Meeting #2 Let the scheming begin.

The front door to Malfoy Manor burst open letting snow fly into the entrance hall. He pushed it closed and made his way to the meeting room. He quickly made sure every light source and heat source were active. Despite all this effort the room had a slight chill to it. He found himself hoping that this was just the violent winter storm outside.

He spent a moment looking at a mirror finding the face looking back at him extremely alien. He had been back from the dead almost a year now and still was not used to the body he was forced to take. He rolled up his sleeve and looked at the dark mark. Every day since Voldemort's death he had noticed the ink fading more and more. He wondered if the others noticed as well. He would need to correct that soon. He drew his wand and jabbed it into the tattoo. He felt the burning feeling as he called the other death eaters. This meeting would be a bad one to miss.

He sat down at the head of the table and waited. The only sound he could hear was the wind outside mercilessly trying to bring the house down around him.

Remy swore under her breath as the motorcycle that had been humming beneath her gave a sputter and started to slow, making it even more difficult to steer than it already was in this stupid snow. The season was making her main mode of transportation impractical at best, and fail-prone at worst, which was what the situation was now presenting with. Not wanting to crash, she jumped off the motorcycle and dragged it toward the side of the country road she had been travelling on to get to Malfoy Manor.

After checking over the engine, she knew the problem was with the carburetor, but the darkness of winter and the still-blowing snow was making it near impossible to even get to the root of the issue. Instead, the dark-haired woman peered around through the snow and spotted an abandoned barn about 200 meters away. It would do.

Pushing the heavy chunk of metal was no small feat, but Remy was not unaccustomed to physical labor, and was able to dump the bike just inside the barn, in a dark corner so no one would see it, though anyone coming out here seemed like a long shot anyway.

It was good that she had made it as far as she had on the bike, but the rest of the journey to the Manor was cold and wet, and when Remy stepped over the threshold, her long dark hair was covered in snow that melted almost immediately upon entry. Her face was red from exposure to the wind, but she shook herself off and wasted no time getting to the meeting room. She didn't need to give anyone a reason to doubt her loyalties, especially now that things were getting so hairy with the Order and the Ministry - she had fewer and fewer places to run these days, so she needed to play her part well.

"Evening, Emof," Remy said by way of greeting as she entered the room and took her obligatory place at the lower end of the table, where the underlings sat, "Good to see you, as always."

Except you could really do well to announce these meetings more in advance...

Grindelwald was hardly the most entertaining creature in the world. Sat up in the school, Alistair was in the lap of luxury. He could lounge by the crackling fire in his rooms and stretch like a cat, greedily indulging in all of his favourite meals, tasting things Azkaban had denied him. Yet, for some reason, Alistair was uncomfortable with the way his situation had panned out. He found himself having relations with one of the most powerful women in Britain. He was one of the inner-circle members of the most powerful man. Yet, Grindelwald had nothing to contribute, nothing that was worth mentioning or writing to his father about. In fact, Grindelwald was a disappointment. Passive-aggression had never been Alistair’s forte. He was either aggressive or passive, one or the other, not some muddled mix of the two. He yearned for the murder and mayhem of the Death Eaters yet he knew as well as anyone that there was no such thing anymore. Murder and Mayhem was certainly a thing of the past.

Voldemort wasn’t, however. Even death could not take the man that had inspired them to kill. The mark on the dark-haired man’s left forearm had faded over the years. It was a slow, almost painful process in which he began to lose his connection with the Dark Lord. He wondered about the significance of the mark in the man’s death. He wondered whether it was something that could enable them to bring him back. Of course, that would never be something Emof would allow for. No, if anything, he would use the power to make sure he couldn’t come back. Alistair felt himself the last among the loyal. The Malfoys had bowed to new ideas. Old Pureblood families had lost confidence in their selves, in the power their blood had. They too cowed under the facade of power the Head Death Eater portrayed. Alistair, had been stronger, would not have considered attending the Death Eater meeting that had been called. He saw cracks in Grindelwald’s half-hearted regime, though. He saw cracks in Death Eater rule. He saw the Ministry in tatters and the Order absent as ever. He knew what this was about though.

