.

October 31, 6:45 PM: Blaise Zabini, in the dining room, with a pocket watch.

He was dressed in elegant black robes that were tailored to perfection. His mask, simple and obscuring the top half of his face, was black as well. He looked terribly imposing as he stood at the head of a long dining table, staring compulsively at the little golden timepiece in his hand. The room – already fairly grand – had been spruced up to fit the festivities of the day. The lighting was dim, with four large candelabra standing in each corner. Gauzy black curtains hung in front of the large windows, and carved pumpkins were placed decorously here and there.
Blaise checked his watch again: 6:50.

He had some kind of mini-seizure when the door to the room slowly creaked open.

"Master?" said a high, awfully nervous voice.

Blaise took a breath to regain his composure, and replied, "What is it, Yvette?"

A tiny little house-elf wrapped up in linen, poked her misshapen head around the door and squeaked, "I is bringing drinks, master."

"Very well. Set them on the trolley."

Yvette the house-elf tottered in bearing a tray that looked far too large and far too heavy for her frame, and anyone with a basic sense of decency would be highly troubled by the sight. Blaise tapped his index finger against the table to indicate his displeasure at Yvette's slow pace.

"Anything else, master?"

"No. Just wait in the hall to greet our guests and bring them straight here."

"Yes, master."

Yvette bowed lowly and backed out of the room. Alone again, Blaise looked at his watch... 6:53. He marched over to a window and pulled the curtain aside just a sliver to look outside. It was a dark and stormy night and the world was full of shadows. He breathed out heavily, fogging up the glass. Not a second later, the door opened once more, and he spun around wildly.

"Mr. Draco Malfoy, master," Yvette announced.

Draco strode in with his head held high, in deep navy robes and a thin band around his eyes. He'd done nothing to disguise the telltale hue of his hair.

"Thank you, Yvette," he said to the house-elf, who got so alarmed and flustered by the courtesy that she fled the room posthaste.

"Thanking the help, Draco?" Blaise sneered, "What have you become?"

"A half decent human being," Draco replied cuttingly, "I would've suggested you give it a go, if I didn't know that you were too far gone for it."

In the midst of Blaise's consequent laughter, Theo was shown in.

"Where's your mask?" Blaise asked at once.

"No idea."

"Put on your bloody mask."

"No."

"Theo, this is a masquerade–"

"Fuck off, Blaise."

Blaise gave him a withering look. "Why are you so cranky, my friend?"

"I am not your friend," his not-friend replied, "And I don't like this one bit. I don't like it at all."

"Then go," Blaise suggested with a careless shrug, "Just remember to lie low for the next... oh, twenty odd years, while public outrage at all your shocking transgressions dies down."

"Cunt," Theo growled. He practically ran to the serving tray at the side of the room to pour himself a large drink, which he threw back in one gulp.

And Blaise peaked down at his watch: 7:00. Sharp.

"Ms. Red and Mr. Plum."

At Yvette's proclamation, the three men in the room stiffened and anxiously turned to face the door. A man and a woman walked in cautiously, each taking time to look carefully around the room. She was in dark red robes that wrapped charmingly around her lithe frame. Her hair was sleek and black and grazed her clavicle. He was stocky and fair-haired, in deep purple robes. Both were wearing full-face masks in colours matching their attire.

"Good evening, and welcome!" Blaise stated pompously.

"Thank you for having us," Ms. Red replied.

"Please sit down," Blaise said, and Draco rushed forward to pull out a chair for Ms. Red.

They'd barely settled when Yvette returned.

"Ms. White."

In snowy lace and a matching mask, Ms. White had bright pink hair tied in a bun on top of her head. As she sat, she noted, "You have not left food outside, Mr. Zabini."

"No?" Blaise was puzzled.

"How to you expect to welcome the Aos Si into your home if you don't leave out a meal for them?"

"How careless of me," Blaise stuttered, "I'll have Yvette look into it immi–"

"Mr. Green, Mr. Yellow, and Ms. Peacock."

And the last of their guests had arrived.

