Pieces of Me, Scattered to the Wind

Rite of Blood

Rabastan Lestrange was a Death Eater. Well to be specific he was one of the Elite, but no one outside of the Dark Lord's followers ever cared about the difference. But Rabastan wasn't a Death Eater he was way different from the nutcase that was his sister-in-law or that horrible werewolf Greyback. Besides, Death Eater just sounded so ugly. Rabastan liked to think of himself as someone who was in a club- like being on the Quidditch team- but instead of quidditch practice he practiced espionage and murder. He was like a part time serial killer, part time socialite.

Azkaban had not been great for Rabastan- he did not like the drafty ocean breeze and the absolute shit meals he was given 3 times a week. Rabastan was a pureblood and he had simply not been bred or raised to endure such conditions. So, when the Dark Lord had broken them out and then declared them his most faithful for enduring their prison sentence in his name, Rabastan felt as if the praise was well deserved and that his suffering was being rewarded. He had thought he would go back to being an elite advisor who ran the social circles for his Lord and staying at the Dark Lord's side.

He was not.

No, what was Rabastan doing? He was supposed to be keeping his ears open for any word of Harry Potter and keeping his eyes on Diagon Alley for any signs of Potter.

It was the most boring mission of his life.

Not that Rabastan would ever tell that to the Dark Lord. Hell no. But the problem was, that Potter was nowhere to be found. No trace of his magical signature could be found, no information about him had been spread by the Ministry. Nothing. He was untraceable.

Harry Potter was a ghost.

Rabastan was pretty sure Diagon Alley duty was punishment for something- he had no clue what, but something.

Rabastan looked out over the main road of Diagon Alley with a sigh, his spot at Fortescue's was a good place to keep his eyes open and there was the added bonus of enjoying a nice bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream. He had thought it would another quiet and boring day but then he saw something that had him putting his spoon down.

Lucretia Black-Prewitt and Cassiopeia Black.

Strolling down Diagon Alley, headed to Gringotts.

Lucretia Black had not been seen since she excused herself from society last year. After the Spring Ball season, Lucretia had announced that she had pressing health concerns and that she would be taking her leave from society. It had left everyone gasping in shock. Lucretia was well known as one of the highest and most elite women in society, so for her to leave left much shock and gossiping among the elites. Cassiopeia Black was shocking to see mostly because Diagon Alley meant Muggleborns who were followed by their Muggle parents and Cassiopeia was not known for being accepting of Muggles.

The women walked with power and with purpose, commanding the attention of everyone.

A loud crack resounded through the air and Rabastan watched as a tall, dark-haired man dressed to the absolute nines joined them. The man held his arm out to Lucretia- which she took with a smile- and he nodded to Cassiopeia who gave him a sharp nod in return. The man (boy?) was a great mystery. Rabastan had never seen him before.

He exuded an aura of complete confidence and he walked with grace and elegance, commanding the area around him. What confused Rabastan the most was the magical aura that surrounded the mystery man. It was crushing power that felt like blazing fire. It was overwhelming and stifling and anyone who was in touch with their magic, who was in the surrounding area would be able to feel the effects of being in the presence of such magic. It swept up and down the street, accumulating by its master.