Loyalties had never been a problem for Alistair but, upon appearing in the grounds of Malfoy Manor, he couldn’t help but wonder where his lie. With Voldemort was an obvious answer but not one that he could support anymore. The Dark Lord was not present on earth anymore. He was absent, just like law and order. Alistair knew he had to show he could cooperate. He knew he had to show his worth. However, he had to make sure that he could save himself if Grindelwald were to fall and democracy was to prevail. He needed a guarantee. He needed freedom, not imprisonment. He wasn’t going back to Azkaban. He knew he wouldn’t find the guarantee he sought in the Death Eaters but he knew that it was there that he would begin to look for that promise. It was a weight on his mind he couldn’t quite shake off, not that it showed.

Trudging through the snow, Alistair wrapped his outer robes tighter around him. The wind tousled his dark locks and he was grateful for the protection the manor gave him. It certainly didn’t warm him the way he had hoped but a handful of warming charms soon did the trick. Alistair then shed his robes and made his way into the dining room where the meetings usually took place. Though, not before demanding a glass of wine from a jittery House Elf quivering by the door and struggling under the weight of the robes he’d dumped into her arms. Alistair regarded the elf with little respect - no more than it deserved, he added mentally - and straightened his tie in one of the mirrors mounted on the walls of the foyer. Alistair then ran his fingers through his hair and opened the door of the dining room, the groan of the hinges announcing him.

“Ah, Emof!” Alistair plastered a false smile on his face. “How fantastic it is to see you’re still alive. Good evening too you.” Alistair then glanced over at the seated woman and quirked an eyebrow up at her before striding over and offering her his hand. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting just yet. Now is a time as good as any I don’t doubt. Alistair D’Eath, at your service.”

Naomi had been planning a pack meeting, having got Hooper to slink his way over to her house as she gave him instructions. She was deep in planning with him when the mark burned. Having spent so much time in her furry self, or planning her attacks as her furry self, she let out an animistic snarl under her breath. Blast it, Emof, you have the worst timing, she thought.

She looked over at Hooper, the worn looking man looking as though he knew she know had a pressing obligation and he would be kicked to the curb. She took him by the arm, having grown quite close to the man as one of her most trusted companions, and led him out the door. "I promise, soon as I get back, I'll find you and we'll have a talk over some Scotch."

"You know my weakness," he said in a tired voice, though her smiled. She patted his back and he walked off, disapparating at the edge of her property. She glanced in her window and checked her hair and face real quick, jutting her chin forward as though it helped the reflection, as though the almost wolfish eyes looked more human when she did. Getting to invested in the pup had side effects.

She turned and strode across her property, waiting until she too reached the boundaries, before turning on the spot. With a pop she reappeared outside of Malfoy manor. She slipped through the gate and made her way inside to where the meetings were being held. She paused atas a man was introducing himself. She knew him through Felix, but they had not met. Her eyes travelled up and down him, before she made her way over to sitting next to Remy, saying nothing.

Naomi was torn with conflict. She joined the Death Eaters for Felix. Then Felix went to Grindelwald, and now The Death Eaters were going against Grindelwald. She knew she benefitted more from Grindelwald, but she also felt that her rightful place was with the Death Eaters. She was just going to have to wait and see how this all turned out.

Remy wasn’t accustomed to being greeted by her fellow Death Eaters – most of them ignored her because her of relative lack of importance within the organization – so when the terminally attractive man strode directly toward her and offered his hand, Remy was taken aback for a moment. She did not let this show, of course, but she was surprised at this new development.

