Even worse, should they do nothing and Voldemort would rise again in the future, he would be less than happy with them and either kill them outright or punish them harshly. Both were not good prospects for their future. They were not the smartest people around, but they got good survival instincts. Looking at each other, the Carrows knew they had to leave - a fact they had not even considered until Pettigrew had made them aware of the consequences of staying.
"Yes... would be smarter." Amycus then gave Pettigrew a sinister look. "We will come with you."
Peter paled at the idea of having to spend probably years in the company of these two sociopathic thugs, who even in the ranks of the Death Eaters were somewhat infamous for their brutality - though of course no one could hold a candle to Bellatrix in that regard. That was not exactly going as he had envisioned it to go.
"W-with me?" Pettigrew stammered, horrified at the idea of being in the constant company of these sadistic sociopaths.
Alecto gave him a cold smirk. "Oh, we have to make sure you don't get second thoughts. That, and right now you are a pathetic wimp. But that can change."
"And it will change, or else..." Amycus added.
Pettigrew paled at the unspoken implications. He would have to shape up and harden quickly, or he wouldn't be able to survive what the Carrows had in store for him. Still, this was better than life in Azkaban; or Sirius killing him outright .
Peter Pettigrew vanished together with Amycus and Alecto Carrow from the United Kingdom that night, and no one would see them for many years.
...the next morning, 10 Downing Street...
Margaret Thatcher was not having a good day while trying to get the paperwork done in her office in 10 Downing Street. There was so much to do that she was working on a Sunday.
Others might think being the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom was a great thing, but with the current slump in the economy causing her to make highly unpopular decisions like raising taxes, and the still pressing high unemployment, some in the Conservative Party were questioning her leadership abilities. Add to it the constant headaches with Northern Ireland and no one would envy her for her job.
However, currently she again was having trouble with the nugget that James Callaghan had revealed to her when she took over the job.
She glanced at the ugly portrait of a rather frog-like man hanging near a corner of the room. That thing had proven to be the bearer of bad news far too often in the last two-and-a-half years. As if her current problems were not bad enough, having a civil war on British ground, fought by people who clearly gave a damn on its laws, was the cherry on top. Her anger was only increased by the death toll of innocent civilians who were targeted by the racist terrorists.
Worst was, there was nothing she could do about the problem.
At least not yet... she added, though she never would say so aloud in this particular room.
"Ahem."
She had to control herself to not ram her fountain pen into the documents when hearing this unwelcome voice. "Yes, what is it?!" She didn't bother with tact, since she knew that portrait was just a tool and little more.
"To Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher: Minister for Magic, Millicent Bagnold, is about to arrive and needs to talk about an urgent matter."
"Alright, send her through..." She was already preparing herself for more bad news.
She did remember Bagnold's predecessor, Harold Minchum. A very unpleasant man, who was too much of a warhawk even for her tastes - which meant something. He also had not deemed it necessary to inform her of anything after his first visit. Well, the man got killed by the leader of the terrorists last year, which led to Millicent Bagnold taking over his job. At least that woman knew to keep her informed, since the whole mess did touch the whole United Kingdom.
Green flames erupted from the office's fireplace and Bagnold walked out. If anything, she looked even more tired than usual, but something was different. Thatcher had seen that expression before, when fellow politicians were relieved after a long campaign that they were elected, and that the ordeal was finally over. That actually aroused her interest, it seemed this visit could go different.
"Please tell me there aren't even more bad news, Misister."
Bagnold shook her head, clearly wanting to get to the point right away. "Finally good news, Prime Minister. He Whose Name Shall Not Be Spoken has finally died."
While she found it ridiculous that these magicals didn't even dare to speak the name of the terrorist leader, finding all kind of stupid ways to describe him, these news were welcome. "Finally. What happened?"
Bagnold didn't mind the way they were talking. In the past year she had lost her condescending attitude to the woman very quickly with the war wearing her down and realizing that her counterpart in the Muggle world was intellectually superior to most of the people in the Ministry. That, and in a way they both found a level of understanding due to both of them going through hard times while being in office.
"Details are still sketchy. He murdered the Potters, a very prominent and well-beloved married couple, and then tried to kill their toddler son. We have no idea what happened, but it resulted in an explosion that blasted him to pieces and partially destroyed the house. It's a real mess now, which I, as loathe as I am to say it, need your help with to clean up. Your side got involved in the aftermath and we don't have the manpower to deal with something at this scale on our own."
Thatcher had listened very carefully. "Better give me more details, if you want that mess to be cleaned up."