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“I can't believe I'm stuck with this prat,” Mulciber muttered under his breath as he followed Lucius Bloody Malfoy along the dark and muddy path.
They had been sent in pairs after Potter when it had been reported that the Order of the Phoenix had managed to lose the boy. Those stupid Muggle-lovers only had one job – keep the boy safe by keeping an eye on him, and they couldn't even do that! Now, Mulciber had been tasked to find and retrieve the boy because the Dark Lord was obsessed with him (granted, better know where the enemy is than have him materialise behind your back, wand in hand, ready to aim). Even worse, he had been ordered to go with Malfoy. Great. Just Great.
He hated it here.
“For Merlin's sake, Mulciber. Will you stop mumbling?” an unpleasant voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and Mulciber glared at his travelling companion.
He loathed it here.
The Dark Lord was punishing him. There was no other explanation: he could have literally sent anyone with Mulciber. Even Crouch (that guy was a cockroach; there's no explanation as to how he was still alive after having his soul literally sucked out of him) would have been a better option.
He must have done something to displease his Master to land Malfoy as a partner. Then again, who didn't disappoint the Dark Lord from time to time?
Resisting the urge to snap back at the blond – a futile action, Mulciber raised his head to ask his fellow Death Eater if he even knew where he was going when he stopped in his tracks and froze.
There, about a hundred feet away, stood a creature. Although it looked like a horse, Mulciber could tell there was more to it. You learn things when you spend half of your life killing beasts for the Ministry. The dark-sleeked horse-shaped creature stood in the water, not making any sound. That alone rang in his mind like a caterwauling charm, screaming at him that something was incredibly wrong, here.
Intelligent, shiny dark eyes followed his movement, glowing faintly as he took a wary step back.
Mulciber swallowed. It was no ordinary horse; that was for sure. His eyes trailed along the creature's body, and he felt his soul depart his body when he noticed that its tail was made of mist.
Shit.
If the ghostly appearance hadn't given it away as something more, the misty tail did it for him. He knew what it was, all right, although the name escaped him for now. The Welsh equivalent of a Kelpie. But Kelpies could be good. Its Welsh equivalent, though? That was a whole other story. Mulciber never heard anything good from that particular breed of Water Horse.
Okay, he thought, breathing deeply. Okay. It wasn't... It wasn't too bad. Sure, they were said to be malevolent spirits, but there were also stories of them leaving travellers alone if they weren't bothered.
Admittedly, Mulciber didn't know much about those horses, but he figured that if they threaded carefully and didn't offend it or if they ignored it and left it alone, they could – WHAT WAS THAT MORON DOING?!
“Malfoy. Lucius, what are you -”
“Not now, Mulciber.”
The blond lord was approaching the mare with careful steps, not out of survival instincts, but probably because he didn't want to damage his boots.
Salazar, what was that idiot doing now? His companion was looking at the horse, some sort of wonder in his usually haughty gaze.
'Please tell me this moron isn't actually going to-'
Whatever thought Mulciber was entertaining flew out of his mind as Malfoy proceeded to prove exactly why Snape took him for a dunderhead.
“Malfoy!” he hissed quietly, not wanting to disturb the creature.
The dark horse was still unmoving, still staring at him (and that, more than anything, made Mulciber want to crawl into a hole and bury himself in an early grave).
“Lucius, seriously,” he whispered heatedly. “Come back here, this instant!”
He felt like he was ordering a misbehaving kneazle around.
Of course, Malfoy had always been a brat, as proved when he refused to even look at him.
“Isn't she beautiful?”
How did he know it was a she? Mulciber knew, of course, but Malfoy was not him. The Death Eater blinked and shook his head. Probably a Malfoy thing.
When in doubt, blame the Malfoy genes.
“Malfoy, step away from the horse.”
Malfoy ignored him and stopped in front of the creature, slowly reaching out to pat its muzzle.
Mulciber stopped breathing for all of a second before taking another step back.
“Yes. How beautiful you are, darling.”
Dear Merlin, he thought. He had always known Malfoy was the kind to endlessly praise and pamper his pets (probably more than he ever did with his heir).
