Pitch black was all that could be seen, soft chanting could just be made out from the violent rain that could be heard falling to the ground outside. Thunder crashed before lighting lit up the room for a few seconds. A small woman sat in the middle of what looked to be an empty room- that was all that could be seen before it went dark once more. One heartbeat, two - then deafening sound of another thunder was the warning before the room was bright. The rain seemed to create a dreary setting, lines they casted as they raced down the windows almost gave the feel of a jail cell. The room was lit up for longer this time.

Darkness, then with the storm showing its anger, a smoky voice could be heard, in a language that no one had heard. Maybe when Merlin was still walking among the people. Flash. The woman sat in a ritual circle, she moved around and just before the room fell into darkness again, she had cut her hand deeply. Flash of silver, sharp breath breaking the stillness deep crimson flowing almost suspended in the air just as quick darkness ruled again.

Before another thunder could roll across the sky the blood seemed to catch fire. Starting from where the woman's blood had been released. Blue fire raced along the ruby of the blood yet the deep black with a green outline that followed was slow. Morbidly pretty sight for anyone who was watching.

And if anyone was, they would have been calling up a call to arms against this foul dark magic. Even those of dark leanings would pale at the thought of even seeing such a sight. This ritual was deemed to be the darkest of dark magic and was forbidden over a hundred and thirty years prior to this night. The vote had been unanimous.

The black and green fire seemed to flow as slow as the blood, yet all the while the woman's eyes were closed while her red lips curled around each word. Her long wild wavy hair was a liquid cloak of darkness around her as she chanted. Her fingers were stained black, hands tanned but the black vines of stains trailed around before it was gone seemed to be stopped by the leather scrapes wrapped around her wrists.

Tanned arms moved in a pattern, slowly the blood picked up speed as it traveled around the ritual circle.

BOOM

There was a rumble in the house. A bubble flickered around the home bore it, holding strong against the next wave of magic that washed as useless as the rain that pelted the casters.

A lone figure moved around the house, her normally frizzy brown hair was pulled into a tight sleek bun, her wand at the ready as she looked out the window. Fear tightening her chest, she knew what was going to happen and was fine with it. But she was still scared. Closing her dark brown eyes, not at the amount of people trying to break through the oldest wards known, but at who was yelling at the head.

Red hair almost brown from the rain plastering it to his head. She knew that he was not really in his right mind. She watched as they rained spells down, looking at all the clouded eyes of friends who did not know, or if they did were horrified by their actions. Shivering at the thought of being the last line of defense. She knew she would hold for a few minutes but thought having to do so and being capable.

An unnatural swell of magic came from above her before hooking onto her core. Her heart twisted painfully for a different reason; she gripped her wand tightly she could feel her nails cutting into her palm. Her eyes didn't stray as the tears she tried to keep at bay slowly made their way down her face. Showing her fear for everyone, and no one.

Watching the hundreds of lights fall on the wards of the home of his best friends, he fought as hard as he could against the compulsions, but their hooks were too deep. Turning away from the scene he cried; in his mind he cried hard at what was happening. Years of work, tears, blood, fights then make-up cakes, plans, everyone they lost. All of that was in vain, because they had a Peter. Everyone knew, but the vows would kill them if they told anyone, what was happening in that house. They knew and hoped it worked, praying in their minds as they had no control of their actions.

Slowly the woman's eyes opened, silver eyes shining in the flickering black and green fire. The ritual had started. She stood slowly, feeling lightheaded, she pulled out a potion downing it before making her way around. Never closing her wound she was allowing the blood to flow around.

Blood falling from the wound would be pulled from the air into the fire. With every drop the fire grew. Never once did the woman stop chanting. Her eyes had slowly gone back to their normal green. She was sure with every step she made. Every chant. Every sacrifice. Everything. Even if it did not work, she knew she tried.

Feeling her magic build along the edges of the circle, waiting to be released. Soon she stops standing in the center of the deathly hallows symbol. Death's Shade stood in the corner watching. He could not interfere. He could advise his Master all he wanted and how ever but help he could not.

The woman stopped her chanting, holding a breath waiting for the sign.

With a wind from the unknown the black fire wavered, fighting the wind. A few tense moments the black flame all at once turned blood red. Relief filled her. No matter what happened it worked. Once she died, the last sacrifice would complete it. And everything they all had worked for would not be for not.

"Thank Mor -"

CRASH BOOM ROAR SCREAMING

"NOOO-"