Chapter 11
"The Setting of the Sun"
The auroras and the few Order of the Phoenix members left, taking with them the dead and the few prisoners. It had been many hours since their departure. A few death eaters who were away had returned, finding the place in ruins: blood splattered here and there: the smell of death lingering there. A feeling of absolute dread reeked havoc upon everyone. The river below sang a sad story.
The Dark Lord returned with Wormtail to the castle. He saw that a battle had taken place there. He was met by a few of his followers.
"Where's Katrina?" he asked.
They all coward at his question. The Dark Lord's eyes burned red, red like the glow of the setting sun. His followers rammed themselves against the old oak doors of the old chapel. The Dark Lord pushed them aside, but was pulled back by Lucius Malfoy.
"My lord, don't go in there," he said.
The Dark Lord loosened himself from Malfoy's grip.
"Don't order me around!" he hissed.
The doors opened slowly, menacingly, creaking like the moaning of the dead. The old chapel was illuminate by thousands of tall, white candles. The old chapel walls, tan and cracking, looked almost golden despite their age. The floor was old and dusty. A single window allowed only a partial shimmer of the light of the moon to seep through. Just ahead, on the altar, on a table, someone rested. The Dark Lord took in a deep breath and preceded forward, a weight of dread hanging on his shoulders.
The altar table was old ebony wood. It was covered in many silky white sheets. An angel, eyes closed, lips lush, cheeks flushed, hair spread about her on a soft silk pillow that ended in soft curls, seemed to be as if asleep.
"No!" the Dark Lord cried, tears stinging his eyes.
Katrina seemed as if asleep, to wake up any second now. She wore her wedding gown, the dress, a strapless white beauty with a flowering bottom and little pearls decorated that showed up here and there. Her hands were crossed across her stomach, her wedding ring reflecting the many lights of the candles. Her skin was pale. A small stream of blood had trickled from a spot from her head. Her lips, though pink, had a faint, pale blue touch. The Dark Lord took her hand, cold as ice, in his. He kissed the lush lips, so cold against his own cold lips.
"Stay away!" he yelled as a hand touched his shoulder.
He could feel Malfoy's presence.
"How did this happen?" asked the Dark Lord.
"Several auroras and other people burst in. They captured many of our own. I was on my way to the castle when I saw Katrina standing on the balcony. I could see a man with dark hair and glasses coming toward her. I saw her fall into the river below. I retrieved her body and brought her back here." said Malfoy. "I found this on the balcony."
The Dark Lord spun around. Malfoy handed him a photo. The photo was a wizard photo. A man with untidy black hair, blue eyes, and glasses. A woman with long auburn hair and green eyes held a tiny baby with the woman's eyes but the man's hair.
"Potter," the Dark Lord growled. "Now I have not only a burden to carry out against his son, but his entire family."
Anger, grief, and the taste for revenge consumed him at that moment. His eyes went from emerald to raging red, turning into slits like that of a snake. His face began to convulse, changing into the features of a snake.
Dumbledore motioned for James to sit down. James looked at the concern gaze that Dumbledore shot him.
"James, I have had just been informed that you are now the prime target of the Dark Lord," said Dumbledore.
James shifted uncomfortably.
"Why me?" asked James.
"You were the only person he feels responsible for his love's death," replied Dumbledore.
"You don't mean the woman that leaped to her own death?" asked James.
Dumbledore nodded. James grew pale, his dark hair standing out quiet well.
"He'll only come after me, not Lilly, not Harry?" asked James.
Dumbledore's eyes starred back, absolute unknowing staring back.
"It is time I tell you of the prophecy," said Dumbledore. "The prophecy about your son, Harry."
James's face grew even paler as Dumbledore recited the prophecy to him.
"Why are you so sure that it is Harry, not any other child?" asked James.
"Because," said Dumbledore, "you were chosen to defeat the Dark Lady, to send her to her death. That very mark you were born with, yes the tiny three stars on your left foot, signify that you were chosen. The stars were right at your very birth."
James nodded, not really taking in anything.
"What must I do?" he asked.
"You must take your family and hide," said Dumbledore. "You must choose someone you trust the most, someone you know will never break your trust, to be your Secret Keeper, but don't tell me!"
James thought for a long time.
"Peter Pettigrew," James thought.
Dumbledore nodded.
"I'll send for him right away."
