Disclaimer: I don't own HP. JK Rowling and Warner Bros. do.
Only one thing was clear in his mind: he had to run if he wanted to survive. The forest was dark but still he didn't dare ignite the tip of the wand he was carrying in fear that he would be seen, so instead he kept on tripping over the gigantic roots of the ancient trees that so often had served as a hiding place in his early childhood games. His bare feet were throbbing from the pain, every fiber fighting to keep on running, trying to erase the horrible noise of Death flying towards him, whispering for him to come closer, to stay quiet and just embrace it, feeling it in the air, keeping up the impression that his attacker was still on his track.
The only thing that kept him from being totally immersed in his flight was the pain from the previous events: the memory of his Mother falling dead in front of him kept haunting him, replaying in his mind permanently, his eyes still dry but his heart aching like it had never done before.
His pace started to fall steadily, his ears listening to the absolute silence of the forest, waiting for his predator to finish him off. He halted to a stop, dropping to his knees in exhaustion. Was he being followed? He thought not: if he was, he would've probably been killed already, wouldn't he? Whoever had broken into his home –his heart tightened painfully at the memories- was surely a talented dueler, and he reckoned he wasn't about to me stopped at the presence of a defenseless teenager like him.
He clutched tightly onto his mother's wand and for the first time since this nightmare had started, he allowed himself to think.
"Who would've thought that all I've learned in school is of little or no use in real life." He muttered to himself, sitting with his back on a tree, still panting heavily. Maybe he could go back and use the fireplace, he thought, but then again, who said he wasn't still there? It'd be foolish to risk it. He couldn't just stay in the forest, and he didn't know how to Apparate or create a Portkey. What about going back and dueling…?
"You don't stand a chance." He mumbled to himself, shaking his head. That would just make his Mother's sacrifice worthless.
It was a cruel movie replaying in his mind, her running into his room and urging him to run. He hadn't even thought of bringing his wand with him, and as both of them ran down the stairs to the front door he realized his mistake. It was that split second that he doubted at the doorway about what to do and turned around to get it that he appeared. Death was silent but visible, the green light approaching so fast he couldn't understand how his Mother had reacted so quickly.
And his dear Father, killed as well. He had seen the corpse on the drawing room's floor, eyes wide open, wand still clutched as he had tried to keep his life going. He didn't look back though, and throwing a couple hasty spells over his shoulder he ran for his life.
Everything hurt as his senses started coming back. Pain ran through his whole body, from his destroyed feet to his sore muscles. What was he supposed to do? He had no way to run unless he went back and grabbed his broom, but if the attacker was still there, wouldn't it make his mom's sacrifice worthless?
His situation seemed oddly like Harry Potter's, he thought bitterly. His father dead, and his mother dying to protect him, his—
Harry Potter! How had he not thought of him! Well, he didn't personally know the man in question, but he knew who could help him no matter what. He looked at his mother's wand and held it even tighter, putting it close to his lips.
"Weasley… I need help… please, help…" he said softly, trying to focus on happy memories, but they wouldn't come. His patronus was weak and disappeared immediately. He closed his eyes, remembering the one he was trying to contact, the one who had opened him all those doors his family had closed on him. He just had to survive for the sake of his family, to make it all worth it. It wasn't a happy thought: it was a strange ambition that filled him up. "Weasley, I need help… please…" his voice was stronger this time, filled with this desire. "Expecto Patronum!"
He barely saw the silver weasel erupting from his wand and jumping out of sight before he passed out.
Summer nights lately had been lovely, but the fact that he had to spend them working wasn't exactly pleasurable. His eyelids were heavy as he was falling asleep, and he had to fight desperately in order to stay awake.
Night shifts were the worst thing that could happen to an Auror, especially considering that nothing of importance had happened for several years.
"Stupid boss…" Nash muttered under his breath, standing up to fix himself some coffee. He had joined the Auror Squad just about five years before, when he had just finished his studies at Hogwarts. He had been immediately accepted because of his excellent grades and recommendation letters from his Professors: He had been ecstatic to start, and even more to meet his childhood hero: Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Of course, Mr Potter wasn't much of a boy anymore, and the Auror field wasn't as exciting as he had always thought it'd be.
He poured the dark liquid into his favorite cup, the one he had gotten as a birthday present from his little niece, and sat down, just waiting for something to happen… 'Too bad that's unlikely', he thought, bitterly. He knew living in quiet times was something to be happy about, but he also wished to put his knowledge into practice.
