Can I Come In?
1 Part Three
Professor Aconite walked briskly into the library. It was a large wing, and she privately wondered occasionally at how students could possibly find everything they needed to find. Of course, she'd always managed back when she was a student at Hogwarts, but she couldn't remember how she had located set books. You certainly didn't try to talk to the librarian, which was what she was about to do.
Madam Pince looked remarkably like a member of the undead. Her skin was tight on her bones, and she had a sharp look about her, unhindered by her 'advanced' years. Meeting Pince again for the first time in about three or four years was an unnerving experience. She had to restrain many of her instincts that she had gained as an Augor, and a-
'Yes?' said Madam Pince sharply and coldly. Her voice put Professor Aconite- Melissa rather - in mind of a scalpel.
'I wanted to know if a certain book had arrived. Some…beneficiaries sent me an owl post last week, they said they'd be sending it along. It's called 'Nosferatu Maleficius Thaumum.'
Madam Pince narrowed her eyes. 'I remember you…you were always getting involved in fights, and you were always late returning books. Lost Gryffindor quite a lot of points I recall.'
Great, thought Melissa, just what I need. Stupid prune getting upset just because I made myself noticed. Bitch.
Melissa steeled her voice, and leaned forward. 'Just tell me if the book is here. Of course, if you want to dwell on my violent behaviour…that can be arranged.' She smiled nastily. She was damned if she was going to let Snape get the monopoly on menacing behaviour.
Pince looked unimpressed, in the time honoured traditions of elderly librarians everywhere, but she rifled through a set of library records. 'Ah,' she said finally, 'it came in yesterday. Senders were virtually anonymous, just called themselves Grigori.'
Grigori. Angels also known as Watchers. How terribly amusing. Maybe I should follow suit with the one in the U.S. and go independent. Then I might not have to put up with the incredible sense of 'humour.'
Melissa kept her face devoid of emotion however. 'Thank you.' She said, 'I'd like to come back next week and have a look at it when I have time. I'll be teaching my class on vampires, and that has some of the best information upon them. It was written by one you know.' With that she walked out of the library, almost marching.
'Fine.' Muttered Pince, 'Just so long as you bring it back on time.' She returned to sipping a cup of tea.
***
The Divination class for third year Slytherins and Hufflepuffs was proceeding much like any other Divination class. That is to say, having got past the initial terror of Madame Trelawney's incessant predictions of death (this year the unlucky victim was a Slytherin named Marie Neardrop who had become rather insular since she had taken up the class), the class had quickly realised that a little bluffing would go a long way. Those who were quicker on the uptake became Trelawney's favourites, earning them the ire of the one or two students who actual possessed some skill to See omens and the like.
Following Dumbledore's announcement at the end of last year, regarding Cedric Diggory and the return of the Dark Lord, most students were cynically using this as fodder for predictions. If Trelawney thought anything odd of the seeming expectation of the entire class to die at the hands of Voldemort, she did not mention this.
Today they were looking into crystal balls. Apart from one or two crude comments made by boys in the class, the lesson was proceeding quietly. The silence was broken only by the soft sound of Trelawney's robes and skirt dragging along the floor as she glided by the pouffes her students sat upon (a Slytherin who had whispered a comment about this rather too loudly had lost his house 10 points the previous lesson. Not that that prevented the matter from becoming a running joke).
Trelawney paused by Marie Neardrop, who trembled slightly, and steeled herself against what Trelawney would no doubt predict for her. Trelawney bent over, bringing her eyes as close as possible to the crystal ball. She made a soft humming sound, as though musing over a difficult problem. Marie gritted her teeth, as Madame Trelawney opened her mouth to speak.
'Hmmm…It appears that you will experience a great deal of good fortune this evening.' Trelawney looked slightly puzzled, or dazed. The rest of the class looked puzzled too, not only was Trelawney making a happy prediction, but she had also started smiling widely, and was humming happily. She didn't seem to mind when they stopped working and talked loudly instead.
