A Traitor in the Fold

A strongman will control a shattered country.

It was just after 10.00 PM on a cold and rainy November night, when the small band of ragged men and women made their way through the entrance of the keep. They moved in silence, each bone weary from the trials of the day.

Ever since Voldemort returned to power, his legion of Death Eaters and deadly magical creatures had pushed into the wizarding communities, blowing up villages and killing those who would not turn towards the dark side. Those who openly opposed the dark forces were swiftly despatched with. Fragments of bodies were often found deposited on the village green as a grim reminder that dark justice was swift and harsh.

No one was spared. Neither man, woman nor child.

Resistance was futile.

The number of wizards loyal to the light side had been diminishing ever since the news of Dumbledore's defeat and the fall of Hogwarts. Rumour has it that someone betrayed them from the inside, giving away clues of their positions and attack plans.

To the small band of fighters, most of them barely in their 20s, the future looked very bleak indeed.

* * *

Somewhere in the shadows, a tall muscular man watched with mild detachment. It was a peaceful autumn night despite the rain.

He smiled and touched his belt lightly, feeling the comfortable weight of the axe that hung there. That would all soon change. The peace of the night would soon be shattered.

* * *

A scream echoed in the peripheral of her hearing. Cho Chang opened her eyes and she moved her sleep-heavy body into a semi-upright position.

The room was dark, save for a torch in a bracket on the wall, which was almost burnt out during the course of the night. She shook her head as she tried to chase the last vestige of sleep.

A blood curdling scream rent through the night.

Cho froze.

She had heard that kind of scream only once, when two of her fellow fighters had fallen into a trap full of muggle style punji stick during a botched raid on a Death Eaters' camp. She had watched in appalled horror as their life ebbed before her very eyes. Cho shut her eyes in grim remembrance.

Her musing was shattered by a loud explosion that shook the walls of her room. She leapt to her feet and darted to the door.

A scene of chaos lay beyond the door. Fire was raging along the corridor, fueled by the dusty tapestries and bits of ancient furniture. A group of deadly magical creatures was making their way down the corridor, their collective backs towards her. Cho ducked into the shadows.

She waited for what seemed like an eternity, gripping her wand tightly. Her hands were slick with cold sweat and her heart was beating like a trip hammer.

Finally she crept down the corridor away from the creatures. The smoke was getting thicker and a small part of her brain was urging her to turn back. She ignored it and turned round a corner --

-- a tall, mustachioed figure stepped into her path, blocking her forward route.

* * *

Earlier …

The fools would have not expected a direct assault to their stronghold. This was either out of sheer stupidity or too much confidence in their wards and unplotability spells. It took a matter of minutes to breach the wards. The agent has been doing the job well.

A green portal shimmered in the wards, creating an opening, allowing the Death Eaters and deadly magical creatures to slip through. Orcs, ogres, werewolves, trolls ; biped and quadruplet minions of the dreaded Dark Lord.

The man was the last to come through, and he quickly cast a counter spell to seal the portal. He surveyed the troop assembled before him.

"Let it begin," he said, smiling coldly.

* * *

A glimmer of green light caught the eyes of the wizard on guard duty. He gripped his wand and rose from his station.

He blinked. Nothing.

He sighed and sat down, rolling his head upon his shoulders to release the tension in his neck. Almost everyone else would have retired for the night, after tending to the wounded. They had apparated back to the keep after a harrowing day fighting against the Dementors who have launched an attack on a wizarding village somewhere in mid-Wales. The casualties had been unprecedented. Men, women and children had been rounded up by the Dementors and systematically been given the Kiss.

The battle that followed claimed victims from both sides.

A twig snapped somewhere to his right. He bolted upright, and pointed his wand towards the wards, muttering a spell under his breath.

The wards were holding.

He exhaled a sigh of relief. It probably was just an animal, he chided himself as he turned around.

The last thing he saw was the glint of an axehead as it rushed towards him.

* * *

Cho heaved a sigh of relief as recognition dawned.

"Macnair," she said.

* * *

Meanwhile, in another part of the keep…

A blinding white light tore through room, knocking Marcus Flint onto his back.

