Two more black-robed figures Apparated into view as the door to the Hogs Head was forced open. The first and shorter of the two bounded in over the threshold with as sleek a motion as a jackrabbit ever made. Frederick was a wily one, nothing too grand in the way of wisdom though. He, instead, was blessed with a plethora of common sense. He was a strategist, one who lingered in the camp and sent others to do his bidding. Or, one who wanted to do that, anyway. But even strategists in the field had plans.

Frederick crept through the growing fog of green, one hand holding his robes as still as possible. He slinked into the pub, dark brown eyes alighting instantly on the group they were to target. His fellows, already engaged, had clearly designated the key players. But Frederick was not here to throw curses back and forth. He had only one in mind, and he picked out a mug-laden, well-muscled, hopefully thick-headed man [Leathen] from the group. Toward that person he leveled his wand, mind bent on the task already. Imperio! Was the command.

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The other, taller figure waited a moment. He sent his cold gaze gleaming through the sockets of his mask and scanned the street, allowing the thrill of the panicked, screaming throng to electrify his limbs. A cruel smirk hinged itself onto his pointed, pale-skinned jaw, sneering at the mob that scrambled away from the tendrils of dark green smoke. Somebody hollered some nonsense about touch it and youll die!

Well, maybe not nonsense, then.

With the adrenaline tightening his lithe muscles, Lucius whipped his gloved right hand up toward the sky, the tip of his wand quivering in anticipation. Morsmorde! Hissed the command from thin lips, and a bolt of emerald erupted from the empowered stick he held. The sky darkened considerably as clouds funneled in from nowhere, twisting into a shape far more terrifying than any storm could hope to be. A great skull blossomed over the Hogs Head, and from its fanged jaws meandered a snake, breast raised and flattened head prepared to strike. The gleam from the glowing symbol cast an eerie shimmer to Luciuss robes, and the lights from the curses flying within the pub reflected off his mask. He strode forward calmly, focusing his mind on the task at hand. Hed had his session of internal conflict already, and now was the time to focus. Now was the time that his life was dependant on.

Dark green smoke still clung to his shoulders from the fog that hed walked through as Lucius entered the pub. He picked out his pre-determined target instantly; the dwarf Charms Master was not easily missed, although a wary eye was kept on Dumbledore. Well, now it seemed time to show the older duelist just how much he had learned. A bow could not be allowed, but Lucius still, without a pause at all, assumed the proper stance. Focused. Direct. Back straight, shoulders back, body turned. Look down the wand at the target; Flitwick, in this case. Attack.

Petrificus totalus. His voice was added to the chaos of the pub, a whisper that could not be heard above his comrades and their retaliators. But the ripple of air that moved with the force of the spell was not to be missed.