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Roddy had stood in on a number of new member initiations, watching from the wings as others brought in their prospects and awaited the final word on whether they would be rewarded for their good judge of character and skill or punished for wasting the Dark Lord’s time. Rodolphus had no worries that Jovi wouldn’t match up to the high bar held up for her. She was cunning and driven and everything a good Slytherin ought to be, and related to the Lestranges which only reflected well on her already stellar proverbial resume. He watched silently with a smug arrogance that went unseen by those who could only view the painted expression on his mask, but he was certain his confidence in his cousin was radiating despite his hidden features. His chin raised as Lord Voldemort pressed his wand tip to Jovi’s pale forearm and he could feel his father take a gentle sigh of relief beside him. It was disappointing that his father held less confidence in Roddy than he held in himself to worry about such things, but were the tables turned and it was Aurora’s neck on the line, Rodolphus would have been a pile of nerves so his father’s state was understandable.

Once they were dismissed and the Dark Lord retired to his office, the formalities of the evening were dropped. Adolph and Rodolphus spoke among themselves while a few of the others congratulated Jovian. When the crowd thinned, Adolph approached, his mask removed, and gave Jovi a familial embrace. “Your parents will be proud of you, Jovian.” Releasing her and turning to Roddy, who had moved closer, he added, “you’ll get your cousin home safely, then.”

Roddy nodded. “After a few beers, of course,” he remarked to his cousin as his father turned to leave. “We’ll need to celebrate properly. You should invite some of your slutty friends, as a thank you for all that I’ve done for you.” He grinned and tried picturing which of Jovi’s hot young girlfriends he might be shagging in the pub toilets later on as he guided her back through the mansion, taking more time to show her around and explain how the security wards worked. As a newly marked Death Eater, Jovi would be able to come and go from the site as she pleased, though there were some wings of the large mansion that she would want to steer clear of until expressly permitted. After a tour of the home and the grounds, the pair were off to the Hung, Drawn and Quartered in London where Rodolphus had arranged requested his brother and a few other mates join them.

The lads would all be meeting them here, but Rodolphus had kidnapped his baby brother without telling him where they were going. Rabby would be standing at the alter the following day but that didn’t mean Rodolphus was planning some quiet night resulting in a well-rested groom the next morning. Quite the opposite in fact. Roddy had an entire evening of debauchery lined up for them halfway around the world. The first step, of course, was getting the groom-to-be to the states. He had picked up his brother in a sleek automobile, a jet black convertible, and thrown a duffle bag into the backseat. Speeding through the country roads, Rodolphus opened the glove box and pulled out a pair of cigars. Offering one to his brother, Roddy spoke loud enough to be heard over the wind that rushed through their hair. “I can’t believe my baby brother is getting married,” he remarked, taking a corner exceedingly fast. He drove like a madman, the thrill of it was exhilarating. “And you’re sure I can’t buy you a woman for the evening? You’re really committing to this monogamy thing?”

They drove for a short while longer, leaving familiar streets behind until they approached a tunnel carved into a rolling hillside. Rodolphus accelerated as they approached, the dark tunnel pressing in on them and swirling around them. When they emerged out the other end the lush green hills of England had been replaced by barren desert as far as the eye could see. In the distance a cluster of lights signaled their destination. Las Vegas. The Lestrange boys were going to have one hell of a time.

A luxurious presidential suit at the finest hotel on the strip was the meeting point for Rabastan’s closest friends. It was obscene how large this suit was, taking up the entirety of the top floor of the hotel. There were beds enough for all the men, a private pool, a sodding bowling lane, and a full bar in the center of a large lounge surrounded by floor to ceiling windows looking over the neon lights of the city below. He puffed on his cigar as he poured his brother a drink and handed him the glass. “Cheers,” he said, clinking his glass against the other. There would be steaks at a posh restaurant, alongside a fine scotch. Gambling at any casino Rabastan wanted, or all of them, Rodolphus didn’t care, and then a private bar where the lads could drink, play cards, and snort coke off a stripper’s arse. If Sin City offered it, Rodolphus had arranged it. Nothing was too good for his brother’s stag night, and nothing was too extravagant for Rodolphus Lestrange to partake in.

In a flash Dorcas was on her feet, the witch she’d been wrestling with bleeding out on the dingy wood floor. Karl’s hands were at his side and the next second his throat matched his wife’s. Blood gushed from the open wound on his neck, pouring like a faucet down his levitated body, a pool gathering beneath him on the floor. Dorcas screamed at Rodolphus, who pulled his wand up and broke the spell that had pinned the man to the wall. His lifeless body crumpled on the floor like a rag doll. “Next time I’ll just let you die then. Third time’s a charm.” Rodolphus stooped to inspect Anna’s body and finding her in much the same state as her husband. He was satisfied that Dorcas had completed her test and unworried about the ramifications of intervening. He had meant to keep himself a bystander and had no recollection of any train of thought before he acted. He didn’t think about it all, not even for a second. That didn’t mean he was about to apologize for his reflexes or saving her from a pretty scar at the very least.

Stepping over the witch’s corpse, the soles of Rodolphus’ shoes became covered in the thick crimson liquid that was spreading across the floor. Thoroughly demolished after a fierce but ultimately short-lived battle, the little room was quickly filling with a metallic smell. In a few minutes time the floor would be completely coated in the blood of the Anderssons and while it would have been fun to stand around and watch, they had things to be getting on with. Bloody footprints carried out into the hall and Rodolphus stopped at the top of the stairs, turning his wand to each of them in turn. The liquid evaporated almost instantly, leaving nothing that could bring Aurors knocking on his door, unless that Auror happened to be a petite, currently blonde little vixen with an affinity for toys and pain. He waited for Dorcas to join him, prepared to ignore anymore bitching she might have in store for him.

Time had come to hang their marker in the sky above the safe house, then they would be off to see Lord Voldemort where Dorcas’ work would be evaluated, her worth measured and possibly rewarded. There wouldn’t be much time once the Dark Mark was in the sky, so he would review the finer points of the next event with her first, with plans to show her the spell to conjure the skull and serpent afterward. “When we’re done, we’ll see the Dark Lord. He likes to observe the niceties, so speak only when spoken to and keep that pretty lip to yourself. You know where the mark goes,” she had practically creamed herself stroking the tattoo on his left forearm as she asked little questions about his unofficial work. The sight of it seemed to get her in the mood, so he’d made a habit of removing the concealment charms he typically wore over it whenever they were alone. It was freeing being completely himself in someone’s presence. No pretense of being a fine, upstanding gentleman. He could be the crude deviant he had always been when he was with her. He didn’t curb his tongue nor his appetites. He could openly discuss the infestation of muggles into their society and the detriment they caused. “Don’t pull away when it-” He stopped himself, chuckling over the idea that Dorcas would withdraw herself in the presence of pain. “Don’t moan if he marks you. When he marks you.” Rodolphus turned and headed down the stairs, continuing his bullet pointed lecture. “Most importantly, keep your mind clear at all times. From the moment we step on the property, understood?” He had given his cousin the same advice, though not nearly as vehemently.