Who: Antonin Dolohov and a V.I.P.
What: Serious business
When: This afternoon
"Good evening,
Minister."
Jakob Vervalsing never had dreams of becoming Minister of Magic. A Ravenclaw, he was always more interested in the inner workings of the wizarding government, how it held itself together throughout its many years in power. He never felt much sense of justice, and he'd never actually had interest in politics, but--slowly making his way to the top of the Department of International Magical Cooperation during a time of war with Grindelwald lead him to be the number one successor to the Minister prior.
"How did you get in here---what do you
want?"
He'd come home at a normal time, it was still sunny out; he could hear his children out in the backyard with the dog. The door to the bathroom was still open, his
wife was humming a song a few doors down as she did laundry.
Vervalsing's back was pressed against the door of his bedroom as the death eater paced back and forth, wand spinning idly in his hands. The Minister had no idea how he could have gotten through the wards, no idea where his
own wand was, and the fact that there could be
others while his family was moving along with their day was mind numbingly terrifying.
"Your daughter's a right looker," the death eater sneered, peering out the window.
"Don't talk about her or---"
"Or what? You'll
squirm?"
Vervalsing's lips shut tight. He was supposed to have the best security in the country; where were the hitwizards that tailed him twenty-four seven
now?
"What do you want," he said slowly, pushing off the door but making sure it was locked; if his wife came through, who knew how the death eater would respond. Vervalsing watched the death eater creep closer, shoulders hunched as if listening very carefully to every word, every breath he was releasing.
"Do you see how easily we infiltrated your home?" the death eater whispered, moving forward with every other step, "Do you see how
easy it is to control every. Last.
Aspect of your
life?"
"What do you
want?" Vervalsing snapped, trying to feign bravery but knowing that the act was failing greatly. The death eater let out a low, raspy laugh. Vervalsing could feel the cold of the mask as he hovered centimeters from his face, and though he could barely see the death eater's eyes, he knew that he was boring venomous hexes straight into his soul.
"You're ours now, Minister."
