The Serpent's Thirst

The Serpent's Thirst.

Chapter 5

The Case Of The Stubborn Snitch And The Irish Abduction.

Dinner in the Great Hall was the usual affair. Metal utensils clinking as students ate gratefully, talking about the day's events while bright candles hovered overhead.

Harry didn't feel particularly hungry that evening, but he forced himself to eat some food after Sirius gave him a reproving glare from the staff table. Harry responded by returning a not-so-welcoming look back to his godfather. After all, he was still very mad at Sirius for having a little duel with the Potions Mistress, one night after Hogsmeade weekend. No one was hurt, because thankfully Dumbledore had intervened in time, much to Sirius and Professor Snape's disapproval. All this had occurred after Harry, Ron and Hermione had pleaded with him not to do anything foolish.

Harry observed the Potions Mistress who sat gulping down some pumpkin juice. She was looking straight ahead, trapped in her own little world while she ate. She was quite aware that Sirius was scowling at her and Harry saw her mouth twitch into a nasty smile. Professor Snape bewildered Harry greatly. He felt even angrier that Sirius was falling into whatever trap she had planned.

"How was Quidditch practice?" Hermione asked, making Harry look away from the teacher's table. Harry felt her leg purposely brush against his. He eyed her suspiciously and she smiled, like she was hiding something naughty.

Unaware of what was happening beneath the table, Ron crammed mashed potato into his mouth. He held two thumbs up towards Hermione to tell her that practice was great, thinking it risky to open his mouth in an attempt to speak.

Harry smiled, still blushing a little at Hermione's antics. "Yeah it was good. I think we'll have a great chance at beating Slytherin," Harry replied. He couldn't wait to see Draco's face contort in fury.

They had returned to their common room at nine on the dot that night, narrowly missing Mrs. Norris who had followed them back from the Library after some study. Much to Harry's surprise, Lilac had cornered Filch's nasty cat, and Harry and Hermione had been forced to rip the two cats apart after they had started fighting viciously. Neither Lilac nor Mrs. Norris had been injured, but Harry and Hermione had not been so lucky and had been left with a multitude of cuts. This hadn't perturbed Ron, who had been egging Lilac on, shouting for Harry's cat to bite a limb or two off of Mrs. Norris.

Harry closed the portrait hole, gingerly touching a scratch on his wrist made by Lilac's sharp claws, and moved towards their favourite seats. Harry Followed Ron who was carrying the Persian feline. Lilac turned over in Ron's arms, looking like a baby, her purple eyes intently staring at Ron while she purred happily. A couple of first year girls pointed and screwed up their faces, talking about how cute Lilac was.

Revolted, Ron dropped Lilac on the armchair. "Urgh! She's worse than Pig," he said. Then he squinted and began spluttering out twittering noises and squeaks imitating the girls. Harry snorted as he stroked his cat's fur.

"Shut up, and let's get on with Charms and Defence homework," Harry said looking into the homework diary Hermione had given him. He had been about to throw the diary out when he was at home, but to his amazement the pages within the diary had changed to reflect the calendar of the new year, and all his past scribbles had vanished.

Hermione was disappointed in Harry and Ron's O.W.L. results. Harry was glad, though, that he and Ron had gotten seven O.W.Ls each. The way things had worked out, they had more practice time for Quidditch. Hermione, on the other hand, had gotten full O.W.L.s and therefore was doing all the NEWT subjects she had completed the year before.

"Hermione, are you going to finish your homework?" Ron questioned, seeing her drop her bag by his side.

Hermione sighed, holding her head high in pride. "Done it!" she said proudly. Ron glowered and dipped his quill into his ink pot roughly.

"Well, if you pay attention to the study and work time table I made for you, then you'll find -"

"All right, Hermione." Ron rolled his eyes.

Hermione hmphed and walked away to the girls' bathroom, giving time for Ron to search through her bag looking for her notes on their Charms class. His tongue poked out slightly in concentration.

"RON!!!" Hermione yelled from the top of the stairs, startling Harry.

Ron threw up his hands as if the bag he touched was burning white-hot and returned to his own homework with his ears burning bright red. Harry laughed and continued on writing his essay.

An hour later, Harry flung himself onto his bed exhausted, lying face down on his pillow.

