Antonin Dolohov

I will be the Dark Lord's strongest soldier.

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

[unendinggloriousloyalty]

Starter for @lvdobagmans

It rained and rained and rained.

It never seemed to stop raining in London. Antonin ducked beneath the awning of a nearby shop to straighten his robes and pull up his hood with an irritated flick of the wrist. With the customary curse under his breath, he stepped out from the shop window and powered forward, splashing past several other inviting doorways before he finally made his way over to the ‘The Ink Pot’. He was nearly in the entrance when he jostled against another man who seemed to have the exact same idea he did.

“Apologies.” Antonin stepped back, taking the door handle and holding it open, only to be shocked by the sight before him. The young man with shining blond hair looked so remarkably familiar and it took a moment before Antonin’s mind made the connection. The Quidditch player from the Daily Prophet. He let out a soft, “Oh” at the realization before casting his eyes away for the sake of propriety.

[lvdobagmans]

The wizard had always walked around as though he knew people’s gazes would follow, and he was often proved right. Still, he was known for being a little too careless whenever he wasn’t on the pitch, like he didn’t need to stay focused elsewhere. That was why he bumped into the other wizard on his way in, fixing his robes before looking up and spotting the look of acknowledgement on the other man’s face. “Ludo Bagman,” he said, casually introducing himself with a wink of his eye. “See anything you like?” He wondered with a brow raised.

[unendinggloriousloyalty]

The power of that smile left Antonin reeling. He’d never seen someone flash such a brilliant grin at next to no prompting at all. His stomach clenched as anxiety twisted itself into a familiar knot in his midsection. Unaccustomed as he was with such direct attention, he made a note not to tear his eyes away now that he had been asked a question. It would be seen as rude to avoid eye contact now that they were engaged in this fleeting conversation. See anything you like?

“да.” (Yes.)

He answered without even thinking, and now seeing what this stranger must think of him, Antonin panicked. “Excuse me.” He ducked around Ludo and into the shop, making his way to the dictionaries and notebooks without looking back nor offering any further details.

[unendinggloriousloyalty]

Dark eyes followed Alecto’s movements, tracing the graceful motions as she eased herself into the seat opposite him. She looked to Antonin, entirely undeterred by his size nor his silence and he found he admired her for that. Most might find his gaze or his resting face’s stony expression to be imposing but she didn’t seem at all affected. He inclined his head to her, smiling at how obvious it must be from his accent. “I am from Russia, yes. And you grew up here in this rainy place? I do not complain. It is not snow. Much warmer here.”

Though Russia was dauntingly large, Antonin didn’t elaborate on what areas he came from. Much like Durmstrang Academy, the Dolohov family estate would have probably moved around several times since his departure so it would be impossible for him to pinpoint where precisely home was and that fact gnawed at him every time he gave it room in his mind.

As the waiter came back to their table with drinks, Antonin waited patiently for him to depart again before speaking once again. “You’re a good duelist. Very good.” He nodded, taking a sip from his glass and feeling the warmth burn down his throat and spread through his stomach. “Fast. Effective. You waste no time. I like that.”

[misscarrow]

She looked at Antonin with curiosity. He was a man who commanded respect, or at least intimidating enough for people to be careful around him. After being raised by her father there was only a very small number of people that could intimidate her. "I did, yes" she nodded her head slowly. "Значит, я так понимаю, ты предпочитаешь дождь снегу?"so I take it you prefer the rain over the snow then?; she asked in a perfect russian.

"And what brings you to the rainy United Kingdom?" She then asked curiously. Was it just their Master's cause, business or maybe both? She thanked the waiter that came with their drinks and then wrapped her slender fingers around the glass. And then, surprising her, he complimented her duelling skills.

"Why thank you" she said, raising her glass in appreciation and then took a sip. "One learns as it goes... and some practice as well" she admitted, not going into details of how much she enjoyed taking her time on a torture session. But that was not here nor there. "I was... called because I am good with languages, turns out I am good at other things as well" she chucked softly.

