Never wake a sleeping lion. Or a sleeping dragon. Or a sleeping Evander. Sleeping on a stone alter designed for sacrificial rituals and the like was not his first choice of a bed, but you have to make do when hiding in a tomb. Three weeks in a dank stone room was enough to drive one crazy. And worse, Evander was almost out of drink. Crud. He pressed his flask to his lips, the intoxicating liquid flowing through him, rejuvenating him. After years of drinking firewhiskey he had become immune to its effects. His vision blurred for a second, he saw double, but everything re-aligned within five minuets. Just enough time for him to comprehend the situation. Somebody had come to his stone chamber. He was finally on the right track. The door was opening and a mis-matched horde came into the room. Dark wizards? It was too early to tell. Hiding in the shadows was a good way to spy on them, but they were to deep in coversation to notice the figure running to the northwest of the crypt, disabling the curses as if he had done in a million times. He had actually. 

He could hear footsteps behind him, speeding him up a bit. Surely leaving the odd hex disabled wouldn't hurt? It's not like anybody would notice. Or not think anything of it. Not many would be able to notice, most people would think it was a trick. But you never know who's following you, they could be some sort of prodigy, who knows everything about magic, and will think about things too much. This appeared to be the case. This apperead to be the problem.

Once in the room, Evander hid in the stream to observe the goings on outside. A woman entered. He managed to hold his breath for a while, all he could hear was her footsteps. This was the big moment, [i]his[/i] big moment. The one he had been waiting for. Keeping calm, he remained motionless. The water soaked through his cloak, which suddenly became too heavy for his tastes, and it clung to him for dear life. Breathing underwater was no mean feat either. Eventually he had to submerge for oxygen, or he could just drown. No, today is made not for dying. Slowly, silently he submerged, gasping of air. Approaching the woman from behind was hard, he got by. He quickly grabbed her wrists with one hand, wrapping his other arm around her neck. 

"Alright. I've been waiting for days to see a Necromancer enter this Godforsaken hovel! So, the time has finally come. Good, good." He snarled with such contempt, it was almost unreal. He tiwsited his head around so he could see her. The contempt died down a bit, he loosened his grip. "Don't I know you from somewhere?" He asked bluntly. "Yeah, I reckon I do. Hmm. Oh I remember, you're one of those Weasley girl, right?" His grip tightened a bit, and he shook his head, his brown mop flying everywhere. "Never mind. You have ten seconds to tell me what you're doing here, or else!" He bellowed, loud enough to wake the dead.