Bohemian Rhapsody

moment seven: under your spell (April-June 1971).

William Lantry was a typical Ministry of Magic official: a wizard of middling power, and not overly great intelligence. He was personable, friendly, did what he was told, and was neither a brilliant leader nor a good follower. He lived in a small suburban area in east London, a narrow semi-detached two story unit his home, surrounded by a somewhat patchy lawn and a few shrubs. He worked in the Ministry five days a week as a senior Archivist, collating, organising and filing the myriad pieces of information and paperwork that flowed through the Ministry's purview every hour.

His sister was non-magical, and she and her Muggle husband lived with their three children not far from him. It was the birthday of his middle nephew, Jacob, and so William apparated to a safe location and walked the rest of the way, swinging his satchel high in the air. Apart from his sister, her family did not know of his magical status: they knew he was employed by the Government, but talking of musty files and old records soon turned even the most inquisitive children bored.

Upon knocking, he paused, finding it curious that there was no answer. The family car was in the driveway, and there was no sign that anyone had left. William cautiously tested the door, and found it to be open, stepping inside as he reached for his wand. There was no one in the small hallway, and the flowers looked fresh in the vase. Stepping through to the family room: still no-one. It was in the kitchen he found them: slumped over the dining table, bodies contorted in a danse macabre of pain, bodies bleeding from where they had apparently gashed at each other and themselves with knife, forks and hands, nails scrabbling over flesh.

William froze, hearing a slight noise behind him. There was a cool voice, infinite in its mockery. "I really should have remembered to lock the door, you know - but then, I never realised I'd be set upon by a wizard." The voice made the word sound as though it was an insult. He turned, slowly, garnering a glimpse of pale flesh and wavy black hair, almost shiny, of a thin arm grasping a wand, before the voice spoke a word that he could not remember, and everything narrowed down to that sound.

As if in a dream, William stepped around the bodies, not seeing them, and hauled them roughly down to the basement where they could more easily disposed of. He tidily cleaned up the bloodstains in the kitchen, and cleared up after dinner, doing the dishes and putting what leftovers remained in the back of the refrigerator. It seemed that there were two voices in his head: one being that of the man telling him to do things, the other being his own, explaining and rationalising.

So. He had to dispose of the bodies - despite the fact there were no bodies there. He had to clean up - because it wouldn't do to leave a mess, now would it? He told the someone in the house who he was - because it was hardly an unreasonable request, really...

When William went to work the following day, he greeted the questions of his fellow workers with the usual pleasantries and detailed his nephew's birthday party for them, letting it be known that the family had gone camping in the Midlands for a few weeks as a birthday holiday, and he did not expect to see them any time soon. He sat down at his desk, and worked diligently, making few mistakes. Occasionally he would make a copy of a file here or there, or scribble notes down onto parchment. He was trusted by the security staff, so they didn't question or search him as he left.

And every night William would return to his small unit, cook himself some dinner, and hand over the documentation for perusal by the man who wasn't there. At times, the man suggested ways of narrowing the search, or wished greater information on specific cases. Some of the documents took time to reach William's desk from the vaults, or special clearance, and he had to come up with many excuses.

But the man assured him, in that gentle tone of voice, that it was all for the good, and William could never remember the man long enough to fight him. What he did know: even during the haze of the day, was that it was very important to compile a list of all the major wizards with a history of violent and/or anti-Muggle tendencies, as noted through surveillance reports from MI7 (the Magical Secret Service), political assessments of the aristocracy, or criminal records from the Home Office. Some of the names he recognised by reputation, some surprised him, and some came up more than once. Vortigern Malfoy was there, and the Lestrange family, the Macnairs, the Basinghamstokes, Sir Ian Devine, Susan Walthampton and many more...a whole litany of the corrupted individuals at the heart of wizarding society.

It took him many weeks to gather all the information, scurrying it away in pieces, taking the time to assemble the whole at home. When he finally handed over the completed list, he saw the white hand creep from the darkness to take it, the man moving from his resting place in the cloth-covered chair, green eyes gleaming with a faint tinge of red. The man took several hours to look at it, whilst William looked down, his service complete. His mind was empty and waiting for further instruction - he could have stood like that until eternity. Finally, he was rewarded with a thin smile, and the pale hands crept around to cup his face as the man stood up, cold lips brushing against William's in a parody of a kiss.

Then with a sudden movement, Lord Voldemort jerked his hands sideways, neatly snapping the man's neck and letting the body fall to the floor. He folded the long parchment and tucked it away inside his robes, glad that he had come across a fortuitous opportunity. It seemed that the Powers worked for him, here, as well. The inches of minuscule writing would be most helpful to him in the future. Taking his wand out, he whispered "incendio", and watched as the corpse burnt to ash under a green flame, and ground the remains into the carpet with his heel. He remembered to leave the latch on, on his way out. There was no cause to attract undue suspicion, not this time.

William was reported missing after not turning up at work two days in a row. His body was never found, nor was his status as one of the first casualties in the War ever recorded.