Diaries of the First Wizarding War

A Flash of Green Light

His head was dipped and his tread was slow. He trudged down a corridor of the Ministry of Magic, a purpose keeping his gaze sharp and alert, a scared frown on his middle-aged face. He had just been to his office in the department of Magical Law Enforcement, emptying it, and giving in a resignation. His was the only safe department in the whole ministry, although not officially, because of Bartemius Crouch. Thrusting the letter in Crouch's assistant's hand, he turned and was out on his way. 

Today was going to be the day. He had told his family to be ready for when he would return. He was ok to live a refugee somewhere he was not known, rather than in fear for his loved ones at home, in terror. He had already taken his twin daughters and his son out of Hogwarts, much to Dumbledore's disapproval. He had given this too much thought now. He would take his family and flee the country. He could go anywhere, somewhere safe, away from here.  

The moment he was out of the Ministry, he almost began running. Pulling his coat up to his cheeks, he hurried to the spot where Crouch had declared it safe to Apparate, so as not to be pulled of course. It was a few metres away from the building, which he had never minded, except of course, today. His home and his family in his mind, he prayed and turned on the spot the moment he was at it.

He always landed in the backyard whenever he apparated home. Today, he stumbled. Catching himself and dusting off his robe, he went to the front of his house and looked around for any signs of damage from anything. 'Oh Great Merlin! Thank you.' He said to himself. Good. They would just be off soon without making a fuss, and no one would notice. Ready to call everyone to leave, he looked up and called out to his son, who he knew would take the longest to be ready. Except the word never left his throat. 

The blazing skull was right there, emitting its deadly green light all over the neighbourhood, the snake inside its mouth spitting a macabre warning directly at him. Suddenly terrified of his own house, he opened the door with trembling hands. The place was a mess; furniture lying upturned and destroyed, debris and all signs of a struggle clearly visible. Very afraid, he called for his wife, then children. No one answered. 

There was some movement at the far end of the room. He started towards it, but he was too slow. The last thing this man ever saw, was the writhing, realistic snake on the arm of his killer and a long flash of blinding green light, that never shut off.