Dean was already sleeping soundly; ready for his first ever Quidditch match the next afternoon. Seamus and Neville were seated by their dorm window playing wizard chess with a lit candle hovering above their heads, surrounding them with a misty glow. Ron was still downstairs, writing a letter to Mrs. Weasley.

After a minute or so, Harry shut his bed hangings and relaxed his mind as he had been instructed time and time again to do before he went to sleep. He turned over, clasping his hands on his stomach, his blankets piled comfortably over him. He soundly fell asleep.

It was a pleasant dream. He lay down in the middle of a grassy landscape. The soft trickle of water told him that there was a stream near by. Harry looked up at the clear blue sky, a

few patchy, shapeless clouds passed by overhead as the wind stirred, his hair lifting up a little in the breeze. The high grass around him rippled, like tiny waves, soft and relaxing.

Harry wondered where he was, but it didn't really matter. Harry was happy; warm and peaceful.

He looked to his side and suddenly saw Hermione lying down beside him, her brown eyes twinkling in the light which sieved delicately through the long grass. Laying down made the world look so different. It made the grass look so tall, like a fence protecting them.

"Hi!" she said brightly, placing her hand on top of his chest gently. Harry smiled back, his fingers trailing over her hand

.

Harry could feel his heart beat. Soft and rhythmic in his ears. The sound reverberated to his fingertips. Even the grass began to sway in tune with the eerie sound as it grew louder, like Muggle speakers were placed around him.

Steadily, his heartbeat began to change and it began to sound more like a child's heart -- a baby's heart, faster and more energetic. Harry's brows furrowed; he didn't know what it meant.

He heard laughter and playful giggles. Harry opened his eyes and saw to his astonishment that Hermione was now playing with a toddler, who was about one or two years of age.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Hermione chortled. The little girl, held high in Hermione's hands, giggled. Her little mouth was opened to reveal tiny baby teeth. The child splayed her small chubby fingers and caught a handful of Hermione's frizzy hair.

"You're so gorgeous," Hermione said, pinching the little girl's cheek lightly. The baby laughed some more.

Harry was stunned for a moment as he watched Hermione and the baby, who sat between them. Harry looked into the baby's eyes. She had the most beautiful green eyes he had ever seen. It took him a moment to realise that they were exactly like his own. Then he realised that the baby's hair was dark auburn, just like his mother's had been.

Strange he thought. Was he dreaming about his and Hermione's child?

As soon as the thought passed his mind, the dream changed drastically. Harry found himself walking with Hermione along a thick forest path, hand in hand with her. Hermione pulled some stray branches out of the way, clearly knowing where to go.

Harry gazed around, hearing the sound of water getting louder in his ears. He noticed that the baby had vanished and blinked, confused by the strangeness of it all.

Hermione turned back, looking at Harry happily. "Come, I want to show you something."

Was she going to show him the same stream he had seen during the summer? Harry was about to say something when they stepped into the clearing. The scenery before him was much different from what he saw at the Cottage. Luscious and alive, the trees seemed to be growing in front of his very eyes. Animals were few in number, but Harry did see a stag gallop past them, disappearing into the dark forest ahead. They walked over a narrow wooden bridge, the water below rippling past the weathered boulders in its path. He looked away. Ahead Harry saw that on a hill, stood a small well. Hermione led him to it.

"Harry." Hermione held out a galleon in her palm, its gold surface glimmering in the sunlight. "Make a wish, then throw it in," she said quietly, looking into the well's still water. Harry stared at it too and saw a fluttering leaf fall in. It was too light to make any sort of impact on the water's surface and it silently floated away like a tiny boat.

Harry obeyed her and closed his eyes ... what did he want? Harry thought about wanting to see his parents. But then he changed his mind.

"I want to be with you forever, Hermione," he said. Hermione smiled and kissed him softly on his lips. The golden leaves falling around her were reflected in her eyes.

Harry pulled away and flicked the coin into the well. Once it achieved a certain height it began to fall ... down, down, in slow motion. In another second it would hit the water's surface with a small tinkling sound. Sinking to the very bottom of the well's moss covered depths.

"Harry, get up!" Someone yelled near him, making him jump in his bed. Harry panted, with a flooding realisation that the coin had never fallen in. He shot up in his bed and hung his head. The gloomy, cold light penetrating into his four-poster made his eyes hurt a little. He covered his eyes listening to the sounds around him; he heard Dean muttering absent-mindedly, a little nervous about the game and Ron was looking for a missing sock. The trickle of water told Harry that Neville was again watering his favourite plant.