[unendinggloriousloyalty]

Antonin’s eyes widened. He hadn’t heard his native tongue spoken to him in years, and to hear it from his companion made his breath catch. Relief washed over him. She spoke very formally, but he recognized the words immediately. “Yes, yes.” He answered, switching to Russian. His tone softened as he realized he wouldn’t have to do the mental gymnastics to translate his thoughts to words. “You speak beautifully! I wish I could speak English with the same kind of ease. It’s been years now and even though I work at it, I still only manage stilted sentences. It’s a travesty, and I know there are others that assume I am slow because of it. After all this time, I’m not sure they’re wrong, you know?” He let out an uncharacteristically gentle laugh. “I can see why you were called upon. You are strong with languages and combat, brains to match skills. These are such noble qualities.”

Antonin cleared his throat, realizing that this was the most he had spoken in months, perhaps even years, and though his smile faded, that sense of relief lingered.

“I came because of our mutual friend.” He paused, as if savoring the memory of the night he made his decision. “Our friend sensed a greater purpose in me, said he needed me and my talents. I’m well aware these may be beautiful lies meant to deceive, but it was the first time I truly felt alive.”

[unendinggloriousloyalty]

“She speaks sense, bartender! See the wisdom in her words! We should stay. It is safer, да? Who knows what lurks in the night?”

Antonin had no intention of leaving. The newly imposed curfew had been a pain in his ass the moment it took effect. Antonin did most of his business at night, from selling magical goods to impromptu ‘meetings’ with his dark family. To have the ministry breathing down the back of his neck for yet another reason served more as an annoyance than an actual threat to him and so, after a few good glasses of vodka to loosen his tongue, he felt more than willing to share his half-formed thoughts. It also helped that he intended on speaking to this woman for quite a while.

The prodigious Rita Skeeter.

Antonin recognized her from her author’s picture in the Daily Prophet. He’d been reading Skeeter’s articles since he landed in this godforsaken, rain soaked country, and to a certain extent he had her to thank for his willingness to learn more English. Her articles were addicting, from her acidic tone to her vicious ability to tear her way to the core of an issue kept him enraptured until he finally reached the conclusion. Never before had he encountered any sort of text in English that had captured him so thoroughly. He’d been meaning to thank her for the last few hours, yet only now he found the courage to speak right at the end of the night.

“You are Ms. Skeeter, да?” Though his diction was marred by his accent, Antonin was pleased to hear a hint of confidence in his own voice. “The writer from the Daily Prophet?”

[itsxrita]

rita’s eyes snapped toward the loud man and blinked when he championed her words. maybe it was good that the bar was cut short so people didn't end up more drunk, she thought to herself. she ironed on a sharp but loose smile. "who else would i be, darling?" she asked, her voice dropping its usual intimate cadence. "but if you know who i am then clearly you have good taste. better than the ministry bureaucrats ruining this evening."

[unendinggloriousloyalty]

Relief washed over him, she hadn’t asked for Antonin’s name. Antonin preferred to be unknown, some unidentified fan. His lordship needed them to keep a low profile, so to have his name known by a journalist could only spell trouble for him. He smiled at her comments. “I will drink to that. Nashye zdorovye (cheers)!” He knocked back the rest of his drink, feeling his body tingle pleasantly as the drink settled in his system.

[sabrinaavery]

who: @unendinggloriousloyalty where: the hog's head

The meeting had ended almost as soon as it had begun. Brief enough to leave more questions than answers, as though the Dark Lord himself had chosen to keep his thoughts close— for now, at least. The Hog's Head emptied quickly as curfew loomed less than an hour away, and most seemed eager to disappear before then. Sabrina, however, lingered. Patience had always served her better than haste, and something told her the evening still had something to offer.

Her attention settled on the towering figure of Antonin Dolohov. They'd exchanged little more than passing words over the years, yet she'd watched enough to know the sort of man he was, or perhaps, the sort she believed him to be. Reliable. Dangerous. Uncomplicated. A spark of curiosity ignited within her as she she crossed the room until she came to a stop beside him. "Dolohov," she greeted evenly, glass in hand and the hint of a smile touching her lips. "You don't strike me as someone who enjoys being sent home early."