She had watched the man as he came through the room, and although he didn’t know it, they had shared the same space several times before. Remy made it a point to remain shadowed and quiet during these meetings, because she wasn’t really you-rah-rah Death Eaters, it was just convenient for the time being to be protected by a larger organization. But if anyone asked, she hated muggles and muggleborns, and Voldemort was the coolest guy that had ever lived, and blah blah blah. She knew how to play the part.

So it wasn’t surprising that the dark-haired man didn’t know who she was, though Remy had paid enough attention in meetings past to know that he was Alistair D’Eath, and that he ranked much higher than she did in just about every arena that counted. That knowledge, combined with his physical attractiveness, made him very important to Remy, so she needed to play it cool during this introduction.

“Remy Devaul,” the dark-haired vixen responded as she placed her smaller hand in his, sure not to let it linger lest he notice the callouses of hard work that farm life and experience in physical labor tended to give, “And I assure you, sir, that it is I who shall be in service to you,” she added with a bow of her head to show submissiveness. Men in power tended to like women who obeyed, or at least knew when it was important to do as they were told. Remy needed time to figure out Alistair more fully, but for now, she would go on instinct.

“How are things holding up at Hogwarts?” Remy inquired, drawing on the knowledge she had of Alistair from listening to the Death Eaters gossip. She knew he held a position of power at the school, and while Remy had taught there briefly on an assignment a few years ago, she hadn’t been back since. Though if anyone asked, she had been there for the Battle of Hogwarts.

But thankfully, people had stopped asking those questions, now that they had Grindelwald to focus on.

Aaron felt the burning on his arm and he let out a deep sigh. He put down the wand he was working on and closed his eyes, leaning his head back and letting his thoughts all slip away for a few moments. He was so ready for this whole pretending to be loyal to both the Death Eaters and the Order thing die out. Being a spy for the Order and also trying to voice himself within the Death Eaters was time consuming. He had so much work that needed to be done and he felt like he was always being summoned to some sort of meeting.

He did not waste time though, he grabbed all of his things and then a loud pop was heard as he apparated from the room. It was not long before his feet touched the ground and he stared at the manor. Without hesitation he strode forward and quickly entered the place. He was not the first to arrive but he knew he would not be. So many of the people in the room believed that the Death Eaters still stood a chance at surviving. He wanted to laugh at the thought, but he did not.

He walked along the table, nodding at everyone as he passed them. He knew little of the people at the table, and he liked it that way. Knowing little of them meant that they knew even less of him and that was perfect. Though he had thought about trying to recruit a few of them, mostly Remy. He had been watching her and he noticed that she had a lot of fire in her, but he had not pursued because many other things had come up.

"Is this the meeting where we stage our coo?" He said to Ne'os as he pulled his outer jacket off and slid it onto the back of the chair. "It is getting close to time to decide when we are going to make our assault against the Order." He wanted to plant that idea as much as possible. The Order knew they were going to attack, but they did not know when. Aaron was an informant for them and he could get the dates screwed up for the Order. Honestly, he thought the Order was a bit stronger, so he was more leaning towards helping the Death Eaters. "That is if we have any backbone left whatsoever."

For years Scorpius had watched all the death eaters coming together in his house for their monthly meetings. Growing up, the house had been Voldemort's head quarters, and he had seen the dark lords entering the house many times. Every month, he would watch as twenty, thirty death eaters walked in for the secret meetings. Scorpius' father and grandfather had never allowed him near the room when a meeting was being held, even as he grew older. But now he was a death eater, it was his duty to attend the meeting.

He had to admit he was quite nervous in entering the room. Strange really, considering it was his house and he had been in the room many times. But now it was filled with important death eaters. Well, a few anyway, most of them lost faith in the death eaters. Scorpius tried to look emotionless as he walked past the few death eaters and took a seat on the second chair from the left. Now seated, he looked down the table, but didn't see anyone he recognized. He then turned to Ne'os. "Evening, Ne'os," he said, not bothering to try and show any respect. Since they had been in the same year and house at Hogwarts, Ne'os had been somewhat of a rival to Scorpius before Ne'os had dropped out. Scorpius knew that Ne'os had plenty of skill, especially in dark magic, but he didn't believe he deserved the head position. That belonged to his father, although Scorpius probably wouldn't be too happy with that either.

