The Pureblood Coup

Sheherazade and Lilith: Thank-you for revieiwng again. The following scene has a definite purpose as it's sets the catalyst for something that will happen after, between more important, major characters in this.


Continuation of….


Chapter Eleven: Young Lust


Voldemort had evidently disappeared, until gradually the liveliness inside the billiard room was restored to its full pitch. No longer was there nervous glancing over one’s shoulder wondering if you’d find the Dark Lord with that ever looming possibility of his wrath.

Yaxley was conversing animatedly with Lucius Malfoy, when clearly he ended the conversation and stalked over to one of the Roulette tables. Meanwhile, Greyback, clutching his tankard, with deliberate intent came over to Yaxley. Greyback swayed, about to lose balance.

“How about a game of Roulette?” said Greyback with ease, but there was a hint of rabid eagerness hidden in the voice.

Yaxley crossed his arms defensively and shot several glances all over the room, as if summing up who the audience would be.

“What makes you think I’d ever gamble with you?” said Yaxley derisively. There could be no doubt his prejudice towards Werewolves was strong and he wasn’t sure he wanted anyone to see him associating with Fenrir Greyback.

A shadow passed over Greyback’s face, a flicker of the wolf inside showing. Yet he restrained himself and answered reasonably, “I have secured myself a fortune from You-Know-Who himself. Hundreds of galleons it be for getting the muggles for the fun. Perhaps a Death Eater would want to gain it over or -… maybe my pile of gold grows!”

“Very well, but this is strictly business Greyback!,” relented Yaxley.

“Of course, of course,” answered Greyback nodding his shaggy head several times.

There was never a dealer in the Malfoy’s billiard rooms, so Yaxley took the initiative, “Black or red and even or odd, Greyback?”

“Er…Black Odd. Wait no - red even. No - black even er - odd. Fine…RED. Odd,” he finally finished. He seemed frantic over making a decision, as if it really mattered which combination he took.

Yaxley scowled, and then laid out the items that were supposed to represent his chips. The items representing chips were nearly as big as hubcaps, as they were kalleons. In Wizard Roulette, if you didn’t have at least four actual Galleons, then you didn’t play at all. Silver sickles and bronze Knuts could not count as chips unless you exchanged them for galleons.

With every ounce of strategy and thought, Yaxley competitively laid out his chips on the black even spaces of the roulette table, paying great attention. Whilst, Greyback dumped a pile of gold on the table and stacked them up on the odd red spaces. The numbers ranged from 1-36, 18 red, and 18 black.

“Go first, friend. What’s your name anyway?” purred Greyback.

“…I'm head of Magical Law Enforcement. Don't you keep up with things?! It's Yaxley,” he groaned and as he glanced up, he saw to his horror an entire circle of spectators. “I’ll give your spin,” he added.

Yaxley had his wand out, and aiming at the mahogany roulette table it began to spin for Greyback’s numbers. Naturally, in Wizard Roulette a player could not spin for himself, so one of his opponents always did. The dials of the roulette table tweaked, and then miniature crystal balls like the ones in Divination were shooting under the glass of the wheel. Greyback had taken out his sheet of snakeskin he’d nicked before and began nuzzling it against his whiskered cheek.

As if a muggle lottery, the numbers came up, but instead through a hazy fog clearing on each divination ball, the size of marbles, which went through the slots, thus stopping their rotations around the wheel at either a red or black track. Each time a new number appears on the same ball. A fair share of them landed on the red areas for Greyback, yet many did not land in the correct spaces as luck would have it.

Yaxley with one shrewd eye summed up the results of the score board of probabilities and with the other eyeing the wheel. “Ah…Looks like I’ve gained the upper hand, werewolf. Hand over thirty-two of your galleons, now.”

Greyback blinked stupidly, and he swayed a little again. “Is that right? You did the numbering correct, Yaxley, eh? Alright! Thirty galleons…But you’ll have another go against me won’t you?” said Greyback grudgingly.

Yaxley nodded slowly with a snobby look on his brutal features.

Greyback did not move an inch. He flexed his muscles and said demandingly, “I’m callin’ the shots, Yaxley. I say I make a bet!…All eighteen of your numbers falls on black between any of the even numbers. Just how you want it, Yaxley. That’s how I theenks it….”

There was loud murmuring from the nearly two dozen individuals watching, mixed with skeptical hisses of unheard retorts to this bet. Some of the witches and wizards shook their heads incredulously.

Yaxley did not answer at once. He looked confused and suspicious now.

Finally Yaxley spoke smartly, “…All of it falls, where I want it Greyback? Let me get this straight…You’re actually betting, I win so that you may win? You want me to bet against myself winning then?”

Greyback just shrugged blithely in response. And to Yaxley’s words some of the crowd snickered at the irony under their breath, a child’s laughter could be heard ringing as well. Meanwhile, Greyback remained motionless, watching and waiting for something.

“Someone else will have to spin the wheel for you, Yaxley. The werewolf scum can’t do it now he’s making such a hogwash notion of a bet!”

