Helpless

2. Avada Kedavra

She was begging, the cut on her forehead bleeding as she tried to win her life. Draco stared at her, an expression of horror and incredulity on his features, listening to her rasping, pleading voice.

“There is no more use for you,” the voice from beneath the hood declared. “I have no need for traitors. Dispose of her.”

The cruel command was greeted with grunts of satisfaction and a brightening of the eyes half-hidden by the black masks of the Death Eaters. They’re actually enjoying themselves, Draco thought, disgusted.

As their hooded leader stepped back, he pointed at one of his servants. At once, the chosen on moved forward, drawing his wand.

“No, please! I can help, I can act as a spy for you, My Lord, you don’t have to-”

“Avada Kedavra!”

Her pitiful wails were cut off by the flash of emerald light. When Draco opened his eyes, having closed them to shield his eyesight from the sudden brightness, he found himself staring at a pale, cold corpse.

Feeling sick, he felt for the first time something he had never felt before, and something he most certainly didn’t want to feel again. He felt utterly and completely helpless.