The sounds of battle were heard everywhere. Blood-curling screams, the malicious laughter from the ones called Death Eaters, spells being cast. But even more frightening than the sounds were the sight of innocent peoples, horribly deformed by malevolent spells or mortally wounded-trying to survive-and the emerald green flashes of light that marked their death.
It was utter chaos.
Where was the Order, wondered an unknown person. They should have been here by now. Stepping out from an overlooked ally, the clocked person casually sauntered down a back street. If the Death Eaters noticed him at all, they paid him no heed. No, the Death Eaters were having too much entertainment provided by the panicking Muggles to notice anything else. The best way to maneuver around hundreds of Death Eaters was not to panic. If only the Muggles realized that.
Hogwarts Castle was not far from here. Hogwarts Castle, the greatest castle in the land, accepted anyone, regardless of birth or status. Anyone who wanted to learn anything could go there, even Muggle-born children. None of the Superpowers had any direct control over it, although it favored the House of Gryffindor mostly these days. That was not always so. There was a time when the House of Slytherin controlled it from behind the lines, when Slytherin had most of the power, could sway the opinion of the masses. But that was long ago. But Hogwarts Castle had direct control over the Superpowers though. It was where the laws were crafted and inscribed, it was where history was written and created, it where the aspiring wizards of the day were taught. And in a short time it will be were history is created once more, thought the unknown man.
Hogwarts Castle must be the Death Eaters next target. The Death Eaters moved in predictable ways, and one habit that they had developed recently was attacking the villages and terrorizing the villagers surrounding their next target. Hufflepuff Castle and a few minor castles- targeted for their strategic positions- were taken in such a way already. And if Hogwarts Castle was truly taken, the Death Eaters were guaranteed a victory. It was unlikely that it would be, protected as it was. But that didn't mean the Death Eaters wouldn't be triumphant, in the end.
Voldemort, the leader of the Death Eaters, had to be here somewhere. It was not like him to leave his children on their own. It was not like the Death Eaters to act on their own, either. It wasn't long before the unknown man observed that the Death Eaters were all moving in one direction, towards the center of the village. Quickly following them, knowing that they would lead him to Voldemort, he made his way to the center of the village, where a statue of some long dead king dominated the scene. In front of the statue was Voldemort, but something wasn't right. He was crouched down, as though in pain. And he was angry. The unknown man could feel his anger in waves, could actually see scorched marks on the cobblestones from where his magic got out of control. And when Voldemort turned his crimson eyes on him, he felt like he was on fire, felt as if flames of hell consumed him. But Voldemort didn't look at him long, and when he was released from Voldemort gaze, he hastily departed, shaken to the core.
It was now the unknown man's mission to inform the Order of what had happened, that something has worked in their favor for once. It had to be something big for Voldemort did not recognized him as a member of the Order, did not even seem to notice him. But first he had to find out what it was. He wasn't long kept in the dark though.
As he turned the corner, he spotted a man gently carrying a woman. At last understanding what happened, he scrutinized the man's face, expecting to see no emotion. This man, who once did horrible deeds without showing an ounce of remorse, who killed his own family without a shred of regret or emotion, who was believed not to be able to even feel emotion, now couldn't hide any of it. The look in his eye…the unknown man couldn't even begin to describe it. It was if all the emotion built up over all the years finally broke through the nearly indestructible dam. Yet, he looked more dead than ever before, as though part of him, the most important part, had died with the woman in his arms.
The woman was completely covered by a clock, the man's final show of respect. She hated it when she the center of attention especially when she was in her weakest moment, no doubt she would hate it in her death. And she would be the center of attention if people knew that it was her, dead, in this man's gentle arms. People would want to know, to make sure, she was actually dead.
There was no need for any explanation. The newcomer briefly nodded to the unknown man, and marched away. As the newcomer wandered away, the pale arm of the woman fell from under the cloak, exposing the Dark Mark.
Yes, this was good news indeed.