[unendinggloriousloyalty]

The meeting ended abruptly, to Antonin’s dismay. He always longed to be in the presence of his lordship, and so these sudden endings always left him feeling energized with a sense of purpose, yet disappointed at his time being cut short. So much inspiration, yet nowhere to channel it. The dour, almost musty atmosphere greeted him as he left the back room with his brothers and sisters in arms. At the sound of his name being spoken in a tone he found intriguing.

“Avery.”

Dangerous and effective, clever and intuitive. Sabrina Avery was a useful addition to the Dark Lord’s forces, and Antonin always admired skilled individuals. She had the calm, collected confidence that Antonin found lacking in his own rather brutal methods.

“мой друг (my friend), you know me too well. I do not like to be sent home early.” He nodded to her, giving her a small smile and sensing a kindred, restless spirit in her as well. “Do you know of anything better?”

[eisenkrahe]

[flipocrite]

not she berry or he berry but no berry

and that is berry good

[bellabs-dream-lab]

Just remembered I had this screenshot on my phone somewhere and had to post it here because it really speaks to me

[tmvoldemort]

“Мой Господь! How may I best serve you? What do you ask of me?”

"Ah, and here come someone more competent." The Dark Lord says down at the shivering and weeping bundle of robes cowering at his feet.

Before looking at the new comer, "A warlock with an eye for detail and cruelty. Your reputation reputation proceeds you, Dolohov."

[unendinggloriousloyalty]

Antonin swiped his shirtsleeve across his face, grimacing at the show of emotion and clenching his fists to keep them from trembling. His lordship, in all his might, power and knowledge, certainly had not asked to see him weep like a babe. Yet Antonin could somehow tell by the lilt in his tone that the Dark Lord was pleased. “You honor me, my lord. I am overwhelmed. My skills are at your service.”

[tmvoldemort]

"Indeed." The Dark Lord steps over the other, left as a bundle on the floor. As his master robe dragging over his head.

Voldemort ignores him for Antonin. "My friend, it is your skills I need. The Ministry has been a hindrance to progress."

More then a hindrance with nearly killing those they couldn't capture bearing The Dark Lord's mark. Even those who Voldemort had bewitched to do a few jobs.

"I need bodies in the Ministry's ranks." A long finger pointed at Antonin. "Have you ever considered a career change?"

[unendinggloriousloyalty]

As his lordship drew closer, Antonin wondered if he was worthy enough to have earned a fleeting touch from him. He held himself still, eyes glued to the floor, longing to move closer yet knowing he was unworthy.

“Bodies…in the ranks…?” He repeated, hating how slow his voice sounded and wishing not for the first time that he could speak Russian with his lordship and not unwieldy, disjointed English. “Do you want me to crush them for you as I have done in the past? I will do this. I will do anything. You know this to be true, мой господин.”

[unendinggloriousloyalty]

The brightness of Alecto’s smile caught him off guard. Antonin hadn’t been prepared for such curiosity or outright warmth. “Ah…yes, I do. I enjoy these things and I will get them for us.” His lips twitched into what might have been a bashful approximation of a smile before he cleared his throat and shut the door behind him. He could feel the warding magic slip into place, hiding the entrance from any Ministry meddlers.

Antonin’s eyes followed her as she lowered the hood, brilliant ruby hair pooled around her shoulders, catching the low lamplight and gleaming before she led the way forward. Antonin’s heavy footfalls followed dutifully after. She settled in a booth of her choice, as graceful as she was confident, as Antonin eased himself into the seat opposite, taking his time and glancing around the dark surroundings of the sparse tavern.

At the mention of her appetite, Antonin let out a sigh of relief. “да, I feel the same! Starving! Some of our close friends, they talk and talk and talk.” He shook his head with a wry grin, remembering the meeting they came from and why it ran so remarkably late. Rookwood’s lengthy reports always managed to put him half to sleep with his monotonous droning. When the waiter, (a thin, reedy man with thick glasses) finally made an appearance, Antonin made sure to order two whiskeys to start. He nodded to Alecto to make sure she found this agreeable.

[misscarrow]

She had never been this tavern before, but she made a mental note to have it in hand if it the food was good. Maybe she could bring Amycus or Fenrir. Alecto removed her cloak, revealing her expensive and perfectly tailored robes, and made herself comfortable in that booth, her long, wavy, red hair cascading over her shoulders graciously.

