Yellow Badger [3]// Harry Potter // Draco Malfoy

Mr. Weasley

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Mr. Weasley

Orbs surrounded me on all sides, shelves of them all different sizes, shapes, and patterns that swirled inside, the blue glow bright enough to fill the room. I ran a hand on the metal shelves brushing the dust from the tags, in cursive P was written in faded ink.
Confused I looked around staying in the spot, nothing was out of place since the last time I was here.
Footsteps echoed behind me as I snapped my gaze to the darkness in front of me and I waiting, I wouldn't be seen so there is no point hiding. Mr. Weasley came through the darkness with his wand raised to eye level a simple Lumos charm glowing on the end creating a light bubble.
"No." I whispered as the man passed by me.
Following him I stayed behind at least three steps, my eyes darting between the shelves to see something, anything.

Then he fell to the floor onto his knees holding his neck, blood dripping from the fang wound. Five more bites appeared on his skin as he a large snake positioned to attack but a hissing language stopped it before it attacked again.
"Crucio!"
The spell hit the elder wizard and I doubled over in pain at the same time, my head vibrating, and I couldn't focus. All I saw was the Wearhouse, my parents, and the pain the ripped through me once. It was like a parallel version. I didn't want to watch; I didn't want this to happen.
Closing my eyes, I listened to his screams as he yelled out spells in every direction but not one hit. Only when the shooting stopped, I opened my eyes again.
Mr. Weasley was face down on the ground, not moving with his back rising and falling in sharp quick breathes like he couldn't breathe. Kneeling by him, I lent my ear down as his mouth moved.
"Charles, William, Percy, Fred, George, Ronald, Ginevra." He spoke quietly," Molly, I'm sorry."

Tears fell down my face as I watched him die. As he took one sharp breath, his back stopped rising and he stopped whispering his family's names over and over. He's dead.
I curled up in a ball by the shelf, moving backward till my back hit something as large sobs racked my body.
I didn't warn Lisa about not going to the library that day, I wouldn't make the same mistake.

Quidditch practice has never been so therapeutic in my life. Every time I bashed the Quaffle into the hoops it was as if it was one of my many worries in the face.
"Good curveball Cellie!" Roger yelled on my flyby.

Bouncing the Quaffle like piggy-in-the-middle with Uriah, my concentration dropped as a Quaffle barrelled into me at fifty-five miles per hour. I screamed as I clung to my broom as I crocodile rolled to the left to get out of the way. As I regained control of my broom, I glared up at Mason who looked smug at his hit, curling my hand into a cylinder shape I moved my wrist from side to side.
"Wanker!" I yelled up.
Mason glanced down, shrugging as he held his arms up as if to say he did nothing wrong. He has done plenty wrong, he was working with my team on the attack, Jack was working on defence with the reserve team, Mason isn't supposed to shoot at me.
Uriah glanced at me from across the pitch but I shook my head, Mason was an asshole

On the benches, the members of the DA from Ravenclaw sat huddled together perfecting the wand movements to spells before the fourth meeting on the thirtieth. Hadleigh was with Isabelle their movements mimicking shielding and blocking, the two of them balancing on the bleachers. By studying near the pitch, made it near impossible for Umbridge to find out because she was too busy controlling the main building to pay attention to what is happening down here.

"Come on!" Roger yelled from his broom, hitting his hand on the clipboard, pulling me out of my head," We play Hufflepuff in three weeks!"
From above, Cho didn't look happy to play against Hufflepuff again, before Cho and Cedric use to make it a flirty game during the match – I think that's how their relationship started originally.
The reserve team we were playing against, we're making drastic improvements as they started to observe our tactics, allowing Roger to make changes so our plays were less predictable. Hufflepuff might not catch on to the repetitive nature, but Slytherin would, in the first five seconds, and we would lose. By changing the repetitiveness, not one team going against us would be able to predict our next move.