The Price of a Life

“Crucio!” The scream that followed, taking the place of the typical bass of a man’s voice, rose from the dust of the ground that the victim had fell to, colliding with the subliminal air of death-rampaging beauty, dancing up to the promise of an overture, to the ears of Augustus Rookwood. The Wizard watched in delight as he felt the seductive powers of the union between his bloodlust and his wand, only just beginning to have his pleasure stroked by the first touch of his wand’s cruelty to a Muggle he wasn’t bothered to identify. One would have expected a thirst for murder to stem from a deeply-seated vendetta. There were many, as Augustus had noted, amongst the gathering Death Eaters for the day. Non-humans, monsters, beautiful, beautiful creatures … of amusement; united in their hatred for symbols of conformity, staring at the faces that, in their miniscule roles, altogether formed a patchwork of what it meant to be normal – what it meant to be human. Outcasts, all, and Augustus delighted in their pathetic need to place themselves in a world that was, and that always will be, appalled by their existence.

But no, no. Augustus Rookwood didn’t have a personal vendetta. Sure, he might have had time in Azkaban, permanently sealing his loyalty in the eyes of the Dark Lord for his contribution during the Wizarding Wars. Yet, even before the nightmare of Azkaban, the man, in his youth and heyday, already held torture as sport. Pity that the orders, upon his return from retirement, decided that murder was to be entre on the menu. Augustus thought of the declining skeletons in the dungeons back at Rookwood Manor and shook his head, disappointed. What he would not give to have more toys in the dungeons. What fun was there in killing? Why does one desire to leave the theatre even before the overture has started? Augustus continued to shake his head, amused now at the face of the man who was still screaming. He was sure that the man had never hit such a high note in his life before. Augustus directed his wand a little away from the Muggle, stopping to stare in bemusement at the disfigured expression on his face. And then, with a satisfied smile, he began to laugh, then clap in appreciation.

“Marvellous!” He began, just as the Muggle stopped in his terrified attempts in response to the spine-tearing pain that was the effect of the Cruciatus Curse. Lowering himself a little to get closer to the face of a man who could not be over the age of forty. “You know, I’ve never ever had the pleasure of hearing a man hit such a high note before in my life. Well, considering how, perhaps, the highest one I’ve heard was at the Paris Opera. Dear me, such a cliché. The phantom!” Augustus nodded his head. “Fabulous opera that was. You should catch it some time. I wouldn’t miss it for the world! And so should you.” He lifted his face away from the man, who, in addition to his fears, was now confused with the conversation that followed. “Hmmm …” Augustus returned to look at his victim, scratching at the stubble at his chin. “D’you know when that production comes to this town?” Almost immediately, the Wizard raised his wand and laughed cheerily. “It’s too bad they’ll find it in shambles,” Augustus sang it, ending it all with the killing curse. Then, observing the lifeless face of his tortured victim, the Wizard shook his head. “Pity, really. You would look so much better in my dungeons. We could have had it all. So much fun, wasted.” Augustus clicked his tongue in contemplation, then adjusted his robes before stepping out of the house.

You’re not meant to have a conscience, Alistair, a ghostly voice whispered in one of the far reaches of his mind. What’s changed?

The twenty-something-year-old man had moved from his position on the hillside but still retained his height by standing himself on the rooftops, laying himself on some occasions flush against the tiles so as to reach in and with a few flicks of his wand, break into the brickwork of the house and fiddle with the electricity that Muggles revered so. He was even inclined at certain points down the road to slip in through the kitchen window and tamper with the gas so they’d die quickly and painlessly rather than with the little dignity that the Death Eaters afforded them. Alistair didn’t have the stomach for outright murder anymore. It was senseless and merely seated them more comfortably in hell than they already were. Alistair wasn’t one to miss out on such things and he certainly would have been amongst the revellers with a tally higher than anyone else’s – four years ago. Now, it was a different story all together.

When the first explosion ripped through the house further down the street, Alistair closed his eyes, hoping that the sounds he heard where merely the wheezing of the gas and electricity, not the screams of a woman or a child. He shook his head, pressing that out of his mind, and continued to hop around amongst the roofs, now merely trying to make as much ground as possible to get away from the explosions of gas that would rip and rumble through the line of houses. He gave a little bit of a wail as he threw himself off of one of the roofs and took off running as soon as his feet touched down on the tarmac.

There were to be no witnesses – that was made abundantly clear. Alistair could only stand and watch, his wand absently being rolled between his fingers, as the Death Eaters ran rampant through the small town, fire following behind them in their wake.

They’re just Muggles, He told himself. They don’t matter.

Oh, but they did.

A shot rang out high over the madness and Alistair grunted, his leg buckling beneath him as he felt the cool, sharp metal slice through the back of his calf. He gasped, his eyes opening wide behind the mask, and he turned his head to see a portly man with a large moustache – or perhaps a ferret – adorning his upper lip with a handgun in his fat hand that nearly engulfed the entire thing. For a moment, Alistair arrogantly wondered how the man had managed to shoot it but upon seeing that the man made to shoot again, Alistair thrust his arm out, flicking his wand and casting “Expelliarmus!” Alistair watched momentarily as the gun flew from the man’s hand and with a few spells, Alistair adjusted his leg so he could at least stand.

