Chapter 6
It was three years since Voldemort had returned by the graveyard of his father, killing Cedric Diggory and recalling his Death Eaters. It was the summer of the Quidditch World Cup.
Still, three years on, Voldemort was yet to make his move, yet to openly attack, spread his terror. When Cornelius Fudge gave that statement, the confirmation of His return, the country's wizards had been terrified, but two years had passed and nothing had happened and a sense of security had started to return to the lives of most, they had stopped being prepared. Maybe Voldemort still wasn't strong enough? Maybe not many had joined him this time? The rumours and assurances passed around allowing things to go back to normal...
But for one group things had not changed, vigilance had not dropped and preparation had not waned. The Order of the Phoenix had grown in number, being six times that of what it was when Voldemort last struck. Taking on not only the ever-increasing Aurors from England but also those from France, Spain and America, these countries were keeping the old alliances and helping Britain when they knew they were going to need it. No.12 Grimmauld Place had been outgrown; a number of knew quarters were appointed. They knew that Voldemort was just as strong and the Death Eaters was just as plentiful, all that had changed was his care, Voldemort knew things were different this time, and the Order knew he was just biding his time. All major events were guarded heavily, events like the Quidditch World Cup.
A wave of young, enthusiastic wizards and witches had started training as Aurors and working closely with the Order. Harry Potter was one of these wizards, getting O's and E's in his NEWTs he had joined up straight away. Harry decided to celebrate his success and the success of his friends by joining them at the World Cup, he had missed out on many events like this but he WAS NOT going to miss out on this one, especially as England were playing.
But the game was never played; Voldemort made his move, openly attacked and spread his terror. A group of three thousand Death Eaters swept down on the campsites, hundreds of muggle-borns and indeed pure-bloods were killed that night but the Order of the Phoenix were vigilant, they were there with a mass Voldemort had not anticipated, the Death Eaters were outnumbered 3 to 1. The battle lasted only an hour, lighting the sky with coloured spells, mostly green light was seen. But the outcome was a forgone conclusion, some Death Eaters were rounded up, secured and taken to London, though most were killed and many fled.
Draco Malfoy was excited; this was what he had been waiting for, as had his father. Both father and son gathered with the others.
"The boy is inexperienced, yes?" Draco was not going to miss this one.
"Sir - I'm of age, and...and I've practised." The Death Eaters laughed.
"He will be fine Jenson," drawled Lucius Malfoy, glaring at his son.
"If you are positive," Jenson answered, though in his voice was no hint of concern. "We wait for the Mark to appear above the site and then we leave, our men have marked some of the Mudblood's tents with crosses on the ground after they went to sleep, so any you come across on the way in...well you know what to do." A nasty grin took Jenson's face and some of the Death Eaters laughed. Something jumped in Draco's stomach as he realised he had never killed another human being, he had imagined and fantasised about it, but he had always been duelling with a member of the Order as others did the same around him, not murdering families while they slept. He swallowed this feeling.
They waited in silence, only the distant sound of rustling trees and low breathes of their companions could be heard, it was far past midnight. Draco could feel his heart pumping, the edge had been taken off his excitement but a determined adrenaline pulsed through his veins. There was a weakness in him that he knew and hated, he looked at his father, he so wanted his approval, his pride.
"There it is," said a gruff voice behind him. Draco looked up and saw a glimmering skull far off in the sky. His legs marched on with the others despite his heart banging in his throat. Too soon, Draco realised the forest was thinning and saw a few of the outer tents.
"None of these," whispered Jenson. The silence scared Draco, were they the only ones here? There were only 30 men in the group, not enough to take on the Order if the alarm were raised. A scream, Draco let his breath go and felt a odd sense of relief, at least this meant there were others.
"Damn Rainier, we needed longer..." Jenson led the group towards the sound, running this time. People were leaving their tents, trying to find out what the commotion was. Draco wanted them to at least fight but they had no chance, a green light flew their way and life was taken from them in a mere second. Again he swallowed his feelings and took a tighter grip of his wand. Face set and muscles clenched, the next mudblood that got in his way would get what was coming to them. An almighty sound of popping rang in Draco's ear –
"What was that?" He inquired blindly.
"The Order," answered his father. Not understanding this reply, Draco sped up to join the front of the formation. They were fast approaching the main field, the source of the scream, and Draco then understood. Hundreds upon hundreds of Wizards stood facing some of the largest groups of Death Eaters, no one was moving but all had their wands poised. 'The popping was them apparating' he though to himself, but his mind was far behind those of his companions they had sped up and he found himself at the back of the group again. Another deafening noise came but this time it was from an explosion of spells leaving the various wands one the field, and the shouts that went with them. Red, green and blue lit up the sky, shouts, screams and the thumps of bodies echoed all around. This is what he had imagines, he felt excited again as he looked down on the battling wizards.
