The ants go marching two by two, hurrah, hurrah.
The ants go marching two by two, hurrah, hurrah.
There had been many times when Michael was little that he had heard the ant song, his father playing it to him over and over in the hopes of reminding him of his Muggle side. Now, the lyrics had somehow found their way into his mind, distracting him from the cold rain pelting down on him. Perhaps it was because he felt like an insect, marching with his fellow ants to a destination he could not control.
"Get a move on!"
A steady kick to his heel made him surge forwards, keeping up with the other wizards and witches who were marching in single file. Heavy rifles were slung over their shoulders, the wands of their Death Eater escorts trained on …show more content…
Their quota for today was a minimum of two captures and killings of runaways and traitors. Usually, the number was as high as thirty or forty murders; it was so small today only because the village had already been raided by the patrol before them. The Death Eaters weren't feeling as cruel as they normally were, and Michael only prayed harder that he didn't find someone now and thus prompt punishment for the earlier patrol for not finding them …show more content…
Michael's blood froze as he watched the Death Eaters kick the body, their mouths twisting up into smirks.
"Oho, I recognise this one. The Dark Lord will be pleased, won't he?" one of them said, aiming a kick at the deceased bartender's head.
Just as quickly as they had appeared, however, the smirks disappeared from the Death Eaters' faces. Crabbe—the burly Death Eater who had spoken, no doubt related to a boy Michael had once shared class with—stepped forward and glared around at the group. He was the cruellest of the guards and had put himself in charge the moment the patrol had left Hogwarts. His beady, black eyes surveyed them, cheeks growing red.
"Just one body?" he asked.
No one spoke, the tension in the air rising. Michael straightened his posture, determined to hide the shaking that overtook his body. Beside him, his partner stiffened. His heart raced as the image of the little girl flew to the front of his mind, and he berated himself for leaving her. Would his moment of weakness cost
The ants go marching two by two, hurrah, hurrah.
There had been many times when Michael was little that he had heard the ant song, his father playing it to him over and over in the hopes of reminding him of his Muggle side. Now, the lyrics had somehow found their way into his mind, distracting him from the cold rain pelting down on him. Perhaps it was because he felt like an insect, marching with his fellow ants to a destination he could not control.
"Get a move on!"
A steady kick to his heel made him surge forwards, keeping up with the other wizards and witches who were marching in single file. Heavy rifles were slung over their shoulders, the wands of their Death Eater escorts trained on …show more content…
Their quota for today was a minimum of two captures and killings of runaways and traitors. Usually, the number was as high as thirty or forty murders; it was so small today only because the village had already been raided by the patrol before them. The Death Eaters weren't feeling as cruel as they normally were, and Michael only prayed harder that he didn't find someone now and thus prompt punishment for the earlier patrol for not finding them …show more content…
Michael's blood froze as he watched the Death Eaters kick the body, their mouths twisting up into smirks.
"Oho, I recognise this one. The Dark Lord will be pleased, won't he?" one of them said, aiming a kick at the deceased bartender's head.
Just as quickly as they had appeared, however, the smirks disappeared from the Death Eaters' faces. Crabbe—the burly Death Eater who had spoken, no doubt related to a boy Michael had once shared class with—stepped forward and glared around at the group. He was the cruellest of the guards and had put himself in charge the moment the patrol had left Hogwarts. His beady, black eyes surveyed them, cheeks growing red.
"Just one body?" he asked.
No one spoke, the tension in the air rising. Michael straightened his posture, determined to hide the shaking that overtook his body. Beside him, his partner stiffened. His heart raced as the image of the little girl flew to the front of his mind, and he berated himself for leaving her. Would his moment of weakness cost