The Pureblood Coup

Sheherazade: Thanks for reviewing again. And thanks for saying my writing was cinematic. It would be cool to have a movie for this..rated X no doubt…but if anyone wants to do a 1 to 2 minute fan video to put on youtube based on this fic I’m fine with that. I hope with this latest installation below I do not scare you away.


Continuation of….


Chapter Nine: Two Suns in the Sunset


Fifty Snatchers remained penned inside the fen, amongst nearly seven hundred perfectly dazed muggles. They were levitating the naked bodies of the muggles out, dropping them with deliberate force into the garden, just beyond the fairy bushes.

“This is definitely the greatest muggle sporting we’ve ever had!” said Jugson with enthusiasm.

Some of the Death Eaters who heard nodded with approval. Squinting in the foggy mist, they watched the Snatchers across the way. Above the whole scene the stars came out, visible, and yet there was no moon rising.

A few minutes later, after levitating the bodies out, the Snatchers were not departing through the gate. Like hurdles, they jumped over the three feet tall bushes coming out of the fen. Some of the Death Eaters, frowned at the lower henchmen disdainfully, and made a space between them, as if to say ‘you are not as good as we’.

The Snatchers immediately gravitated over to the muggles, knocking the soulless, quiet and shocked, confused and imperiused muggles back on the ground. They gripped knives in their hands, and other lethal looking chiseling instruments, and in their other hands held their wands.

Greyback lunged for a female muggle, who was a teenager. Despite still being alive and there being no full moon, he grabbed at her and started biting. Gaining the consummate sexual pleasure, he bit at the live girl’s breasts. Gnawing, he hacked off a voluptuous boob.

He chewed loudly, and swallowed some of the flesh, blood drizzling down his whiskers. Then he opened his mouth, sighing heavily, “Mhmm…The Dark Lord told me I get to keep some of the booty…and this youngling is mine…CRUNCH!”

And he continued, until he had hacked off with his sharp, cannibal teeth the entire boob. He held it in his hand, squeezing the jiggling boob, moaning with pleasure and licking his lips, then smacking them. Blood spouted out of it, and seeped into Greyback’s already filthy long nails. By this point, the female muggle was dead, shock glazing her face, from the last excruciating pain she must of felt. Greyback regarded her misery with merriment, laughing a hollow echo.

He lunged for another victim, gorging on its testicles briefly, and then started to separate the pile, into a smaller one of the victims he wanted to eat later. After biting and finally killing six or seven of them, Greyback retired from his meal, knowing he had work assigned to him.

The Snatchers had taken out carving knives and began to scrape and shred at the faces of the muggles contorting them into ugly, twisted, stupid expressions. Just as Voldemort would like it to be the victims died a slow, torturous death carving their flesh.

After a time, the carvings of human flesh resembled one colossal ice sculpture.

Voldemort came sweeping over to his Snatchers, the tapestry; tinny crescent moon patterned cape flowing. Most of them regarded him in nervous wonderment. Only Greyback was on speaking terms with the Dark Lord, yet even so, he never said too much to him.

“This is to be displayed below the statue in the atrium, under the plaque ‘Magic is Might’,” Voldemort suddenly spoke, over Greyback’s hunched shoulders.

The serial-killer werewolf, smiled at Voldemort and said sycophantically, “You really are quite the artist for coming up with this, master!”

Voldemort joked, “I consider this as the ideal furnishings…to make me feel at home." And Voldemort watched with interest as Greyback ate the meat, unabashedly taking another bite out of a ripped open body, seizing a heart out of its chest, chewing on it like a cud. Voldemort himself wondered if he would enjoy this, but he would not do it in front of his Death Eaters as it might creep them out too much and they were supposed to seem above the activities of the henchmen, and especially a werewolf.

The Death Eaters watching responded to the Dark Lord’s approval, breaking the silence, the din breaking out again with a chorus of their rejoicing in the gore. As they did so, the fairy lights, which had been decorations arranged by the House Elves, disappeared from the nearby bushes. The white and rainbow colored lights the fairies exuded left because they did not feel wanted or appreciated anymore at this despicable bash.

“I can hear his heart speak…” Greyback murmured to himself, whilst briefly putting the heart to his ear, like somebody would to a seashell.

The muggles, still alive, hearts beating but soulless, were slowly dieing. Greyback continued his help with the giant mound of flesh, spreading all the limbs apart, and placing them on top of the others in obscene postures. Then using Dark magic with his wand, the mound transformed further into a form of magical pornography. With wands, the Snatchers contorted the faces and twisted the bodies up, while with the knives they melded the flesh together, then with their wands, they sealed it so that the bodies stuck together, the blood holding it together like glue.

By this point, Greyback’s fancy ceremonial Death Eaters robes were drenched with muggle blood, and also his own sweat as it was a difficult task to create this macabre ornamentation for the Ministry of Magic. The other Snatchers robes’ of black and yellow were ripped and worn by now, blood sopping wet. They wiped glistening sweat off their faces with their elbows’.

The Death Eater, Macnair his black moustache curling with amusement, as if enjoying himself at a carnival, took his wand out, listening to the last, heaving breaths of hundreds and hundreds of muggles. The Snatchers climbed onto the very top of the pile, continuing the slow executions of them.