"The Setting of the Sun"
The auroras and the few Order of the Phoenix members left, taking with them the dead and the few prisoners. It had been many hours since their departure. A few death eaters who were away had returned, finding the place in ruins: blood splattered here and there: the smell of death lingering there. A feeling of absolute dread reeked havoc upon everyone. The river below sang a sad story.
The Dark Lord returned with Wormtail to the castle. He saw that a battle had taken place there. He was met by a few of his followers.
"Where's Katrina?" he asked.
They all coward at his question. The Dark Lord's eyes burned red, red like the glow of the setting sun. His followers rammed themselves against the old oak doors of the old chapel. The Dark Lord pushed them aside, but was pulled back by Lucius Malfoy.
"My lord, don't go in there," he said.
The Dark Lord loosened himself from Malfoy's grip.
"Don't order me around!" he hissed.
The doors opened slowly, menacingly, creaking like the moaning of the dead. The old chapel was illuminate by thousands of tall, white candles. The old chapel walls, tan and cracking, looked almost golden despite their age. The floor was old and dusty. A single window allowed only a partial shimmer of the light of the moon to seep through. Just ahead, on the altar, on a table, someone rested. The Dark Lord took in a deep breath and preceded forward, a weight of dread hanging on his shoulders.
The altar table was old ebony wood. It was covered in many silky white sheets. An angel, eyes closed, lips lush, cheeks flushed, hair spread about her on a soft silk pillow that ended in soft curls, seemed to be as if asleep.
"No!" the Dark Lord cried, tears stinging his eyes.
Katrina seemed as if asleep, to wake up any second now. She wore her wedding gown, the dress, a strapless white beauty with a flowering bottom and little pearls decorated that showed up here and there. Her hands were crossed across her stomach, her wedding ring reflecting the many lights of the candles. Her skin was pale. A small stream of blood had trickled from a spot from her head. Her lips, though pink, had a faint, pale blue touch. The Dark Lord took her hand, cold as ice, in his. He kissed the lush lips, so cold against his own cold lips.
"Stay away!" he yelled as a hand touched his shoulder.
He could feel Malfoy's presence.
"How did this happen?" asked the Dark Lord.
"Several auroras and other people burst in. They captured many of our own. I was on my way to the castle when I saw Katrina standing on the balcony. I could see a man with dark hair and glasses coming toward her. I saw her fall into the river below. I retrieved her body and brought her back here." said Malfoy. "I found this on the balcony."
The Dark Lord spun around. Malfoy handed him a photo. The photo was a wizard photo. A man with untidy black hair, blue eyes, and glasses. A woman with long auburn hair and green eyes held a tiny baby with the woman's eyes but the man's hair.
"Potter," the Dark Lord growled. "Now I have not only a burden to carry out against his son, but his entire family."
Anger, grief, and the taste for revenge consumed him at that moment. His eyes went from emerald to raging red, turning into slits like that of a snake. His face began to convulse, changing into the features of a snake.
Dumbledore motioned for James to sit down. James looked at the concern gaze that Dumbledore shot him.
"James, I have had just been informed that you are now the prime target of the Dark Lord," said Dumbledore.
James shifted uncomfortably.
"Why me?" asked James.
"You were the only person he feels responsible for his love's death," replied Dumbledore.
"You don't mean the woman that leaped to her own death?" asked James.
Dumbledore nodded. James grew pale, his dark hair standing out quiet well.
"He'll only come after me, not Lilly, not Harry?" asked James.
Dumbledore's eyes starred back, absolute unknowing staring back.
"It is time I tell you of the prophecy," said Dumbledore. "The prophecy about your son, Harry."
James's face grew even paler as Dumbledore recited the prophecy to him.
"Why are you so sure that it is Harry, not any other child?" asked James.
"Because," said Dumbledore, "you were chosen to defeat the Dark Lady, to send her to her death. That very mark you were born with, yes the tiny three stars on your left foot, signify that you were chosen. The stars were right at your very birth."
James nodded, not really taking in anything.
"What must I do?" he asked.
"You must take your family and hide," said Dumbledore. "You must choose someone you trust the most, someone you know will never break your trust, to be your Secret Keeper, but don't tell me!"
James thought for a long time.
"Peter Pettigrew," James thought.
Dumbledore nodded.
"I'll send for him right away."