Miniature Castle

13. Flagrate

Draco would never forget the first time he’d been taken to see the Dark Lord. Te day he was forced into becoming a Death Eater, just another mask in the troupe of torturers Voldemort prided himself in. It had never been his dream, only his Father’s.

“Ah, so here he is, the offspring of my two faithful supporters,” the cold voice seeped out from between the white lips and Draco cowered.

He wasn’t exactly afraid of the legend before which he was standing, he was more afraid of the heartless grip his Father currently had on his aching shoulder. He had never known any love from Lucius, only fear which fed nightmares, and so not even Voldemort seemed more terrifying at that moment.

“Now, boy, show me where the Headmaster’s office is, let’s see how well prepared you are for this game…” Voldemort’s eyes were cold as he watched the pale blond draw his wand and point it to the miniature castle.

“Flagrate,” Dracp muttered, a fiery ‘X’ appearing in the chosen place. He breathed a sigh of relief when the Dark Lord nodded in agreement.