Mr. Green, dressed in green, had bright red hair. Mr. Yellow, dressed in dull yellow, had black hair. Ms. Peacock's mask had an elaborate plume of peacock feathers that covered her hair entirely.
"Welcome!" Blaise boomed, "Welcome all! I am so perfectly delighted that you could make it. As you can see, this is a fairly intimate affair, and in anticipation of the rather exciting, ah, games we have planned for later in the night, I have kept your identities a secret. Only I know who you are. Even my co-hosts – I'm sure you're all acquainted with Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Nott – are in the dark. I promise you an evening of thrills and intrigue, my friends. It will be a night to remember.
"Now without further ado... Yvette! Serve the drinks!"

Poor Yvette, burdened once more with that massive tray, did a round of the table. To make matters worse, her little legs trembled as five of the six guests, and Draco, thanked her.

Thunder raged outside, lightening flashed, and eight people sat at the table sipping manically at their respective drinks. Only Blaise appeared to be entirely collected. All his jitteriness from before had been replaced by an anticipative glow that was almost menacing.
"So... Mr. Yellow. Did you–"

"Auror."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I am an Auror and I'd prefer that you address me as such."

"I... see. Auror Yellow, then. Did you–"

"Mustard."

Everybody stared at Theo at his abrupt interruption. "Auror Mustard," he went on, "As in–"

"No, I think Yellow is just fine–"

"Mustard, as in he must be a turd."

"WHAT!" the man in question baulked, "No way! Who do you think you are, Nott?"

"I'd prefer that you address me as Theodore Nott, esquire."

"I'm not going to call you that!"

"Too bad, Mustard."

As Auror Mustard sputtered with indignation, Draco, who'd very nimbly ensured that he was seated next to his chosen companion, turned to her and enquired, "Are you enjoying the wine, Ms. Scarlett? It's from my personal collection."

"It's absolutely delicious," she said, and her lovely eyes smiled, "And I do believe my name is Ms. Red."

"No," Draco disagreed, and his gaze travelled from the creamy flesh of her neck down her torso, "I'm quite certain you ought to be called Scarlett."

She had a very bodily reaction to the way the name rolled off his tongue.

Mr. Plum cleared his throat. "If he's Auror Mustard–"

"YELLOW!"

"I will insist on being called Professor Plum."

"Honestly, Blaise," Theo drawled, "Did you look for the most obnoxious people in all of England to have over?"

"Well, you're here, aren't you?" Auror Mustard retaliated.

"Gentlemen, please!" Blaise interjected in a soothing tone, "This is supposed to be a pleasant evening. Let's not squabble. Mr. Green – may I call you Mr. Green? – Your glass is empty. That is not to be borne. Yvette! Refills!"

As Yvette was topping up glasses, Blaise left his seat to go stand by a window once again. Keeping his back to his guests, he asked, "Did you all deposit your wands at the entrance?"
A murmur of affirmation went around, but Blaise slowly turned and said, "That's a lie."

The colourful guests looked among each other, and the fact that their masks hid their reactions and expressions completely was quite unnerving. Like a agile predator, Blaise stalked back to the table until he'd lain both his hands on Auror Mustard's shoulders.

"I should've expected that a proud Auror would never part with his wand."

"I... er..."

"Let's see it, Auror Mustard." The man flinched, and Blaise gently squeezed his shoulders. "Your wand, sir."

Hesitatingly, he took his wand out from within the folds of his robes and placed it on the table in front of him.

"Very well," Blaise said after eyeing it closely, "You may keep it."

"I demand to have my wand back too!" Ms. Peacock cried shrilly, "Get me my wand back at once!" She got more het up when Blaise ignored her and walked towards a cabinet. "Bla – Mr. Zabini! You will give me back my wand!"

"Quite a spitfire, aren't you, my dear Ms. Peacock?" Blaise returned to the table and this time he had a small sack in his hand. "Such rage... such fury. A Fury, without a doubt, needs her whip."

