The Guardian Brotherhood

Prologue: Triquetra

I was at the bay window when it happened. Three years of battle had ingrained a sixth sense in me when it came to unexpected magic. I had learned to recognise the signs of an attack or of an ambush long before it ever happened upon us, which had come in especially handy whenever we walked in uncertain regions. By the time the Death Eaters would come out, we would be ready to repel them head-on. So when, sitting alone comfortably in my favourite rocking chair, bundled up in a warm plaid and about to turn the page to the muggle novel I was currently enjoying, I felt the telltale tingling begin in my toes, I knew something was about to happen.

The light from my reading lamp flickered a moment, and then it suddenly gave out, along with every last electric appliance in the flat. Not a sound was to be heard in the street, not a movement to be seen. Everything was dark and gloomy.

I realised belatedly that I had been holding my breath, motionless, the muscles of my arms and back taut like a stretched bowstring. Abandoning my book, I flung it on a nearby tea table and grabbed my wand from the tea table. Slowly, I inched my way to the living-room bay window. With trembling fingers, I pushed aside the curtain, looking far, far into the night, searching for the source of this incredible magic but not finding. How could I, in this darkness?

I knew, though, without a doubt, that the attack would come. Soon. Very soon. I could feel tremendous amounts of magic brewing all around the flat, becoming more and more potent by the second. It was almost palpable, as though fit to burst. It was threatening. All-encompassing. I almost choked on the strength of the magic being gathered all around the flat, around me, but concentrated instead on waiting, preparing myself.

You never get used to those few seconds before an attack. Waiting... for anything: for a tiny flicker of movement, for the littlest sound of a wand being drawn, for the battle to break out unexpectedly. I hated the wait. All I could think about were my possibilities and chances. Had they seen me? How many were they? From the force of the magic I could feel coursing every which way, it felt they were a lot. Could I make a quick escape, then? Could I risk Disapparating?

It seemed you had a lifetime to think through your next actions for the next few seconds. And yet, it only ever lasted a few milliseconds. But the questions did pass through your mind at the speed of light. Would you live? Would you die? Would you get injured? Would you come out unscathed? No matter how many times you were attacked, you never got used to the wait. It was prime torture for the mind.

It changed you forever.

Unable to stop myself, I couldn't help but keep replaying in my head the very few fleeting memories I had of the last time I'd been in this situation... trapped. The last battle of Spinner's End. I had awoken after everything was over to find myself trapped in the debris of Snape's house, with no recollection of how or when I got there. I had been lucky then - I had just felt a glowering pain in my shoulder where a Death Eater had slashed the flesh and cut through the bone - but I had also lost a lot. That night I lost... everything. My hope, my faith... and a great part of my soul as well.

I was never the same.

I was suddenly jostled from the painful memory by the abrupt sound of crackling thunder nearby. The night was eerily quiet in contrast. Cool, but quiet. The rain had stopped, and now the street was bathed in glistening moonlight. Every lamp in the street had gone out. I shivered. It was close. I could feel it, taste the raw power on my tongue, and it terrified me.

I was alone. I'd have to fend them off without help.

I had done it, once. I shuddered, remembering, or rather not remembering the next few instants, or maybe minutes. Perhaps hours. And waking, and wishing I'd never awoken. Physical pain hadn't compared to what I had felt then.

No. That was the past. I could do it this time. I could.

I made to go outside before I would stop myself, but held back when a quick movement caught my eye. I had seen it: a tall, dark shadow lurking on the lawn. Squinting, I searched the place where I had just seen the glimmer of movement. The next instant it blended into the night. I held my breath, staying rigid, frustrated. Why was it taking so long? I couldn't see a damn thing out there, and I didn't want to risk a Lumos in case they hadn't seen me.

And I thought, hoped more like... This couldn't be a Death Eater attack, could it?

I didn't have to wait much longer to find out. All of a sudden, I shrieked, swaying back on my heels as plumes of fire flared out of nowhere mere metres away and weaved themselves together to create a symbol in mid-air that slowly hovered lower and lower still until the flames touched the dew-touched grass. Even when they sputtered and died some moments later, I stayed perfectly still at the window, unable to move or even blink as the smoke rose steadily up into the night.

I had seen many dreadful things and felt many moments of incomparable pain in all my twenty-seven years of existence, but nothing so far had ever compared to feeling my heart being twisted and crushed at the same time. I had no breath left in me, and when my legs finally gave out under me, I crashed onto my knees and wept, the symbol as burned into my memory as it was into the ground.