Chapter 5
No light could be seen inside the smoke filled layer. Only wizards seemed to come and go, no muggles, just wizards. A lone man grieving in the corner eyed the large group that entered, two brunets and five red heads. He detested red heads. Most of them were too kind and generous, everything he was not. Their hearts were pure as his shriveled even more every time it beat.
Then, he noticed another brown haired woman who casually marched up to the counter beside the younger brown haired boy. Even though she may have looked familiar, he knew that he had never seen her before. She was too pure also. Her stance and posture was perfect in every way. Her robes wrapped gracefully around her body as she shifted her weight. And her eyes were that of an angel's. Realizing that he had been staring the entire time, he shook his head as if that would bring sense to him.
If his master knew what he had been doing for the past three days, he would have for sure seen a great green light before death brought him down. He had been sent on a mission to capture a boy called Ronald Weasley. The Dark Lord told him that he would recognize him by his flaming red hair, as he stood, second shortest, in a group filled with red heads. Supposedly, they were to come to Diagon Alley *sometime* this week. Three days had already past and no sign of any large flock of red headed wizards.
Wait a second… Was that just?… Did they just?… Were they just?… Now their… gone? Where did they go? "How bloody stupid can one get? They were right in front of my face and I just couldn't stop staring and finish my job, but *no*... I just had to look at the pretty girl and mess..."
As he mumbled to himself, a man across from him watched the odd sight of a wizard beating himself up. A smile played across his lips as he saw the mark of Voldemort on his forearm. I don't think you will get what you want here, my friend. The old wizard thought with his gray eyes smiling down upon the man.
Feeling that the woman's radiation had deceased, he laid his hand over the front of his cloak, and lifted himself off the chair to advance to the stairs. Searching the corridor, he found it was safe to put a protection spell against the dark arts over the room in which his company slept. While mumbling the incantation, he swept his hand over the door causing a swishing sound from his robes.
Satisfied with himself, the old wizard turned and floated to his room longing for a soft bed with many covers to sleep upon. In his happiness for a good night's rest, he did not notice the man in the shadows.
Waiting for his chance, he slipped into moonlight and came to a stop in front of the nearest door. I do not need any magic to open this door, old man. Your doings have done nothing and will not save your friends. A key appeared in his hand and as he plugged the hole and turned the key round, the hinges released and the room welcomed the stranger into its lair.