With that, Blaise pulled an actual whip out of the sack he was holding and presented it to her. She grasped it almost involuntarily. "What is this – Why are you–"

"It is your accessory for the night, ma'am," Blaise informed her, "I procured it from a secret sect of sorcerers in Athens. It's quite lethal, so do be careful."

Leaving Ms. Peacock gaping at her gift, he moved onto Professor Plum and grinned. "Ah, esteemed Professor. Such broad shoulders you have, such strong arms. Perfect for wielding a... beater's bat!"
And so, Professor Plum was handed a bat.

"The lovely Ms. Scarlett, with such beautifully nimble fingers. I'm sure you'll know how to handle this cursed dagger."

"No, I don't think–"

Blaise moved on. "Ms. White. This Pukwudie arrow ought to tickle your fancy..."

"Fascinating," Ms. White breathed.

"Mr. Green. May I present to you an enchanted blunderbuss – tell it your intended target, and it will not miss."

"Mr. Zabini," Ms. Scarlett piped up, (she had pushed the dagger he'd given her far away from herself,) "Is there a point to this?"

"But of course! Now that you each have a lethal weapon, I will get to my point. You have touched them and your fingerprints have been permanently embedded onto them. There will be a murder here tonight, and you will all be suspects."

"Oh, how thrilling!" Ms. White clapped her hands.

Auror Mustard grumbled, "Thought we'd at least get something to eat before the games began."

"The game began seven months ago, Auror Mustard," Blaise said darkly, "It was started by one of you. But tonight... tonight I intent to finish it."

Blaise returned to his spot at the head of the table, and he stood behind his chair, resting his elbows on its high back.
"Each and every one of you here has reason to wish me harm... petty school grudges, professional rivalry, jealousy, scorned affection... Any one of you could be the one I'm looking for; the one who's going to die a very painful death tonight. But before I get into the delightful task of unmasking and torturing you till you confess, I'm giving the culprit one chance to come clean. For the sake of your innocent companions, I suggest you do it."

"What kind of twisted shit is this, Zabini?" Mr Green asked.

"And you haven't even explained the rules of the game!" Ms. Scarlett sounded most aggrieved.

"This is not a fucking game!" Blaise roared, and he threw his chair against a wall. His transformation into Mr. Hyde was complete.

Ms. Peacock screamed.

"Calm down, Blaise!" Draco commanded, getting to his feet in alarm.

"I will not calm down!" Blaise's wand was out and he pointed it at his guests one by one. "Who is it? Which one of you miserable fuckers is The Shadow? I'm giving you ten seconds to speak up, or you'll all be sorry! Ten. Nine. Eight. Seve–"

"I could arrest you for this!" Auror Mustard shouted, "In fact, I will–"

"Shut. Up. Five. Four – SIT DOWN, PLUM." The poor man, who'd tried to make a run for it, fell hard onto the floor after being hit with a stunner. "There's no use trying to run. The house is locked, every exit is sealed. I have set up anti-apparation wards. The Floo has been blocked. You can't escape."

With a whimper, Professor Plum pulled himself back onto his seat.

"What are you going on about?" Ms. Peacock shrieked in panic, "What shadow, what torture? I demand that you let me go at once! My husband won't let you get away with this! He'll have your head! He'll–"

"Your husband is an incompetent fool who does nothing but hop from one bed to the other. Incidentally, he's spent quite some time in our friend Theo's bed–"

"Blaise!" Theo bellowed.

"Theo? My husband? What?"

"ENOUGH!"

Blaise's voice was like the howl of a hungry werewolf. "Enough," he repeated, "Well then. Since you've decided not to own up, I will make you. Let's start with Ms. Scarlett, shall we? I will enjoy this–"

Draco immediately placed himself protectively in front of her.

"You've lost your mind, Zabini!"

"You have!" Ms. Peacock trilled, "You've lost your mind!"

"I'll put you in Azkaban for the rest of your pathetic life!" Auror Mustard threatened.

Mr. Green appeared to be slowly edging his chair backwards.

"It wasn't me!" Professor Plum cried, "I've nothing to do with this!"
(Ms. White patted his back consolingly.)