“Morsmordre!” Macnair proudly yelled. Over the Wiltshire countryside like a hot-air balloon signaling the location of the celebration, a spotlight was conjured: the Dark Mark. The blank starriness in the sky was replaced by a flaming image of contrary light. A glittering snake spiraled out of a gleaming skull, with a beast-like roaring. It was as if the Dark Mark could replace the moon, creating an eclipse of reason through the light of it shining through the darkness. And what better time during the celebration of the Dark Lord’s coup, then now, after murdering so many in his name to display his notorious symbol?

“Look mummy…” a small child of five said. And pointing his index finger with faint clarity the child continued, “There’s the Dark Mark up in the sky…” Actually this was quite the mark of the seriousness of the times that a five-year-old boy knew of the symbol that represents Voldemort’s terror.

The mother and child were standing in the back of the crowd, and she looked up, following her son’s respectful gaze, as the boy regarded it like it was his nation’s flag. She covered her son’s eyes, as if to shield him from the awful sight and the loss of his innocence at all the violence going on around them. Horrified, yet speechless she picked her son up, and proceeded to leave the Malfoy’s.

And at the front of the crowd, was Bellatrix wrapping that ostentatious red velvet cloak, around her shoulders, as the presence of the foggy mist gave her a psychosomatic belief she was freezing.

Yet this belief that she was cold did not make her emphatic for other’s feelings, such as the possibility that others could be cold. Rather she broke over to Narcissa, who was trying her best not to watch the grisly episode of the ‘Festival of the Pure-Bloods’. Narcissa stayed only because of Lucius and Draco being expected to.

“’Cissy take off those shabby robes …We’re going to go inside soon anyway…”

Narcissa pursed her lips with a distasteful sour look, holding her head a little higher. She was not going to reveal the erotic dressrobes, in which she falsely believed from Bellatrix that the Dark Lord was ordering her to wear. Not until she had to, would she reveal them to the guests.

But it was too late. She felt Bellatrix’s hands on her shoulders, then her deft fingertips rapidly unbuttoning her front, and the plain robes slipped off.

Bellatrix\ gave a playful, yet stinging swat, on Narcissa's tiny, tight ass. “Be a good girl…and do as our Lord says…” her older sister scolded.

Some of the men, noticed her in the new robes, and let out appreciative whistles and catcalls at the outfit. Narcissa’s pale face reddened with deep shame.

She was dressed like an imaginative fantasy sex slave. It was as if Narcissa was a play-witch, wearing a silk transparent robe, a gauzy material; almost like a negligee with long sleeves. On her feet, was a padding of feathers pointed up, more feathers tied at the ankle. And then, in place of a blouse, she had special bracelets cuffed tightly around her boobs, made of crystal. The boob bracelets made her erect nipples salient. Several crystals rings were on each of her slender fingers, except thumbs. And her silvery blonde hair was down. She was basically naked, as you could see right through her to gte a glimpse of her tight buttocks. To make it worse, she was forced to wear sparkly silver eyeshadow, mascara, and silver blush that made her feel like a clown.

Bellatrix was suddenly filled with the desire to get it on with her own sister, if only to dominate her and punish her for taking Voldemort away from her. But she withheld that urge, knowing she would be punished if she did. As Voldemort had said nobody was to take Narcissa until after he would bed her tonight, or rather by then, tomorrow. Instead, Bellatrix used the vanishing spell, disposing of the plain black robes Narcissa had been wearing.

Greyback looked down from his place at the top of the giant mountain of bodies. He tumbled like it was a haystack to the bottom, and with loping grace traveled over to the commotion.

Gnashing his teeth he reached out with his hand, tempted to pinch Narcissa’s nipples. Before he could, Narcissa, folding her arms, covering her breasts up, and backed away. “Don’t touch me…Half-breed beast!”

Greyback was not in the least bit discouraged. He picked up her ringed hand, actually kissing it and said, “My lady…let me have a hand that tastes…Tastes of purity of blood…”

Narcissa snatched her hand away, and retreated into what she hoped was the protection of the other men, the real Death Eaters in their ceremonial robes standing behind her. She examined the hand he had touched and saw it had been unstained, as the blood on Greyback’s hands was clay-like dried blood.

“You’re the Dark Lord’s hooker…Am I right, lady?”

“No!” Narcissa yelled. “Yes, I suppose so…” she relented in a tiny squeak.

Draco several feet away, saw his mother was upset, his ears seemed to prick as he listened intently.

“My own eyes must have heard a thing or two rightly…” Greyback surmised brightly. It was made manifest that Greyback had a tendency to make melodramatic rhetorical mistakes, as his eyes could not have heard about it, rather his ears.

“You are nothing! Nothing but an uncouth, uncivilized werewolf,” Narcissa said with elitist contempt.

“Ha! You lot…may be close to him, yet you would never carve the bodies like I have done.”

Bellatrix was irritated, and she said incredulously, “Why should we? We will not! Because I- We have no desire to dirty ourselves in stinking muggle blood…Especially not in the Festival of the Pure-Bloods!”

And with that, Bellatrix led her sister out of the way of the werewolf and into the house. Greyback turned back to his artwork, smiling with satisfaction. Voldemort was still present, eyeing the Snatchers, supervising their work, which was just about finished.




Note:
In Deathly Hallows it says on page 242 in ‘Magic is Might’ chapter, “Harry looked more closely and realized that what he had thought were decoratively carved thrones were actually mounds of carved humans: hundreds and hundreds of naked bodies, men, women, and children, all with rather stupid, ugly faces, twisted and pressed together to support the weight of the handsomely robed wizards.” So that is exactly what happened here, and this my explanation as to where the corpses in the atrium came from.