Life's only living rival, a casket built for two

[ocularlunacy.livejournal.com]

*Moody's house looks deserted from the street, the slats of plastic blinds all boasting a layer of grime and dust between which no light seeps out, and the murmur of voices of the ever-thinning Order are silenced by the most effective of charms. No one, no group of hoodlum kids roaming the streets and no spy sent to discover their plans, could even know anyone was at home that night. Inside, the bulbs of lamps are unscrewed under their shades and even the keyhole at the front door has been taped over – Moody has made his home a place to be forgotten, something airtight and impossible to stake out. The only way in is through his guests, and each of them is a chance he must take in times like these.

A pile of parchment is passed hand to hand around the room, updating everyone on Jones' runes; furtively taken photographs of known Death Eaters walking the streets and seen through shop windows; any (mostly fraudulent) copies of medical, financial, and criminal records that they could as a group get their hands on; and newspapers with notes scribbled in margins. Candles light Moody's face like a particularly grotesque jack-o-lantern from the coffee table, and no one comments as a tear of wax rolls down off the base of it's candlestick and turns one half of Fabian Prewett's photographic face a glossy dark grey as it seeps through the paper to mar even more deathtolls beneath the two most devastating to them.*

Comments

[fleasaremurder.livejournal.com]

*There's a second of confusion, and then Sirius understands, and the acidic anger of betrayal bubbles up his his throat again.*

Leave Rose out of this. She's the only inside eye we've got, now. If you want to take up the job and start fucking Alecto Carrow, you're welcome to it.

[gin-and-smoke.livejournal.com]

*Rose had wondered when someone would start in with that shit. Truth be told, Pettigrew's not saying anything she hasn't thought before - she should've known this was coming, should've caught something from Damien, should've listened more closely. She's never been one to throw herself under the bus, but she liked the twins, especially Fabian, and she can't help wondering whether she missed something that let them get killed. Guilt, as it's turning out, doesn't wear well on her, but the anger that flashes up in response is much more familiar.

She's already been thinking it, she's been waiting for someone to say it. But actually hearing it lands like a slap in the face, and when her gaze fixes on Pettigrew there's something a little dangerous and a little haunted in it. She doesn't yell - she never yells, one of the tip-offs to an upbringing involving private tutors and old money - but her drawl is heavily vitriolic.*

Maybe you should spent a little more time on your own assignments and a little less time thinking about who I'm fucking, Pettigrew. Try pinning this on me again. Go ahead.

[rattrapped.livejournal.com]

*That was sloppy, sloppy, now they're all glaring at him--Peter wilts under the two of them, his face closing.*

Sorry.

[scarletskirt.livejournal.com]

OY! THIS ISN'T HELPING. WE CAN'T TURN ON EACH OTHER LIKE THIS. IT'S A DISTRACTION.

This month has been—

*Shit. Awful. Depressing. Shit.*

—rough...for all of us. But we can't let bickering get in the way.

[looneyloopy.livejournal.com]

I agree. Perhaps we should take it to a vote - show of hands only, for now - to get an idea of where we stand on the question of how to go about things? Playing by the Ministry's rules, fighting in daylight and on the up and up, or investigating...alternate methods. Then we can go from there. Alright?

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

The Ministry doesn't play by its own rules, why should we. But--

*But nothing good could come from the way Frank's looking at all of them, how red his eyes are and the tension in his fists that's visible even across the room, or the way everyone seems to be on the verge of turning on one another. And Remus is being diplomatic but terribly, frighteningly vague.*

--how alternate?

[heightofcool.livejournal.com]

*James, who leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, lets out a humorless snort. After being blackmailed and forced to do terrible things he never thought himself capable of, it disgusts him to think that the Ministry rules are the alternative to playing dirty, as if they were some sort of moral standards. James has always preferred to keep his hands clean, but he's more than fed up with the Ministry, and his voice is full of spite when he speaks.*

If sneaking up on a few Death Eaters after dark means saving lives, I think I could find a way to sleep at night. I mean, we can find a way to restrain them without resorting to cold blooded murder, can't we? We've got the talent for it, and the numbers for it, as long as we stop waiting for them to attack and start being preemptive.

[looneyloopy.livejournal.com]

Exactly. It doesn't mean resorting to the same spellwork -

*He directs this to Xeno with a subtle half-glance to him, knowing too well his friend's stance on Unforgivables and torture.*

- But if we have to start bringing the fight to them. We've got the numbers to handle this without resorting certain things, yes, but they still outnumber us. If we start going in with targeted, individual attacks we're going to stand a better chance long-term than waiting for large-scale battles where we've got the disadvantage.

As for the curfew, we've got enough Ministry insiders here to skirt around that, I think. If every attack we go in on has at least one Auror or agent or what have you....

*For his own part, Remus knows, he's risking everything every time he breaks curfew, Aurors or not. Even being at this meeting holds higher stakes for him than most of the others; if they get caught, they're all in trouble, yes, but if he's caught out, here or in a fight or so much as jay-walking, they'll execute him without so much as a by-your-leave. He knows it, but it's still a risk he's willing to take.*

[gin-and-smoke.livejournal.com]

*From where she'd been smoking and watching Peter truculently, as though daring him to speak up again, Rose has gone very quiet. She's been at this for months, and it's the first time she's been honestly able to say what she's about to say, and she is, deeply and sharply, afraid. This is where the razor's edge of Damien's trust and fixation has the potential to find her throat if anything goes wrong, and suddenly she wants very, very badly to duck outside for a fix. Instead she takes a long drag on her cig and exhales slowly, and hesitates, and makes herself just say it.*

...I can help. They don't talk about anything official around me but I've got access to everything else. Social plans, sleeping arrangements...wards...just tell me what you need.

[mindtheplums.livejournal.com]

So we go in?

[looneyloopy.livejournal.com]

We go in. Objections?

*He says it calmly, fairly, but there's a set to his jaw as he looks around the room that says he's willing to back up his stance, and that he'll fight for this if he has to.*

[gummymummy.livejournal.com]

I agree, but this isn't a one-front war.

*Alice hasn't publically expressed her disconnect from the Ministry, it's been a slow embarrassment process that only lately she feels comfortable in talking about.

What she's about to say is a new thought, something that had only come to her recently and she had been saving for the next meeting. It's clear there will be no peace under Crouch, and that's the only reason she's fighting this war.*

We need to go after the Ministry. Undermine it, discredit somehow. We have to expose it.