The Girl Who Saw Tomorrow III » Harry Potter

3.8 | The Darkness's Shadow

Hundreds of feet underground, a long deserted corridor stretched out endlessly, mahogany doors lining its white walls. The thick purple carpets muffled any footsteps, as a shadow shifted forward in the darkness.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Not a soul seemed to be hovering around the place. When suddenly, a scream echoed down the corridor - the most blood-curdling sound of unbearable pain.

A singular source of bright light seeped out from under the closed door on which a gold nameplate read: "Rufus Scrimgeour - Minister of Magic."

A closed fist rapped twice on the door.

The screaming stopped. Inside, there was murmuring. Then silence.

A split second later, the door burst open to reveal three raised wands, the faces of their owners twisted menacingly. Yaxley and Travers - the two silver-masked Death Eaters - stepped carefully out into the darkened hallway.

Behind them were John Dawlish and Pius Thicknesse - the Auror and the Head of Magical Law Enforcement who were both under the Imperius Curse. Dawlish was stood by the elegant desk in the middle of the circular room, whilst Thicknesse was stood with his wand pointed at a bloodied and curled figure on the floor.

"Who's there?" demands Yaxley.

A beat.

A loud slam echoed around the corridor as the door closed behind them.

"Avada Kedavra!" exclaims Travers at a shifting movement.

"YOU FOOL!" shouts Yaxley, shaking in a mixture of rage and fear. "Could've hit me!"

Then there was darkness within the darkness, prowling the carpets and up the walls like a silent, smokey tsunami. Without a single sound, it engulfed them. Before they could even notice it, their wands flew out of their hands, clattering somewhere on the floor with muffled thuds; at the same time, two purple spells passed through their chests.

Yaxley let out a yelp, trying to suck in a breath, and grasping at his throat when he could not. Next to him, Travers fell back against the wall, gasping.

Inside the half-destroyed office, Dawlish was hurrying toward the closed door.

"Yaxley! What the hell-?"

He came to a standstill, lowering his wand as his eyes swam with red.

Pius Thicknesse, the most alert of them all, saw something shift out of his peripheral. A spell left his wand before he had even fully turned but it aimlessly hit a terrified-looking portrait of an old man, who ran out of the frame in the nick of time.

"What the hell are you lot doing?!" Thicknesse demanded of Dawlish, who did not respond. "Dawlish! Snap out of it!"

"He won't listen to you," a voice whispers at his shoulder.

Thicknesse spun around, wand raised, but there was no one there. Still, he shot hexes that ricocheted off the walls and destroyed more of the office.

"You're a curious one," she said casually.

He turned around once more, spinning in circles, looking left and right in panic, and barely avoiding hitting Dawlish with a curse that he fired blindly. Dawlish did not flinch, he seemed to be asleep while standing quite still.

"I'm not afraid of you!" barks Thicknesse. "Homenum Revelio!"

There was nobody there except him, Scrimgeour and Dawlish. If only he knew how easy it was to teleport in and out of places unnoticed.

The lights overhead flickered, distracting him for a split second in which Thicknesse lost his train of thought, lowering his wand. But he shook his head rapidly and held it up once more, his hand trembling ever so slightly. On shaky legs, he strode behind the desk again, pulling a half-conscious Scrimgeour up by his collar and jabbing his wand to his temple.