Harry opened the red curtains that enclosed him and squinted with tired eyes, watching Seamus inhale deeply. Harry shivered when Seamus opened the window to look out over the Quidditch pitch.

"How's the weather?" Harry asked.

"Well, it's fine for now, but I can see clouds building up," Seamus replied closing the window, because it was chilling the entire dorm.

"Harry, come on, get up," Ron implored and rushed off to the Prefect's bathroom.

As Harry hurried through his morning routine, the dream slowly vanished . It was the first good dream he'd had in a year. Harry rarely had happy dreams -- most of the time, his dreams were nightmares that troubled his sleep. However, he was glad that for once he was able to dream about something other than Voldemort or painful memories. Harry continued thinking about the dream over breakfast and while he walked to the Quidditch ground.

Harry smiled to himself, but he was feeling a bit jittery as he pulled on his Quidditch robes for the first match of the season. He looked at his quiet team mates, hearing the stands above them fill with anticipating students.

"Right ..." Harry breathed in. "Er, well I'm not really much of a pep talk person. I usually just get out there and do what I need to do ..." Harry scratched his head, ignoring the look on Ron's face as his best friend desperately tried to hold back a laugh. Ginny and Alicia were smiling brightly behind Ron, while Trevor, Maggie, Dean and Shelley and were all looking on nervously. Harry was determined not to be as obsessed as Oliver or Angelina had been. But it was always good to have that sort of mentality.

"Let's go out there and make Gryffindor proud," he said at last. These were good enough words.

"YEAH!" They all shouted.

"And bust all the Slytherins' spirits," Ron shouted, smacking his fist into his other hand.

Ginny stood by Harry's side when they walked onto the pitch. Blinking avidly, she took a look at the sky. Storm clouds were moving closer over the school in the distance; Harry could see the storm clouds flashing brightly for a moment. He could tell that the storm was still far off because a roar of thunder was easily drowned out by the cheering crowd. The Slytherins seemed to be the only ones who were jeering. Harry glanced to his side and saw Ron smiling because the Slytherins had given up on their little 'WEASLEY IS OUR KING' song.

A streak of lightning filled the distant sky with a dazzling blue light, and Ginny bit her lip. "Oh ... I hate playing in this weather. Mum hates us playing in this!"

"Hmm," Harry agreed, while leading his team to Madam Hooch. "Best not tell her then," Harry said, giving her a lop-sided smile. Ginny chuckled, following him.

Behind the Quidditch referee, Malfoy sneered. Harry hadn't been surprised when Malfoy had been made Captain of the Slytherin team. Harry wasn't surprised now that Malfoy seemed very reluctant to shake hands with his sworn enemy. Nevertheless, Harry held his hand out in a show of good faith, even though he secretly felt what Malfoy needed was not a handshake but a good, swift kick.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy ... what are you waiting for? Shake the Gryffindor Captain's hand," Madam Hooch said.

Ron and Ginny hissed from behind Harry. The Slytherins narrowed their eyes, despising all of the Gryffindors. Harry waited patiently until Malfoy gave in to Madam Hooch's glare and shook hands. Harry's eyes bored into Draco's. He could imagine Malfoy swearing at him in his mind.

"Break a leg, Potter," Draco finally retorted through clenched teeth.

Harry raised his eyebrows. Normally the phrase would've meant wishing a person luck before a performance. Harry knew better. Malfoy wasn't wishing him luck of any kind.

"Not before you do," Harry spat back, letting go of Draco's hand quickly.

Both teams hopped on their brooms and at the sound of the whistle they soared into the air, as forked lightning snaked across the darkening sky. Harry hated this sort of weather; these were the worst possible conditions, apart from gale force winds in which to play a Quidditch match in.

Ron positioned himself at Gryffindor's middle goalpost, and Trevor and Maggie hovered below Harry, holding their Beater's bats determinedly. Madam Hooch let out the Quidditch balls and the match began in a howl of cheering and singing. Harry saw the Snitch streak off and vanish when he began patrolling the stadium. Harry sometimes wondered where on earth the Snitch was when it was out of sight. This was a match where he wished the Snitch would make an appearance before the storm hit them.

He looked below and heard the Gryffindors roaring with cheers. The Quaffle was instantly in Alicia's possession and she hurtled across to the Slytherin side. Goyle and Crabbe plunged into action, trying to bludgeon her in the process, while the Slytherin Chasers tailed closely behind her.