The chaos and hysteria was building and building when all of a sudden, in one fell swoop, all the candles died, and the room was thrown into pitch darkness.

First, there was shocked silence.
Then the sound of a whip.
A crash.
A scream.
A cry.
A spell sizzling as it cut through the air.
A thump.
A gunshot.
Another scream.
Glass breaking.
A thud.
Fumbling.

Then there was light. Theo stood by a candelabrum, with a cigarette lighter in his trembling hand. For a while, they all just breathed. The cupboard and all its objects made of glass and china were a mountain of debris.

"Is everyone all ri–"

Ms. Peacock released a goosepimple-inducing, hair-curling, heart-stopping, brain-freezing scream.

"What?" Draco urged, running over to where she was standing, "What – oh Merlin!"

"What is it?" Theo demanded.

"It's Blaise! He's... I think he's... he's..."

Ms. Scarlett pushed her way through the cluster that had formed around Blaise's prone figure on the floor, crouched beside him, and pressed her fingers against his wrist.

"He's dead," she pronounced as she fell back on her haunches, "Oh god, he's dead."

"You sure?" Auror Mustard asked.

"Of course I'm bloody well sure!"

"It could be a trick," Mr. Green mused, "All a part of his plan."

"No," Ms. Scarlett insisted, "He's dead. He can't fake this. Even the Drought of Living Death doesn't stop your pulse completely."

"Oh no!" Ms. White wheezed, clutching her chest tightly.

Ms. Peacock, who'd collapsed into a chair and was hyperventilating, suddenly jumped up. "There was a gunshot! We all heard it! YOU!" she pointed at Mr. Green, "You had the blunderbuss! It was you! You killed him! Mr. Green, with the revolver!"

"No!" Mr. Green denied at once, "The shot was an accident... I swear! Someone was trying to snatch the gun out of my hand–"

"Ha! A likely story!"

"He wasn't shot," said Draco, who'd crouched down next to Ms. Scarlett, "There's no wound."

"In fact," Ms. Scarlett added, "he hasn't got any physical injuries at all. He's clearly been hit with the killing curse."

"Of course!" Theo thundered, "It was Mustard! Auror Mustard, with the wand!"

"I didn't!" Auror Mustard's voice warbled, "I didn't – I–"

"Well, there's one way to tell, isn't there?" Draco posed.

"Priori incantatem!" Ms. Scarlet gasped.

A minute later, it was revealed that the last spell cast by Auror Mustard's wand was a shaving charm.

"Told you," he huffed.

"Zabini is still dead, you arseholes!" Ms. Peacock reminded them, "Someone avada'd him, and since there is no way in or out of this blasted mansion, that someone is still here!"

"Right." Mr. Green's eyes narrowed behind his mask. "Who else has a wand?"

Unsurprisingly, nobody came forward.

"Try summoning it," he told Auror Mustard.

Accio wand bore no fruit. Nor any wands.

"So it wasn't any of us?" Ms. White wondered, "Is there anyone else here?"

"Besides Yvette, no," Draco answered. Then he sighed, "But... I can't be sure."

"Shit!" Professor Plum warbled, flapping his arms like a frantic bird, "We're trapped in a house with a murderer! We're done for! It's all over!"

"Nothing's over," Mr. Green snapped. He considered Draco and Theo, asking, "Do you know if there's another, secret exit somewhere in here?"

They both shook their heads.

"Okay," Mr. Green continued, "There are eight of us, and thanks to Zabini's thoughtfulness, we're all armed. I say we split up and explore the place. Surely one of us will find a way out."

"And what if we find the murderer first?" Ms. Peacock railed.

"It's obvious, isn't it? Use that whip of yours."

"Can't we get our wands back from the elf?"

Theo tapped his chin. "Worth a try. Yvette!" he called out loudly, "Yvette! Yvette!"

"Yeah, shut up, that's not working."

While Theo scowled at Auror Mustard, Draco drew a rough plan of Blaise's house as best he could remember.