"No time like the present," said a voice somewhere to his right, and with no signal the group descended on the chaos running and ready. The men scattered searching hungrily for an opponent, Draco darted forward between two duelling pairs, ducking and diving, hoping to soon find a mudblood.
He stopped dead at a sight that took the breath from his lungs. Children, laying frozen, eyes open, the boy had snitches zooming across his pyjamas, the girl a teddy bear still clutched tightly in her arms, innocent, no more than six years old. But no there it was! There in the form of a cross on the ground was the mark of their guilt. Tears leaked from Draco's eyes.
"Come on, quickly now," Draco looked up as he heard the voice, he saw Percy Weasley helping three young girls out of their tent, saving them from the same fate as those at his feet. A numb sense of hatred scored his soul, not at Weasley, whom he had always held a great contempt for, but at himself. The youngest child clung to Percy's torso as he carried her and her sisters out of the way a little. Draco watched, he knew he had to do something, but was unable to decide what. He felt punch drunk; paralysed. Percy came back to the tent opening and what meet by another child, the eldest, a boy of about eight, he helped him up and that was when Draco spotted Jenson, Jenson had spotted Percy. Before he knew what he was doing, Draco was running towards Percy and the boy, he jumped and pushed the former over. Her felt the swish of the deadly spell as it passed over missing Percy by a second. The boy still stood:
"Run, go to your sisters, NOW!" Malfoy shouted angrily glaring at the boy then back at Percy who was staring at him opening and closing his mouth in shock.
"Thanky-"
"AVADA KEDAVRA," this time Percy had no one to save him, his mouth slackened but his eyes remained in the same staring state, still shocked, but dead. Draco looked up and gasped to see his father, standing there, anguish set upon his face.
"Traitor." "No father, there were children, please," Draco was frightened by the wand pointing at him and the look on his father's face.
"It will be easier for you this way, the Dark Lord will make you suffer for worse and far longer if I leave you be, at least this way you will not suffer," Lucius' voice was cold and stern, no feeling could be seen in his eyes.
"I am your son, you can't kill me father, you wouldn't, do I come second? Please father."
"Yes you do Draco. Ava-" Lucius Malfoy stopped suddenly in a similar fashion to Percy, his jaw slackened and his eyes remained open. He fell to the ground. Draco looked at him, looked at his wand ready to strike, ready to kill his only son; a single tear fell on his cheek.
It was three years since Voldemort had returned by the graveyard of his father, killing Cedric Diggory and recalling his Death Eaters. It was the summer of the Quidditch World Cup.
Still, three years on, Voldemort was yet to make his move, yet to openly attack, spread his terror. When Cornelius Fudge gave that statement, the confirmation of His return, the country's wizards had been terrified, but two years had passed and nothing had happened and a sense of security had started to return to the lives of most, they had stopped being prepared. Maybe Voldemort still wasn't strong enough? Maybe not many had joined him this time? The rumours and assurances passed around allowing things to go back to normal...
But for one group things had not changed, vigilance had not dropped and preparation had not waned. The Order of the Phoenix had grown in number, being six times that of what it was when Voldemort last struck. Taking on not only the ever-increasing Aurors from England but also those from France, Spain and America, these countries were keeping the old alliances and helping Britain when they knew they were going to need it. No.12 Grimmauld Place had been outgrown; a number of knew quarters were appointed. They knew that Voldemort was just as strong and the Death Eaters was just as plentiful, all that had changed was his care, Voldemort knew things were different this time, and the Order knew he was just biding his time. All major events were guarded heavily, events like the Quidditch World Cup.
A wave of young, enthusiastic wizards and witches had started training as Aurors and working closely with the Order. Harry Potter was one of these wizards, getting O's and E's in his NEWTs he had joined up straight away. Harry decided to celebrate his success and the success of his friends by joining them at the World Cup, he had missed out on many events like this but he WAS NOT going to miss out on this one, especially as England were playing.
But the game was never played; Voldemort made his move, openly attacked and spread his terror. A group of three thousand Death Eaters swept down on the campsites, hundreds of muggle-borns and indeed pure-bloods were killed that night but the Order of the Phoenix were vigilant, they were there with a mass Voldemort had not anticipated, the Death Eaters were outnumbered 3 to 1. The battle lasted only an hour, lighting the sky with coloured spells, mostly green light was seen. But the outcome was a forgone conclusion, some Death Eaters were rounded up, secured and taken to London, though most were killed and many fled.
Draco Malfoy was excited; this was what he had been waiting for, as had his father. Both father and son gathered with the others.
"The boy is inexperienced, yes?" Draco was not going to miss this one.
"Sir - I'm of age, and...and I've practised." The Death Eaters laughed.
"He will be fine Jenson," drawled Lucius Malfoy, glaring at his son.