As the class left, on Hufflepuff, named James Vurtis mused aloud, 'Perhaps I shouldn't have put so many of those herbs in her tea just before she arrived…'
Another Hufflepuff looked at James with horror on her face. 'You took herbs from the Herbology lesson to use on the teacher?'
James, who had grown up in Manchester, paused and said 'Err…herbs from Herbology. Err…yes, that's right.' He went rather quiet after that.
Unlike Madame Trelawney. They could hear her laughing from two corridors away.
***
Professor McGonagall took a deep breath. She was sitting behind her desk, in an empty room. She was draining the last of her coffee, and checking the last of her notes for this lesson. She let out the breath, and adapted an authoritative posture, smiled in approval at herself, and let the children into the classroom. They filed quietly to their seats, anxious not to draw her ire. Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. Should be relatively no trouble, she thought. Even if Harry Potter was in this class, there was hopefully little chance for the fifth years to become embroiled in an adventure during the actual lesson. She crossed her fingers.
Today she was taking a slightly different direction with Transfiguration. She and Professor Flitwick were both teaching different aspects of enchantment of magical items. She dealt with the acquisition and selection of materials, and their preparation.
She proceeded with the lesson.
'Now, we dealt with the various materials commonly used across the board in magical items. Who can name one?'
Minerva McGonagall was not remotely surprised to find Hermione's hand among the first to reach for attention. Still, this was an easy question, and other students could do with the attention.
'You, Miss Abbott, please tell me.'
'Unicorn hair, dragon heart strings, and phoenix-'
'I only asked for one, but very well done,' the girl flushed with pride, 'and five points to Hufflepuff.'
Professor McGonagall, having hopefully jogged their memory regarding the basics, decided it was time to engage their interest. A small anecdote then.
'There are records,' Minerva began, 'of a remote civilisation that preceded the Mayans in South America. On one day, towards the end of their empire, a strange rock crashed near a village, a meteorite. They used the metal parts to construct a sceptre of authority, thinking that it would give the wielder a commanding presence, and the ability to heal whomsoever he touched.'
There was a pause amongst the class. 'Did it?', Hermione finally asked, breaking the silence.
'No.' said the professor. 'It blew up an area of land sufficient to destroy the capital city, ten small villages, and a large portion of rainforest.' Professor McGonagall paused for effect. 'Let that be a lesson,' she continued, 'if ever you wish to use an exotic material in the creation of an item, be very sure you know what magical properties it contains.'
***
After lunch, the school remained assembled in the dining hall, as the tables and chairs faded into the floor. They were being given the first of a series of duelling lessons, in an attempt to calm down those who were spreading rumours regarding Albus Filch's disappearance. Half a day having gone by without anyone seeing him had made it conclusive that this was more than him skulking off into a dark corner for a few hours.
Murmurs were passing back and forth, pondering who would be teaching duelling. Lockhart had attempted a lesson about three years ago, and those who had been at the school at the time remembered precisely how useless he was. Currently the debate favoured McGonagall, Snape, or perhaps Dumbledore himself. Although she was the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Aconite was ruled out at an early stage, seeming rather to shy to teach the school as a whole.
So it was quite surprising when she walked out, slightly abashed looking admittedly, and greeted the school nervously. More surprisingly, she wasn't wearing teaching robes. She appeared to be wearing loose jeans, a casual t shirt, and boots that made the observer think the words 'steel' and 'toe-caps'. She was also carrying a large backpack.
'Ah. Hello!' she called out to the mass of children. 'I'm going to be teaching you duelling and self-defence. I'm going to be taking a slightly different method than other teachers – I'll be teaching you magical and non- magical tactics.' Having said that, she opened up her backpack. The students of Hogwarts gasped as she removed an impressive array of daggers, axes, swords, and even a heavy crossbow. However, she left these on the floor, and instead held aloft her wand.
