Hogwarts is caught in a fog of despair, and it's now up to the children to save the world from the wrath of the Dark Lord. Ruby is primed and ready to fight for the home she's grown to love, but at what cost does that come when she's pitted against...
It seemed as though a cold spell of gloom followed Ruby wherever she went. She felt cold all the time, and the paranoia of someone's eyes on her left her on high alert at all times. Sleep barely came, and when it did come, Ruby welcomed it as a temporary relief. But it didn't last long.
Tonight, she found herself walking through the cold streets of Little Whinging. Every household was without lights, and it was eerily quiet. It reminded her of her own hometown, small, foggy, gloomy, and depressing. Tucked under her arm was a copy of the Daily Prophet, reeling with the latest press conference from the Ministry of Magic, promising the wizarding world that no harm shall come to them.
As if, Ruby thought.
Earlier today, she had packed what little belongings she had and left the group home, merely more for their own protection. She wiped their memories; every single girl, boy, every caretaker within the home would forget who she was, forget that she even existed. She had been miserable there, but she had read the paper. The violence from the terror was spreading out from the wizarding world and onto the muggles; they were in just as much danger from the Dark Lord as the wizards were.
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It was for their own safety that she'd leave.
The ruby pendant still hung from her neck, hiding just beneath her shirt. She hadn't taken it off since that night, and she wasn't about to. It was the only thing that kept her hanging on. Biscuit hadn't returned yet, she just hoped that the damned cat hadn't been killed off... or worse; distracted by a mouse or bird.
Where was Draco? Did he get her letter?
---
Draco sat at a long dinner table, seated between his parents, and surrounded by a swarm of Death Eaters. Hanging above them was a woman, frozen in motion, with her long stringy hair just barely catching the flame of the wax candles. Sitting at the head of the table was the Dark Lord himself, everybody keeping silence and bowing to his wonder.
Snape then entered, stopping short when he saw the levitating woman in the air. He didn't say anything, but Draco could read his thoughts.
How repulsive.
"Severus!" Voldemort turned to him, a near smile on his pale face, "I was beginning to worry you'd lost your way... Come, we have saved you a seat," Snape's boots clunked loudly against the aging hardwood as he took a seat at the table.
"You bring news, I trust?" he asked.
"It will happen next Saturday. At nightfall," Snape reported.
"I've heard differently, my lord," another Death Eater said, "Dawlish, the auror has let slip that the Potter boy will not be moved until the 30th of this month. The day before he turns 17,"
"This is a false trail," Snape's voice boomed, "The auror office no longer plays any part in the protection of Harry Potter. Those closest to him think that we have infiltrated the Ministry,"
"Well, they got that right, don't they?" another one said, raising a brash of laughter through the hall.
Draco wasn't laughing.
"What say you, Pius?" the Lord asked. A scrawnier man with a sharp-tipped beard sat at the opposite head of the table, while Nagini, the monstrous snake, stared up at him with hungry eyes.
"One hears many things my lord. But whether the truth is among them, is not clear," he replied.
"Spoken like a true politician," he chuckled, "You will I think, prove most useful, Pius," Pius just gave a weak grin in return.
"Where will he be taken, the boy?" Voldemort asked Snape.
"To a safe house. Most likely the home of someone in the Order. I'm told its been given protection of every manner possible," he replied, "Once there it will be impractical to attack him,"
Bellatrix then cleared her throat, "My Lord, I would like to volunteer myself for this task," she said, "I want to kill the boy," her voice came out in a soothing seduction one would truly mistake for pure evil.
They suddenly heard a wailing moan from down the hall, and Voldemort glared at his stout servant, "Wormtail!" he snapped, "Have I not spoken to you about keeping our guest quiet?"
"Yes, my Lord," he replied, "Right away, my Lord," he then ran off.
"As inspiring as I find your bloodlust, Bellatrix... I must be the one to kill Harry Potter," he continued, "But I face an unfortunate complication. My wand and the Potters share the same core. They are, someways, twins. We can wound but not fatally harm one another. If I am to kill him... must do it with another's wand,"
He started to circle down the table; his followers could feel his harrowing gaze boring into the back of their heads. He then stopped behind Lucius Malfoy.
"What about you, Lucius?" Lucius was almost taken aback by his request.
"My Lord?" he looked up at him with slight confusion.
"My Lord?" he mocked him, "I require your wand," he put his bony grey hand out in front of him. Lucius reluctantly pulled his wand out of its sheath, then handed it to Voldemort with shaky hands.
"Do I detect... elm?" he asked.
"Yes, my Lord," he replied. He took a look at the wand, then he snapped it in two, making Lucius flinch.
"And the core?"
"... Dragon heartstring, my Lord,"
"Dragon heartstring?" he gave the two pieces a final bitter look before he threw them down on the table. He then took his own wand and pulled the floating woman over the table, closer to his end.
"To those of you who don't know... we are joined here tonight by Miss Charity Burbage," he said, "who until recently taught at Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry. Her speciality was muggle studies," that brought a rouse of chuckles from the table, "It is Miss Burbage's belief that Muggles are not so different than us She would -- given her way -- have us mate with them,"
Some of them groaned in disgust, while others laughed at the incredulousness of that thought, "To her, the mixture of magical and Muggle blood is not an abomination... but something, to be encouraged,"
She gasped lightly, trying to get a hold of her own heart before it gave out on her. Her dear, whimpering, hurting eyes landed on Snape, "Severus, Severus please!" she whispered pleadingly, "We're friends,"
Voldemort sneered in disdain, then he raised his wand, and with a single flick of his wrist, he killed her dead. She flopped down onto the table, her cold, pale face looking straight at Draco. A single tear drop rolled down the side of her cheek.
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He was terrified, he didn't belong here.
The snake nudged his master's hand, who happily led him up onto the table and pointed to the corpse, "Nagini. Dinner is served,"
The slimy creature slithered across the smooth wooden table, hungry eyes transfixed upon the flesh and blood that seeped from her wounds. He then opened his mouth, and he dove right in.
