Muggles of England, come gather your bloody bouquets
Now gaze on our goddess of justice
With her glimmering, shimmering beam
As she kisses these traitors, they let out one last silent scream…
Erasmus Cairnwright swaggered jauntily through the darkened alleyway, admiring the dramatic effect of his black Death Eater robes billowing out behind him. Wearing the deceptive cloak of darkness (not to be confused with a dark cloak, though he was wearing one of those, too), he blended in with the shadows, and his face was hidden by a lowered hood and a black mask.
Erasmus felt cool and mysterious, and he had to suppress the urge to buy a pair of sunglasses and a leather jacket and strut down the street snapping his fingers. He was powerful in his anonymity, and he’d almost forgotten he was a potbellied, balding old man with lousy eyesight, corns on his feet, a bad back, and the goofiest teeth in England (which was saying something).
“Pretty out tonight, innit?” he addressed his son, Desiderius, who was walking alongside him. Desiderius was dressed like his father in the sombre uniform of the Death Eaters, but he was a long, thin shadow gliding along the alley, whereas Erasmus looked like a spectral rhinoceros stumping along. “You can see all them stars, eh, Desi?”
The boy’s expression was unreadable, covered as it was by his mask. “You seem cheerful, Dad,” he said, casually blasting a reeking dustbin with a killing curse to make certain it wasn’t the clever hiding place of any Mudbloods.
“’Course I am, Desi! The Dark Lord oughta be mighty pleased wif us tonight, I reckon. ‘Specially arfter what that idiot Cliver did larst week.”
“What about Clive?” asked Desiderius, taking care to keep his voice down, unlike his excitable father.
“Sound like yer’ve got a cold or sumfin’,” noted Erasmus. “Blimey, I carn’t believe I didn’t tell yer about Clive. Always fort ‘e were a bright one, I did. But that Phoenix bloke tricked ‘im.”
In a shocking lapse of judgment, Desiderius got it into his head to ask his father who ‘that Phoenix bloke’ was, giving the old man incentive to keep blabbering on.
“Well, yer see, a lot of them Mudbloods”an’ even some Muggles”are managin’ to escape lately, prob’ly over the border into France, the Master finks, as ‘e ‘asn’t got around to takin’ over there yet. Bloody frogs.”
Desiderius had the good sense not to point out that “the Master’s” own name was French.
“An’ everyone’s bin sayin’ someone’s bin rescuin’ ‘em an’ ‘elping ‘em over the border, see? They call ‘im the Phoenix.”
“Odd name,” noted Desiderius. “Why’s that?”
“’Cos ‘e carn’t be killed, right?” said Erasmus. “No one can catch ‘im. But there’s another reason. Know the Dark Mark, Desi?”
“Of course.”
Erasmus nodded sagely. “Phoenix’s got a sign, too, ‘swat I ‘ear. Looks like a great gold phoenix ‘overin’ over the ‘ouses where ‘e’s rescued people. An’ you know wot the real myst’ry is? Sometimes, yeh fiind like three ‘ouses wif the Phoenix’s mark over ‘em at the same time, clear ‘cross the country! Whoo!” He blew a stream of air through his lips, visible in the chilly night air. “Pity ‘e ain’t on our side, ‘cos ‘e’s got to be mighty clever.”
The pair walked in silence for a moment, passing into another alleyway. Then, the boy spoke up. “What does he have to do with Clive, Dad?”
Erasmus grinned, though no one could see it through his mask. “Well, old Clive was one of them sen-trees over at Diagon Alley”s’posed to watch for Mudbloods, right? Well, this Death Eater comes uup to him an’ says, ‘I’ll grab yer a cup o’ coffee or sumfin,’ and Clive says okay, an’ the Death Eater goes away. Well, then, this shopkeeper bloke runs up and yells, ‘you moron, that were the Phoenix!’ And Clive runs off arfter ‘im, ‘course!”
Desiderius chortled quietly. “Really? The Phoenix disguised himself as a Death Eater?”
Erasmus let out a huge “HA!” of laughter. “NO!” he boomed, his shoulders shaking with mirth. “The Phoenix were that shopkeeper wot told Clive that the Death Eater were the Phoenix! Clever bloke, I toldjer, clever bloke!!”
He stopped laughing, and his tone turned dark. “’Course, the Master warn’t too pleased wif Clive. That’s why we got to kill them Tonkses over on the next street. Carn’t afford for the Master to get even more hugged.”
“Hugged?” asked Desiderius blankly.
“New slang I jest come up wif, Desi. Hugged-and-kissed, rhymes wif’…”
“I get it, Dad,” the boy said quickly.
They stepped out of the alleyway into the street. “Tonkses’ house oughtta be comin’ up soon. There’s three of them Tonkses, little girl ‘bout five, six years old and””
“Dad?” said Desiderius, cutting off his father. “You know that Phoenix sign you told me about?”
“Yeh,” grunted Erasmus.
The boy looked up to the sky above the Tonks residence, where a brilliant golden bird hovered in midair, spreading its fiery wings as though shielding the house with them.
“Did it, er, look at all like that?”
Erasmus’s jaw dropped. “What in the name of Merlin’s wrinkly””
But the rest of his string of profanity was never to be uttered, because just then, a most unexpected thing happened.
“Stupefy!”
Erasmus fell to the ground, his bald head thudding against the pavement like an empty coconut dropped out of the sky, perhaps by a migratory swallow.
“Desiderius” stowed his wand back inside his cloak and pulled off his mask. “The Phoenix strikes again,” he muttered with a hint of a smile, and levitated Erasmus’s corpulent form into the alley where he would place it next to the real Desiderius Cairnwright.
He would return Desiderius’s robes to him, as well”he’d felt very awkward stealing them. Apparently, some Death Eaters wore the strangest things under their robes.
Kicked like a dog, I have spat out the bile of defeat.
All you Death Eaters tow'ring above me, you who gave me the smack of your rod.
Now I give you the gutter, I give you the judgment of God…