Vague hint go!
Chapter 9
Night Fight
ô... So that's what Hill wants. He's offering a bounty for killing her.ö
ôWorks for me.ö
ôPasta is almost ready.ö
ôI noticed. It smells nice. Nothing like the pasta I'm familiar with, but that cream sauce -what did you call it again?-
ô-Alfredo.ö
ôYes, the alfredo smells delicious.ö
ôI was originally going to do a chicken parmesan, but I really didn't have the ingredients necessary for frying the chicken. That and I really didn't feel like making tomato sauce from scratch.ö
ôNo problem. I know you tried your hardest. It should be quite pleasant.ö
Harry chuckled.
ôIt was a bit tough to decide how to cook the chicken. I eventually just decided on olive oil and a few herbs. Thanks for the fresh ingredients, by the way.ö
ôNo problem. If you look in the right places, they can be found pretty cheap. Besides, I didn't trust that boxed stuff.ö
ôThanks. I prefer working with fresh ingredients. A lot more work, but it lets me micromanage to my heart's content.ö
ôIt seems as though you cook a lot.ö
ôA hobby. Originally, my aunt and uncle gave it to me as a chore. Burned myself a few times. At first, I really hated it. 'Woe is me, why must I do this bullshit.' Then I realized two important things around age ten. First, I got to eat what I wanted as much as I wanted within reasonable limits. Up until then, I would probably say that I was probably malnourished. Then, I started looking at cookbooks, talking with neighbors while doing chores for them during the summer. So, using the little money I got from chores, I began to go out and buy extra bits of ingredients whenever I went on shopping trips. It was pretty fun, I'll admit, staying up late just to sneak downstairs and try and cook something delicious. It's kinda' a girly hobby, but I enjoy cooking.ö
Archer gave him a small applause.
ôIf it means anything to you, I don't mind. I don't mind whipped house husbands.ö
Harry laughed. In fact, he laughed in a rather hard fashion.
ôDominance fetish? Why Archer!ö he joked.
ôOh you~ Besides, I know that you can do you share of ass-kicking.ö
The Master and Servant both smiled.
ôWell, would you like dinner to be served?ö
ôOf course, serve away.ö
He went off to the kitchen. Archer sat down at the table in her street clothes. Harry quickly came back with two plates of chicken breast on a bed of pasta. A small container of sauce was brought in addition.
ôI was trying to think of the best way to serve the sauce. I didn't want the noodles to get soggy or anything, and I didn't know when you would get back. I decided to simply drizzle it onto the food when I served it.ö
ôArcher get.ö
Harry smiled and began to drizzle the deliciously steaming sauce onto the food. He performed this first for Archer before then serving himself. Archer waited dutifully with a slight smile until he was seated before beginning to eat. She ate it with great gusto.
ôMy compliments to the chef,ö said the Servant.
ôYou are very welcome,ö replied Harry.
ôI'm thinking something Japanese tomorrow night. Perhaps you could give a few pointers.ö
ôSounds like fun.ö
ôWhat do you say to a little Berserker hunting?ö
ôAlso sounds like fun.ö
Harry went and began to gather his things. There was something new in his arsenal, a trenchcoat. It had been used by Dudley a few years ago when he had tried for an intimidating thug look. It had been rather distinctive and given him a little too much notoriety, so he threw it away. Harry, having some fondness for longcoats, saved it. Now, it was treated with spells to make it hard as steel. Hopefully, it would give some protection against the bullets of Rider's Master. Several bottles of the incendiary solution went into his pockets. The sword was attached to his belt, the jacket's length serving to hide the weapon. The wand lay in one of the pockets, ready for quick access.
ôSo,ö he said, ôHow about we light up the London night.ö
There was an ambitious gleam in his eyes that had not been there a mere month before.
ôLet's raise hell.ö
There was an ambitious gleam in her eyes that put his to shame.
***
In the dimly lit church, two men spoke. One was the aged but firm Father Nathan Hill. The second was a younger man with handsome dark hair in a grey, fitted Italian suit.
ôCan you do this, Father?ö
ôOf course I can. I know everything regarding the Grail War. I know where you live.ö
ôThank you. I understand that giving dinner invitations is not exactly standard operating practice.ö
ôDo you do this to hide your weakness or conceal your strength?ö
ôWhat!ö
ôI have a very good idea with regards to the identity of Lancer, Nikolai. If my guess is correct, you either have a very weak Noble Phantasm, given that there are no real legendary arms, armaments or skills for this person. On the other hand, you might have a very strong Servant with a Noble Phantasm fit to fight Saber on her own ground.ö
The young man, Nikolai, chuckled.