"If you are positive," Jenson answered, though in his voice was no hint of concern. "We wait for the Mark to appear above the site and then we leave, our men have marked some of the Mudblood's tents with crosses on the ground after they went to sleep, so any you come across on the way in...well you know what to do." A nasty grin took Jenson's face and some of the Death Eaters laughed. Something jumped in Draco's stomach as he realised he had never killed another human being, he had imagined and fantasised about it, but he had always been duelling with a member of the Order as others did the same around him, not murdering families while they slept. He swallowed this feeling.
They waited in silence, only the distant sound of rustling trees and low breathes of their companions could be heard, it was far past midnight. Draco could feel his heart pumping, the edge had been taken off his excitement but a determined adrenaline pulsed through his veins. There was a weakness in him that he knew and hated, he looked at his father, he so wanted his approval, his pride.
"There it is," said a gruff voice behind him. Draco looked up and saw a glimmering skull far off in the sky. His legs marched on with the others despite his heart banging in his throat. Too soon, Draco realised the forest was thinning and saw a few of the outer tents.
"None of these," whispered Jenson. The silence scared Draco, were they the only ones here? There were only 30 men in the group, not enough to take on the Order if the alarm were raised. A scream, Draco let his breath go and felt a odd sense of relief, at least this meant there were others.
"Damn Rainier, we needed longer..." Jenson led the group towards the sound, running this time. People were leaving their tents, trying to find out what the commotion was. Draco wanted them to at least fight but they had no chance, a green light flew their way and life was taken from them in a mere second. Again he swallowed his feelings and took a tighter grip of his wand. Face set and muscles clenched, the next mudblood that got in his way would get what was coming to them. An almighty sound of popping rang in Draco's ear –
"What was that?" He inquired blindly.
"The Order," answered his father. Not understanding this reply, Draco sped up to join the front of the formation. They were fast approaching the main field, the source of the scream, and Draco then understood. Hundreds upon hundreds of Wizards stood facing some of the largest groups of Death Eaters, no one was moving but all had their wands poised. 'The popping was them apparating' he though to himself, but his mind was far behind those of his companions they had sped up and he found himself at the back of the group again. Another deafening noise came but this time it was from an explosion of spells leaving the various wands one the field, and the shouts that went with them. Red, green and blue lit up the sky, shouts, screams and the thumps of bodies echoed all around. This is what he had imagines, he felt excited again as he looked down on the battling wizards.
"No time like the present," said a voice somewhere to his right, and with no signal the group descended on the chaos running and ready. The men scattered searching hungrily for an opponent, Draco darted forward between two duelling pairs, ducking and diving, hoping to soon find a mudblood.
He stopped dead at a sight that took the breath from his lungs. Children, laying frozen, eyes open, the boy had snitches zooming across his pyjamas, the girl a teddy bear still clutched tightly in her arms, innocent, no more than six years old. But no there it was! There in the form of a cross on the ground was the mark of their guilt. Tears leaked from Draco's eyes.
"Come on, quickly now," Draco looked up as he heard the voice, he saw Percy Weasley helping three young girls out of their tent, saving them from the same fate as those at his feet. A numb sense of hatred scored his soul, not at Weasley, whom he had always held a great contempt for, but at himself. The youngest child clung to Percy's torso as he carried her and her sisters out of the way a little. Draco watched, he knew he had to do something, but was unable to decide what. He felt punch drunk; paralysed. Percy came back to the tent opening and what meet by another child, the eldest, a boy of about eight, he helped him up and that was when Draco spotted Jenson, Jenson had spotted Percy. Before he knew what he was doing, Draco was running towards Percy and the boy, he jumped and pushed the former over. Her felt the swish of the deadly spell as it passed over missing Percy by a second. The boy still stood:
"Run, go to your sisters, NOW!" Malfoy shouted angrily glaring at the boy then back at Percy who was staring at him opening and closing his mouth in shock.
"Thanky-"
"AVADA KEDAVRA," this time Percy had no one to save him, his mouth slackened but his eyes remained in the same staring state, still shocked, but dead. Draco looked up and gasped to see his father, standing there, anguish set upon his face.
"Traitor." "No father, there were children, please," Draco was frightened by the wand pointing at him and the look on his father's face.
"It will be easier for you this way, the Dark Lord will make you suffer for worse and far longer if I leave you be, at least this way you will not suffer," Lucius' voice was cold and stern, no feeling could be seen in his eyes.
"I am your son, you can't kill me father, you wouldn't, do I come second? Please father."
"Yes you do Draco. Ava-" Lucius Malfoy stopped suddenly in a similar fashion to Percy, his jaw slackened and his eyes remained open. He fell to the ground. Draco looked at him, looked at his wand ready to strike, ready to kill his only son; a single tear fell on his cheek.