Nowadays, Royston Valley was inhabited by a handful of simple folk who traded wool with the near by town of Hedlum Major.
The village is peaceful. The water from the lake ripples quietly, the moon hides behind a large cloud and the foxes trot up and down, looking for adventurous chickens. The swings in the peoples' gardens move gently in the breeze, and the dew falls lightly on the grass. The barn doors creak, the window latches move slightly, the cows sleep, and so do the people.
However, tonight's usual peacefulness was interrupted by a slow, throbbing base noise. It was a very low, ground pounding noise. The sound of drums, apparently the size of trees, filled the village of little cottages and chimneys waiting for use with an eerie atmosphere. And was gradually getting louder. Getting closer.
Finally, an old and stiff-looking man poked his head out of the top window of his small cottage and looked toward the mountains in the distance. Another man and a woman came out of the front door of their cottage just down the road. Soon the whole village was standing on their doorsteps and looking, puzzled, out toward the mountains.
Soon the drums became so loud that many of the villagers put their fingers in their ears and exchanged inaudible words of astonishment to each other.
Then, suddenly, they stopped.
A silence worse than noise filled the valley. It was the kind of silence that is followed by a terrible event. It was the silence before a storm.
The villagers took their fingers from their ears, and look nervously at one another.
The noise that punctured the silence was the strangest noise the villagers had ever heard. It was like some kind of strange elephant mixed with a whale call.
But the noise was nothing compared to the images that appeared in front of the villagers.
Hundreds of little shadows were pouring over the smaller mountain in the distance, running alongside three of the largest people the village people had ever seen. They must have been twenty feet tall or more, and they were taking long strides toward the valley, and the things running with them looked tiny and ant like alongside the titan like beings, having to run at full speed to keep up.
An hour later, and Muggle bodies lined the paths that led to the village. A large camp had been set up, with minions patrolling the outer perimeters of the mobile fortress.
The huge beast like giants were ripping limbs from live Muggles in one corner, and from a big tent in the middle extremely loud screams were searing out across through the camp.
Lucius Malfoy swept through the crowd of Dementors and approached the tent where the screams were issuing from. As he entered the tent, a tall man in a black cloak whom was standing over a cowering man on the floor looked up.
"Macnair, what is the problem?" Lucius spat impatiently.
"He won't talk. Says he don't know anything,"
"Of course he has information, he is the Minister's personal assistant! Did you question him properly?"
"Yes, but he's been trained to fight the pain,"
Macnair looked back at the man, who was in tears on the ground, panting.
"Crucio!"
Uchill screamed very loudly, his hands gripping the tents' floor tightly.
Macnair lifted his wand.
"Tell me what you know! Tell me about the Ministry's Action Plan!"
As Uchill spoke, blood dribbled from his mouth. The voice was a small whisper.
"I don't know anything…"
Lucius stepped forward, pushing Macnair out of the way.
He stood over Uchill, his wand pointed at his forehead. Uchill looked up into Lucius' eyes.
"Tell me, now!"
Uchill whimpered.
"Lucius…please…"
"Avada Kedavra!"
And with that, Norman P Uchill fell to the ground, his limbs spread in an odd fashion.
"Idiot!" Lucius turned to Macnair "We will not find a Ministry member again for a long while. You picked one who knew nothing! The Dark Lord will be displeased."
Macnair left the tent, and Lucius began to break the body down into manageable chunks for the soldiers.
Three hundred and sixty six miles away, Harry sat up in bed and put his head in his hands.
The village is peaceful. The water from the lake ripples quietly, the moon hides behind a large cloud and the foxes trot up and down, looking for adventurous chickens. The swings in the peoples' gardens move gently in the breeze, and the dew falls lightly on the grass. The barn doors creak, the window latches move slightly, the cows sleep, and so do the people.
However, tonight's usual peacefulness was interrupted by a slow, throbbing base noise. It was a very low, ground pounding noise. The sound of drums, apparently the size of trees, filled the village of little cottages and chimneys waiting for use with an eerie atmosphere. And was gradually getting louder. Getting closer.
Finally, an old and stiff-looking man poked his head out of the top window of his small cottage and looked toward the mountains in the distance. Another man and a woman came out of the front door of their cottage just down the road. Soon the whole village was standing on their doorsteps and looking, puzzled, out toward the mountains.
Soon the drums became so loud that many of the villagers put their fingers in their ears and exchanged inaudible words of astonishment to each other.
Then, suddenly, they stopped.
A silence worse than noise filled the valley. It was the kind of silence that is followed by a terrible event. It was the silence before a storm.
The villagers took their fingers from their ears, and look nervously at one another.
The noise that punctured the silence was the strangest noise the villagers had ever heard. It was like some kind of strange elephant mixed with a whale call.
But the noise was nothing compared to the images that appeared in front of the villagers.
Hundreds of little shadows were pouring over the smaller mountain in the distance, running alongside three of the largest people the village people had ever seen. They must have been twenty feet tall or more, and they were taking long strides toward the valley, and the things running with them looked tiny and ant like alongside the titan like beings, having to run at full speed to keep up.
An hour later, and Muggle bodies lined the paths that led to the village. A large camp had been set up, with minions patrolling the outer perimeters of the mobile fortress.
The huge beast like giants were ripping limbs from live Muggles in one corner, and from a big tent in the middle extremely loud screams were searing out across through the camp.
Lucius Malfoy swept through the crowd of Dementors and approached the tent where the screams were issuing from. As he entered the tent, a tall man in a black cloak whom was standing over a cowering man on the floor looked up.
"Macnair, what is the problem?" Lucius spat impatiently.
"He won't talk. Says he don't know anything,"
"Of course he has information, he is the Minister's personal assistant! Did you question him properly?"
"Yes, but he's been trained to fight the pain,"
Macnair looked back at the man, who was in tears on the ground, panting.
"Crucio!"
Uchill screamed very loudly, his hands gripping the tents' floor tightly.
Macnair lifted his wand.
"Tell me what you know! Tell me about the Ministry's Action Plan!"
As Uchill spoke, blood dribbled from his mouth. The voice was a small whisper.
"I don't know anything…"
Lucius stepped forward, pushing Macnair out of the way.
He stood over Uchill, his wand pointed at his forehead. Uchill looked up into Lucius' eyes.
"Tell me, now!"
Uchill whimpered.
"Lucius…please…"
"Avada Kedavra!"
And with that, Norman P Uchill fell to the ground, his limbs spread in an odd fashion.
"Idiot!" Lucius turned to Macnair "We will not find a Ministry member again for a long while. You picked one who knew nothing! The Dark Lord will be displeased."
Macnair left the tent, and Lucius began to break the body down into manageable chunks for the soldiers.
Three hundred and sixty six miles away, Harry sat up in bed and put his head in his hands.