ôI'd rather not say.ö
ôSuit yourself. I'll be watching.ö
ôSee you later, Father!ö
***
Archer and Harry sat on the roof of an abandoned parking complex. Several stories of concrete rose in a monument to the automobile and capitalistic consumerism. It was well past nightfall by now. Both had a hot meal in their stomachs. They sat together, laying back and watching the stars as best they could through the clouds and light pollution
ôWhat's the plan, Master?ö asked Archer.
ôShe hates my guts -a feeling that is obviously mutual. If I make myself known, she should come like a moth to flames. Then, I need you to keep Berserker unable from assisting his Master. I'm playing dirty. Do you know something of portkeys?ö
ôYes. What about them?ö
ôI'll use my molotov cocktails to herd her into a portkey which will deposit her next to our residence. Then, I hit her with the Pimp Hand of God-ö
ô-Dick in the Sky. Also, you changed it-ö
ô-Whatever. Anyway, Berserker tends to be a power-hungry Servant. He should disappear pretty quickly after his Master dies.ö
ôI like it, but Berserker gave Saber some trouble. I'm not sure I can hold him off long enough for you to administer the Dick in the Sky.ö
ôWorst comes to worst, we use the portkey to escape. Does that sound good? Besides, I won't hesitate to use a command seal if necessary.ö
ôAlright. How do you plan to get her attention?ö
ôI'm going to put up an image of the Death Eater insignia being swallowed by a phoenix. Something like that should rile her up sufficiently. If more Death Eaters come, well, they will be fodder for the cannons.ö
Archer laughed, starting softly but building up to a loud crescendo.
ôThat they will. I'll show them how Heroic Spirits are on a completely different level from mere mortals.ö
ôI thought you were a partner to a certain 'mere mortal' as you put it?ö
ôYou're an exception. Besides, you might as well be cannon fodder against me. It would be along the lines of 'Bang! You're dead!'ö
Harry laughed.
ôWhat say we get our party started?ö
ôAbsolutely.ö
Harry stood up and cast the spell. A spark went up like a flare from a gun before exploding like a firework. Sparks flew into position, forming the rather inflammatory image. Harry chuckled and swung the invisibility cloak onto his shoulders. It was an absurdly useful advantage, one which only a fool would waste. It would not fool Archer, given that she was too sharp to be fooled by such petty tricks. Now, it was simply time to wait and watch the fish take the bait.
They did have to wait long. Berserker and Bellatrix soon arrived. Archer sat casually, legs crossed and eating an apple.
ôGood evening,ö said the scarlet-clad samurai, ôI'm glad you got the invitation.ö
ôI'm going to kill you,ö said Bellatrix very plainly, ôOr maybe not. Maybe I'll have Berserker violate you before you die.ö
ôThat would imply a degree of intelligence necessary to catch me, something which I am certain the mad Servant lacks.ö
The evil witch grit her teeth.
ôKill her, Berserker.ö
The mad priest, Raputin, rushed forward. The twin guns were already in Archer's hands and firing. Hot lead was spat from cold steel. Berserker rushed forward as it is the only thing he can do. His weapons are his fists; in order to use his fists, Berserker must close to point-blank range with Archer. Archer was, by far, the more versatile servant. Primarily, she used twin arquebuses from range, but she also was able to use the daishou pair of katana and wakizashi. For a fight such as this, it was in the best interests of Archer to keep the distance. Ten meters could be crossed in the blink of an eye, so Archer kept a distance of thirty.
Already, the priest has been hit several times and is bleeding. How can primitive matchlocks do what modern submachine guns cannot? This pair of matchlocks are Noble Phantasms, legendary weapons to whom the laws that govern their modern descendants do not apply. An icy white aura surrounds the mad Servant, reinvigorating him and giving greater strength.
ôAh,ö said Archer, ôI forgot about that pesky Noble Phantasm of yours.ö
Archer knew that she faced a dilemma; the more she hit Berserker, the more powerful he would become. Berserker was also too stupid to try and dodge, so she could not confine him with gunfire. Hand-to-hand combat was simply a poor choice. She needed to fight him without actually harming him as that would cause his Noble Phantasm to activate.
Archer smiled. This was going to be fun.
Harry withdrew a bottle of the incendiary potion. All he had to do was get her to one square of concrete to win. He'd let the blood-bound defenses take care of the rest. Taking aim, he chucked the bottle just behind her. If she burned to death, that worked too.
