Anna Whitmore pulled back her sheets, and turned her fan on to medium. She fluffed her pillows, and moved some stuffed animals onto the floor. She turned on the radio, making sure her mother wasn't able to hear it in the other room.
She found her pajamas in the top drawer, and put them on the bed. Stripping off her plaid skirt and Ralph Lauren blouse, she mouthed the words to her favorite song. The pajamas she put on around her ten-year-old body, fit loosely.
Anna climbed into the bed, her weight manipulating the mattress so that it curved around her thin body. Using a remote, she turned off her radio, and leaning over to the side table, she turned off her light.
Anna's breathing slowed, and became peaceful. Her body became heavier, and her body curled into a fetus position. After only a few minutes, the little girl fell into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.
^*^*^
Amy Whitmore woke up, yawned, stretched, and kissed her still-sleeping husband's cheek. She got out of bed, though reluctantly, and shuffled to her daughter Anna's room. She knocked three times, and said, "Anna? Anna, time to get up sweetie."
She went downstairs, and turned on the television. She made sure it wasn't too loud: her daughter Madison had no reason to wake up too early. After finding out what the headlines were for the day, she went into the kitchen, and began making the traditional eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee; the coffee being for herself.
The absence of the soft music coming from Anna's room made Amy stop. She listened for footsteps, and ended up muting the television. She realized that she never heard the shower turn on, or a groan from the little girl when she knocked on the door.
Frightened, she ran up the stairs, and burst into Anna's room. When the body in the bed gave no reaction to the open door, Amy ran to her husband.
Amy could barley speak to Tom, who was too sleepy to even recall what his wife was trying to say. But when he heard, "Anna" and, "no reaction", he jumped out of bed and ran to his little girl's room.
He nudged his little girl's arm, and felt for a pulse. He then dialed the police.
Amy fell, crying hysterically.
^*^*^
He smiled to himself, adding another name to the list. Annabel Whitmore. He nodded to the person at his side, who walked away, trembling as he did so. He looked back at the list of names, knowing that the list was not complete. He had one more name to add…one more name to make his work all worth the effort.
He remembered that Lucius had wanted a copy of the list of names. For what, he did not know. He knew that he would have to find out what Lucius planned to do with it, before just handing it over. For all he knew, Lucius would give it to the fool Dumbledore….
"Master?"
His thoughts were interrupted by a young Death Eater. He couldn't place the man's name with the fresh, teenage face. With the bright, blue eyes that sparkled under the dim candle light and soft, blond hair that was cut short to show off his face, no one would ever look at him and think of him as along the side of Voldemort.
He hesitated, trying to remember the man's name.
"Jacob," the man answered. "My name is Jacob, sir."
He frowned. "Yes. Yes, I knew that Jacob. What…what is it?"
"Sir," Jacob began, "Lucius Malfoy has sent me to retrieve the list of names. The 'Victims List', as he is calling it."
He nodded. "Yes, yes all right." He held out the long piece of parchment to the man. "Give this to Lucius. And tell him…tell him to come see me as soon as he is able."
Jacob nodded, and bowed. "Of course, sir." He took the long list, and bowed once more before turning on one heel, and walking away from the thin, gray man.
Jacob took a look at the long list. He felt strong by what he saw. More then seven hundred names, mostly under the age of thirty, all on the list of the victims. Victims of the twisted games Voldemort and his men played every day to regular people who didn't know that the end was coming.
It was Jacob's idea to kill the little Anna. He had seen her around, she was always curious about wizards and witches. She was even a little witch herself, though she had no idea. She was only She was a worthless Mudblood, and Jacob new he had to do something about her.
Jacob was only twenty years of age. He grew up learning about how evil all Muggles were, how awful and insignificant Mudbloods were. His parents were Death Eaters, and they were currently spending time in Azkaban. He never was able to visit them, but he didn't really mind. As long as he was with his master, he was happy.
He finally came to a door, which led to Lucius Malfoy's separate study. Because of Malfoy's perfect record of never failing a mission, their master had offered him a room in the cavern to work alone, and plan even better plots.
Jacob knocked on the mahogany door, and a rough, sore voice answered, "Yes?"
"Sir, I have the list," Jacob answered.
The door swung open, and a tired, sullen Lucius could be seen. "You got it?"
Jacob nodded. "Yes, sir."
A fowl sneer appeared on Lucius' face. He grabbed it from Jacob, and stared at it. "Perfect," he whispered, staring at the long parchment. "Did he ask why I wanted it?"
"No," Jacob answered. "But he did want to see you as soon as you were available."
Lucius cursed under his breath. He looked at Jacob, back down at the parchment, then sighed. "Thank you, Jacob. You may leave."