'First things first. Magical combat tends to be quite fast. If one curse hits you, and it's the killing curse, then you're dead. Don't want to scare you, but that's how it is. So, what I'm going to teach you is some combat, some deflective, and some shielding spells. Almost all of them are going to be flashy. This makes sense in duelling, it can often distract your opponent if done well.'
She made a complex gesture in the air with her wand, and mist seeped from the tip, and encircled her. Soon she could not be seen at all. The mist covered the entire raised area where the teachers eat during meal times, and there was no way of knowing where Professor Aconite was standing. The students looked suitably impressed, and Hermione was trying to commit to memory the gesture that Professor Aconite had used.
The students were even more impressed when Professor Aconite soared out of the mist about three feet to the left of where she had stood. Even more impressed were they when it quickly became obvious that she had not used magic to achieve such a high leap. She landed deftly amid the students, and performed a quick double somersault that carried her a further five feet from where she had arrived.
'The second lesson. Never be afraid to abandon magical combat for physical. Most wizards and witches will find it difficult to curse you if you whack them between the eyes with a big lump of wood.' Aconite wasn't remotely out of breath.
'Third lesson. Don't be afraid to fight dirty. Your foes will use any means to bring you down, the trick is to be intelligent about it. A Death Eater once nearly performed the killing curse upon me. What saved me was that he felt over-confident with my wand being in his hand. At that point I kicked him in the crown jewels' (at this point every male in the room winced, except those who were unaware of the meaning of the euphemism 'crown jewels.') 'this had the desired effect of distracting him. He's on holiday in Azkaban now.' Aconite smiled lightly.
The class shivered slightly. There were few in the school who had not felt the terror of the Dementors two years previously, and Azkaban was not joked about. [Harry Potter had once asked Aconite out of curiosity what she saw when the Dementors were near her. She had replied 'just another pasty thing that needs kicking.']
Aconite handed out large wooden poles to the students. 'Pair up' she said, 'we're going to practice physical combat. This will put you one up on most Death Eaters in certain situations.'
Harry, Ron, and Hermione wondered if Aconite had any particular reason for pairing Draco Malfoy up against a six foot Hufflepuff, who was known for disliking Slytherins even more than most people. They dismissed this as coincidence. They were too busy focusing on the rather large lump of wood that had been given to him.
Draco had noticed this too, and complained loudly about the size of his pole to professor Aconite, and no doubt was about to start threatening her with his father, when Aconite made a rather scathing comment back. Harry couldn't quite hear what she said, but he thought he could hear 'Freud' in there somewhere.
***
High up in the tower where Divination was taught, Madame Trelawney was still laughing. James Vurtis might have rethought his practical joke if he had known that Madame Trelawney owned a magical teacup that could refill its contents indefinitely.
***
Meanwhile, Drusilla was the only vampire still awake in the broom cupboard. She was admiring a present Spike had given her just an hour before. It was a pretty silver hand, made in exquisite detail. The only aspect that might have marred it to a human observer was the dried blood that coated the part that might have been connected to a wrist.
***
There were not a great many of them, perhaps about ten. But it would be enough. Ten figures, robed in darkest black, wearing fearsome masks, were discussing the plan. That night they would walk the streets of the town they had temporarily located themselves in, and they would create havoc. After all, they had their parts to play too.
***
Dinner that evening in Hogwarts was no more noisy than most other dinners. There were still some rumours circulating about Filch, but these were relatively few. Nothing new had happened since, and so most of the students were merely waiting for the next shocking incident [which could almost be used to set the watch by at Hogwarts]. Dinner came to a close without event, and the pupils filed away to the house dormitories. The sky reflected in the ceiling of the dining room was dark and forbidding.
***
The dark figures were walking down the streets of the town. It was very, very dark, the street lights failing to do little than provide an orange sheen to the objects in the dark. They walked in an arrow formation, walking confidently through the night. The leader stopped walking, apparently satisfied that this was the correct place. The others stopped, and did not question.