She caught sight of the spinning bottle and blasted it in midair with an explosive spell. A large fireball bloomed on the battlefield. Her eyes snapped to his location. It made sense; an invisibility cloak couldn't hide the shadow cast on the ground. A barrage of explosive spells shattered concrete and cratered dirt.
Harry dove to the ground, attempting to minimize his shadow. The wand was out, readied almost like a pistol. There was no way he could win in a straight magic duel. He had to play sneaky and be creative. It was time for transfiguration exploitation. He tapped the earth, muttering an incantation. Several large spikes of hardened earth rose up like the writhing tentacles of an unspeakable eldritch horror. She tapdanced around the lancing thrusts before bring her wand to bear and destroying them with explosive spellfire.
Harry was already moving, a pair of bottles in hand. He had enchanted them with a ôsafetyö in that they had a durability charm which prevented self-immolation should he fall or hit a hard surface. However, they became ôliveö once he had them in his hands. Bellatrix was caught off-guard by the explosive, but managed to escape from its deadly blast. It was working. He was herding her where he wanted her to go. Only fifteen more meters.
How long would that take?
How long could Archer hold off Berserker?
Would anyone else get involved?
What will she do next?
These were the questions that flitted through his head before he shook them off. Though the entire situation needed to be taken into account, he could pay with his life if he became distracted by thoughts outside of his goal.
Another bottle was swiftly hurled, bursting into a hellish fireball. The heat and light were so great that Harry had to shield his eyes. Surely nothing could survive such a blazing inferno? She did, of course, with spells meant to deal with witch burnings. Harry cursed. He only used three of the eight before they had been neutralized. Then there was the matter of which spell she was using. One had a duration of five minutes, becoming less effective over time. The other relied on the caster's continued concentration. Harry knew that he needed to devise countermeasures for both.
A little more transfiguration abuse was necessary. Air to chlorine gas was interesting, but had enormous potential to backfire. Something with firepower was necessary. Harry thought about the scariest and most dangerous animal possible. In spite of the dragons he had faced, his immediate thought was a bear. He then transfigured the ground into large bear whose growling visage would put fear into the hearts of all but the hardiest.
While the stone bear was charging, Harry was sneaking around for a cheap shot. When all else fails, hit it with your sword. Sometimes, simple brute force was all that was necessary. Besides, there was something simply more visceral and satisfying about the brutality of hand-to-hand combat.
An Avada Kedavra shattered the magic holding the bear together. Harry was close, perhaps fifteen paces from her. Idly, she pointed a finger in his direction and he was sent flying back. Were it not for his enchanted jacket, her spell would have fractured his ribs.
ôAmateur,ö she commented idly, ôI don't even need Berserker to deal with you.ö
Her smile was predatory.
Archer had found a comfortable equilibrium. At fifteen meters, she was able to draw in Berserker so that he retained interest in fighting her, but was able to move back to thirty meters if things got dicey. Of course, that was not to say that they remained fifteen meters apart. Berserker would lunge in close and Archer would deal with him at melee range. However, she would then jump back and maintain a fifteen meter distance. It was a juggling game, a lethal one. However, the warlord had experience in such operations. Even though her role in this battle was, at its essence, a very expensive decoy, Archer was proud to do it, as the overall strategy was sound and would lead to victory.
ôI'll admit,ö said the huntress, ôThe trick with the exploding bottles was pretty good. The bear was a good piece of transfiguration. Your usage of the invisibility cloak and some sort of armor are pretty smart, too. You've got a good head on your shoulders, but you must understand why I am such a feared member of the Dark Lord's inner circle. There's a gulf between your experience and mine as wide as the Atlantic Ocean. That last sword attempt was pretty pathetic. I expected better. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, though.ö
Harry uneasily propped himself up on his elbows, struggling to stand. Another flick of her wrist and a wave of force slammed him down. He could feel ribs cracking. She wasn't halting his motion. Harry sadly had to admit that in his injured condition, it wasn't necessary. The wand was pointed at him without the emotion he would have expected from Bellatrix Lestrange. His first impression was wrong as she was showing an emotion, disappointment.
ôI expected so much more of you. You were able to go up against the reborn Dark Lord, go against me several times, and prevail over truly ridiculous circumstances. Every time we fight, I can see you become better. It's truly disappointing that you are defeated so easily.ö
He knew the spell was coming. She would cast the killing curse and it would all be over. Harry began the process of readying a command spell to call Archer to save his sorry ass.