His only consolation was that there were just two more hours before his shift was over and he could finally go home and catch up with his sleep… just two more hours. He could surely take it.
He was startled when a sudden brightness filled the room and a silver Jack Russell terrier arrived in scene.
"Nash, set up the squad, I'll arrive shortly. We have an emergency." Weasley's voice echoed across the empty department, and he stood up immediately.
"Emergency, report to office, EXPECTO PATRONUM!" his wand ignited immediately at the memory of being named Head Boy of the year, and three silver eagles soared across the offices and disappeared of sight. His heart was beating fast and his hands had started to sweat. He heard footsteps running down the corridor, and he kept his wand raised, just in case.
The freckled face of his boss, Ron Weasley, appeared in sight. He looked as if he had just run a mile, breathing heavily. He didn't say a word as loud cracking noises came from somewhere in the building, and soon enough three more Aurors appeared, his best friend Lupin amongst them.
"What is it?" he asked with wand in hand, looking extremely tired. "What happened, Ron?"
"There's been an attack." Ron managed to say, leading the way out. It always annoyed Nash how he never explained things, but he wasn't about to complain: he had been wishing something happened all night long, after all.
"What are you talking about?" O'Halloran, the only woman in their squad, asked. She looked as if she had just gotten up, her blonde hair still tied in a lazy ponytail. Her dark eyes moved quickly from side to side, as if she was expecting to be attacked any moment.
"Look, I can't explain right now, not until I receive the orders… I've been put in charge of leading the group." Ron said tiredly, looking as if he couldn't believe what was going on.
"Ron, what is happening?" Ted finally cracked, grabbing Weasley's arm. He was pale, and looked rather nervous. "Is it the Death Eaters?"
Of course, that wasn't possible, even though the idea had come to Nash's own mind, but they had finished chasing the remaining ones, and there was no way they could've acted undetected: there were still sensors in their homes, so if any of them decided to act, they could be easily caught.
"It can't be, I'd have known!" Nash said, looking at the other people in the corridor. Weasley didn't say a word, just sighed and shook his head.
"I'm not exactly sure what happened, I just got... a call, I... my daughter got a Patronus and she woke me up, I—"
"Are we up at four in the morning because your fifteen year old daughter got a Patronus?" Jackson Conway asked, frowning visibly. He was the most experienced of the group –except for Weasley-, and didn't like to be bothered with nonsense. He also had the bad habit of trying to stand up against his superiors, something that usually gained him more trouble than what was worth.
"Just follow me, will you?" Ron grumbled, shooting a dirty glare at Conway, who glared back, once again defying Weasley's authority. They reached the fireplaces, where another man was waiting, his black hair as untidy as it could get.
"Mr. Potter." Nash exclaimed. What would be the emergency that needed the presence of the Head of Auror's Office?
"Nash, Conway, O'Halloran, Lupin." He greeted fast, looking extremely tired. "Ron, I went there myself. It's true, Rose had it right."
"Harry, what is going on?" Ted insisted, determined to control his feelings, although his hair gave him away: it was of a black color which showed whenever he was feeling vulnerable. Mr Potter looked at him, his face full of seriousness.
"Someone used the Killing Curse..." he swallowed so hard everyone in the room could hear it. Nash walked a step forward, confused, wondering if he had heard wrong. "Ron, if Rose hadn't alerted us... we found the boy in the forest nearby, he had passed out. His parents... He's at your parents' place; your mum is taking care of him."
"I can't believe it." Weasley was in such shock that it didn't suit his usual self-confident face. O'Halloran followed Nash's move, a bold look on her face.
"I'm sorry to intrude, sir, but I reckon we deserve to know what is going on." She said slowly, keeping her tone polite but demanding.
"Right, that's right... O'Halloran, Conway and Nash, take this Portkey and search the place. Make sure no one enters the building, and don't let anyone find out the identity of the victims. Portus." He tapped a newspaper he had brought along with him, and gave it to Conway, who just nodded, embracing his silent leadership. O'Halloran and Nash stepped closer and grabbed onto the paper, waiting for barely a few seconds before they disappeared in a blue light.
"I can't believe it." Ron insisted, covering his face. "This is unreal..."
"Who was it? And what has Rose to do with this? Who got killed?" Ted always asked too many questions, and Harry looked deep in thought as he tried to flatten his hair with one hand, the information slowly sinking in.
"The Malfoys... the Malfoys have been killed."
It's still a wild idea in my mind, but I want to know where I can take this. I hope you liked it! Reviews will be greatly appreciated :).
-Phankam.