Ron's wrists hurt. His arms and back ached. He blearily opened his eyes, feeling sleepy, everything was blurred. Slowly the room swam into focus and as it did the pain in his wrists intensified until he could feel...ropes cutting into his wrists!

Ron jerked awake and cried out in shock. He was tied to a wooden post, ropes binding his wrists feet and neck so tightly he could barely breathe or move. Frantically he looked around, there were ten of them total, each tied to a post like his.

"What the HELL is going on?!" He shouted. Someone laughed and moved into his field of view.

It was the head auror, now in black and silver robes that left his arms bare, and showed off the black dark mark on his forearm. Ron's jaw dropped open.

"TRAITOR! YOU WRETCHED SON OF A PIG!" Ron screamed. The others began to wake, struggling back to the light and finding themselves helpless. Someone started whimpering and one wizard started pleading for his life.

"Please don't. Please, I'll do whatever you want. Whatever. Please don't hurt me!"

"Shut up!" Ran barked. The other wizard, shaking in terror, ignored him. "You'll never get away with this traitor!" Ron smirked at the head auror. "When the Ministry finds out you've attack me, ME! Second in command of the civilian guards-"

"They'll be happy to see you die." The head auror said, and pulled out a knife. Ron turned and gulped, finally registering that he was in fact truly helpless.

"You'll never win, never get away. They'll kill you." Ron said softly, wavering.

The head auror walked over to the altar and rubbed at a spot of dust, unconcerned. They were all fully awake now, and therefore could watch what he was going to do to each of them. It would make it better, to know what was going to happen before he did it, to watch the others suffer and die and know they would all have the same end. He'd kill Weasely last.

Slowly he walked over to the woman next to Ron. The posts had been placed far enough apart in the large room so that they could all see each other. But close enough that he could reach the altar easily.

"Do you want to know what I'm going to do to you?" He asked.

"Y-y-yes." The frightened witch whispered into the silence.

"Good. This here is a summoning device. It summons demons. But it needs human blood to work."

"N-no. No. NO!" The witch screamed as he stepped up to her with the knife. He smirked, then turned aside.

"Not yet darling, you I have different plan for, later. The blood will come from them. You'll give something else." He said, gesturing to the unconscious people lying, tied hands to feet, in a circle about the altar. These were the others, four of them. Four for blood. They didn't need to be alive when it ended; the others had to last longer. So he'd start with these.

"Enervate." The four woke, and began panicking at finding themselves unable to move. Taking in their situation they finally went silent and still. "Immobolus." Now they would stay that way. Leaning down the head auror cut each of them open, pulling out their guts and draping them up and into the altar. The horrified screams and shrieks from those tied to the posts were most pleasing. Next he summoned all the blood out of each of the found bound men and women, and dumped it into the altar. Lastly he plunged the knife into the chest and dug out the heart, tossing it in almost carelessly.

"See. Easy. For them. They're dead. You, however, will be alive a bit longer." He explained to the ten left.

"Please. Just kill me, fast. Please. Please." The witch began begging as he moved back to her.

"Don't say a thing Angie. Don't give in. He won't get away with this." Ron snapped at her.

"You're going to be the last Mr. Weasely. You'll get to watch them all. We'll see what you think when I get to you and the threat is to yourself instead of to another. You don't handle death well, except when someone else is dying. Such a pity, such a coward." The head auror said sharply. The witch began begging again, then screaming, before he'd even touched her.

He ignored her and began cutting into her forehead. The knife glowed blue, then red, and she screamed in agony as the tip carved a spiral into her skull between her eyes. The others were shouting now. Angry screams and threats. But they could do nothing. The ropes restricted their magic.

First the forehead rune. A simple start. And they were so weak, they way they each screamed. Then the ears were removed. Then the tongue. That wasn't necessary, but he tired of their curses. Next was the tip of each finger, the enchanted knife slicing through bone with ease. They screamed and writhed. But they had chosen to support the wrong side, and would pay for it.