Chapter 752 - Culling Ⅱ (1/2)

The two wizards came to a halt before them, before Sanderson gestured to his second-in-command to begin. Bertram steps forward and stares down his nose at them. ”The Potentate of London has called all of the those present to discuss a plan to attack the Ministry of Magic,” he coolly announced. ”The Ministry of Magic's oppression has gone long enough. They have foolishly forgotten the might of those that dwell within the shadows.” More than a few members let out fierce cries in agreement, while others share wary glances at the abrupt announcement.

Bertram firmly motions to them with his hands to quiet down and they swiftly obey. The cellar is silent as Sanderson nonchalantly stares over their heads with his hands in his coat's pocket. Many feel the subtle indication that Sanderson is planning to set down and promote his second-in-command, Bertram as the new Potentate of London. It was uncommon for the seat of the underworld to be passed down to a protégé and not earned through bloodshed, but though rare the seat had been known to be passed down in such a manner.

The crowd silently reassess Bertram as he may become their new boss. It takes a minute for them to notice that Sanderson has taken a step forward and expectantly waits for their attention to return to them. The crowd hurriedly returns their attention to the Potentate of London with some fear on their faces at having caused Sanderson to be ignored for even a moment.

Sanderson appears to not care for their distraction as there is a cold gleam in his wolf-like eyes that sends shivers down their spines. ”The names of those I call out will be personally informed of their tasks by Hyde and Floyd, who are waiting upstairs to delegate the first series of tasks. While the remaining groups will remain behind and listen to Bertram explain the two phases of our plan,” Sanderson matter-of-factly ordered leaving no room for any of them to protest.

Those members feeling uncertain like Gittins felt their hearts sink into their c.h.e.s.t with a sickly feeling. However, their gloom and despair are overshadowed by those eager to spill blood and enjoyed the thrill of violence. For those that dwelled in the shadows were less gray and often rather dark.

With the bloodthirsty cheers dying down, Bertram calls their names one by one organizing them into groups. Among the first group is the name of Gittins, who nervously moves forward with the rather small group that is being told to go upstairs. He felt rather nauseated as he sees the two larger groups remain behind including Mundungus Fletcher. It seemed a rather ominous sign to say the least.

Gittins further wrinkled his bowler hat in his anxious hands. He felt indignant and terrified knowing full well that those including himself no doubt were to be the cannon fodder during the attack and would be the first to die at the hands of the Auror's. It simply wasn't fair! But he wasn't very powerful nor good at much else beyond being a small-time criminal.

Gittins face further pales as he recalls his little boy. He'd not known that a passing night's fancy had led to the culmination of a child. He ought to have known better, but he was drunk, and well, he had enough money that night to pay for a whore. He didn't much recall anything of that night, but nine months later the wench had shoved a basket into his arms with a newborn babe freshly born out of wedlock.

Having done her duty, the wench departed after giving him a sharp kick to the gonads causing Gittins to kneel to the ground. He never right got her name, but the plumb newborn looked an awful lot like him. Despite his shock, he'd painfully risen to his feet and took the babe to his sister, who had a newborn brat of her own. His sister had fed the babe alongside her brat, but all the while nagging at him for his stupidity.

Gittins felt right wronged as that had not been his intention at all. Still, they'd performed a paternity charm later that night and sure enough, it was confirmed that the babe was his spawn. He hadn't much ever thought about having a child, but he'd do right by the boy. Leaving the babe in the care of his sister, for the time being, he had gone and looked for work, but he hadn't found much with the A.P.D. patrolling all about. His pockets were pitifully thin as it was and now even more so with a tiny mite to feed. Nor could he live off the charity of his sister and her husband as they had half a dozen mouths of their own to feed.

Gittins is pulled out of his worried thoughts as their rather small group of a dozen figures arrive at the main floor of the pub. The pub is completely devoid of tables or even the benches having all vanished away leaving an empty wooden floor. The wooden boards creak under their feet as they study the figures of the two burly dangerous-looking figures of Hyde and Floyd.