AN: This is written for The Golden Snitch. This is for Three Competitions/Challenges, so it will be in three places, for people only following one event! I'm sorry if it confuses people, but it calm's my OCD down for sorting things. I can't have strays floating around! Okay, I'm going to also start listing things different, to make it clearer as well!

Halloween Costume Contest-Gang Member: Write about a character joining the Death Eaters.

Ollivander's Wand Shop-Holly [Harry Potter]: Write about a child protecting their parents.

The Great School Bake-Off-Cotton Candy Cake- Draco Malfoy, No Dialogue, Hiding from Something/Someone.

Hogwarts, Slytherin!

Death.

That's what would come for me if I refused. What would come to my mother. My father.

Being honest with myself, I didn't care that much for my father anymore. Yes, he helped create me. But he's never nurtured me, never cared for me, never loved me.

He was the reason I was even in this mess. Why I had to put my life, my sanity, on the line for my mother.

I even started resenting her too. For carrying me, out of all five pregnancies to term. Why couldn't I be part of the lucky ones to never be born? For marrying my father, could she really not see the demon lurking beneath? For keeping me in this situation, oh, how I wish she would have packed our bags and ran with me.

Now, I'm standing alone, surrounded by people. Some were already that vermin's follower's, the other four? So eager to bear the mark of evil, to be pawns in his master game of chess.

How I wish I was never born.

What's the point of being elite? To be part of the Sacred 28?

If I'm so grand, so pure, so masterful, why am I stuck in this mess?

That thing called for silence, immediately, the hushed murmurs died out, just like all hope I had of escaping.

After tonight, even if Saint Potter did win this God forsaken war, I would be tossed in Azkaban, no questions asked.

Can't they see I'm just a child?

He yanked the first sleeve down, pressing his wand into his skin until it looked like it would pierce. It probably does.

Screams erupted around me, only to be halted as fast as they came.

The first body slumped over, lifeless. The rule, the game was simple. Scream, and you die.

Oh, how I'm so tempted to scream.

My ears are assaulted by whimpers towards my right, one survived, two to go before me.

If I knew my mother would not be hung up and tortured, I would run, I would hide, I would gladly die. But, I can't. Because who else would lay their mother out like a platter of meat in front of blood-thirsty wolves?

The next one made it in without a sound.

The next one didn't, he screamed before The Dark Lord even started. Looking down, I saw his cold, hard, gaze of death staring back up at me.

My stomach rolled in coils upwards, threatening to spill out what little I choked down earlier. I knew then that I would forever hold nightmares of this moment.

My sleeve was yanked up, his hard wand of death pressed into my wrist. It burned. It felt like my skin was being peeled back, layer by layer. Only for it to be assaulted my nails, by metal, by anything and everything.

I felt my eyes roll in their sockets, my toes curl, and my face scrunch up. I felt the bile on my tongue, I felt my organs burn, and regrow, only to burn again.

Oh, how I really wanted to die.

An image flashed before me of my mother, and I pulled my lips in tighter, sinking my teeth into the soft flesh underneath.

Until, suddenly, it stopped. My vision cleared, my head felt lighter. I stood stock still, so glad I wore black, masking the urine that slipped out.

I stood, and waited, and waited, until I was free to go. I ran as soon as I passed the doors, ran and hide in my old hiding place as a kid.

I hid from him, from my mother, from myself.

How I wished I was brave. Even if I had an ounce of courage, maybe then, everything could be alright.