At night I hear it creeping, at night I feel it move

[batshitscary.livejournal.com]

*The nightowls of Rothbury, population 1694, are the small village's sentinels - evidence of their insomnia detectable only in scattered and steadily dwindling squares of light. It is these furtive and sleepless few who are the first to sense something is amiss, putting it off, in true muggle fashion, to their own neurosis. Yet, the choking sense of dread winding through the streets and slipping coldly through door gaps and windows is no figment of the mind.

Tall hooded figures skirt through the pines surrounding the town, their oblong, concentric march growing tighter and smaller until finally they spill into an open alleyway and fan out, seeming more liquid than army.

It did not take much for the Dark Lord to sway them, although it did take long. A slow coaxing away from their comfortable Ministry agreement with the promise of chaotic and widespread consumption far more tantalizing than the tired and impure souls of criminals. Voldemort has insured their first rebellion will be nothing short of spectacular, the promised banquet unarmed, unseeing and unsuspecting.

Naturally, a small group of Death Eaters flank the rear, giving their ghastly peers a wide, safe berth. They wait for the moment they can follow and make short work of any survivors.*

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[batshitscary.livejournal.com]

*They release Regulus, bony hands reaching for their hoods instead, pulling away the veil masking their faces instead. The parting of cloth reveals twin gaping holes spiralling into an abyss, like immense singularities punctured through their skulls.*

[spindleform.livejournal.com]

*Regulus' neck is bent, his skull pressed against the back of the cupboard to conserve space. Though the silhouetted arms of pots and pans he sees the Dementor's rotted hands reach up toward their faces, and even though he can't see anything above his crushed and limited line of vision, it's quite clear what they are preparing to do.

He's too scared to cry, instead making a trapped and strangled voice that only comes when something living is facing being extinguished. Then, paddling kettles and cast iron and stainless steel back toward the opening of the cupboard for any kind of protection, his left hand hits a wall but his right hand doesn't. The cupboard continues.*

[batshitscary.livejournal.com]

*The Dementors swoop in, rattling breathes suckling at the air, expecting to meet warm lips, expecting to funnel another conciousness through the ragged tunnel of flesh and void.*

[spindleform.livejournal.com]

*They meet the muddy bottoms of Regulus' shoes instead, as he crawls with terrific clattering and no thought to his bruised knees and ribs, further and further along the cupboard. With no dividing walls between them it is a painful and messy tunnel to escape, and Regulus goes down it as quickly as his shivering body can carry him, only hoping he doesn't run face first into a wall and trap himself again.*

[batshitscary.livejournal.com]

*The Dementor's, hungry and enraged by this new development, split up once more, one following outside, the other swooping in, scuttling after Reg's shoes with devastating, insectile ease.*

[spindleform.livejournal.com]

*Reaching the corner of the cabinet line, Regulus' hand gets caught between two handles, his own weight squeezing his fingers between metal. He wrenches them free with a strange kind of sob and rounds the corner with the Dementor's rattling breath practically on his neck.

Cupboard doors around the way spill open with displaced items shoved in wakes behind and in front of him, and though the gap he sees the moonlight kitchen floor, and, less than a yard away from the cabinets: his wand.*

[batshitscary.livejournal.com]

*A strand of cloth floats elegantly through the view of the opened cabinet doors, making it clear the second Dementor is lurking right outside. Something grazes Reg's shoe.*

[spindleform.livejournal.com]

*Unable to go backwards, Regulus' only choice is to throw himself out of the cupboard and spill onto the kitchen floor. With hands scraping in every direction for the familiar feel of his wand and his only lifeline, he keeps his mouth bitten closed so tight deep indents are made on the insides of his lips.*

[batshitscary.livejournal.com]

*The Dementor descends, breathing deeply, cold fingers inches from grabbing Reg's shoulder, ready to secure him in place for a fatal kiss.*

[spindleform.livejournal.com]

*It's taking too long to find. Regulus' fear drives him to duck his head down to the floor, smashing his cheek and chin down desperately fast to hide his mouth at all costs.

Then, he touches it, further to the left than he had judged but within his reach. He pins it with his palm and slides it across the dusty floor to his chest, closing his eyes and thinking of anywhere by here.

Just before they grab him for the final time, he's gone.*