The leader looked both left and right, and settled his gaze finally on one of the houses on the right. It was a pretty house, a decent example of a nice suburban area. The figure raised his arm, and pointed a slender length of wood at the house.
'Infernus Malefus!' he said. The house immediately erupted into a blazing fire, as if suddenly a gas leak within had ignited once it had filled the house from roof to foundation. Sudden warmth and light washed over the robed figures, and across the street.
A man came running out of his house, from the left side of the street, still in his pyjamas, through his front garden, and looked over his gate. A panicked expression was plastered to his face, which was mingled with a little anger as he saw the group of people dressed in flowing black robes who watched the fire impassively.
'What the hell do you think you're doing?' he shouted, correctly assuming that they had started the fire. However, it was rather unfortunate for him that he had attracted their attention.
The leader of the group gestured a lazy command to the figure behind him standing just to his left. The lesser Death Eater span around sharply, aimed its own wand at the man, and shouted.
'Avada Kedavra!' came the cry.
There was a rushing sound, as of air coming to fill a vacuum, the street was awash in green light, that allowed the robed figures to observe every detail around them, and the man was thrown backwards several feet.
The robed figures then began to spread out into the night. They had to do a lot more than this to fulfil their purpose.
***
The broom cupboard's door creaked open. Not slowly, but with some speed. Tim left first, followed by Drusilla and Petunia. Spike left the cupboard last, having shoved the dead bodies of Albus Filch and Wormtail up against the wall. The face of Filch looked more or less unemotional – his death had caught him by surprise, leaving him with a neck that twisted at a hideous angle. Wormtail's face, however, was twisted with pain and fear. His neck was covered with bite marks.
Spike locked the broom cupboard behind him, although he didn't really care if anyone found the bodies at this point. He walked over to one of the suits of armour that seemed to litter the damn castle. He gave it an appraising look, and then took the long sword that it held. He grinned widely, and looked at the other vampires.
'Show time,' he said.
1 Part Three
Professor Aconite walked briskly into the library. It was a large wing, and she privately wondered occasionally at how students could possibly find everything they needed to find. Of course, she'd always managed back when she was a student at Hogwarts, but she couldn't remember how she had located set books. You certainly didn't try to talk to the librarian, which was what she was about to do.
Madam Pince looked remarkably like a member of the undead. Her skin was tight on her bones, and she had a sharp look about her, unhindered by her 'advanced' years. Meeting Pince again for the first time in about three or four years was an unnerving experience. She had to restrain many of her instincts that she had gained as an Augor, and a-
'Yes?' said Madam Pince sharply and coldly. Her voice put Professor Aconite- Melissa rather - in mind of a scalpel.
'I wanted to know if a certain book had arrived. Some…beneficiaries sent me an owl post last week, they said they'd be sending it along. It's called 'Nosferatu Maleficius Thaumum.'
Madam Pince narrowed her eyes. 'I remember you…you were always getting involved in fights, and you were always late returning books. Lost Gryffindor quite a lot of points I recall.'
Great, thought Melissa, just what I need. Stupid prune getting upset just because I made myself noticed. Bitch.
Melissa steeled her voice, and leaned forward. 'Just tell me if the book is here. Of course, if you want to dwell on my violent behaviour…that can be arranged.' She smiled nastily. She was damned if she was going to let Snape get the monopoly on menacing behaviour.
Pince looked unimpressed, in the time honoured traditions of elderly librarians everywhere, but she rifled through a set of library records. 'Ah,' she said finally, 'it came in yesterday. Senders were virtually anonymous, just called themselves Grigori.'
Grigori. Angels also known as Watchers. How terribly amusing. Maybe I should follow suit with the one in the U.S. and go independent. Then I might not have to put up with the incredible sense of 'humour.'
Melissa kept her face devoid of emotion however. 'Thank you.' She said, 'I'd like to come back next week and have a look at it when I have time. I'll be teaching my class on vampires, and that has some of the best information upon them. It was written by one you know.' With that she walked out of the library, almost marching.
