PLEASE NOTE BEFORE READING:

Sections written in NON-bold (i.e.this) ARE WRITTEN FROM HERMIONE'S PERSPECTIVE.

Sections written in BOLD (i.e. this) ARE WRITTEN FROM DRACO'S PERSPECTIVE

/*/*/* MARKS A CHANGE OF PERSPECTIVE

'RON! HARRY!' screamed Hermione, but it was no use, what little she could see of her two best friends was slipping away from her, beneath thousands of frantic screams and shoving.

'RON!' she continued, as she was pushed further and further away from them. The hint of panic in her voice was growing stronger.

Sensing that her cries were now a lost cause, she allowed herself to be carried along with the crowd. She tried to look over the thousands of heads all around her, searching for some hint of hope.

BANG! To her left, a sound not unlike a gunshot sounded, causing many to duck. Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed purple and green sparks ascending from the air. She took a sharp left, causing her to stray away from the line of people she had been following and now she found her self not with the crowd, but against them, as she struggled to push herself through the hundreds of bodies running adjacently to her.

Green sparks mean danger. Dark Magic. She thought. There was no doubt in her mind that these spells were descendants of the dark arts. She wasn't sure about the purple ones.

BANG! Now purely green sparks erupted in front of her eyes and she shot round again, trying to find some sort of escape.

The stampede of hurried feet and frequent cries were pounding in her ears, and with that, one last green spark surfaced. Barely recognizing the agony in her left leg, she was blanketed in darkness, and the pain ebbed away.

/*/*/*

He appeared at the exact spot at the edge of the forest, where he could see only a few metres away where the plan had been carried out successfully. He allowed a small smile to form across his lips. Cries and screams surrounded him.

They Deserve It. He thought bitterly. They'll understand soon enough.

He edged from the safety of the forest tree's shadow to join the edge of the crowds. He looked over the thousands of heads above him, and he could see in the distance the plan formulating, as it should be. It was so clever, so detailed, so mesmerizing. As to the panicked eye, a witch or wizard wouldn't notice the plan at all. Only someone looking, observing, participating could detect it. The intricate planning enthralled him, the way it ran so smoothly. How detailed it was. How clever it was. How they were forming this allegiance slowly, but carefully. It was like a puzzle: everything slotted where it should. There were no exceptions, there was no room for error, or self doubt.

He continued into the crowds, the movements of each member had been discussed previously. They had decided although the easiest option, circling the outsides of the crowds would be most dangerous, most detectable. So he headed on into the crowds, wand grasped eagerly in his hand. He passed a few bodies, who lay lifeless on the earthy floor.

Why do they deserve this? He heard himself think, but he pushed it aside. He couldn't afford to think like that. Now and again waves of self-doubt and guilt passed through him, he had been working on trying to block the thoughts out. He had even turned to occlumency before now. He was working on it, he told himself. They'd understand. But at times he just couldn't help it. He couldn't help but let the bad thoughts in, the guilt in.

In a bid to distract his guilty thoughts, he looked up again above the crowds, trying to block out the frantic cries. Stage two was complete. He glanced at his wrist: his gold watch told him he was making good time. He was clutching not his own wand: but someone else's, which had been bewitched to not be detectable by the ministry. He had been holding onto it so tightly that marks from the woodwork had become engraved in his palms. He had only used it a few times.

Only for self-defense. He thought bitterly. He hadn't yet used it for attack…he couldn't bring himself to do so. No matter, no matter. Plenty of time to work on this…my time will come soon enough. He reassured himself.

He continued to edge further into the mass of people. He needed to break through these doubts, these feelings: his actions would be for the greater good, in the end.

He was now about half way through the crowd. Half way to succeeding in his mission. And then, out of the corner of his eyes, he glimpsed a brown uniform.

Ministry fools. But no worry, I've planned ahead of these idiots. He thought, remembering the drill.

They have yet to see the way forward. He told himself, remembering the parting words of the allegiance and with that, he took a left, creating a small detour. It shouldn't lose him that much time. He was ahead of schedule.

Now, he was running adjacent to the crowds, and it was taking its toll. Thousand of bodies were pounding in on him, and he was struggling to move in a straight line. He took a sharp left, desperate to fall back onto the path.

And then he suddenly wasn't aware of the cries around him, the lifeless bodies beneath him, the time ticking by, the mission he had to succeed in, the mission he needed to prove himself, and the mission that was everything. He was only aware of the limp, tangled body that was now directly in his eye line and the gleaming, ruby coloured blood that was flowing from its leg. He was rooted to the spot.

This was surely one of his guilty, self-doubt lapses, this is what he had been working on, and this is the type of thing he should be able to control. But he couldn't. He couldn't control anything. He looked around at his surroundings, and it was as if he was a different person: and he could see it now for what it really was: corruption. He looked around at the people in masks killing the innocent lives.

"They will thank us. They are wrong." The words played havoc in his mind, but the more he replayed them in his head the more he felt the urge to block them out. He wasn't listening anymore. He wasn't there any more. It was just he and the lifeless body, trapped in the wrong time, the wrong place. But there was no escape. There was no hiding. He had options, yes, two of them. But whichever one he chose would have consequences. It was a case of comparing the options: weighing them out. But he didn't have time. But he did have two choices. And that's when he picked up the body from the earthy floor and lifted it to his chest, to carry it in his arms. And he ran. And ran. His destination had now changed, and he was running to the edge of the forest, opposite to where he had started. It was heavy in his arms now, and he could feel the warm blood seeping through his shirt. He didn't dare glance over at the checkpoint; he couldn't even bare think about it. His heart was thumping so fast he thought it might explode; his breathing was shallow but panicked. It was even harder to push through the crowds now, but he eventually reached the edge of the forest and fell out onto the mud. He placed the body in the shadow of the trees.

Now what? He heard a voice in his head ask. But he didn't know the answer. He always knew the answers to everything, but this…he was unprepared. He could just go, pretend this had never happened. That was the easiest option.

But was it the right one?

If he left them here, they would surely be picked up in the aftermath…but he had heard that there were plans for this involving the alliance too. It might not be safe. He'd saved them from even more harm of thousands of people crushing them. But they were loosing a lot of blood. Too much. Now safe in the shadow of the trees, he glanced quickly at the wound; blood was seeping out of it and fast, the edges seemed scorned and black.

He felt sick. Not at the sight, but at what had caused it. He felt dizzy and his head was spinning. He looked at his hands: they were blood-stained and weathered.

He couldn't take much more of this. He composed himself enough to look out over the crowd; his brain told him he was searching for something…he just wasn't sure what. His eyes darted over to the check-point…stage three must be complete now; he couldn't see any more green sparks flying overhead…and he could see a couple of hooded figures disapparating into the trees. He guessed he had five minutes until his call, as he said before, there was no room for error. If he missed his calling, the plan could be ruined. But the problem was he could be here forever searching for them. There were thousands of people here. They might already be dead.

He suddenly remembered the body next to him, and he lurched back into the rapid search for this someone. He continued searching for what seemed like hours, he checked his watch…

Two Minutes.

This wasn't going to work: he had no hope of finding them in crowds this dense. He glanced back at the body, now safely hidden under the shadows of the trees. He didn't know what was planned for when the scene was deserted, he hoped they wouldn't search that thoroughly. He made his decision so suddenly he wasn't quite sure how he did it. He looked back at the body one last time before leaping back into the crowd.