Evil Has its Consequences

Evil Has its Consequences

A hooded figure entered a church. Pausing, they stopped to look around. The room was very large, with a cool night breeze blowing through an open window. Walking down the main aisle, they stepped into a pew and sat. If a passerby would to look in, they would wonder what the person was waiting for.

It seemed like an hour or two had passed until it seemed the appropriate moment--now was the time. Standing, the figure finally removed the hood of their cloak--a wave of silvery-blonde hair fell away from a hard, cold face with vacant gray eyes. He walked up to the altar, and spoke.

"I am here, my Lord," he said quietly.

"Have you brought the others?" replied a cruel, icy voice that made the hairs on the man's neck stand on end.

"No, my Lord," said the cloaked figure. And before the emotionless voice could reply, he hastily said, "but I can explain. They did not want to come, my Lord, they do not understand--"

"Silence. You are my one faithful servant. You alone may receive the honor of Lord Voldemort."

"Yes, my Lord, thank you my Lord--"

"Silence."

Slowly, it seemed a shadow emerged from the darkness in the chapel. It seemed as if it had materialized out of thin air. The cloaked figure hastily bowed as low as he could manage.

As the shadow approached the man, the hood of the shadow's cloak was also removed. Underneath was a face so cold, so heartless; the kneeling figure could not bear to gaze at it.

"You shall get your reward, Malfoy," said the pure white face. "I have no more use for you." He paused. "Avada Kedavra."

The shadow laughed a high-pitched, mirth-filled laugh. He then swept from the chapel, leaving Lucius Malfoy's dead body on the cold stone floor.

* * *

Miles away, Harry Potter awoke with a sudden painful hunger ache. Since had fallen asleep early at the Burrow, he had not had anything to eat since lunch that afternoon. He slowly got out of bed and crossed Ron's room to the door. Creeping downstairs, he was wondering if he could find some bread when he heard a sudden whispering.

"--No, Arthur, we shouldn't tell the children. Yes, yes, I know that they don't like Draco all that much, but they don't need to know--"

"Molly, they have a right to know that their worst enemy's father was murdered by You-Know-Who!"

"Arthur, they're just children! Shouldn't we wait until right before they go back to school--?"

"Molly, be reasonable. We should tell them what happened to Lucius and why! They need to know."

"Oh, Arthur, I just can't bear it! After Harry lost Sirius, the poor dear already has enough on his mind without having to think about this--"

Slowly, silently, Harry crept back upstairs, his heart pounding. Malfoy's father was killed? Harry could not decide if this was a good thing or not. For one, he had never liked Lucius Malfoy. On the other hand, despite how much he hated Draco, he had sympathy. He, Harry, didn't have parents, and he knew what the emptiness was like.

Lying down, once again in Ron's room, Harry pondered whether this would change his and Malfoy's "relationship." Malfoy had never liked him, Harry was aware of this. He was always so jealous about Harry's fame, luck, and Quidditch skills. Harry knew that Malfoy's father had been a Death Eater, and never really acknowledged it in front of Draco. But the fact still remained that Lucius was dead. Harry was half glad and half sympathetic towards Malfoy.

Harry had no more time to ponder, though. At this time he drifted into an uneasy sleep.

* * *