This is the story of how I died.

When I was just a bairn, I used to imagine that I'd make a fantastic exit. There were fireworks and glory music – and me, like an action hero, in the middle of some fantastic battle. My enemies fell by the dozens, thanks to my awe-inspiring wandwork – until they converged like houseflies in the summertime and swarmed me to death. It was the only way I could see it happening – overwhelming numbers and a final duel to the death.

But life doesn't go quite like that.

My name is Marlene Maisie McKinnon, and this is the story of how I was murdered.

Rolling over, Marley rubbed her eyes with a groan. Her head ached as though she'd woken up far too early and she felt feverish. Thinking she'd come down with something over night, she reached blindly for the pitcher of water next to her bed to pour herself a glass. The pounding in her head got louder. With a grunt, she flopped back down against her pillows, staring at the vaulted ceiling with a perplexed and slightly miserable expression. There was nothing worse than waking up with a headache. Closing her eyes slowly, she tried to take a deep breath and focus healing energy upwards. It was a little trick her uncle had taught her – to use the natural gift of magic.

Still, the pounding increased. It almost seemed rhythmic now – like a siren.

Her eyes shot open as she rolled out of bed, scrambling to her feet. In an instant she had her wand in hand and leapt over the railing to the ground floor of her bedroom. It was a siren – the alarm siren that her parents had installed years ago to prevent intruders from just walking into the castle unannounced. She hadn't recognised it at first – too many of the castle rooms were sound insulated—but in their line of work, it was necessary, and nights like this were the reason why.

Ripping her door open, she sprinted into the hallway, immediately aware of how much louder the sound was. Her heart started racing. This wasn't the first time this had happened and it certainly wouldn't be the first time she fought back – but it was the first time she'd ever done so as a member of the Order. It was almost reassuring, that little tug at her heart, reminding her of how far she'd come in life. She certainly wasn't going to give all of that up now.

Barefoot and in pyjamas, she ran from the eastern side of the castle, through several hidden passages, to the dining room. It was the pre-arranged gathering place of the whole family, in the event of something like this. The children hid in the kitchen while the adults stood outside, defending its wall unto the last – not that it had ever come to that.

She slid across the stone floor and into the open space, all traces of her headache gone. The feverish feeling had been replaced with adrenaline, surging through her system as she bounded over to her parents. Alistair was hunched over a map of the castle, glaring silently at the diagram while Lowri reassuringly rubbed his back. They'd been through this several times before – but she couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that this wasn't the same.

"Where d'yeh want me?" Marley asked.

Alistair grunted. "Kitchen."

Instantly she frowned. "Da, I wil-"

"Damn it, Marlene. Just go."

"No! I'm here t'fight!"

Roaring, Alistair seized her by the collar of her pyjamas and hauled her off her feet. Whipping the door of the kitchen open, he tossed her inside. "You'll stay in here and defend th'bairn, but damn it y'will do as you're told!" And promptly slammed the door shut again.

That was it then. Fury coursed through her in ways she'd never felt before. This was it – the fight they were prepared and waiting for and he was locking her up with the infants and toddlers! It was injustice! If he hadn't given her a direct command, she'd have broken the door down to get back out – but make no mistake, there would be hell to pay later.

Muttering angrily, she turned around. The safety routine demanded a headcount and forcing herself to do it would take the edge off her rage – but the kitchen was oddly quiet. In fact – it was empty. How was she supposed to defend the children if they hadn't even gotten out of bed yet? Her shoulders slumped; this was what uselessness felt like.

Then she noticed it: a small, pale hand reaching out from behind the island. Her stomach rolled over. Lighting her wand quickly, she took a step closer – peering around the counter. Bile surged into her throat when she realised the arm wasn't connected to anything.

She'd always been a tough girl – fond of the sight of blood and cheering for injuries out on the Quidditch Pitch, but even she couldn't hold back a scream. Lunging for the door, she shrieked – as loudly as her lungs would allow: "Daddy!" Her foot slipped in something wet and warm and a second wave of nausea rolled over her, but a steadying hand shot out of the shadows, wrapping around her waist and hauling her back upright.