Then the waiter came and she gave Antonin an approving nod. "Sounds good by me" she hummed, leaning back and crossed one leg over the other. She took her menu and opened it, hoping she could decide for what she was in the mood of.

"So..." she began, her green eyes finally looking up to the man in front of her. "Where are you from?" She asked curiously. "Russia?"

[unendinggloriousloyalty]

Dark eyes followed Alecto’s movements, tracing the graceful motions as she eased herself into the seat opposite him. She looked to Antonin, entirely undeterred by his size nor his silence and he found he admired her for that. Most might find his gaze or his resting face’s stony expression to be imposing but she didn’t seem at all affected. He inclined his head to her, smiling at how obvious it must be from his accent. “I am from Russia, yes. And you grew up here in this rainy place? I do not complain. It is not snow. Much warmer here.”

Though Russia was dauntingly large, Antonin didn’t elaborate on what areas he came from. Much like Durmstrang Academy, the Dolohov family estate would have probably moved around several times since his departure so it would be impossible for him to pinpoint where precisely home was and that fact gnawed at him every time he gave it room in his mind.

As the waiter came back to their table with drinks, Antonin waited patiently for him to depart again before speaking once again. “You’re a good duelist. Very good.” He nodded, taking a sip from his glass and feeling the warmth burn down his throat and spread through his stomach. “Fast. Effective. You waste no time. I like that.”

[artnyuta]

Aaaaaaaaaah! I finally finished coloring this picture! X)

[artnyuta]

\*o*/

[unendinggloriousloyalty]

Starter for @lvdobagmans

It rained and rained and rained.

It never seemed to stop raining in London. Antonin ducked beneath the awning of a nearby shop to straighten his robes and pull up his hood with an irritated flick of the wrist. With the customary curse under his breath, he stepped out from the shop window and powered forward, splashing past several other inviting doorways before he finally made his way over to the ‘The Ink Pot’. He was nearly in the entrance when he jostled against another man who seemed to have the exact same idea he did.

“Apologies.” Antonin stepped back, taking the door handle and holding it open, only to be shocked by the sight before him. The young man with shining blond hair looked so remarkably familiar and it took a moment before Antonin’s mind made the connection. The Quidditch player from the Daily Prophet. He let out a soft, “Oh” at the realization before casting his eyes away for the sake of propriety.

[itsxrita]

location: the leaky cauldron status: open to all!

rita had been in this industry for too long to recognize when people were tense and she had never seen it like this. of course, she predicted that it would happen and it really kicked her in the gut to report on hard news when she'd rather write about what she did best. rita was in the middle of an interview at the cafe when the bartender called last call. her head snapped in every direction, not used to the business closing when the sun was still bright outside. "oh, you're not serious," she complained to no one in particular with the rest of the crowd who made to stand. "i can't believe this. they think this is going to solve anything and-yeah, i'm not doing this." she was agnostic about most things unless it came to an inconvenience to her and her career. "where do we even go now for a drink? someone's place? that's a worse health hazard."

[unendinggloriousloyalty]

“She speaks sense, bartender! See the wisdom in her words! We should stay. It is safer, да? Who knows what lurks in the night?”

Antonin had no intention of leaving. The newly imposed curfew had been a pain in his ass the moment it took effect. Antonin did most of his business at night, from selling magical goods to impromptu ‘meetings’ with his dark family. To have the ministry breathing down the back of his neck for yet another reason served more as an annoyance than an actual threat to him and so, after a few good glasses of vodka to loosen his tongue, he felt more than willing to share his half-formed thoughts. It also helped that he intended on speaking to this woman for quite a while.

The prodigious Rita Skeeter.

Antonin recognized her from her author’s picture in the Daily Prophet. He’d been reading Skeeter’s articles since he landed in this godforsaken, rain soaked country, and to a certain extent he had her to thank for his willingness to learn more English. Her articles were addicting, from her acidic tone to her vicious ability to tear her way to the core of an issue kept him enraptured until he finally reached the conclusion. Never before had he encountered any sort of text in English that had captured him so thoroughly. He’d been meaning to thank her for the last few hours, yet only now he found the courage to speak right at the end of the night.

