"My Lord," intoned Malfoy, his even tongue always welcome in such trying times. "Do you believe you are far enough into the manor for us to attempt to employ the... butterfly net?"
You sigh. After three days in this damned fireplace your followers began utilizing increasingly implausible methods to attempt to pull you out of the bedeviled green flames. But, to rule a man must conquer his base urges. He must inspire confidence in his men, even when he wishes to simply take a god-be-damned nap.
You ready your tongue, the sibilant hiss of parseltongue building in the back of your throat.
"Yesss, Lucius. Ready... the net." May your followers never hear you utter the word "butterfly." It is demeaning and Lucius is a stronger man than you for speaking it amongst his fellows.
Your loyal Death Eaters are lined up, standing in solemn observance. Lucius steps forward, his eyes sunken and haggard from a day full of effort.
First they had cast spells to attempt to remove you from the flames, then when that failed Lucius had gone to retrieve his wife. You could still see the accursed woman's laughter behind her eyes. Narcissa was a tightly controlled woman, she would never let you hear even a suggestion of her glee, but you could see it. The mockery, the tears of laughter, all trapped within the amber of her cold visage.
She would pay once you were free. Of that, you would be sure. Not too much, for Lucius has been eminently loyal, but for a measure she would suffer for her mockery.
Silently, Lucius pulls the oversized butterfly net over your form. He takes a breath before digging his heels into his beautiful mahogany floor and heaving, with all the force in his delicate frame.
Your body does not budge an inch, still only moving forward the scant millimetre a minute that has been maintained since the beginning of your entrapment.
Once you were out of this predicament, you would torture a man from the Floo department to his last breath to determine why, exactly, it had occurred. The magic fascinated you, yes, but it frustrated you in much greater measure at the moment. Perhaps, however, where Lucius had failed, the combined might of your Death Eaters could succeed.
"Luciuss," you intone.
"Yes, my Lord."
"Lengthen the handle, Lucius, so that all of my loyal followers may prove their worth..."
