A/N: This is a work of fiction using characters that are trademarked by J.K. Rowling
Warning: Mentions of Torture
Pain. That was all he felt. It ran through him in waves from the tips of his hair down to his toenails. They had thought that the war was over. Voldemort had been defeated but how wrong they were.
Frank could hear his wife's screams and pried his eyes open. He could feet tears running down his cheeks as light flooded his vision. The figures were blurry, but he could make out the shape of his wife huddled on the floor as a woman screeched and cackled over her twitching body.
Frank could barely take in air, his throat raw and bloody from his own screams that he was now just silent in his tortured. He prayed for it to end. He prayed for someone to rescue him. More than anything he prayed for his son to be spared this torment.
Frank twitched violently once more as darkness encroached on his vision. He heard their wooden door being blasted open. The pain started to recede but he knew it was too late. The cavalry had arrived too late for him and his wife, but Neville had been spared. His last prayer, answered.
Frank whimpered as his vision narrowed to a small point and he sucked in a large breath before he succumbed to oblivion.