“An order is an order.” Rodolphus’s mouth formed a thin, amused smile. They circled around the run down house, unsure of where the opening of the new hideout was. There was a certain schedule that needed to be followed; they had to find it quickly.

“Roddy. You know I won’t do it.” To complete a mission with Peter Pettigrew, someone who was far beneath her standards and a rotten double agent, was below her.

“Then what shall you tell the Dark Lord?” He ran his hand along a long line that trailed across the door.

“That I’m allergic to rats.”