Characters: Kingsley and Moody
My mind was blanketed in a frost of dread; it was as though death himself had laid his chill head upon my shoulder. I knew, I just knew what had happened. My limbs screamed to run as soon as I apparated into the flats, but I forced myself to move slowly, my eye darting in all directions. But there was no need; the place was deserted, just as he'd said.
The door was gaping open, like a great wound in the architecture of the building, and the air was tainted with that horribly familiar tinge of metal.
On the threshold, my eye was drawn inexorably upwards. Beyond the many layers of the building, the painfully evident examples of normal life, the Dark Mark shone callously in the heavens. My heart strained against its fleshy bounds at the very sight and my jaw locked. Damn all to the depths of shadowy hades that I'd been right!
The room was a nightmare, all carnage and blood. It seemed as if a werewolf had been unleashed upon the interior and their many possessions were in pieces. Dorcas lay sprawled, pale and motionless, besides the wall and even from the door I could seem the defiant smile still fixed upon her features.
I entered, but did not approach the figure that was hunched over her, like some decrepit old crone. There were certain precautions to be seen to. I fixed the door and covered it with a stout ward, then went methodically around the windows and sealed those also. Only then, when all was secure, did I allow myself to acknowledge the ache that reigned my heart. With heavy, careworn steps I crossed the room and knelt beside the body. There was a convoluted ball of misery lodged unshakeably in my throat and I was ever conscious of the painful throb of life in my chest. Ah, what would I not give to share that life with her?