What A Waste

Downfallen

Screaming, crying, and yelling were a common occurrence at the Malfoy residence. The place was never truly quiet , one corner or another always harboured some inhumane suffering or fear. No one, of course, cared. It was just what the Malfoy Manor was. No longer a home but a place of business, dark, unlawful business.

So the screams went unnoticed, simply a part of the atmosphere. You should get used to them eventually, anyway. Everyone ignored them or egged them on in a sick, twisted show of power. Everyone but Katra. The Dark Lords daughter.

Katra sat curled into a ball, stuffed into the tight space between an old wooden dresser and the wall, a favourite pastime. She had her hand forced over her ears in a desperate attempt to drown out the mix of maniacal laughter and human suffering.
Well muggles, half-bloods, and blood traitors. And father says they aren't really human. And that apparently makes it okay and not the cruelty that it so happened to be.

It was the winter season and a new type of noise arose; whispers that kept Kat up in the early mornings and late nights had been taking about a prophecy, a few nights before Katra's father had left and never returned. A foretelling that a child born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives.

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Katra was outside, walking along the grounds of the looming Manor, picking dying flowers and bracing herself along the harsh winter winds that threatened to knock her down. Nothing was out of the ordinary, nothing at all. That was until a group of deatheters came stampeding through the wrought iron gate that guarded the house.

"THE DARK LORD HAS PERISHED!"
"HES GONE!"
"OUR LORD HAS BEEN DEFEATED"

Kat took a deep breath and strained forward to ask one of the only ones she recognised in the group, a man with tall, long blonde hair, and a cane not used for walking, Lucius Malfoy.

"Uh- Mr Malfoy.." her voice faulted from lack of use, nobody really acknowledged her, let alone talk to her besides bark orders. "Is it true? Is my father dead?"

Lucius bent down and looked katra straight into the eyes and spoke with a sickly sweet tone:" Yes my dear, our Lord has fallen."

Katra hitched her breath and briskly walked away. Through the doors of the marina and straight upstairs to her bedroom. She wasn't sad, not one bit. Her father wasn't a father to her, past making sure she hated 'mudbloods' and the sorts, and she had food to eat. He didn't care for her more than a possession. And she held nothing for him in her heart. He wasn't one capable of love anyway. That's all she was to him, a possession. A pet to teach his twisted version of right and wrong.

She simply hoised herself onto her bed, curled up under the covers and fell asleep, dreaming of a bright green light, and a massive castle in the Highlands.