The centaur looked to the sky, his heart falling as he read the stars. They'd shifted minutely over the past few days and now it foretold a new future. A new, dark, future.

Dean Thomas had put up a fight.

He'd cursed and he'd jinxed, disarmed and shielded, ran and hid but eventually the Death Eaters overpowered him. He watched the wand fly from his hand into theirs - a masked and cloaked figure with no name - and then he'd watched his wand be snapped into two pieces.

Then he'd been tortured.

The Cruciatus curse had been fun to begin with, his vocal cords really appreciated the intense screaming session that he went through; eventually his bowels and bladder gave out and it just wasn't as interesting anymore. Then they moved onto some simple spells. The Diffindo wasn't as enjoyable as the torture curse but it gave the Death Eater a good kick as he watched the muggleborn bleed over the dusty castle floor.

Fire was next, then water, then the Cruciatus curse again.

Dean could sense his captor's interest dwindling and without a wand, without anybody to help him, and with a huge amount of pain on his body, he had nowhere to go and no way to fight.

He welcomed the Avada Kedavra and he prayed for muggleborns around the world. He prayed for his friends. He prayed for his family.

Dennis,

We're sorry, Dennis, but Colin was murdered at the Battle of Hogwarts. We tried to protect him as much as we could, but he managed to slip away from the younger students and right into the battle. He helped other students, helped heal with Madam Pomfrey, but he wasn't able to make it out of the fight.

Neither was Harry.

Dennis, the wizarding world is lost, for now. Voldemort has won. You need to take your parents and leave, hide, live as best as you can. It's what Colin would've wanted and it's what you need to do. Don't go avenging him.

Run.

Dennis Creevey glared at the parchment that had been delivered by a stray owl, the words blurring behind tears. How could he run? How could he hide? Even though the battle was over, there was still a war going on. He could help!

"He's dead," he mumbled, watching his parents' faces crumble. "He fought bravely, but it wasn't enough."

"Does that mean He's won?" Dennis nodded as an answer to his father's question. "Then we should leave, get as far away as we can and hide. We need to remember Colin."

"We need to avenge Colin," Dennis snarled, his happy and cute persona gone with his brother. "He needs to be avenged."

"Not now, Dennis," his mother soothed, walking closer to him so she could stroke his hair. "An eye for an eye only ends up making the whole world blind. Don't be like them."

Dennis ignored her.

SHADOW KILLER STRIKES AGAIN

Over the past few months, many families have been murdered in the safety of their own homes. There have been a total of eleven attacks so far around the country, all with the same M.O. No locks are broken, no security systems affected and yet these cold blooded killers are able to gain entry to homes.

Another family was targeted yesterday, and like every other family, an eleven year old child was murdered brutally alongside their parents. A criminal psychologist has spoken with the police and us and have told us: "These killers are full of hatred more for the children than the parents due to the level of violence that goes into their deaths. Maybe they lost a child and can't help but take others or maybe they went through a traumatic experience at a young age. With the minimal amount of evidence we've got, we can only tell the hatred is for the children."

The family are as of yet unnamed, but will be announced later in the week.

Let us all pray that these murderers are caught soon, and pray for the lives lost.

Julia and Paul Creevey stared down at the simple gravestones, their hands clutching each other tightly as they cried.

Colin Creevey

1981 - 1998

Dennis Creevey

1983 - 2001

May they rest happily as brothers reunited once again.

Justin Finch-Fletchley tried not to look paranoid and twitchy as he made his way down the path to his bins. He was just a simple muggle, going about his simple life with no magic in his blood at all.

"Oi!" a voice shouted, startling him. He reached for the wand that rested on his hip, before remembering that he was a muggle. Muggles weren't going to have wands on their hips. Stupid. Stupid! And now he had to stifle an embarrassed blush so as to not draw any attention. Stupid!

"Yeah?" he answered, turning to face the newcomer. "Jake? You gave me a fright."

"Sorry Harry," he shrugged. "You were off into another world again, your mind buzzing with so many thoughts that I could hear it from across the road."

Justin rolled his eyes.

"What did you want? I have things to do."

"Sheesh, I forget you're always such a hermit. Why are we friends again?"

"Beats me," he chuckled. "But seriously, I left the oven on so if you could get to the point…"

"Of course. Just wanted to see if you were coming to the pub to watch the soccer tonight? Or football, as you'd call it."

"Yeah, I'll meet you down there," Justin replied, beginning the short walk back up the path to his house. "Eight sound good?" Jake nodded and Justin smiled before shutting the door of his home and his face wiping blank.

Five years since Harry's death and Voldemort had won and he was still as jumpy as he was after the first month. If anyone could see him now, he'd be labelled a coward. But he'd already given himself that label.

The least he could do is live on in Harry's memory, even if it was just an alias for a kid who ran to America.

"Hello, poppet," the voice hissed in her ear, startling Hermione Granger. "How are you today?"

She didn't answer him, instead choosing to carry on looking down at the floor of her cell and admiring her dirty feet as they swayed above the ground. The clink of chains alerted her to her release and she barely had enough time to prepare herself before she fell to the floor.

"I do enjoy seeing you at my feet," Tom Riddle Jr laughed. He kicked her in the side until her arms and legs gave out and she was sprawled flat. "It gives me such pleasure."

"Why?" she asked, her voice croaky from screaming and a lack of talking. "Why am I still alive?"

"Because you're a trophy." He smirked at her. "Harry Potter died twenty years ago today. You're the last living mudblood." He crouched down to be closer to her level, even if a god like him shouldn't lower himself to be in a similar position to such filth. "My men are skilled and have hunted down every last coward from around the world, and every single day, you filthy beings begin to dwindle in numbers. Purebloods are reigning supreme."

"And eventually, you'll all interbreed so much that you literally can't have children and when you do, they'll be squibs or mutant children. Doesn't that make you so happy?"

His smile turned cold.

"I made you make a horcrux, Hermione Granger. For as long as I live, you will too. The permanent trophy to show the world. Aren't you glad to be a mudblood?"

WC: 1,277

Task: What happened to muggleborns?

Prompts used: blush (word), An eye for an eye only ends up making the whole world blind. (quote), Centaur (creature)