“Crucio!” The man buckled under the weight of the spell and with a second, Alistair drew the writhing man close to him. “How dare you, Muggle?” Alistair spat, his eyes alight behind the mask with the reflection of the fire. Alistair lifted his wand, brought it back and then flicked it forwards, shooting the oaf of the man into the air. Alistair then put his back to the Muggle and the house, ignoring the crack of bones on the pavement, and Apparated back up to his roost where the timer was.

Half an hour left.

Thaor quickly left the group of death eaters, none of them aware he was there thanks to a handy disolousment charm. He removed it as he walked towards the first house he would enter for the evening. He thought he may have some fun with this house, as a True Blood Poster hung from an upper window, he knew this to be a muggle tv show about vampires. He magically gave himself fangs, walked up to the door and knocked. A teenage boy answered the door. May I help you? he asked, Thaor smiled, showing his fangs.

May I come in? he asked, keeping the smile on his face.

Yes, yes you may. The boy answered, scared, yet, intrigued with the idea of a vampire entering his house.

Thaor walked inside to see an older woman, with three smaller children on the couch, he drew his wand, Avada Kedavra he said, aiming at the woman, after a jet of green light, she lay motionless, hunched over one of the three children. He repeated the spell three times, killing the three small children. He then turned to the boy who let him in, he stood there, motionless, as if he'd seen a ghost. Thaor turned his wand on the boy.

I rescind any invitation I've given you to enter our home. The boy said, still motionless, frozen with fear.

Thaor laughed, This isn't a tv show my boy, and I am not a vampire. Sectumsempra. Thaor said, laughing once more, as the boy fell to the ground and bled out, Thaor checked the rest of the house, finding no one, he left the home, locking the door behind him.

Ne'Os found himself at the front door of the second farmhouse he had encountered in his raid on the outskirts. He could tell children lived here. He always felt odd when children were involved in a target. He decided that these children would be spared living with the trauma of their parent’s death. If he did this right, they wouldn't even know they had died.

He knocked on the door a few times, and smiled when the door opened and the lady who answered saw no one. He slipped through the threshold before the door closed. As she turned to walk away he made a vicious slashing motion with his hand whispering "Gladius;" the woman shrieked and fell to the floor as a jet of green flames struck her. At the same moment one of the children walked into the room and saw the green flames and his mother fall to the floor. Ne'Os cursed himself for not being more careful as the child turned and ran, screaming a warning to his sibling and his father.

He drew his wand as he moved further into the house. He could hear the remaining people in the house slam a door and drag a heavy object in front of it. This sadly meant more work for him as he didn't want anyone entering the house to notice a struggle had taken place. With a sigh he made a silent prayer that he wouldn't appear inside a wall and aperated into the room the father and his two children had taken refuge in.

The three victims jumped in surprise when they heard a crack behind them. The father aimed a shotgun he had at the source of the pop and looked frustrated when it turned out to be nothing he could see. He hugged his children closer to him and dropped his shotgun as a man dressed in black robes seemingly materialized out of thin air.

"mortem ieiunium" He said with a smile as he raised his wand and thought Attonbitus. The man and his children's eyes widened as a bolt of lightning flashed at them, broke into three separate bolts, and struck all of them. They slumped to the floor their death screams silenced by the clap of thunder.

Ne'Os sighed as he flicked his wand at the wardrobe pressed in front of the door and set it back in its proper place. He then dragged the four bodies to the living room and set them up so they were all positioned in front of the television. The adult’s eyes open and the children's closed. Satisfied their deaths would be impossible to explain by non magical means he left the house behind, and walked back to wait out the remaining time.

How interesting it was.

Sofie was not being sarcastic. It was legitimately interesting. Only one boy had thought to take her on rather than kill off his friends and he had died for it. Sofie had stole his phone and taped it to the fence, activating the video feature. The whole thing was being video taped. Sofie could extract the video and put it anywhere- the muggle internet, their mobile devices, a disk, a pensieve...

It started off appeals. Each told of who they thought was the best of the group, and when those that were unanimously killed off were gone, they grieved. They saw how black their souls were and they tore out their hair and cried their tears, and clung to the bodies of their lovers and friends.

And then Sofie told them the game was not over. The shrubbery caught on fire and the ickles set out to prove who was the worst. The boy beat his girlfriend; a girl clawed her best friend's eyes; a cousin wielded a broken bottle on his own flesh and blood. Sofie kept them motivated with the wand in her hand.

It came down to the last two- a girl and a boy, surprisingly. The boy tried and tried, and they were both bloodied and torn. The boy was weak though. He stood over her, ready to kill, and began to cry. "I can't. I've known her since we were tots. I can't!" He begged her for forgiveness, and Sofie turned to her.