Everything seemed to come out from beneath the floor. Chunks of flagstones, pipes, tiles, furniture and fragments of bodies erupted out of the ground like a volcano spewing into the air.

When an arm slammed down to land within three feet of him -- ripped off at the point where it has once joined someone's shoulder, Flint let out a scream that was loud enough to wake the dead. He scrambled backwards in a frenzy. Panic welled inside him, threatening to shut off his mind.

Something had gone seriously wrong. It was impossible for anyone or anything to breach the wards. It had been erected by the best Auror they had. Something clicked in place.

Someone must have told.

His thoughts were cut off as a pair of arms propelled him upright. Flint gasped in shock as a pair of feral red eyes bored into him

The werewolf snarled, exposing impossibly sharp incisors --

-- and ripped out his throat.

* * *

"Macnair," said Cho, in apparent relief. "I have stuck to my end of the bargain. Now let me go."

Walden Macnair, Death Eater, erstwhile executioner for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures looked at her and laughed sardonically.

"I don't think so, Miss Chang," he sneered. "The Dark Lord has no use for traitors." There was a note of menace in the cold voice now.

Cho backed away. "Please," she pleaded.

Macnair cocked his head, eyeing her in cold detachment. With deliberate slowness, he removed his axe from his belt and ran a gloved finger over its edge. He smiled.

Cho saw with rising horror that the axehead was covered with a dull patina of dried blood. A cold fear gripped her throat as Macnair's intent crystallised in her mind.

She spun on her heels. Stupid, stupid, stupid! she thought hysterically. I should have never betrayed them.

She ran blindly down a side corridor --

-- and slipped on a wet patch. She went sprawling on her face, twisting her ankle simultaneously.

Her scream died in her throat as she took in the carnage around her. Fragments of bodies were strewn everywhere. The floor was slick with blood. She fought a rising nausea.

Heavy boot steps rang on the flagstones behind her.

"Shall we play the Game?" Macnair called out.

Cho scrambled to her feet and winced in pain. From the peripheral of her hearing she heard blood curdling screams of the dark creatures as they wreaked their brand of fatal havoc on the remaining survivors. The Dark Lord takes no prisoners, she recalled dully.

Fighting down her fear and pain she crossed the room, stepping over severed limbs of her fallen comrades. Her breath hitched in pain and horror.

She turned a corner and ran through a door that opened to the grounds.

"You can't run forever," taunted Macnair, as he stepped over the bodies. The axe blade glinted in his gloved hands.

Cho backed up against an ornamental pillar, as she tried to regain her breath. Initial terror had galvanised her into motion, and now in the open, the terror had crytallised into something more primitive.

Fight or flight.

She put a hand on the pillar to steady herself while her right hand reached into her robes for her wand. She would fight him, she thought grimly.

Cho never saw it coming.

The axe made a sharp clinking sound as it hit the pillar, severing her hand neatly at the wrist.

She screamed. Blood jetted from the stump.

The axehead rebounded off the pillar, crushing her jaw and hyoid bone in her throat. Her voice box collapsed. Cho dropped to her knees.

Macnair stared down at her impassively, bouncing the axe lightly in his hands. His robes and face were splattered with bits of her blood and bone.

"Tell you what," he said. "I will give you a three minute head start. Then, I'll hunt you down."

Cho looked up at the Death Eater. She stood up slowly, cradling her left stump. Macnair's eyes bored into her, filling her with fear. He cocked his head, signaling that she should start running.

For a split second, Cho stared at him.

My killer, she thought.

Then she turned tail and ran. Her feet slipped on the wet ground, causing her to crash down an incline into a ditch. She opened her mouth in a silent scream of agony as pain jarred through her abused body.

She gritted her teeth and tried to scramble up the other side of the ditch. The slippery ground made it almost impossible. She sank into the ditch in exhaustion and pain.

A presence made her look up. She saw a familiar figure standing at the top of the incline, silhouetted against the burning keep. The axe glinted in his belt.

With deliberate slowness Macnair removed the axe from his belt. He stood right at the edge of the incline, arms high in the air. He gave her a sad, mocking smile.

The last thing she saw was the wedge of the axehead as it rushed towards her skull.

~ Finis ~

©zed adams 30 July 2002