'Fine.' Muttered Pince, 'Just so long as you bring it back on time.' She returned to sipping a cup of tea.
***
The Divination class for third year Slytherins and Hufflepuffs was proceeding much like any other Divination class. That is to say, having got past the initial terror of Madame Trelawney's incessant predictions of death (this year the unlucky victim was a Slytherin named Marie Neardrop who had become rather insular since she had taken up the class), the class had quickly realised that a little bluffing would go a long way. Those who were quicker on the uptake became Trelawney's favourites, earning them the ire of the one or two students who actual possessed some skill to See omens and the like.
Following Dumbledore's announcement at the end of last year, regarding Cedric Diggory and the return of the Dark Lord, most students were cynically using this as fodder for predictions. If Trelawney thought anything odd of the seeming expectation of the entire class to die at the hands of Voldemort, she did not mention this.
Today they were looking into crystal balls. Apart from one or two crude comments made by boys in the class, the lesson was proceeding quietly. The silence was broken only by the soft sound of Trelawney's robes and skirt dragging along the floor as she glided by the pouffes her students sat upon (a Slytherin who had whispered a comment about this rather too loudly had lost his house 10 points the previous lesson. Not that that prevented the matter from becoming a running joke).
Trelawney paused by Marie Neardrop, who trembled slightly, and steeled herself against what Trelawney would no doubt predict for her. Trelawney bent over, bringing her eyes as close as possible to the crystal ball. She made a soft humming sound, as though musing over a difficult problem. Marie gritted her teeth, as Madame Trelawney opened her mouth to speak.
'Hmmm…It appears that you will experience a great deal of good fortune this evening.' Trelawney looked slightly puzzled, or dazed. The rest of the class looked puzzled too, not only was Trelawney making a happy prediction, but she had also started smiling widely, and was humming happily. She didn't seem to mind when they stopped working and talked loudly instead.
As the class left, on Hufflepuff, named James Vurtis mused aloud, 'Perhaps I shouldn't have put so many of those herbs in her tea just before she arrived…'
Another Hufflepuff looked at James with horror on her face. 'You took herbs from the Herbology lesson to use on the teacher?'
James, who had grown up in Manchester, paused and said 'Err…herbs from Herbology. Err…yes, that's right.' He went rather quiet after that.
Unlike Madame Trelawney. They could hear her laughing from two corridors away.
***
Professor McGonagall took a deep breath. She was sitting behind her desk, in an empty room. She was draining the last of her coffee, and checking the last of her notes for this lesson. She let out the breath, and adapted an authoritative posture, smiled in approval at herself, and let the children into the classroom. They filed quietly to their seats, anxious not to draw her ire. Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. Should be relatively no trouble, she thought. Even if Harry Potter was in this class, there was hopefully little chance for the fifth years to become embroiled in an adventure during the actual lesson. She crossed her fingers.
Today she was taking a slightly different direction with Transfiguration. She and Professor Flitwick were both teaching different aspects of enchantment of magical items. She dealt with the acquisition and selection of materials, and their preparation.
She proceeded with the lesson.
'Now, we dealt with the various materials commonly used across the board in magical items. Who can name one?'
Minerva McGonagall was not remotely surprised to find Hermione's hand among the first to reach for attention. Still, this was an easy question, and other students could do with the attention.
'You, Miss Abbott, please tell me.'
'Unicorn hair, dragon heart strings, and phoenix-'
'I only asked for one, but very well done,' the girl flushed with pride, 'and five points to Hufflepuff.'
Professor McGonagall, having hopefully jogged their memory regarding the basics, decided it was time to engage their interest. A small anecdote then.
'There are records,' Minerva began, 'of a remote civilisation that preceded the Mayans in South America. On one day, towards the end of their empire, a strange rock crashed near a village, a meteorite. They used the metal parts to construct a sceptre of authority, thinking that it would give the wielder a commanding presence, and the ability to heal whomsoever he touched.'