“I know!,” said Yaxley imperiously. He looked angry. “What do you think I am some kind of idiot like him?,” he directed at his friend and fellow Death Eater, Dolohov.

Dolohov did not answer, but chose to gape at Greyback with an impending threat instead.

“Well, I’m certainly not the idiot here!…” And then after these words spoken by Yaxley, he was grimacing devilishly at the werewolf, hatred etched in Yaxley's visage. With serious fury Yaxley said, “Your betting ‘Even Money’ fool. That means if you lose, according to the arithmancy conversion…I get all of your galleons. But why bet to the maximum when you’ll lose for certain that way? The odds are astronomical that you’ll get the full payout!”

Greyback did not look angry, but cool and almost confident, despite his slurred speech, “Perhaps not. The risk is all thrill I need. And if I win, not you…I get all your galleons on the table, Yaxley.” And at Greyback’s explanation there was a maliciousness, a greediness concealed underneath, however difficult to detect in him, as his eyes roved over the pile of Yaxley’s gold laid out.

And Antonin Dolohov spiteful, yet glad to do it for Yaxley, (whom he was indeed friends with) stepped forward from the circle of onlookers and pulled his wand out aggressively making a swiping sound cut the air. At once the wheel started spinning at Dolohov’s direction, it’s revolutions so fast nobody could see the board with the crystal balls rolling around the perimeter, and coming closer and closer to the slots.

As the sound of the wheel spinning, which trilled like a ladder clinking repeatedly, Yaxley yelled over the din, “And when that win of yours doesn’t happen, I’ll make an intelligent, likely bet against your money!”

From the very start of Yaxley’s turn, Greyback had his wand out, yet it was unseen, just barely poking out of the folds of the ceremonial Death Eater robes, and he was facing away from the crowd. The wheel started slowing in momentum, but the balls kept rolling under the glass, containing them inside.

And then all the even balls were moving into the black slots. The odd ones going to several much more random places. Finally the tiny crystal balls stopped wobbling, and lay completely still. Every last one of them was where Greyback had bet they would go.

A bombardment of wild laughter broke, people thumping each other’s backs and stamping their feet in merriment. Yaxley’s face grew rapidly bulging into a beet red, and his neck throbbing. One wouldn’t be surprised if steam didn’t come out his head. He couldn’t stand to lose and what was worse to a werewolf. Yet Dolohov did not laugh at Yaxley’s huge loss and surprisingly, neither did Greyback.

“Well?…Give it to me. It’s mine. Every galleon, Yaxley. Pay up!” Greyback rasped throatily.

“I rise to the challenge, Greyback! Win another time, (which you won’t) and you would get…another couple of hundred from my vault in Gringott’s. I’ll be daring…Go ahead and keep the terms of the bet. I swear you’ll lose. It’s impossible to meet those odds twice!”

Greyback licked his lips, and rubbed his snakeskin against his palms delectably, and it made a sound like sandpaper rubbing. “My talisman…Ah. It most certainly feels acceptable!”

Yaxley whipped his wand out, to move the wheel for Greyback’s turn. His eyes flashing, the wheel started creaking like a ladder rail once again. The stakes were now getting even higher the suspense building to unbearable proportions for Yaxley.

As the wheel started to slow, Yaxley curled his hands into fists, he looked crazy, maddened with rage.

“I’m going to…I’m going to drain every scrap of your substance beast! Give me all night if I have to!”

And at Yaxley’s pathetic words, laughter rent the air once more, but not as wild as it had erupted like before.

Unbelievably, Greyback’s own turn was successful, yet of course it did not go by the terms of the bet, as it was not Yaxley’s turn now. All the crystal balls went for the red slots and odd numbered, which was of course, in Greyback’s favour.

“What?,” screamed Yaxley and his hands went to his head, panicked at his loss. In a state of denial he shrilled, "NO!"

Before the cruels jeers from the crowd could build against Yaxley, Greyback had toppled over in his drunken sways. A burst of light shot forth from his wand, and then his grip loosened and his wand was clattering onto the stone floor, and rolling away from him.

Greyback, now on his hands and knees went groping for it desperately. He had lost his grip over the wand from his loss of inhibitions from the alcohol he consumed. He merely shouted, “Whoops. Accident.”

But before Greyback could have ever gotten to his wand someone else had scooped it up in quick succession. Meanwhile, there were several surprised notes of dismay from the crowd. Something wasn’t right about Greyback’s luck anymore.

It turns out Snape was the one who had confiscated the werewolf’s wand. Snape murmured the spell that detects the previous incantation, "Priori Incantatem," in which he whispered with his own wand.

“So clever, yet so simple. All it was, was the Descendo Charm. It gave the pieces the perfect push to move down the correct slots…,” explained Snape amusedly, his lip curling with sadism, for Snape knew and they all knew what was coming to Greyback.


Note: Sorry I end here…with an enormous row scene coming! I hope you liked it. I ran out of energy...I will be back soon. And no...Greyback won't be crucioed (I think). I have much more creative ideas.