'"

"Oh yes," Rabastan blushed.

"Well this time, we are going to get through the journey without any singing or arguing. We are going to watch this firework display, and go home, without anything strange happening at all.

The Death Eaters nodded, and, for once, not another word was said until that had arrived at the display.

They got out of the mini van, and walked into the field full of people. A large bonfire was in one corner, burning up everything wooden, from chairs to old wardrobes.

"Argh!" Wormtail cried. "My lord, someone's burning on there!"

The Death Eaters looked at the bonfire and saw a very human like figure atop the burning pile of rubbish.

"You idiot, Wormtail!" Voldemort said, clipping Wormtail around the ear. "That isn't a real person! It's a Guy!"

"Well I'm sure this 'Guy' person does not appreciate being set alight," Rabastan said.

"No, Rabastan," Rodolphus sighed. "He's not real."

"Oh."

"When are the fireworks starting?" Bellatrix asked.

"Any moment now," Voldemort replied.

As soon as he had said that, the first rocket shot up into the sky, and exploded with a huge 'BANG'. Voldemort smirked and hurried over. Wormtail ran after, hands over his ears. He had never liked fireworks.

the display was nothing short of spectacular. Rockets banging everywhere, screaming fireworks shooting into the sky, very loud crackling ones that made the ground vibrate, and, by the time it was over, everyone was ready for the finale.

"Should be going up any time now!" Voldemot grinned.

(Fourty five minutes later...)

"I'm getting sick of this," Voldemort said crossly. "Where are the people in charge?"

He looked around, and saw a man with a torch in one corner, deep in conversation with another man.

Voldemort, flanked by the Death Eaters, marched over. Voldemort tapped the man with the torch on the shoulder.

"When is the finale starting?" Voldemort asked him. "It is half an hour late."

"Listen, sorry mate," the man said. "We're 'aving a problem with the matches. You see, Steve here went to get some cider, and..."

Wormtail, sensing that this was going to turn into a rather boring conversation, looked around at the floor. Several dozen fireworks were standing in the ground, all burnt out and used.

He walked over to the biggest one and inspected it. It looked magnificent. Probably the one for the finale.

Wormtail sniffed, and tried to walk away, but, to his horror, realised that he had got his shoelace (goodness knows how) around the stick that held the rocket in place. His eyes turned wide in horror.

"...So you see," the man with the torch said. "We'd like to get on wiv the show as much as you would, but we ain't got any matches to light the last one with!"

"Oh, that's the problem!" Voldemort said. "Well," he turned to Wormtail, not seeming to realise that the poor guy was attatched to this enormous rocket. "Wormtail has a couple of matches! Light it up, Wormtail!"

"Wormtail?" The man with the torch asked, questioningly.

"Yes," Voldemort said. "Blame his parents. They wanted a rat. Got a kid instead. Anyway..."

He clicked his fingers behind his back, and the fuse on the final rocket burst into life.

"No, my lord!" Wormtail yelled, desperately tugging at his shoelace.

"I know," Voldemort grinned at him. "Exciting, isn't it?"

The Death Eaters (apart from Wormtail, of course), took a step back to watch the rocket go up. It did, and it was magnificant. The colours lit up the sky in hues of green, blue, gold and red, dancing all over the skies, so when they faded, you could almost mistake the sparkling remains still hanging in the sky for colourful stars.

Voldemort looked pensively at something soaring through the sky.

"You know," he said to Rodolphus. "You could almost mistake that firework for Wormtail."

Rodolphus squinted up.

"Er, that is Wormtail, my Lord," he relpied.

"What on earth is he doing up there?" Voldemort said crossly, following the descent of Wormtail as he landed rather luckily on the bouncy castle. Several little children shrieked as he landed.

"Ouch." Was all he could muster.

----

I shall tell you now that Wormtail was very lucky as he got off unscathed except for very bruised and with rather singed shoelaces.

I am fully aware that that would never happen in real life, that Wormtail's shoelace would not be a sufficient obstacle to send a man shooting up into the air, and their probably isn't even a firework that could lift a human into the air. But hey.

I would also like to say that I do not mean to offend anyone who has been, or knows anyone who has been involved in an accident with fireworks. I'm truly sorry if I have.

And I would also like to apologise for the rather long winded bit of history preceeding the chapter. It must have been rather boring for those of you who know the story, but for those of you who don't, I just thought it would be a good bit of background knowledge. I dunno, most of you probably didn't read it at all:)

Anywho, au revoir for now, and if you are going to a display tonight, or just having your own fireworks, do not try that at home!

Peace out,

Reddy.