𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒

Chapter 18

"Now? Where?" Edward tore his eyes away from the Mark in the sky, frantic.

"I must go," Snape said, a flourish of his cape indicating his imminent departure as he turned on his heel. The breeze from the movement snapped Edward to attention. If tonight was the night, Draco was most certainly in danger, and there was no way he was staying idly behind to let something terrible happen.

"I'm coming with you."

The wizard frowned, his black eyes narrowing. "Very well. I don't have time to argue. But you must do as I say. Speak to no one, and stay out of sight if you can help it."

It seemed an easy enough promise to make in the heat of the moment. Edward nodded, trying to control the urge to take off at a run and leave Snape behind. His feet kicked at the dirt and a growl forced its way out of his throat.

"Hold onto my robe," Snape instructed. Edward did as was commanded, a thrill of excitement briefly overriding his panic. They were going to apparate. He grabbed the material again, tendrils of magic tickling lightly at his skin before he felt his body compressing, his vision going black, as a force a hundred times stronger than the grip of the strongest vampire sucked the breath right out of him. As quickly as the constriction had begun, he was released with a pop, finding himself sprawled on the ground outside Hogwarts. He stood, regaining his bearings with a curt nod to Snape, who seemed to be restraining himself from making a wry comment.

Edward chanced a glance upward, noting that here the Dark Mark was even more sinister than it had appeared from the forest. There it had been partially obscured by trees, but here it had the clarity and form of a live thing. From the distance came unmistakable shouts and screams.

"They're here," Snape said. "Quickly."

Edward's single-minded focus as he followed Snape's lead was more acute than he'd ever felt hunting. His ears were tuned to tiniest sounds, his eyes scanning restlessly as they moved through unfamiliar, darkened corridors.

"This way," Snape said, leading him up a steep stairwell that smelled faintly of mold and wet granite. It rose and twisted, taking them closer to sounds which, Edward feared, could only mean battle. Though Snape's mind was currently closed to him, the thoughts of other people began filtering in the closer they rose—a cacophony of frightened students; worried professors; and, most terrifyingly, the cool and murderous thoughts of the Death Eaters.

"Severus!" shouted a dwarf-like man with a distinguished moustache as they emerged into a broad hallway. He held his wand extended—it was easily as long as his arm—as he glanced from side to side, nervous. According to his thoughts, a battle had broken out on the upper floors and he'd been charged with corralling the students, mostly to no avail. A couple of his charges fled down the hall, distracting him for a moment.

"Back to your houses!" he called after them. Edward knew from hearing the students' thoughts that they hadn't heeded. They were heading to battle.

"Flitwick," Snape said. "What's happened?"

"I was coming to find you," the little man said. "The astronomy tower is blocked off—the Death Eaters are here. And Dumbledore. The Malfoy boy . . ."

He's one of them.

The ominous tenor of the thought startled Edward, and he made an inadvertent sound—something between a moan and a growl. Flitwick's thick brows traveled up his forehead, eyes widening in recognition.

A vampire?

Snape raised his hand to stall the oncoming question. Just then, more students racing through the corridor sidetracked Flitwick. "Back to your houses!"