"Come on, come on," Harry breathed, watching Alicia closely.

Goyle hit a Bludger towards Crabbe, who then hit it towards Alicia. The Gryffindor Chaser looked behind her, wide-eyed. However, Trevor was able to protect her in time, pelting the Bludger towards Montague.

Alicia threw the Quaffle in front of her, the ball arching its way towards the middle goalpost. The Slytherin keeper smiled as he shot himself protectively ahead of his hoops. Though Alicia's intention was not to score! Ginny streaked past all of a sudden.

"... ALICIA PASSES TO GINNY WEASLEY -- OW! AND WEASLEY'S JUST MISSED THE BLUDGER BY AN INCH!" Colin, who had taken over Lee Jordan's job of commentating for the matches, yelled from the stands.

Ginny rose into the air sharply a moment later, wasting no time. The Quaffle was in her arms, having caught it before it entered the keeper's boundary. Ginny was metres from the hoops when Ron yelled furiously behind Harry, egging his sister on.

Ginny lashed her hand out, about to throw it into the middle hoop again when she swerved down, missing a Slytherin Chaser who tried to grab the Quaffle out of her hand. But instead -- taking many by surprise -- she dropped the Quaffle down to Dean who was stationed five feet beneath her, to her side.

"Gryffindor has just showed us a spectacular Porskoff Ploy and -- GRYFFINDOR SCORES!" Colin shouted, punching a fist into the air.

The stadium erupting in cheers when Dean threw the Quaffle into an unguarded hoop. The Slytherin Chasers and Keeper had been caught off guard and were confused by the tactics the Gryffindor team had employed.

Harry yelled out in glee while he continuously circled the stadium, missing a Bludger now and then. He was happy that his team was doing a marvellous job.

But the storm was coming precariously nearer, lightning becoming more frequent, the wind growing stronger and the smell of rain evident in the air. Harry saw Draco at the far end of the pitch, watching closely for the Snitch as well. The hairs on the back of Harry's neck prickled as the air became electrically charged. The rumble of the storm became competitive with the roaring of the crowd.

Ahead, the Slytherins now had possession of the Quaffle. Harry closed his eyes ...

"GOAL SAVED!" Colin yelled as Gryffindors threw gold and red streamers onto the pitch.

Harry was relieved that Ron had saved the Quaffle and he could hear, with satisfaction, Draco swearing loudly behind him.

"Gryffindor leads forty to zero," Colin said, McGonagall clapping jubilantly by his side.

Harry's smile faltered as he eyed the storm apprehensively. "Where's the Snitch?" he asked himself when he saw lightning hit somewhere in the Forbidden Forest.

Then he saw it, spiralling above him in the air. Harry jerked his Firebolt up, speeding towards the little golden winged ball. Draco followed, having seen Harry tailing the Snitch.

Malfoy was by Harry's side when the Snitch decided to fall down towards the pitch. Harry adjusted his direction, but Malfoy banged into him, making him go off course. A Bludger narrowly missed his head when Harry turned the right way again. The Snitch was speeding below.

Gryffindor and Slytherin Chasers passed untimely below, and Harry and Draco were made to zigzag between the others to keep themselves from smashing into any of the Chasers.

Draco pelted in front of him, yelling. "Get out of the way, Potter!" as he stretched his hand out, the little Snitch inches from his finger tips.

"Over - my - dead - body," Harry yelled back, gaining speed, the wind pounding in his ears.

The Snitch, however, had other plans and quickly changed direction, heading up again. This made Draco blink stupidly at the site where the Snitch had been a second before. Harry took advantage and spun around and up. His Firebolt was faster and more agile than Malfoy's Nimbus 2001.

Harry was barely aware that the entire stadium was holding its breath watching him and Draco battle it out over the Snitch. Arms were swerving all over the place. As Draco tried to obstruct Harry's vision, Harry was shoving Draco's arms away. At the same time, Harry was watching where he was going while they went higher and higher. The Snitch fluttered above them in the lightning filled sky. The clouds were dark and full of rain. Ready to let its water loose above their heads.

Up, up, they went. Harry could definitely feel the electricity now as the Snitch was within his clutches.

