Appetite For Destruction | December 5, 1978 | James & Evan
There was a certain thrill to being dispatched on a mission by himself rather than having the supervision of a more experienced Death Eater glaring down on him at almost every given second. It gave him a chance to breathe. Despite the smog that hung over London on that early morning, Evan knew there was room for him to inhale every last inch of the air that surrounded him in his small apartment, the lack of sunlight glaring through his window doing wonders for his mood. He was being dispatched to Diagon today and although it was only a local mission, it finally gave the man a chance to prove himself. Of course it had not taken much to do so for him initially, though now it was finally a circumstance that would only solidify his greatness in the Dark Lord's eyes and those of everyone that had doubted him. He would succeed.
Pulling on his dark cloak, Evan found himself pulling out a small box from underneath his bed. It was a rather oddly shaped, hand carved redwood box with hinges that didn't quite work properly - a gift from his grandfather before he'd died, one of the few memories of his childhood that he hadn't tried to forcibly omit. That was perhaps the one time Evan had felt remorse for a death hat he'd caused, even if he hadn't quite been sure of that fact at the time. From it he removed his mask - the patterned disguise was the first thing he'd been awarded with before being branded with the Dark Mark upon his acceptance into the Dark Lord's inner circle and he could not have been more grateful. Lifting it to his features, he found himself sighing as the magic woven through it allowed it to mould to his features perfectly, hiding any last hair that may have fallen over it without the use of a strap or anything of the like.
Upon leaving the house he checked himself in the mirror, looking for any sign that he might have been recognisable upon leaving. It was early enough in the morning for only drunks and prostitutes to be hanging around the alley outside his back door, something that Evan figured a benefit every now and then. A shiver ran through his body as he slipped through the darkness unnoticed, his presence in the Leaky Cauldron ignored thanks to the shouting that had come from the direction of the bar. "Thank Merlin for wizard scum," he muttered to himself with a breathy laugh, making a beeline for the wall that would lead him towards the alleyway.
Thanks solely to the fact that the shops had been placed so close together that they blocked out any sunlight that might have dared to peek through at such a godly hour in the morning, Evan was able to walk freely in the darkness that engulfed him. In his mind was a list of the shops owned by blood traitors and even those muggle-infected families that had been allowed to keep their businesses for the sake of... well, business. All of this was about to change, however, as he made his way towards the first of many: Obscurus Books.
With one rather ominous laugh, Evan stood staring at the bookshop from across the street, simply glaring at it for a while. The darkened windows did nothing for the shop's outward appearance and part of him figured that it was simply the look of the place that had it begging to be burned to a crisp. After all, not much of it would survive - books, after all, seemed like the right starting point to fuel a street-wide fire. Pointing his wand at the building, the spell came silently from the tip of his wand - a single jet of red light that hurtled towards the shop, exploding on impact. While he much preferred wandless methods to wreak havoc upon the world, there was something satisfy about explosions that caused the smile on Evan's face to peak at both corners. Standing back to look at his creation for a moment or so, he crossed the name off his list and began to head to his next location, wand still tightly gripped in his hand with excitement brewing within him.