Something then smashed down like comet. Dirt cratered around the entry. It was the beautiful knight of the sword, Saber. The invisible whirlwind was at the ready. The blade began its inexorable movement. The command spell on the palm of her hand, taking the form of a many-headed hydra, began to burn bright crimson. The air warped around her as Berserker appeared, slamming his fist into Saber's chin in a brutal uppercut.
The petit knight was sent flying up and through the parking complex. Brick and concrete and rebar were smashed apart. However, the knight returned, flying through the cloud her impact had created. For his insanity, Berserker was a good fighter. He was able to avoid the prana-empowered slashes of her sword.
ôArcher!ö called Harry, but she was already at his side.
ôYour orders?ö
ôWould you blow off her fucking head?ö
ôSaber or Lestrange?ö
ôLestrange, please.ö
Archer smiled viciously as the matchlock was leveled at Berserker's Master.
ôOne thing, Master,ö began Archer, ôDidn't we try the 'shoot her in the face' thing last time without much success.ö
ôGood evening, Archer and you too, Master of Archer,ö stated a deep baritone voice behind them.
Immediately, they whirled about to face this new person. They faced a knight of bronze. The shield was on the ground and lance held in a casual position over his shoulder.
ôWhat do you want, Lancer?ö asked Archer.
ôI was originally here for the battle, but Saber seems to have that in good hands. I figure that I might as well deliver the message personality. My Master is extending an invitation for you and your Master at the Nautilus Lounge tomorrow for six in the evening. Say you're with Kosmas.ö
After a quick look to Archer, Harry said, ôI'll think about it.ö
ôPlease get out of my way. I have a bounty to claim.ö
Archer grabbed Harry and backed up. Twin guns were pointed towards the bronze knight. The promise of a command spell was too enticing. The spear and shield were brought up in a guard.
ôHarry, move. Now.ö
Harry immediately ran, adjusting the invisibility cloak to provide concealment as he ran.
Archer fired her twin arquebus. Lead skittered off bronze. Dozens more shots were fired. Lancer could not charge forward. To do so would expose him to the gunfire. Even so, hot lead tore scraped his unarmored upper arms and thighs. Archer was, as he remembered, a tricky foe who would take advantage of the shields limitations with regards to vision. However, his shield offered a degree of immunity to the slashing attacks of her swords. Archer shifted to another position to the side to fight around the shield. Gleaming bronze brushed aside burning lead.
Unlike Archer, whose supply of ammunition was essentially unlimited, Lancer had to be considerably more conservative with regards to how he used his singular ranged weapon. Though not intended as such, the spear could indeed by hurled and he would then draw his sword. From the reading he had done, this would be like the tactics used by the Romans with regards to pila and gladius; however, he was loathe to do anything similar to that of the Etruscan upstarts who had the gall to claim that they were descended from Troy. In spite of it all, it was the best chance he had. Pin Archer with the spear and then finish her with the sword. She just needed to come a little closer.
For her part, Archer was not particularly focused on breaking through his defense. The constant crack of bullets was for the purpose of getting an idea as to how his mobility could be limited by bullets in order to ricochet a number of them into his back just like she did with Rider. An additional bullet would be aimed at Berserker's Master because it was Harry's last order to shoot her in the face. It was something she was more than happy to do.
Lancer was ready. Archer had approached within a zone of no return.
Archer was ready. She knew that Lancer could not evade.
One throw, easily smashing through the sound barrier.
Thirteen shots, six to confine, six to strike, and one for Bellatrix.
Unable to dodge, Lancer weathered the assault.
Unable to dodge, Archer twisted to avoid a mortal wound.
Six strikes slammed through the armor, embedding lead in the flesh of the bronze Lancer. The force knocked him down, slamming him into the ground like a child's plaything.
The spear ripped through the iron of her breastplate and into her side before impacting into the ground. The red Archer was pinned.
Harry was still in limbo, but when he saw a spear pierce through Archer, he knew something had to be done. It didn't matter. His injuries didn't matter. That Lancer was on a completely different level from him didn't matter. Lancer had harmed Archer. Even if Lancer had not been wounded as he was, Harry would have done it anyway. The wand was pointed in the face of the disoriented bronze Servant. It glowed and hummed with power as he pushed it beyond limits, synchronizing its pulse with that of his very heart and soul.
ôReducto!ö screamed Harry.