Ne'Os had waited patiently for everyone he believed would show up showed. He gave a slight nod to Aaron hoping that he would understand that that would be covered eventually. He waited another moment hoping his silence would bring a end to unnecessary conversation.

"Thank you all for coming I understand that we all have busy lives and taking time and making excuses so you can answer my summons is not always easy." he said sounding as pleasant as he usually did since he came back from the void.


"I would like to dive right in. It is nearing time we take action against the order and I would like it to go off as easily and bloodlessly as possible. My plan for my part in this is that I will if luck smiles on me then I will kill Grindelwald. That is of course the simple part. My strategy and magic of course will as always remain a secret."

"Now however we need to discuss all of your parts While yes we will be betraying the order i need all of you to block the order from myself and the order member that accompany's me to visit our minister. We need to decide the best way to do that. I have my ideas but I will need yours," he said hoping that they would all participate in some way or another.

He rummaged through his robes for a second and produced a couple rolls of parchment a ink well and a quill making sure that the quill had enough ink on it he prepared to take notes.

"I hope you don't mind by the way I had hoped to keep this somewhat organized," he said hoping to explain the item he had just procured.

Alistair and Remy did not have time to finish their conversation, unfortunately, before the rest of the meeting guests arrived and Ne’Os started the meeting. He was polite in shifting their focus from the smaller conversations to the larger meeting, but Remy was annoyed nonetheless. She had wanted to get her tentacles further around Alistair before his attention was otherwise diverted, but she would need to save that for another time. For now, she needed to revert back to her role of dutiful Death Eater.

Ne’Os was quick to get to the point, unlike so many of their other past leaders who preferred to make them guess at the purpose of the meeting or tiptoe around what actually needed to be done. In the course of his announcing what they needed to do, however, Ne’Os was not exactly explicit about how he planned to carry out his mission of killing Grindelwald. The idea was a good one, yes, but as far as feasibility went it was about the same as saying you wanted to lift Hogwarts with your bare hands. Ne’Os had always been one of big ideas and little definitive follow-through, so Remy wasn’t surprised, but as usual, she was annoyed.

“Why not make an attempt to convince the order that Grindelwald ought to be killed?” Remy asked as Ne’Os brought out his parchment, “If they were a part of the same mission, then we wouldn’t need to be fighting two enemies simultaneously. Besides, the thought of one wizard being able to defeat Grindelwald on his own is a lofty one, even for such a great wizard as yourself,” Remy added, careful to end her criticism on a compliment. Ne’Os hadn’t shown too much animosity toward her in past years, and she didn’t want to give him a reason to start now. Remy would not have spoken up at all, save for their being so few people at this meeting that her silence would surely not have gone unnoticed.

Ne'os smiled at the compliment even if it was a criticism he of course knew that he would not stand a chance if he were to fight Grindelwald on his own luckily he didn't need to worry about being alone.

"Luckily for us the order is willing to kill him if that is the only scenario and also more lucky for me is that i won't be alone. My old friend and order member Kingsley Shacklebolt will be going with me. I'm sure that he and I will have no issues killing Grindelwald and if the order should decide to send another person with us then that makes the job that much easier" he said sounding as pleasant as ever if not slightly annoyed.

"All i need you guys to do is work with the order long enough to get them to the ministers office and then if there are any...snags you can help out and then after Grindelwald is dead then maybe we should turn on the order" he said revising his plan a slight bit.

"But as i had said that is only the surface of my plan I don't know how this will work out. My feeling is we will be outnumbered and outgunned so we will need a advantage and i am sorry to say that spider's wont cut it this time" he said wincing slightly as he thought back to the battle at Hogwarts.