“You are Ms. Skeeter, да?” Though his diction was marred by his accent, Antonin was pleased to hear a hint of confidence in his own voice. “The writer from the Daily Prophet?”

[tmvoldemort]

“Мой Господь! How may I best serve you? What do you ask of me?”

"Ah, and here come someone more competent." The Dark Lord says down at the shivering and weeping bundle of robes cowering at his feet.

Before looking at the new comer, "A warlock with an eye for detail and cruelty. Your reputation reputation proceeds you, Dolohov."

[unendinggloriousloyalty]

Antonin swiped his shirtsleeve across his face, grimacing at the show of emotion and clenching his fists to keep them from trembling. His lordship, in all his might, power and knowledge, certainly had not asked to see him weep like a babe. Yet Antonin could somehow tell by the lilt in his tone that the Dark Lord was pleased. “You honor me, my lord. I am overwhelmed. My skills are at your service.”

[unendinggloriousloyalty]

Starter for @misscarrow

The Gryphon’s Claw lay off from the beaten track. Weathered, dirty cobblestones lay underfoot as Antonin gestured for his companion to follow along after him. The darkness of Knockturn Alley hid their movements for the most part. They couldn’t afford to be caught curfew, yet Antonin had very little regard for any rulings by the ministry; there was only one law of the land he abided by.

Glancing back in Alecto’s direction, Antonin had to admit that he felt a knot of anxiety ball up in his stomach. He knew he needed to make more connections, be more open to contact with his fellow warriors who crusaded for a just and righteous cause. Despite all that, Antonin had never been a sensational conversationalist, even in his home tongue. He left those sorts of talents to his brothers. In English, his attempts at conversation were downright laughable, yet he couldn’t let this stand in his way forever.

Antonin pulled the heavy wooden door to the tavern open and held it, gesturing for Alecto to enter. “There is good whiskey here. Vodka too. Do you like these things?” He labored over the pronunciation, speaking slowly and frowning when the ‘w’s would not cooperate with his accent.

[misscarrow]

This whole curfew thing was annoying as fuck, why did she have to pay the price for the Law Enforcement incompetence? She was already dreading the idea of returning back to the Carrow Manor, but then, almost as if he were a Knight in a Shiny Armour, Antonin invited her for dinner and Alecto held onto that opportunity like the last glass of water in the desert.

She didn't know much of him, just that he was older than her and spoke a different language. His accent was noticeable and she found that quite endearing. "I do enjoy those things, yes" she responded with a friendly smile. "You?" She then asked in return as she entered the tavern. Once inside, she pulled down the hood of her cloak, revealing her glorious red hair.

"Hope they serve food here, I'm starving" she hummed softly as she headed to an empty booth. "So, you come here often?" She then wondered as she took a seat.

[unendinggloriousloyalty]

The brightness of Alecto’s smile caught him off guard. Antonin hadn’t been prepared for such curiosity or outright warmth. “Ah…yes, I do. I enjoy these things and I will get them for us.” His lips twitched into what might have been a bashful approximation of a smile before he cleared his throat and shut the door behind him. He could feel the warding magic slip into place, hiding the entrance from any Ministry meddlers.

Antonin’s eyes followed her as she lowered the hood, brilliant ruby hair pooled around her shoulders, catching the low lamplight and gleaming before she led the way forward. Antonin’s heavy footfalls followed dutifully after. She settled in a booth of her choice, as graceful as she was confident, as Antonin eased himself into the seat opposite, taking his time and glancing around the dark surroundings of the sparse tavern.

At the mention of her appetite, Antonin let out a sigh of relief. “да, I feel the same! Starving! Some of our close friends, they talk and talk and talk.” He shook his head with a wry grin, remembering the meeting they came from and why it ran so remarkably late. Rookwood’s lengthy reports always managed to put him half to sleep with his monotonous droning. When the waiter, (a thin, reedy man with thick glasses) finally made an appearance, Antonin made sure to order two whiskeys to start. He nodded to Alecto to make sure she found this agreeable.

[snake-queen7]

The Flaw in the Plan

[voldemortbook]

Work in progress - little baby Tom. 🩶