There was a pause amongst the class. 'Did it?', Hermione finally asked, breaking the silence.
'No.' said the professor. 'It blew up an area of land sufficient to destroy the capital city, ten small villages, and a large portion of rainforest.' Professor McGonagall paused for effect. 'Let that be a lesson,' she continued, 'if ever you wish to use an exotic material in the creation of an item, be very sure you know what magical properties it contains.'
***
After lunch, the school remained assembled in the dining hall, as the tables and chairs faded into the floor. They were being given the first of a series of duelling lessons, in an attempt to calm down those who were spreading rumours regarding Albus Filch's disappearance. Half a day having gone by without anyone seeing him had made it conclusive that this was more than him skulking off into a dark corner for a few hours.
Murmurs were passing back and forth, pondering who would be teaching duelling. Lockhart had attempted a lesson about three years ago, and those who had been at the school at the time remembered precisely how useless he was. Currently the debate favoured McGonagall, Snape, or perhaps Dumbledore himself. Although she was the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Aconite was ruled out at an early stage, seeming rather to shy to teach the school as a whole.
So it was quite surprising when she walked out, slightly abashed looking admittedly, and greeted the school nervously. More surprisingly, she wasn't wearing teaching robes. She appeared to be wearing loose jeans, a casual t shirt, and boots that made the observer think the words 'steel' and 'toe-caps'. She was also carrying a large backpack.
'Ah. Hello!' she called out to the mass of children. 'I'm going to be teaching you duelling and self-defence. I'm going to be taking a slightly different method than other teachers – I'll be teaching you magical and non- magical tactics.' Having said that, she opened up her backpack. The students of Hogwarts gasped as she removed an impressive array of daggers, axes, swords, and even a heavy crossbow. However, she left these on the floor, and instead held aloft her wand.
'First things first. Magical combat tends to be quite fast. If one curse hits you, and it's the killing curse, then you're dead. Don't want to scare you, but that's how it is. So, what I'm going to teach you is some combat, some deflective, and some shielding spells. Almost all of them are going to be flashy. This makes sense in duelling, it can often distract your opponent if done well.'
She made a complex gesture in the air with her wand, and mist seeped from the tip, and encircled her. Soon she could not be seen at all. The mist covered the entire raised area where the teachers eat during meal times, and there was no way of knowing where Professor Aconite was standing. The students looked suitably impressed, and Hermione was trying to commit to memory the gesture that Professor Aconite had used.
The students were even more impressed when Professor Aconite soared out of the mist about three feet to the left of where she had stood. Even more impressed were they when it quickly became obvious that she had not used magic to achieve such a high leap. She landed deftly amid the students, and performed a quick double somersault that carried her a further five feet from where she had arrived.
'The second lesson. Never be afraid to abandon magical combat for physical. Most wizards and witches will find it difficult to curse you if you whack them between the eyes with a big lump of wood.' Aconite wasn't remotely out of breath.
'Third lesson. Don't be afraid to fight dirty. Your foes will use any means to bring you down, the trick is to be intelligent about it. A Death Eater once nearly performed the killing curse upon me. What saved me was that he felt over-confident with my wand being in his hand. At that point I kicked him in the crown jewels' (at this point every male in the room winced, except those who were unaware of the meaning of the euphemism 'crown jewels.') 'this had the desired effect of distracting him. He's on holiday in Azkaban now.' Aconite smiled lightly.
The class shivered slightly. There were few in the school who had not felt the terror of the Dementors two years previously, and Azkaban was not joked about. [Harry Potter had once asked Aconite out of curiosity what she saw when the Dementors were near her. She had replied 'just another pasty thing that needs kicking.']
Aconite handed out large wooden poles to the students. 'Pair up' she said, 'we're going to practice physical combat. This will put you one up on most Death Eaters in certain situations.'