"Would you have him killed? For your life, would you?"

The girl showed no mercy. "Yes. Yes, I would."

And with a flash of green, the girl got her wish.

Sofie strolled the park. "Eleven. Eleven of your friends dead. How many, may I ask, were by your hand, or by your prompting?"

The girl stood, counting. A tear rolled down her cheek as she said, "Five. Five of them died because of me."

Sofie turned to her. "No. Eleven died because of you. Anyone of them could have taken your place, but you insisted your importance. Tell me, girl, what makes you better than them?"

The girl stared at Sofie and slowly said, "I dunno."

"You better think of a reason. They all died, and you will live long. By the time of your natural passing, you'd better have a reason." She turned and gathered the camera, sending the video to the girl's mobile through magic. She watched a portion of the clip. "Then again, you might not."

Sofie turned and apparated out of the park. The fences remained twenty feet high and Sofie cast a protective spell around them. If one person in the village would live, it was this girl who thought her life more important than all of her friends' lives. She would watch her village burn and she would live long to remember it.

It wasn't a tragedy without a survivor.

Lucifer had only made it a few steps from the house when a small boy shrieked. He turned and looked at what he assumed would be the younger brother of the girl he just killed.

"Hey, kid!" Lucifer called out. The little boy turned his head towards Lucifer. Lucifer smiled and pointed his wand towards the boy. "Avada Kedavra!"

And the boy dropped.

"That was slightly easier than expected." Lucifer said to himself.

He walked over to the next house and decided to be rash.

He kicked the door open and found a women and a man sitting on their couch.

"Oh, sorry. Did I interrupt a conversation? Was it important?" He grinned.

The man stood up. "Hey! You can't just go kicking my door open and de-"

" AVADA KEDAVRA!" He turned to the woman. "Now, darling, if you wish not to die I think you should run." The woman got up off the couch and made a run.

"I was joking. Avada Kedavra!" And she dropped dead.

"Well that was fun. On to the next house." Lucifer pocketed his wand, stepped over the dead man and walked out of the house.

Alexis quickly moved on to another house near the one she'd just been at. The lights had suddenly come on just after she exited the other house and she didn't doubt it was because of the scream that had come from the girl before she was killed. The door opened and just before an older man came out, she removed her mask and hid her arm behind her back.

He pointed a gun at her and Alexis tilted her head to the side innocently. He looked her over and lowered the gun as he seemed to deem that she was harmless. "Sorry about that. I got a bad feeling when I heard a scream from our neighbor." he told her as he lowered the flying fully to his side. Alexis smiled warmly at him and took a few steps closer to the house until she stood almost completely in front of the man.

"You should've gotten a bad feeling. It's only natural when your neighbors were just killed." she said in a smooth voice. "And you're next." she added. Her warm smile turned into a dark smirk and she took her wand out.

"What're you-" the man tried to say as she pressed her wand into his stomach a bit. He had no idea what was going on and she looked up at him.

"Avada Kedavra." she said calmly and pulled her wand away from the man a flash of green light. As his body fell to the ground, Alexis replaced her mask back onto her face and she walked through the open door into the house where she found a woman and two children seemingly hiding behind the couch. The older of the two kids, probably about thirteen, stood up and glared at her.

"Who are you? Why are you in here, where's Dad?" he asked angrily. Alexis smirked at him under her mask and lifted her wand, pointing it at him. The boy's eyes widened.

"Don't worry about your father. You'll be joining him shortly, but first I think I'll have some fun with you all." she said calmly and she flicked her wand at the standing boy. "Crucio." she added shortly after and she watched the boy fall to the floor, flailing around from the pain running through him. She laughed coldly at his pain and looked toward the woman, who seemed to be in a stupor from seeing her oldest son in agony. "You really shouldn't raise you're children to be so rash. Look where that got him." she said and she pointed her wand at the woman. "Avada Kedavra." she said in a whisper.

As the woman fell limp to the floor, the younger child, maybe about nine, crawled quickly toward her mother and she shook her trying to get her to wake up. When she realized her mother wouldn't wake up, she threw herself over the woman and began to cry. Alexis winced a bit at the girl's reaction and she looked away toward the boy who was still flailing on the floor. His movements began to slow down and she could tell he reached his limit to the pain. He suddenly went limp and Alexis knew that was it. "He's done." she said in a cold tone and the girl looked toward her brother.

"Why are you doing this?" she screamed. "What'd we do to you? What are you?!" she continued to scream at her. The little girl stood up and she came running at her. Alexis smirked at her.

"You have some guts to do that." she said and she pointed her wand at the little girl. She stopped in her tracks and wondered what was going on, why she couldn't move anymore. She flicked her wand forward and sent the little girl flying back toward the corpse of her mother. "Pity. And I was going to let you live too. Oh well." she said and she flicked her wand at her. "Avada Kedavra." The girl went completely limp and she turned around and headed toward the door. Alexis looked at the man on the ground and she lifted him into the house before closing the door and moving on.