Night had already fallen when Edmund Anderson finally made it to the street on which he lived.
It had been a long day for Edmund. These days, it wasn't surprising to have a bad day, not with times being how they were but even by Edmund's low standard, this day had, as the Muggles called it, 'taken the cake.'
First, he had been held up when he had realized he had forgotten to grab his token to enter the Ministry, then managed to get out at the wrong level, suffered through a unpleasant brush with the Minister himself, and then, when he finally managed to get to the right level, had been sent to deal with a rouge Hippogriff that had somehow managed to find its way into a small Muggle town. It had taken him and a team of Obliviators most of the day to clear up that mess, and when he had gotten back, he had been forced to stay late, the higher-ups having demanded he write up a full report before he could leave.
So he knew he could have been forgiven for rushing home. His wife would be expecting him, and it was likely that his son's next letter had finally gotten through the stringent defensive measures Hogwarts now employed. His wife would have finished work long before he had, and in his absence, would have already made dinner. She was worried about him, Edmund knew, worried that the Ministry would have him dragged away.
But he knew that she could wait five more minutes. Five more minutes of waiting wouldn't kill her.
Edmund had, since early August, gotten in the habit of casting protective charms over a different house in his neighborhood every day. He knew that it wasn't much, that five minutes of charms would not keep out Death Eaters if they wanted to get in and kill one of the poor Muggles, but it was something, and every little bit helped. More importantly, it was the right thing to do, and Edmund knew that the doing the right thing was even more vital than ever during these dark days.
Edmund had already decided to do the Williams' household tonight. They had a son about his own son's age, and he knew that they were good people. They didn't exactly trust him (they had seen him in robes too many times, and from what Edmund had gathered, thought that he was a little cracked in the head) but that wouldn't cause a problem; they would never see him, and even on the off chance they did, they wouldn't know he was casting a spell on them.
Edmund took a moment to get his bearings; the mist the Dementors were causing had made him get turned around more than once. He finally took off down a side street, hoping more than knowing that it was the fastest way to the Williams' house.
The street was dark and narrow, but that didn't bother Edmund overly. He had been scared of the dark as a child, but there were far worse things out there than the dark now. The street—really more an alley—was covered with garbage and dirt, but Edmund barely noticed as the lower fringe of his robe dragged through it. He let his feet move automatically as he let his tired mind wander. It went over his day, then to his wife and son, and over to a joke he had heard in the lift that day. He had just remembered the punch line to it, and was muttering it under his breath in an effort to remind himself to tell his wife later that evening when he first caught sight of the Williams' house.
He immediately knew something was wrong. The front lawn had giant gouges put into it, and the front door was hanging off one hinge, waving at him. Edmund looked up at the sky, fearing the worst, but there was no Dark Mark set in the sky yet; the Williams were still alive.
Edmund noticed all this with a disconnected mind, a skill he had learned from watching many a scene of creatures and the carnage they had caused. Edmund took a deep breath, watching the busted door and thinking quickly.
There wasn't enough time to get any help, even if there had been some to find. The Williams would be dead long before they came back. If Edmund did anything but rush into the house, the Williams were dead.
Edmund was moving toward the front door before his mind caught up with his feet. He was scared, yes, but he had long ago figured out that the true measure of courage was overcoming fear. Only the scared man could be brave, while the fearless man could never be brave, because what was there for him for his bravery to overcome?
Edmund entered through the front door, mind still moving rapidly. Death Eaters always worked in groups, and Edmund was an honest enough man to know that he was never much of a dueler. If it came to a fight, Edmund wouldn't live to see end of it.
Edmund moved through the silent house, looking for its occupants. The whole place was ruined, furniture destroyed and pictures flung over the floor, spreading glass shards everywhere. There was even some kind of odd Muggle device that was half destroyed, but there was no sign of the Williams. Edmund knew that they would have them all together, and that meant an open space, but his mind was still elsewhere. He could see his death coming for him, surer than a song. Edmund didn't think he could avoid it, had known long ago that if he saw Death Eaters doing something like this, he would have to stop it.
The backyard, Edmund decided. That was the most likely place for the Death Eaters to have their victims. His pulse quickened as he moved toward the door, his mind still trying to gather his thoughts. Edmund could already feel regret, regret that his last words to his son had been advice, regret that his wife wouldn't see him again. He had expected more, but he found that those two were the only two that mattered at the end. Edmund nodded to himself, satisfied, the satisfaction of a man who has tried his life in his mind one last time, and found it worthy. Those things were worth regretting, and Edmund was glad that there was nothing else. With those only those two regrets, he could to die.
Edmund shouldered open the door to the back yard. His mind, finally having prepared itself, focused fully on the task at hand, ready for anything to come now.
The grass grew green, lively and bright under the nearly-full moon, the color broken by the white fence that had been built around it. There were scattered objects lying around the yard, but only three that mattered.
