Obliviate my Destiny {Book 5}

11. Remus, the coward

I thought that Kreacher would be back in a few hours, considering he escaped a lake of the dead—but it'd been almost three days, and there was no sign of the elf.

It didn't help with morale when two cloaked men appeared in the square outside, remaning there until the night, gazing at a house they couldn't see.

"It's Cameron and somebody else." I said, twitching the curtain aside to make sure they hadn't noticed anything, made that I wasn't able to kill him. "Oh, and Cameron's eating an orange as if it's somebody's flesh."

"Can't we just kill him through the window," Ron said, looking out of the window as well, where Cameron was staring at the empty space with a murderous look in his eye, bandages covering his leg and face from where I'd hit him with sectumsempra on two separate occasions. "Do Cole and his sisters a favour."

"Sadly, I think that would be giving ourselves away." Hermione sighed, trying to transfigure a piece of mouldy bread into a non-mouldy piece. I suggested I go out as Lena to get food, but we thought that would be too suspicious with Cameron and other death eaters lurking around.

"I don't think they know how to get in," Harry said, joining us at the window. "Otherwise they would have sent Snape in."

"They probably know we own the house," I said to Harry, nudging his arm. "They're waiting for us to arrive, the morons."

However funny it was that they didn't know we were inside, it added an ominious mood to the house. We hadn't heard anything from anybody since the first night, and everybody was slowly getting anxious from the lack of news.

I kept scratching at my scars from Umbridge and the prophecy scars, which was getting on Harry's last nerve; he kept slapping my hands when I did it. Of course, Ron was getting on Hermione's nerves by lighting and re-lighting the deluminator when she was trying to study Beedle the Bard.

"Will you stop it!" she cried on the third evening of Kreacher's absence, as all the light was sucked from the drawing room yet again.

"Sorry, sorry!" said Ron, clicking the Deluminator and restoring the lights. "I don't know I'm doing it!"

"Well, can't you find something useful to occupy yourself?"

"What, like reading kids' stories?"

"Dumbledore left me this book, Ron—"

"and he left me the Deluminator, maybe I'm supposed to use it!"

"Ugh, shall we see if Kreacher is back?" I muttered to Harry, who nodded, seeing that another domestic was brewing between Ron and Harry.

We slipped out of the room unnoticed and went to the kitchen to see if Kreacher had miraculousy appeared with a full Sunday roast and Mundungus. Sadly he hadn't. Sighing in defeat, we left the kitchen, but halfway up the stairs the door chain grinded open.

Harry placed a finger on his lip and nodded at me to follow him. Straightening out my posture, I took to a defensive stance, wand pointed. We moved into the shadows behind the kitchen door, waiting.

A cloaked figure edged into the hall and closed the door behind them. They stepped forward, and Moody's voice spoke, the dust figure rushing at the figure, who didn't flinch.

"It was not I who killed you, Albus," said a quiet and oddly familiar voice.

The jinx broke: The dust-figure exploded again. Harry leapt out from our hiding spot, pointing his wand at the intruder, "Don't move!" he shouted. I leapt from the shadows as reinforcement, ready to aim to kill.

As Mrs Black's portrait began to scream, noise was heard from above as Ron and Hermione came thundering down the stairs, wands pointed at the figure.