Polyjuice potion never tasted good. Maybe it was the hair, maybe it was the leeches. Maybe it was the taste of something sinister about to happen. But as he downed it to the last drop, Silas didn't even gag. Not only had he drunk much worse in his time, but he was giddy with his plan. As a man who wasn't much of a thinker, this idea was brilliant. He would go from hostage to hostage disguised as someone they cared about, and his fellow death eaters would beat him around a bit to make a point. After all, their opponents were disgustingly selfless.
--
In his new disguise, complete with new clothes and tightly tied wrists, Silas strolled into one of the holding rooms. Well, he didn't stroll exactly. He was more shoved roughly into a corner and firmly pushed into a sitting position. It took all his control not to go apeshit on his partner, but instead he just looked pleadingly at his target and whispered, "Hi."








