Barty strode down the main road of the village, the air already heavy with smoke and resonating with screams and spell blasts. He wondered how long it would take for the Ministry to notice their attack – were there any wizarding families to alert them?<br/><br/>He did his best to keep his glee contained, so he would notice as soon as possible when their party got crashed, but he wasn’t about to let himself miss out on the revels.<br/><br/>Which house... which house...  A childish rhyme popped into his head, something he was sure suited Bellatrix more, but it was means enough to help him decide what house to visit. He turned slowly on the spot, his tone sing-song and soft, “With blood and bone, wand and stone, this one shall be mine.”<br/><br/>The house he was facing was just as ratty looking as the rest. So long as there was someone inside, he didn’t care. “Alohamora,” he murmured, pointing his wand at the lock. It opened, obedient to his will. He entered the muggle’s home, wand extended before him.<br/><br/>He could hear something, a conversation. No, no, a teel-i-vish-oom, a box of light and sound that showed stories of both fiction and fact. He moved towards the room, enjoying the stealth.<br/><br/>“Where’s that draft coming from?” complained a woman’s voice. There was a masculine grunt. “Did you leave a window open, Shaun? Wasting all the heat...” There was another grunt.<br/><br/>Barty stepped into the doorway and wordlessly cast the full body-bind curse on the couple before they could do more than turn to look at him. He smiled as they froze in place. “Good evening,” he said silkily. “Tonight will be the very last of your life.” He let the idea sink in – it was difficult to tell when that would be, given they couldn’t even blink.<br/>