The Light

Chapter 57- The Fallen

As if in slow motion, the green light spiralled from the tip of his wand, snaking through the air, crawling towards its victim. There was a flash of brilliant light and the crowd seemed to freeze, anticipation making their bodies go frigid. Hermione felt herself falter and she wanted to run, screaming, but she couldn't do that. She couldn't leave. She couldn't leave Avery.

She could only watch.

The curse made contact with her chest first- a perfect shot. Her eyes grew wide and her lips clutched desperately for a final breath, until her heart stopped beating in her chest. The woman fell to the floor, dead; her last plea was fading away on her cold face.

Avery stood before her, wand outstretched, panting. His face was slick with sweat and there was blood dribbling through his once pristine white shirt. He looked like he might faint, but his extended arm was steady.

Slowly, he turned to face Voldemort, who was staring at him. A cruel, twisted smirk played at His thin lips as Avery lugged himself forward. The crowd parted to let him through.

He came to a stop in front of Voldemort, eyes black and stoic and bowed his head. "My Lord."

Voldemort watched him, something glittering in the red of His eyes. He said, "Rise, my boy. Look at your new master." Avery complied. Voldemort grabbed his chin between His spidery fingers and rotated his head for them all to see. He raised His voice, projecting it for all to hear. "Allow them to look upon the new face of a Death Eater!"

And the people there exploded in cheer. They yelled and waved and jeered and laughed and Hermione felt sick. They were mad.

Voldemort let go of Avery's chin, and said, "You've made your Father very proud."

He left then, striding away. The walls seemed to move to allow Him access, as He reclaimed His spot in the centre of the room. Avery simply continued to stare ahead of him, and Hermione reached out and hooked her fingers through his. He didn't hold her hand back, but he didn't move away either. It seemed the formalities were over, for the vultures lining the shadows swept into action, resuming the amicable party life they had mimicked earlier. Many came over to congratulate Avery, but he bore them no heed. Lucius was by his side in an instant.

Malfoy lifted his hand up to touch his friend but hesitated, eyes wide and concerned. Instead, he let his arm drop back down to his side. Swallowing, he said in a low voice, "Maybe you should go."

Avery didn't even raise his eyes. "Maybe."

Lucius made a sound of indignation, looking behind him before he leaned closer. "Okay. I'll rephrase that. You're leaving. Now."

And he grabbed hold of his friend's shoulders, dragging him away (Hermione's fingers slipped from between his). She had to jog to keep up with them, weaving in and out of people, careful not to trip over men's canes and ladies' dresses, praying she wouldn't be tainted by their purity. She slipped the diary into her bag and tried to focus on keeping her eyes on Avery.

He was deathly pale, and she dared not admit it but it frightened her. He still hadn't really reacted, and his face was a clean slate. There was something different to his expression now than his usual cool one though; it looked like his muscles were slack, and his eyes were downcast. There was no air of arrogance or uncaring. There was nothing at all. This was it. He was defeated.

The entryway they had stood in when they'd first arrived was blissfully empty, and the quiet seemed to press down on them. Hermione could finally breathe and she gasped on it, inhaling like she had just been suffocated.