"What the ...?" Harry gasped, feeling someone tug his robes. Malfoy had grabbed a handful of Harry's robes which made him slow slightly, just enough for the Slytherin Captain to use his strength to pull himself up with the intention of moving ahead of his opponent. Madam Hooch didn't see it, Harry thought; otherwise he would've heard her sound her whistle.

"Ah haaaa," Draco shouted in front of Harry, grinning malevolently as heavy rain began to fall hard. Harry's stomach plummeted ... they were going to lose!

Draco whipped his hand out. The Snitch was nearly within his grasp.

But again, the little winged ball was as stubborn as it came. The Snitch dropped below Harry quickly, making Draco grasp only air.

With an automatic reaction that surprised even himself, Harry rolled himself upside down without thinking, in a form of sloth grip roll. His legs locked around the broomstick and he hung, looking down momentarily at the pitch. He stuck his hand out and caught the Snitch which flew close to his nose.

"NOOO!" Draco bellowed behind him, while Harry repositioned himself upright amidst the roar from the stands. Huge raindrops splattered his glasses, and he smiled joyfully, holding onto the Snitch. He was too happy to realise that the cold rain was seeping through his robes to rest on his skin.

Suddenly thunder cracked around them and Harry had no time to react to a stray lightning bolt which was attracted to the metal of the Snitch.

"ARGH!!!"

And the last thing Harry saw as pain coursed through his veins was a bright bluish, purple light hitting the Snitch and sparks flying everywhere.

***

Across stormy Scotland to Ireland, conditions were quite different and far less dangerous. A couple of Leprechauns hovering in midair realised that their wizard neighbour was about to walk past them on his way home. They lifted their tiny green hats, gold mists suddenly escaping from under their hats instead of the usual flow of gold coins. With huge smiles, hidden within their bright green beards, they greeted the wizard in their little voices

"Good evening, my little friends ... I can see you have no more gold with you, " the stylish wizard chortled in an Irish accent.

"He, he, he! We went a little overboard with those greedy Muggles as you can see," one of the tiny, green clothed men squeaked. His cheeks blushed dark forest green. His friend laughed, holding his little pot belly.

"Well, I'd be careful with too much trickery ... you don't want to get in trouble with the Ministry."

The wizard bowed to them and continued on silently to his manor. He started to hum a tune to himself, his eyes half closed and forehead crinkled. His long black hair and beard softly fluttered in the breeze like satin, and his travelling cloak fluttered continuously to reveal his wonderfully crafted purple and silver robes.

He'd had a long day, he thought, flicking his wand out and opening the front door to his manor. He smiled to himself; the Gladrags' Wizardwear fashion show had been a success in London as well. When he gave his report in the morning, Mr. Gladrags would be proud to hear of the hundreds of people ordering new robes. He remembered that a week ago he'd had similar success at Hogsmeade. The people looking on with interest had given him confidence; he had never been an announcer before, especially not in front of a crowd that large.

Another highlight of that show was when he had been seeing Mr. Harry Potter in the crowd. For a moment he hadn't realised that it was Harry Potter, but a second later he had seen the famous scar on Harry's forehead.

His wife hadn't believed it when he'd told her that he had seen the Boy-Who-Lived. But, why should he feel so surprised, so privileged, to have seen the boy? He had seen Harry's father during school, had known about Harry's family and his history. It was as though Harry was an old friend of the family.

The wizard turned his thoughts away from Harry Potter when he spotted his house ahead. He would usually Apparate to his front door. But today he was so happy that he had to stop along the way to pick some wild flowers for his darling wife, who was expecting their first baby.

Some flowers would brighten up her day. Secretly he was using the flowers as a diversion to stop her from hitting him over the head with an object or hexing him. Oh, he never knew women could be so feisty during pregnancy. She was certainly one of the dangerous ones, and he was afraid of doing something wrong.

Nevertheless, she was his entire world. He couldn't help but think how lovely she was when she stood in front of the window looking out, her hands circling over her bulging stomach. He would sometimes sneak behind her and kiss her neck and she would smile appreciatively. Niamh would sometimes also thread her fingers through his own and gently place it on her stomach in time for him to feel the baby kick. He couldn't wait to feel his child kick again. He noticed that he was smiling, felt his cheeks glowing and he sighed with joy.

He walked through the door. Lamp lights were already glowing on the walls which always gave the house a warmth that made him relax. Perhaps the house was a little quieter than usual, he thought. Normally he would hear his wife singing in the living room or helping some unlucky fairy who had its wing caught in the lace curtains. And she would shrill loudly, telling the little soul to watch where it was going.