"Easy now," a silky voice whispered. She didn't pause to think – she tightened her grip on her wand, a dozen, vicious spells running through her head at once – but he sensed it. Her captor's knee connected with her hand, crushing it against the cabinets. The pain was sharp – splinters from her broken wand had driven into her palm – but blissful; pain was something she could handle.

Alistair broke through the kitchen door – eyes ablaze and wand raised. "Marlene?"

"Expelliarmus!" It was more than one voice – several cried out behind her, spells blazing. Fragments of her broken wand tore through the skin of her hand in a dying effort to obey the laws of magic. At least two, possibly three – she couldn't see the floor with her head craned upwards – wands clattered to the ground.

"Stop." Alistair had leapt forward, growling with bear-like fury. The man behind her was louder now – more authoritative. "Step back… or I kill her."

The expression on her father's face could have left tears in her eyes. With shaky movements, he slowly stepped backwards – out of the kitchen and into the well-lit dining room, into the small group of family that had collected there and leaving their only weapons behind. Her captor followed, holding her tightly and keeping his wand in place. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed several hooded and masked figures sweep out of the kitchen behind her – and some not so masked.

Bellatrix Lestrange casually twirled her wand between her fingers. She was smirking. Marley wanted nothing more than to rip it off her face and beat her with it.

"Where are the rest of m'family – the bairns?" Alistair asked quietly.

Bellatrix giggled, using her cutesy tone as she so often did when she was mocking her victims. "Didn't you know? It's snack time for all the itsy babies. Fenrir said they were delicious."

Gavin lunged forward with a strangled yell. Lowri screamed, reaching out to stop him, but Alistair's arm caught her across the chest, hauling her behind him – and just in time. Several jets of green light erupted from the opposite side of the room, some sinking into Gavin's body and some going off, scorching the wall and shattering a part of the chandelier. The broad-shouldered Scotsman tumbled forward on to his face at Bella's feet.

She gleefully stepped on him as she walked forward. "Only five left." With her wand pointed at Alistair, she looked like a conductor in the world's most sinister symphony orchestra. "If you move, we'll kill her," she chimed, motioning around him to Lowri.

The Death Eater to her left slashed his wand back and forth quickly; a streak of purple lightning streaked out, bouncing side to side as it sliced through the couple beside them.

"Three now," he grunted. Bella did a little dance, wobbling on her cadaver-pedestal. Alistair's jaw tightened.

Marley screamed again – and kept screaming as Lucius shoved her forward, wand still trained on her back. On the floor, Marley writhed in agony as the Cruciatus Curse ripped through her body, limbs flexing and contorting rapidly. Swearing loudly, Alistair stepped forward – and instantly twisted back, wrapping his arms tightly around Lowri as a dozen spells slammed into the wall behind them, sending chips of broken granite splintering through the air.

It took several minutes to realise how heavy she was in his arms. Pulling back slowly, he scanned her face. Empty hazel eyes looked back at him. In the background, Marley was still howling – a banshee-like shriek that cut to the bone, but faded as he moved, quieting down to a choked gurgle. A soft drumming sound filled his ears, and even Bella's cackling seemed dull and distant as he gently laid his wife to rest.

A decorative claymore had fallen to the floor in the blast, chipped and dull from lack of use – but more than adequate enough for what he wanted. As he let go of Lowri, he seized the handle – hefting it with both hands and spun around, roaring like a bear. He only made it a few steps closer to the Death Eaters before their wands were on him – but those few steps were all he needed. One sharp swing to the left – someone's mask smacked against the wall, nearly cloven in two. A second swing to the right before green light illuminated his heavy body as it tumbled to the floor, crushing a second masked man whose bad luck had the claymore protruding from his chest.

Bella cowered against the far wall. She had never seen anything so wild in all her pampered, pureblood existence. "Barbarian," she hissed at the corpse.

Lucius sneered, glancing down at Marlene. Her incessant screaming had been too much, but the spell to silence her had gone amiss when her father's Wildman antics startled him. Blood pooled around the deep gash in her throat, pouring out onto the stone. The gurgling Alistair had heard as he attacked was her last ditch effort to breathe. There was no hope for her now.

Wiping her blood off his shoe on her pyjamas, he turned around and disapparated, leaving the gory mess to be dealt with by someone else.

My name is Marlene Maisie McKinnon. I'm the last living member of my family and my clan. I'm seventeen years old.

And this is how I died.