The Epilogue : Part I - The Shadow Army

CHAPTER ONE

A Shady Host

An unprecedented heat hailed upon Great Britain that summer, where very high temperatures had been recorded all over the country. Every evening, after the opening notes of the seven o'clock news, the journalist took a few minutes to enumerate the names of the people who died because of the scorching heat.

So he thought.

The Ministry of Magic, main governing body of the magical community of Great Britain, aimed to ensure the community not to be exposed to British Muggle (or non–magical) citizens. This mission recently required some extra efforts as those who supposedly died because of the heat, had actually been murdered.

Despite the summer weather, the magical community stood in constant alert as many strange attacks occurred all around the country in the recent weeks; and every crime scene had in common to leave a pool of blood and, sometimes, mangled bodies behind; so the actual Minister of Magic, Douglas Walter Atkins, acted in order to have the crime scenes and the memories modified or erased.

Notwithstanding the number of attacks, clues remained rare. But the investigation led the Ministry to focus and lean on a little county in South West England called Whiltshire.

In that small town, like many others across the country, the overwhelming sun, parching and yellowing laws and burning the dead-lying flowers in their windows boxes, forced the inhabitants to retreat into the relative coolness of their homes.

This was an old and medieval city, where descendants of ancient wizarding families aimed to live peacefully. For this very reason, most of them, sheltered as they could from the heat, would stare at this group of young wizards that sometimes passed by, with a disapproving eye.

At The Conqueror, the local pub, inhabitants often gathered and complained about this little group and the lot of unpleasant events they were related to, even if nobody could have ever been able to expressly pick them out.

On a sunny late afternoon, a drowsy silence laid over the quaint main square where a charming little church was proudly standing with an old oak tree. Under that very oak, a thirteen years old young man was sitting on a shaky bench.

He wore a partly opened white shirt, black trousers with as equally black dragon-leather shoes. With his pale face and his rather sharp chin; his sleek white–blond hair and his cold grey eyes, Scorpius Malfoy seemed to be impatiently waiting for someone. He was discreetly holding a thin wooden stick in his right hand.

Scorpius suddenly leaped when a girl, slightly older than him and named Edwina Flint, appeared from the other side of the square. Her curly brown hair, falling on a rather casual face, swayed up and down as she walked toward him.

"Hello Flint," coldly dropped Scorpius.

"Sorry, my mom didn't want me to come, I had to sneak out."

"...Any news from the others?"

"Hm... they should arrive any moment now."

She was right. Few seconds later, two young men arrived on the main square: one was pig–like faced, when the other one was tall, rather charming and clever. They were respectively called Ian Fawley and Mordred Sayre.

"You also both were about not to come?" asked Scorpius, annoyed.

Sayre didn't bother answering and Ian followed.

"I think we should talk," Flint said, once everyone had carefully settled on the shaky bench.

"What would you like us to talk about?" asked Sayre, even if he already knew the answer.