It should have blown his head apart like a ripe watermelon hit with a sledgehammer, but it didn't. The power jerked Lancer's head around, but there was no actual damage. A muscled arm, strong as iron, grabbed his throat and lifted him off the ground.
ôWrong move, kid.ö
The short sword was drawn from the sheath at his hip, ready to gut him like a fish.
The blade flew from his hands before embedding itself point-first in the concrete.
ôWrong move, Lancer.ö
A second bullet flew towards his hand, forcing him to release Harry.
Archer ripped the spear from her side and grabbed her Master, making sure that he hit the ground softly. Lancer grabbed his weapon and, after looking towards where Saber and Berserker fought, left.
After gasping for air, Harry groaned, ôSorry, Archer. I didn't do it.ö
ôIt's okay. We're both alive.ö
Harry looked down to see his hands stained crimson by the blood flowing from Archer's wound.
ôThink nothing of it. With your magical energy feeding me, I'll be better in no time.ö
ôDo you require assistance, Archer?ö came a cool, regal voice.
ôWhy not, Saber?ö replied Archer, trying hard to keep the pain out of her voice.
Gauntleted hand grasped gauntleted hand; gleaming steel entwined with blackened iron. The younger-looking girl pulled up her older-looking counterpart without any visible effort.
ôThanks, Saber. I suppose that Berserker and his Master left,ö said Archer.
ôThat would be correct. Do you require any additional assistance? My Master ordered me to assist and help the two of youö
ôNo. We can make our way back,ö responded Archer.
ôSaber, could you please tell Susan that I'm very thankful. I assume she's not right here,ö said Harry.
ôNo, I wanted her to be out of the chaos and danger of the battlefield. You, however, seem to have no problems,ö replied Saber.
ôWe're partners. It's something we agreed when I summoned her. It's not quite a master and servant relationship.ö
This brought a smile from Saber.
ôWell, I wish you a good journey.ö
ôYou too, Saber,ö returned Harry.
The knight in blue left. The red samurai groaned and slumped against him.
ôIs it over, now?ö asked Archer.
ôYeah, let's get home.ö
Home. That was the only real way to describe the place. Even though they had only inhabited it for a short time, it was home.
ôYou don't mind supporting me, do you?ö asked Archer, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.
ôNot in the least. Your legend was built upon the blood, sweat, and tears of the mere mortals like me. I'll help you just like them.ö
Archer gave him as much of a smile as she could after having ripped out a lance from her very own flesh to save him.
Slowly, they walked. Archer's blood dripped to the ground with every step, but she would not give up that easily. They made their way to the slab originally intended as a trap.
ôAre you up for Lancer's Master's dinner party?ö asked Harry.
ôAnd show my strength, absolutely,ö returned Archer, putting on a smiling face.
They stepped onto it and felt a pulling sensation centered around their midsections before they, disoriented and dizzy, found themselves at the place they now called home. Archer groaned and slumped against him. Harry walked her into the small space which they shared.
The armor was gone, and Archer examined the angry red gash in her side. It had stopped bleeding. Harry felt as exhausted, as if he had just ran a few miles. It wasn't just the fight, but the drain of supporting Archer.
ôDid you know that there's a way to give me some additional juice to speed up this whole healing process? I saw some magic users do it a few times in my day.ö
ôWhat is it, Archer?ö
ôC'mere.ö
Harry did, and she brought his ear directly next to her mouth as she whispered a few choice words. Harry immediately flushed bright red.
After composing himself, Harry gave his answer, ôI'm afraid not, Archer.ö
She smirked in spite of the pain, ôStop being such a prude, Master.ö
The way she said ôMasterö made him shiver.
ôIt seems to be getting a little warm in here; perhaps you should remove some of your clothes... Master.ö
There it was again.
ôUh, you should take a shower and keep yourself clean. Wouldn't want it getting infected or anything.ö
ôThen you should be there to wash your Servant's back, Master.ö
ôI think you can take care of yourself. You might want to heal in your spirit form, though.ö
Harry sighed and left the Servant to her own devices. She was becoming too good at pushing his buttons. He couldn't even tell if she was teasing or not. He set about to stripping off his battle gear. Then a cold shower could come, a very cold shower. A cold shower devoid of a naked Archer running hands along the smooth skin of her body. Harry sighed and set about to planning his next few steps in the war, distracting himself from any thoughts of his teasing Servant. Why couldn't she simply be serious after such a serious injury? But no, she felt such a need to tease him.
