Surviving Fate // Mattheo Riddle ♣️

Chapter Eleven - Gate-Crashing

Word Count: 3,464 words.

Warnings: None.

 I was in Hogsmeade early the next morning. Saturday had come around and I had almost completely forgotten about how Aberforth Dumbledore had offered me a job in his tavern so that our talking wouldn't look suspicious. 

The Inn was warmer than the outside, but I still felt as though they could do with a simple spell to make the place a little more comfortable.

There was no one in the place when I entered. No one but the man that Aberforth had named Al. He was stood behind the bar, in the same position I had found him when first meeting the man. He had a white cloth in his hand and a glass mug in the other, cleaning it aggressively. 

I approached the barkeep, sitting myself up on one of the stools in front of him. The man looked up at me, passing his gaze over my figure for a moment before returning to his task. 

"What can I do for you?" he asked in a low rumble. 

"Aberforth told me to talk to you," I started, earning a perked brow from the man. "About the job." 

Al grunted, pointing to an apron and cloth further down the table's surface. I took the hint, taking up the apron and securing it around my waist. 

"Now -" I started, but was quickly cut off as Al threw the cloth at me, letting it hit my face before dropping into my hands. 

"Clean the tables," he told me, placing the glass mug he held down and picking up another one. 

I nodded, turning around to look at the room for a second. It was a small place but there were a lot of tables. I turned back to Al. 

"Is Abe here?" I asked, "because in reality, the only reason I'm doing this is so that we can talk so -"

"He's out," Al told me, "now work until he gets back." 

I nodded slowly, swivelling back around. I had things to tell him. Information to give and information to get, but I suppose it could wait. 

I had only started to run the cloth in my hand over the first table when a sudden sharp pain forced its way through my forearm. 

Pulling up my left sleeve, I found the Dark Mark moving against my skin, the areas around the ink becoming irritated. 

"Come," a whispering voice told me and with a gust of wind, I apparated. 

"Black!" I heard Bellatrix's voice squeal as she ran towards me. 

I turned in a circle, finding myself no longer in The Hog's Head but instead in a stone room of some kind. 

Bellatrix threw her arm over my shoulder, hugging me into her side. I pushed the woman away. 

"What do you want?" I asked her. 

With a small pout, the woman looked me up and down pointing to the apron around my waist. "What's with that?" she asked. 

Tugging the straps at the back of the article of clothing, I tore it off me, throwing it to the side. "Some of us have a job other than killing muggles," I told her. 

"I do more than kill muggles," she answered, leaning closer to me as she smiled, her rotten teeth in my face. "I torture them too." 

"Well isn't that all well and truly good for you," I replied.

"Alright Bella," another voice joined the conversation. "I think Lyra's had enough of you." 

I turned to find Felix Rosier making his way towards us. I now took notice of the room, finding that several people, men and women, were slowly appearing. Apparating.