We lost the war.

We lost out world… to them. To their tyranny.

And we were thrown away. Our leaders dead or in Azkaban. Powerless. The rest of us were locked away in our homes. One foot out of line and we'd keep the dementors company too.

The world was burning. Everything was lost now.

But we still met in secret. We still talked in hushed whispers. In the darkest corners in Knockturn Alley. Their control was in Diagon, after all.

We exchanged news.

"Did you hear about the new law the Ministry is pushing through?"

"Yes, I have. Isn't it simply horrifying?"

"I know, I know…"

We dreamed of truths which would never read reality.

"If he only hadn't died. The world could've been a far better place. Not like this… mess. Because that's what it is. A mess. Where's the control? The proper leadership in Britain?"

"I wonder how it would've been. If we had won? He would've made this world so much better."

"He really is gone…"

"I'm afraid that the whispers of his survival has been the frail dreams of the weak."

We tried to keep our spirits up.

"We're still here, at least."

"Yes, of course. I don't know what I would've done without you here. I can't imagine you being with them in such a dreadful place as Azkaban."

"Me neither."

"Let's pray we'll have each other forever."

And we fought. In the shadows, where no one could see us. We tried. Small steps. Small, small steps.

"I talked to Elisabeth, she knows someone who's up in the Auror department. And apparently, he's not completely on their side."

"Oh? Tell me more about this man, please."

"He is really…"

And one day, an opening came.

"We got a chance!" She came running in through the front door, breathing hard, so unlike her usual composed self.

My head whipped up on its own accord. "What?" Fell out of me. 'A chance? For what? How big? What was the risks?' I wanted to ask, but I knew she would eventually come to it.

"The minister. He's doing a tour for the next election. And do you know who he chose as his personal guard?"

"Enlighten me."

"Our man."

In a room filled with a thousand discarded plans, we sketched up another one. A new conviction. A new hope. 'This could work, this plan, it could work! Finally!'

We discussed. Our voices low, but excited and so full of this energy our usual hopeless days had previously sucked out of us.

"He'll have guards there too! We can't choose that route. We can't afford to loose."

"There won't be any big obvious holes in this plan. He's the Minister, after all. We'll have to take a risk, whether we'll choose this or that plan."

"But…"

And one day. The day came.

We went and watched the speech. I would sneak off around the middle. Then it would happen. We would make everything as it should be. All the waiting. All the pretending to be resigned and accepting of the new regime… everything was for this one moment.

We would win. We would get our victory. As it should've been. As we deserved.

A spell fired off.

My heart beat faster than it ever had beat.

"Look out!"

Voices shouted all around me as the explosions went off.

"Get out of the way!"

"My son? Where's my son!?"

"Help!"

"Where are the aurors?!"

"Help me! Help me!"

I wasn't used to this. The war was too long ago. The chaos. The panic. What was I doing again? I felt bodies push against me. Blood stained the ground. What was the plan again?

Next stage…

"Oh."

Stage 8: Get out of there. Fast.

I didn't even get the time to scream, as I saw the explosion went off in front of me.

Closer and closer. As if I could see every single particle of dust rolling up.

"Cissa!" A familiar voice shouted far away. I didn't hear it.

Closer… closer...

Green eyes fell onto my form as it hit me. Minister of Magic, Harry Potter, looked just as surprised to see Narcissa Malfoy getting blown to pieces in front of him.