The Wrath Of Voldemort

The Wrath Of Voldemort

    Harry Potter stared at his reflection in the oblong mirror, he always thought that he was the most unattractive boy than any boy in Hogwarts, but outside of Hogwarts he could think of a few who were uglier. Mostly it was the lighting shaped scar on his forehead that was reason for that thought. He used to think it was the coolest thing about him, but that was before he found out why and how he got it. It was a present by which was given in a horrible way, Lord Voldemort's plan for destroying all but pure-bloods.

    Harry stood there and ran his hands over the clearly showing scar, wishing not for the first time that he was just like any other wizard. He took his comb out of his back pocket and tried uselessly to flatten his unruly hair, yet it wouldn't obey the comb. He heard slow footsteps fall on the stairs next to his door. Someone was coming, but Harry wasn't in the mood for talking.

    "Hey Harry, are you coming? We are all waiting for you, its time to go," Harry's best friend Ron said in a hushed grumble. He saw the comb still sticking out of Harry's hair, "What are you doing?"

    "Nothing," Harry said hiding the comb in his back pocket. "Lets go"

    Ron shrugged and turned, Harry followed, but not before checking his reflection one more time. He saw in the background of the mirror a small flicker in the brutally glowering fire. Harry turned to see the fire lick the wooden bedpost, catching it instantly on fire. Harry panicked and looked around for a quick fix, nothing caught his eye, his only choice was to use his wand, a little bit of magic never hurt anyone. He grabbed it from his pocket and faced the fire which had now grown to the drawers. He muttered the beginning of the incantation but the fire was gone, the furniture dripping with water.

    “You need to watch yourself from now on, Potter. One more second and you would have had to deal with the Ministry, I expected more common sense from you, Potter.” Snape growled from behind Harry, he looked disgusted and threw the bucket at Harry who caught it with ease. “It’s time to go.”

    “Wait, where did you get the bucket?” Harry asked curiously.

    “I used my eyes. Potter. That’s what they are for,” Snape snapped. He turned and went down the stairs.

    Harry waited before going down himself. When he arrived downstairs, he was confronted with a group of red-heads. The Weasleys were waiting with a despaired look on their faces. “Can we go? They say we don’t have long.” Fred flustered out a he made way to the door, he was determined to leave, with or without the rest of them.

    “Yes, Yes, but we must wait for the signal from Moody,” Tonks responded, looking as worried but not as determined.

    Fred twitched in impatience and flicked his eyes toward the door then sighed and sat. Ron flinched with the harshness of the silence. He had relieved his worries to Harry and Harry knew that silence was the last thing he needed. Mrs. Weasly was silently shuttering in tears. Mr. Weasly was staring at the clock, not actually looking at it. Snape was tapping his soft-toed boot in silent impatience.

    Harry couldn’t stand the silence and was about to give way, but a soft yet hearable knock shattered the silence. “That’s him, lets go.” The group of them herded out the door and set down the path towards the dozen or so guards. The trip was uneventful for the three teenagers but for the adults it was full of danger.

    “We will enter through the front as usual, but we will have to keep two guards by the entrance,” Moody growled to the group as they neared the window. Harry looked hopefully to Snape, but he showed no sign of volunteering. Instead it was Tonks and Lupin who took a stand. The walked in like they were there to see a friend, yet their intentions were more morbid.

    “Harry! Ron! You’re finally here,” yelled a medium sized girl with mousy brown hair, which was strung back in a long braid. Hermione Granger walked toward the group with a small red-headed girl straggling behind her.

    “Have you seen him?” Fred asked Ginny when she reached them.

    “No, we have to have supervision before we can see him.” Ginny answered in a despaired way.

    “Then lets go see him,” Fred suggested as Mrs. Weasly came back from the front desk.

    “1st floor,” Mrs. Weasly said in a hoarse voice not like her own. With that they made their way to the lift.

    Ginny shuttered as the lift started, Harry, who was closest to her, was the only one who saw. Harry looked down at his feet, but out of the corner of his eyes saw a tear fall to the floor. Harry moved closer and put his arm around her.

    “How could this have happened? We were so hidden, so careful,” she whispered in a voice so silent that only Harry heard it.

    “When you-know-who wants something, he gets it. We’re just lucky he was only under it for a month. It’ll be ok,” Harry whispered back. He gripped her tighter as she silently wept.

    The lift opened to a floor full of rushed witches and wizards who were talking to many different things. Mr. Weasly motioned to the right and they followed. The door was marked with a shushing witch in a white hat. They opened it slowly and peered inside. Mrs. Weasly broke down harder and croaked, “George!”