The Deathly Hallows - Harry Potter Male Reader Insert

Arc 1 Chapter 5: The Assembly

Egeor Igiwix was an aspiring young Death Eater. His name, though old, did not hold as much power as many of his other Pure-blooded brethren who he currently was streaking along the night in the form of a black cloud with.

In truth, he was a half blood. He had not known who his mother had been, but apparently his father had not been influential enough, rich enough or politically powerful enough to bag any available esteemed Pure-blooded women.

As much as he hated to admit it, they're were only so many Pure Bloods in the world, his father had to make do with a Muggle.

He narrowly missed a passing pigeon. Behind him, he heard one of his fellow Death Eaters immediately shoot it out of the sky.

But if his unknown name had any benefits, it meant no one was keeping track of his ancestry or family tree, so he could easily pass off as a Pure-Blood. Just another young Pure-blooded Death Eater among a sea similar pretenders. Half-Bloods deluding themselves into believing they were pure.

But the Dark Lord could always tell the difference. Egeor had never actually met him in person, for he was new, only having joined the ranks a few months ago. He unfortunately didn't possess the legendary status of some of older Death Eaters, those who had enlisted during the first Wizarding War.

It had truly been tragic that a number of these original Death Eaters had been cut in half since the Dark Lords return. Mandeville was truly an admirable adversary, something the Dark Lord himself had even admitted. The man had even somehow returned from the dead, if the rumors were to be believed.

But Mandeville had been gifted immeasurable power due to his bloodline, that much was clear. Every Death Eater knew it. Had he been anything but a Mandeville, the Dark Lord would have snuffed him out a long time ago.

They had long since passed the illuminated Muggle city of London and now found themselves zipping through darkness, the faintest hint of green hills and dense, shadowy forests visible.

Egeor let out a breath, glad that the stink of petrol and metal was gone. Muggles and their pathetic, inferior replacements for magic.

They were nearing Ottery St Catchpole now. He could almost smell the magic in the air. A shame it had to be tainted by the stench if the blood traitor scum. Egeor could think of not just one but two Pure-blooded families in this area who would cater to beasts in their own home.

But what more could you expect from a blood traitor?

Finally, after what had seemed like hours of travel, the faint light of the Weasleys Marqee and their Burrow behind was visible, shining like a beacon amongst a sea of darkness. A literal target.

He heard his brethren cackling behind him and couldn't help but let out a small grin himself. The allies of Dumbledore were very clearly clinging on to what had been. Unable to accept that their bearded savior was dead in the ground and now unable to protect them.

Their naivety and idiocy would be their undoing.

Egeor felt the air almost fold around himself as the Marqee grew closer and closer, eventually feeling himself swell like a balloon as he crashed into the wedding and reverted back to his wizard form.

Many guests were already hurrying away, and the Marquee was much emptier than they had initially hoped.

They've been tipped off. Egeor thought aggressively.

As though the twisted expressions on their masks were sneering at the crowd, Egeor heard one of his brethren demand the crowd to "SIT DOWN."

The few guests who remained did so whilst consoling their crying children, and Egeor scanned the marquee for signs of Potter.