The Banshee - a Draco Malfoy fanfiction

Chaptre 12 : Revenge

For the next three days, the Carrows do not known which way to turn. Pro-Potter graffitis cover the walls a little more each night. They set new patrols with the prefects, cast spells on armors and gargoyles, turn the common rooms from top to bottom... Nothing. The culprit stays unfind.

But tonight, they are ready. The strategic points are under good surveillance and a Detection spell is in place. The first to come out of his common room will be cornered. Poor fools... They are clearly not prepared for what awaits them. At exactly midnight, Some Weasley fireworks explode in the sky, waking up the entire castle. The Milky Way lights up with the most beautiful magical creatures: unicorns, dragons, and fairies. Small phoenixes made out of sparks surge on the roofs, in search of a prey to tease. Prefect and Death Eaters find themselves on the front line of these thugs who have a fire to spare. Persecuted and pursued, none are able to climb into the Astronomy Tower in time to capture the troublemaker. They also can not prevent the sky to enlighten with Potter's lighting bolt, red and gold, well in the sight of all students awakened by the din.

When dawn arrives, Alecto is exhausted from chasing spark ghosts all night. But her ordeal is far from over. Passing the door of her classroom, she keeps a cry of exasperation. Everything is ransacked, broken, smashed. The tables are in tatters on the floor. The walls display hate messages. Only his beloved Muggle skulls are intact, laid in a respectful line, right in the middle of the room. Not having the courage to take care of this mess, she turns, screaming after a house-elf to come and do his job. She finds her brother looking just as upset as she is, his classroom in the same state.

When they enter the Great Hall, their eyes scan the tables looking for a guity look, but the young wizards learned, in the long run, not to raise their heads in their presence. Boiling with unfulfilled anger, they sit at their places under the indifferent gaze of the Headmaster. Only someone who knew him well would recognize the gleams of amusement in his dull eyes. Then there is a cry. Piercing. Terrifying.

Instead of the morning sky that should appear on the ceiling, it is only clouds and thunderstorms cluttering it. A skull takes shape in the sky, a snake emerging from its mouth. The Dark Mark ! The candles suddenly take the shape of hooded figures, faces masked. Panic is total. The benches are deserted in favor of shelters under the tables. Plates crash to the ground, food flies everywhere. The Carrows, under their brave airs, are not that confident. Copying the gestures of last night, they desperately try to chase the figures rushing over them. At the first spell they launch, calm suddenly returns. The fake Death Eaters evaporate in hundreds of phoenixes, just as teasing as their counterparts of the night. Once again, Potter's lightning bolt appears in the sky, chasing the Mark. Only then, the birds whistle their litany which will follow the brother and the sister all the day during: "Dumbledore is in our heart. Voldemort is rotten. Long live Potter!"

Who is behind all this ? Who dared such a blow to the Carrow's nose and beard? An air of enthusiasm contaminates the school with the elated students' whispers. Even the teachers give in the general joy, distributing points and rewards at the first opportunity. A simple hello brings ten points to Hufflepuff from McGonagall, and Professor Sprout offers chocolate frogs to anyone who asks. Flitwick whistles as he used to do in Dumbledore's time, and Trelawney joins for lunch. Only Alecto and Amycus have kept their sinister looks. But at the point they are, no doubt it is indelible... In the evening, they return their quarters in the vain hope of resting, but barely do they pass the door a painful bark comes out of their throat. The Mark inlaid in their arms burns like a white-hot iron would. The Master calls them. Without waiting, they rush into Snape's empty office and apparate to the Malfoy Manor. When the walls stop turning around them, they notice the full table facing them, their revered master at the end. Snape, Yaxley, Pius, Lucius, Bellatrix... The looks of disgust they rceive warn them. It is not a courtesy meeting.