"Niamh, my dear ... I'm home," he said loudly placing his cloak on the coat rack by the door. No answer came, and he furrowed his brow. How odd, he thought, she always came bustling out. Her absence was not routine and he became steadily more worried.

"Niamh?" he called in vain, wondering where she was. The floor creaked in the quiet air around him. A suspicious foreboding suddenly crackled through him. He hesitantly pulled back his cloak and gracefully removed his wand, just in case. He was always alert; he had to be. It was part of his job. Now that Voldemort had returned, the urgency was much greater.

He refrained from uttering another word. His heart pumping madly within his chest. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead and his wand became slightly slippery within his fingers. He had the feeling now that something, something that shouldn't be present within the house, was residing within. He smelt it; he could feel it in his blood. He turned a corner and into his living room. The lights had gone out. In the corner, he could see a shadowed form crouching, holding its chest in shock, huddled in fear.

"Niamh ... what's wrong?" He trembled as he said the words. The figure rose slightly, her shivering fingers trailing up the wall for support. Her breath was shaky and her words seemed stuck in her mouth as she stared at her husband in stupefaction. Her eyes were wide and she was deathly pale. Her beautiful brown hair was tangled from some sort of struggle.

Blood!

Blood stained her blue robes. He dropped the flowers in terror, without realising that he was still holding them. "What happened? Are you -- are you all right? ... the baby?"

Niamh nodded, making strands of her brown hair fall around her face. Her cheeks were wet with tears, but she was glad her husband was home. "Declan, thank goodness you're home. We're fine. H- he- he tried to attack me," she stuttered. Niamh pointed frantically with her wand to the ground, behind the couch. Her other hand still clutching the wall, as if it had held some sort of a secret escape route she was desperately trying to open.

"Who...?" he said, growing paler by the second. His wand held high, he retreated to where his wife was to comfort her and to see what had attacked her.

"D- Death Eater," she finally blurted, lurching towards her husband's comforting embrace, She began crying uncontrollably at his shoulder. Declan hugged her tightly and kissed her several times, relieved that she and the baby were all right.

He stared in horror at the man lying there on the ground. The Death Eater's silver mask had been pulled off by Niamh, and he laid spread eagled on the ground. His robes and cloak spread around him like a pool of still water. Declan's wife continued to cry on his shoulder, but let go when he bent over to investigate the fallen Death Eater.

The man was Jugson. Declan had seen the photograph in the Daily Prophet months ago, labelling him as a Death Eater. Declan checked for a pulse. The man was alive.

He couldn't believe his eyes! A Death Eater in his house?

But then again, he had been afraid that this would happen!

"Niamh," he began, as calmly as possible, turning around with his wand still in his hand. His wife looked at him.

"I -- stunned him, and ... and he hit his head on the side of the windowsill," she cried. "He tried to kill -- kill me." Niamh crossed her arms over her stomach and hunched over protectively.

Declan turned towards the man again and magically bound the Death Eater with ropes. "Niamh, I want you to Apparate to your Mother's and alert Albus Dumbledore."

"No, I want to-"

"DO WHAT I SAY, WOMAN!" he yelled, causing her to flinch. She stopped crying and eyed him with disbelief. Realising what he had done, he quietly held her hands tight and kissed her. "It's for your safety... you and the baby ... think about our child. Go! This doesn't concern you ... I'll be there as soon as the Aurors come ... I love you!"

Niamh locked eyes with her husband and kissed him silently, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I love you too," she whispered and with a small pop, she Disapparated.

Declan paced back and forth in front of the Death Eater, wand still pointed at the man. He did not even dare to blink. He felt exhausted, thinking deeply as he watched the sun beginning to descend. Only a few moments before, he had been happy. Now he feared for their lives. With a flick of his wand, a fire roared in his fireplace. He took a fistful of Floo powder, intending to alert an Auror.

"... Mr. O'Connor."

Declan spun around. His beard, heavy because of a solid silver band he had accessorised it with, swung menacingly and hit his shoulder roughly, causing a wave of pain.

Standing in front of him were three Death Eaters. Declan shouted a spell and a duel began, but he was outnumbered. He made to duck behind the couch, but the Death Eaters were faster and more powerful. He fell to the ground, his sight went black and he hoped that his wife and unborn child were safe.