The Williams were lying next to each other, trembling as they tried to understand what was happening. Edmund could see three Death Eaters standing over them, wand pointed at their prey. They were laughing quietly to themselves, enjoying the sight of the Muggles writhing in fear.
"Let them go," Edmund said clearly, his own wand coming up to rest on the back of the biggest Death Eater. "I won't ask again."
The three Death Eaters turned as one, regarding this newcomer with a cool indifference. Edmund saw that they didn't even bother to wear masks anymore. The middle one, a man with a pale, twisted face grinned nastily at him, a predatory gleam coming into his eye. However, his companion, a man with a brutal-looking face, was the one who spoke.
"You can't stop us," he said, eyes flicking down to look at the wand in Edmund's slightly shaky hand. Edmund fumbled with his name for a second before remembering it was Yaxley; he was one of the Death Eaters working at the Ministry. "I've seen you before. You're a half-blood." He hesitated, before adding halfheartedly "We're running low on proper wizards at the moment, so I'll give you one chance to leave."
"I'm not leaving until the Williams are safe," Edmund said firmly. He knew he was as good as spelling out his death sentence, but it didn't matter. What was one life compared to three?
"These Mudbloods?" Yaxley asked incredulously, not even looking at them as he spoke. The Williams had watched this exchange, scared silent by things that they had never thought possible. The son, a bright lad maybe a year younger then Edmund's boy, was already gathering up his parents and making them crawl toward the gate in the fence.
"They're people," Edmund said. "They're as human as me, and rather more human than you."
"They're filth," rebuked the brutal faced man, glaring at Edmund. The Williams were making good time; they were already half way to the fence. "They're nothing but dirt to be swept away."
"That's not true, and if you spent five minutes talking to them, you would know it too," Edmund said. "They're not always good people, but then, neither are we."
"You dare compare us to them? These things that grub around in the dirt, that can't even do anything for themselves!" Yaxley's eyes widened, seemingly truly outraged, as if the very thought was inconceivable to him.
"Just think about it for once," Edmund urged. He knew it was futile, but he had to try. "They've built cities that are a thousand times bigger than wizards have ever made, and they've made things that should have been impossible."
The Williams boy had unlatched the gate and was ushering his parents through. He was looking at Edmund, and though it could have been Edmund's imagination, he thought the boy understood what Edmund was giving up for him.
"Disgusting half-blood," Yaxley hissed, hands clenching white around his wand. "The filth in your veins is too much for even decent wizarding blood to overcome."
The Williams boy looked back at Edmund one last time, and then followed his parents through. It swung shut slowly, closing with a small click that Edmund knew spelt his death.
Yaxley whirled around at the noise. It only took him a moment to realize what had happened. Snarling, he turned back to face Edmund, wand coming up. Edmund readied his own wand, his heart working overtime, determined to get in as many beats as possible before it stopped.
"You," Yaxley growled, brutal-face scrunched up in rage.
"If we run after them we can still kill them before they hide," spat the Death Eater with a twisted face.
"You're not going to chase after them," Edmund said, locking the gate with a flick of his wand. It wouldn't stop them, or even slow them down, but it made sure the Death Eaters knew they would have to kill him first.
"Three against one?" Yaxley laughed. "You won't last a minute."
"I don't have to last a minute, just long enough for the Williams to get far enough away to lose you," Edmund swallowed a lump in his throat. He thought of his wife's face one last time, the feeling of her hand in his.
Yaxley's mocking smile faded, as he stared at Edmund curiously. The other two Death Eaters pointed their wands at Edmund too. Edmund forced himself to smile. He was going to do the right thing, and he hoped his son would be able to see that someday.
The four Wizards stared at each other for another moment, in this strange atmosphere of Muggle objects that none of them belonged in.
One of them twitched, a small motion that in ordinarily would have gone unnoticed. Edmund sent a jinx toward him, and that set the others off.
The fight was short. Edmund had to keep all three of them busy, or else risk one of them running after the Williams. He was no match for the three well practiced Death Eaters, and it took only half a minute before the Death Eater with a the twisted face hit him with a curse that made his legs go numb. Yaxley sent a different curse that dislocated his left shoulder. Edmund stumbled to the ground, legs giving out completely.
He tried to get up, ignoring the amused looks the Death Eaters exchanged. It took him almost ten precious seconds before he was able stand up. It took three seconds for the Death Eaters to knock him back down, one leg mangled so badly that he would have been left with a limp for the rest of his life.
Edmund Anderson had just enough time to hope that he had done enough before a jet of green light stuck in the face, ending his hopes once and for all.
A/N: Yes, it was a little generic, but in my defense, it's just sort of how the story came out. I'll change it up next time.
Thanks for reading, and may your travels be ever safe.
