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The Road to Nowhere
Draco Malfoy cursed when he heard the sirens and saw the red and blue lights flash in his rear-view mirror. With the rain pattering like a dozen demons on his windshield, he flicked on his wipers and pulled over onto the shoulder.
“He attacked my boyfriend!” Brenda screamed, pointing at him.
A horrendous, pitiful wail pierced Draco’s rage. He glanced up at his rearview mirror and saw--please, no--a Muggle cop car.
Draco lifted his head, blinking the blood away from his eyes. Pain seized him, throwing him against the driver’s seat with all the force of the Cruciatus Curse. He swallowed a scream. Mocking shards of memory danced through his dazed mind.
Draco couldn’t see. And he couldn’t feel or taste or smell. But he could hear, and the scream of the air raid siren ripped him from reality, throwing him down on his knees where tears squeezed from his eyes and left him empty.
Malfoy's arrogance fueled Cybil’s uncertainty. Grabbing his arm, she began to drag him away from the crater.
The Dark Mark
Draco bent closer to the knob, his breath fogging the protective glass. The round handle had been engraved with a narrow skull and from its open mouth protruded a vicious looking snake.
Draco dared to touch the top of the desk, cold terror slithering through his veins like venom. The carving was crude, no more than mere scratches, but he could still make out the word.
The Masked Man
Draco had expected the horde of bugs, had excepted them to pour from the building like a torrent of angry sea water. What he saw was a massive figure, no less than seven feet tall, striding towards him.
The Gillespie House
Cybil climbed onto the porch and peered in through the curtainless windows.
The book slammed shut in his hands. Draco wanted to toss it away, ugly as it was, but he fought the urge.
Draco noticed Cybil’s eyebrows shoot upwards. “We do not mean you people any harm,” she said. “We simply want to get back to Brahms.”
Vincent’s sharp eyes darted between Cybil and Draco. “Do you get what I’m saying here? I think ya’ll have a chance. The demon must want you here and Christabella knows it. She’s unsettled enough already. Just give them a little time. Soon, there’ll be questions and accusations and well, you know what comes next. Don’t wait for that it happen.”
“Witches,” she whispered, as if half-believing the word. “Witches. I…I knew it. That’s why the demon let them in, they’re witches.”
But Alessa was already hurt and scared. And when you’re hurt and scared for so long, the fear and pain turns to hate, and the hate starts to change the world.
They took her from the backroom and brought her to the center of the church. Cybil was victimized by their jeers, their mindless curses that meant so little…so very little.
Epilogue: The Brahms Courier
Draco awoke to the sound of his mother descending to the first floor of the chateau. The click-clack of her sensible low-heeled shoes on the stairs told him that his parents were planning a walk later in the day. They would ask him to come along and he would decline, unable to trust the simple beauty of the French countryside, the rolling hills that were dotted with foliage.
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