***
Bellatrix groaned as she turned around in her cot. That fight had been much tougher than she had let on to her competitors. Berserker was around in his spirit form, always watching so that she could sleep peacefully.
ôWhy hello there.ö
The wand was immediately in her hands as she searched for the person who had broken into her safehouse. It was warded to the best of her abilities, far in excess of any other Master in the war.
ôOver here.ö
There was a soft rustle of cloth as the cloaked visage of Caster was revealed. It all made sense. There was no reason for her wards to defeat a Heroic Spirit immortalized for his magical skill.
Berserker appeared, already aiming to pulp Caster's skull. With a burst of green fire, Caster appeared right behind Berserker. As if dealing with a child, Caster tapped his back. The elbow missed his face by millimeters.
ôMrs. Lestrange, would you kindly-ö
A fist smashed a hole into the wall.
ô-Call off your attack dog?ö
An upper cut forced him to teleport behind the already damaged wall.
ôI really just want-ö
Berserker smashed through the wall, fists firing like bullets at the elusive spellcaster.
ô-To talk with you-ö
It took all of Caster's effort to redirect the fist and step around Berserker.
ô-About killing Harry Potter.ö
ôStop, Berserker.ö
As her loyal dog, Berserker immediately stopped, his fist mere inches from Caster's nose. Using one finger, Caster moved the fist away from him. He pulled back the cowl of his cloak, which had fallen from the winds caused by the speed of Berserker's fists.
ôYou! You're-ö
Caster shushed her.
ôWould you not say that our goals are in alignment?ö
ôYes,ö admitted the witch, ôour goals do conveniently coincide.ö
ôThat's excellent.ö
ôI do have one question for you, Caster?ö
ôWhat would that be, my dear?ö
ôHow were you summoned? Something like you should be impossible.ö
ôIt was based upon a simple desire shared by myself and my Master.ö
ôAnd what would that desire be?ö
Caster transfigured some of the rubble into a chair, where he sat with his legs crossed in a figure-four American style.
ôQuite simple: to kill Harry Potter.ö
ôWould you be so kind as to enlighten me with regards to your motivations, Caster?ö
ôAgain, it is very simple. Because of him, my life is a living hell. This is my only chance for a respite and killing him will be satisfying, though it won't do anything.ö
ôI see. Your Master?ö
ôHer motivations are rather different from mine. For her, it is family business. Are you up to date on your medieval history, the magical kind?ö
ôI'm afraid not,ö admitted Bellatrix, shrugging her shoulders.
ôMy Master is a von Schaefer. They are a magical family from Germany. Traditionally, they are potters. Anyway, a certain branch of the family rebelled from the main family during the Thirty Years War, as they were Protestants in a primarily Catholic family. They moved over to Britain and formed a certain family, taking a name based upon their traditional occupation. I assume you are bright enough to connect the dots from here.ö
ôThey become the Potters which we know and loath.ö
ôCongratulations! Have a cookie.ö
Caster conjured up a steaming and delicious-looking chocolate chip cookie. Bellatrix was distinctly unimpressed. After shrugging, Caster ate the cookie.
ôIs the family dislike really that strong?ö
ôTo an extent, but you must realize how personally my little Master takes it. The eyes of the Wizarding World are focused upon one Harry Potter. Little Master thinks, and I have to agree, that she is the better at magic. She also thinks that the von Schaefer family is worth far more than the Potter family.ö
ôIs there anything else to it?ö
ôOh yes. If possible, she would like to him hers. Not in a creepy incest way, mind you.ö
ôYours was the mind stuck in the gutter.ö
ôMoving on. She also has a desire to break him and see him suffer.ö
ôNow that, Caster, I can get behind. However-ö
ôYou're going to refuse, aren't you?ö
ôYes. My lord is going to be the one to kill him, but I do have his permission to kill Potter if possible. I'm afraid your little Master will be stuck playing with her doll's.ö
ôA shame. You're really letting me down.ö
ôGoodbye, Caster.ö
ôC'mon, you know you want to.ö
ôGoodbye, Caster.ö
ôStop being no fun.ö
ôGoodbye, Caster.ö
ôDon't you know that all work and no play makes Bella a dull girl.ö
ôGoodbye, Caster.ö
ôGeez, why do you have to be so pushy?ö
ôGoodbye, Caster.ö
ôI'm leaving already.ö
ôThen leave!ö she snapped.
As he did before, Caster melted into the air. Then there was a burst of green fire. Silence came afterwards.
ôWhat the fuck is going on?ö asked Bellatrix to herself, receiving no answer.