Romance in the Wizarding World (A Harry Potter One-Shot Collection)

The Luck of the Irish (Seamus Finnigan #1)

**This was one of my very first HP one-shots I had written over one summer. I'm glad to say I wrote it. :)**

The Luck of the Irish

            We Death Eaters moved as one black sea across the viaduct, following the Dark Lord’s lead. Harry Potter had just surrendered to us, and the Dark Lord had defeated him easily. Potter had been pathetic; he hadn’t put up a fight at all. With the victory won, we figured it was time to show all the Hogwartians that their great hero had fallen.  

            I was perhaps the shortest Death Eater possible, walking amongst older Death Eaters with much more experience. I felt honored to have taken part in this fight. I was proud to be marked with the Dark Mark on my left forearm.

My dark red hair was in a side braid, caked with tiny bits of debris. My black robes were covered in dust and rubble. My ice blue eyes were full of gloating over the death of the Boy Who Lived. I couldn’t wait to see the looks on the Hogwartians faces once they’d soon see that their hero had been defeated.

            Our black sea finally reached what was left of the school’s courtyard. It was nearly obliterated. Their dead had been removed from the battlefield; our allies were left where they fell. They didn’t matter, their lives being lost was for a good purpose. We had won, they had died nobly, but I doubted they would be remembered. We had quite a bit of our numbers still intact.

            We Death Eaters spread out, forming a blockade, facing off against Hogwartians who managed to survive the fighting. The oaf we had captured carried Potter in his arms, his limp body a sight for all those who stood by him. This was a sign of our victory.

This was a sign of an ending era, and a new one being born.

            “Harry Potter…is dead!” called the Dark Lord. He stood out in front of us all, so everyone could see him.

            “No! NO!” screamed a red-headed girl.

            “Silence!” the Dark Lord shouted, shooting a spell into the air to silence her. A man stood by her, wand out at the Dark Lord. He had the same red hair, so I assumed that maybe he was her father or a relative in general. “Stupid girl. Harry Potter is dead. From this day forth, you put your faith in me.” He turned to us all. “Harry Potter is dead!” We all snickered. He turned back to face the enemy. “And now is the time to declare yourself. Come forward and join us. Or die.”

            Nobody from the other side moved at all. They all stood with stone faces, some even retreated a few steps. There had to be one coward who’d rather serve the Dark Lord than die.

            “Draco,” called a voice from our side. I looked around to see Lucius Malfoy with his wife, calling for their son. I had thought Draco was with us here in the crowd. Apparently, I had thought wrong.

            “Draco…come,” his mother crooned. I scanned the crowd to find Draco.

When my eyes finally spotted the pale blonde hair, I could see how uncomfortable he felt. However, he did make his way through the Hogwartians, all of them looking at him with scornful expressions.

            “Ah, well done, Draco,” the Dark Lord said. He did something that probably shocked us all. The Dark Lord hugged Draco.

If it wasn’t awkward for Draco, it was definitely awkward for the rest of us. Once the Dark Lord released him, Draco hustled over to join his parents.