Watching this was like witnessing a raid from the sidelines. You knew what was coming, but you couldn't bring yourself to look away. Look, just because he killed beasts for a living didn't mean that he enjoyed doing the same to humans. You might say: 'But then, why did you become a Death Eater?', and the answer was that... Well, he was once a dumb teenager and fell prey to peer pressure.
Let's leave it at that (it wasn't because he used to have a big, fat crush on the one Black sister who inherited her family's madness, no matter what Cissa might say. Don't listen to her).
“Malfoy!”
“Quit it, Mulciber. Can't you see we're in the presence of an Abraxan?”
A... what now? Oh, right. Shapeshifting creatures. Mulciber half expected him to see his wife or an attractive woman, but apparently, horses did it for him. (1)
“To think that one in the wild would let itself be approached so easily.”
Mulciber listened with half an ear as Malfoy rambled about Abraxans while praising the mare at his side. The scene was surreal.
“Malfoy, will you listen to me for a second?”
He didn't care about Malfoy, but he didn't want to have to explain everything to the Dark Lord if he survived that encounter with the Ceffyl dŵr if Malfoy didn't. The guy was one of his favourites, after all. Mulciber might have been part of the Inner Circle, but like most Death Eaters, he was only tolerated because of his usefulness. Malfoy, on the other hand, had connections, a high position in the Ministry, and looked pretty on his knees.
Mulciber's eyes widened, and he closed his eyes, grimacing. He was not going to give more power to the beast.
A shout made him open his eyes, and he blinked at the sight of Malfoy being forcefully dragged down the water.
Mulciber's pout deepened. He closed his eyes for a second! How could he miss most of the action?!
“MULCIBEERR!”
Was that his cue? Should he try to help out?
Mulciber did not move. You'd have to be insane to try to grab the attention of a malevolent water spirit while in the water (or near it). Mulciber wasn't insane. Besides, Malfoy should have known better than to expect his help. Had it been Dolohov, he might have helped, but Dolohov wouldn't have been stupid enough to land himself in such a situation, to begin with.
The creature hadn't waited for Malfoy to ride him, no. It had bitten his arm and used that hold to drag the screaming man with him deeper in the water.
“MULCIB-”
The cries for help were starting to make him feel guilty.
The Death Eater took a step forward, but stopped when the shape-shifting horse turned its head to him.
Mulciber stared. The horse stared back.
“Yeah, no. I'm not fighting that. You can – You can keep him.”
Malfoy didn't struggle much longer. Mulciber didn't know if he was dead yet, but he was lying in the water, face down, so he probably was at Death's door anyway.
Behind the horse, he thought he might have seen a human shape and glowing green eyes, but he blinked, and when he looked back, there was nothing.
As soon as the horse and the mysterious presence (possibly Potter, not that he was going to check) vanished, Mulciber whirled around, frightened.
“I'm moving to Alaska.”
That state was called the 'godless land', right? Surely even a megalomaniac believing himself a god wouldn't find him there. Granted, he got that from a Muggle novel, but who cares?
He glanced at Malfoy's bloodied corpse, made sure that it was an actual corpse and not just an unconscious Death Eater, before stepping away with a frightened expression.
Alaska, it was.
[As he was, quite literally running away, he thought he heard a childish giggle, and ran faster. Whoever's green eyes it was, Potter or something else, Mulciber refused to entertain any longer thoughts about what happened today until he was safe, far, far away from here.
Left alone with a dead Malfoy, a young man emerged from the shadows, his ghostly companion by his side.
“Well, that's one way to take care of this,” he said, glancing down at the corpse.
At least, Malfoy would no longer be a problem.
The horse neighed and nuzzled his side as the teen petted it.
“Let's go home, Deinos.”
Horse and Man turned away from the runaway figure that apparated away as soon as it could, and vanished into the foggy décor.]
Bonus:
Mulciber, freshly moved to Alaska: Should I send an invite to Cissa? She's widowed now. She might appreciate some company from a retired Death Eater.
Beef, that one sheep that always managed to break into his cabin: * munches on moss.*
Mulciber: Right. I will write to her now.