Harry, Ron, and Hermione wondered if Aconite had any particular reason for pairing Draco Malfoy up against a six foot Hufflepuff, who was known for disliking Slytherins even more than most people. They dismissed this as coincidence. They were too busy focusing on the rather large lump of wood that had been given to him.
Draco had noticed this too, and complained loudly about the size of his pole to professor Aconite, and no doubt was about to start threatening her with his father, when Aconite made a rather scathing comment back. Harry couldn't quite hear what she said, but he thought he could hear 'Freud' in there somewhere.
***
High up in the tower where Divination was taught, Madame Trelawney was still laughing. James Vurtis might have rethought his practical joke if he had known that Madame Trelawney owned a magical teacup that could refill its contents indefinitely.
***
Meanwhile, Drusilla was the only vampire still awake in the broom cupboard. She was admiring a present Spike had given her just an hour before. It was a pretty silver hand, made in exquisite detail. The only aspect that might have marred it to a human observer was the dried blood that coated the part that might have been connected to a wrist.
***
There were not a great many of them, perhaps about ten. But it would be enough. Ten figures, robed in darkest black, wearing fearsome masks, were discussing the plan. That night they would walk the streets of the town they had temporarily located themselves in, and they would create havoc. After all, they had their parts to play too.
***
Dinner that evening in Hogwarts was no more noisy than most other dinners. There were still some rumours circulating about Filch, but these were relatively few. Nothing new had happened since, and so most of the students were merely waiting for the next shocking incident [which could almost be used to set the watch by at Hogwarts]. Dinner came to a close without event, and the pupils filed away to the house dormitories. The sky reflected in the ceiling of the dining room was dark and forbidding.
***
The dark figures were walking down the streets of the town. It was very, very dark, the street lights failing to do little than provide an orange sheen to the objects in the dark. They walked in an arrow formation, walking confidently through the night. The leader stopped walking, apparently satisfied that this was the correct place. The others stopped, and did not question.
The leader looked both left and right, and settled his gaze finally on one of the houses on the right. It was a pretty house, a decent example of a nice suburban area. The figure raised his arm, and pointed a slender length of wood at the house.
'Infernus Malefus!' he said. The house immediately erupted into a blazing fire, as if suddenly a gas leak within had ignited once it had filled the house from roof to foundation. Sudden warmth and light washed over the robed figures, and across the street.
A man came running out of his house, from the left side of the street, still in his pyjamas, through his front garden, and looked over his gate. A panicked expression was plastered to his face, which was mingled with a little anger as he saw the group of people dressed in flowing black robes who watched the fire impassively.
'What the hell do you think you're doing?' he shouted, correctly assuming that they had started the fire. However, it was rather unfortunate for him that he had attracted their attention.
The leader of the group gestured a lazy command to the figure behind him standing just to his left. The lesser Death Eater span around sharply, aimed its own wand at the man, and shouted.
'Avada Kedavra!' came the cry.
There was a rushing sound, as of air coming to fill a vacuum, the street was awash in green light, that allowed the robed figures to observe every detail around them, and the man was thrown backwards several feet.
The robed figures then began to spread out into the night. They had to do a lot more than this to fulfil their purpose.
***
The broom cupboard's door creaked open. Not slowly, but with some speed. Tim left first, followed by Drusilla and Petunia. Spike left the cupboard last, having shoved the dead bodies of Albus Filch and Wormtail up against the wall. The face of Filch looked more or less unemotional – his death had caught him by surprise, leaving him with a neck that twisted at a hideous angle. Wormtail's face, however, was twisted with pain and fear. His neck was covered with bite marks.
Spike locked the broom cupboard behind him, although he didn't really care if anyone found the bodies at this point. He walked over to one of the suits of armour that seemed to litter the damn castle. He gave it an appraising look, and then took the long sword that it held. He grinned widely, and looked at the other vampires.
'Show time,' he said.