Chapter 8.

Instead of my normal dark purple irises, they have a tint of silver in them getting clearer as my powers get stronger.


A loud pop erupts from the middle of the room, making everyone jump.


My hand suddenly goes into a ball, blinking quickly, trying to release the powerful effects of my abilities.


There, in the middle of the room, in front of everyone is Dweeble. Her green tennis ball eyes locks with mine, bringing a massive toothless smile on her face.


Dweeble’s bat-like eyes wiggle slightly as she rushes towards my still form, grabbing my hands and swinging them with her tiny arms.


“It’s come!” Her voice is high-pitched and squeaky, like nails on a chalkboard. Excitement makes her body shake and her eyes enlarge even more than usual.


Ignoring her, I will myself to move. To warn my dear house elf that my Fathers belt is rising high above his head from behind her, his face livid.


My mouth is dry as the belt cuts through the air and crashes down onto my best friends back. A loud crackling cry comes out of Dweeble’s little mouth, tears clouding her eyes.


David Broomwell Destry brings his arm back again for another swing, but I push Dweeble out of the way and bite my bottom lip as my shoulder feels the impact of the belt through my cloak and deep into my skin.


He hits me again. Twice. Making my skin split slightly, a warm trickle runs down my arm as I full onto my knees.


I blink away the water from my purple eyes, refusing to show him how hurt I truly am. My Father grabs a fistful of my sandy blonde hair and drags me closer to the other Death Eaters.


I groan as he forces my head up, facing the ceiling.


“Now then. You’re going to show these gentlemen, and Black, what we practiced or…” He spits, forcing me to wince as he slaps me hard around the face.


The blood rushes to my cheek as it stings like hell and I desperately force myself not to cry as Dweeble helps me onto my feet, looking sheepish and terrified. Tears roll down her crow-like nose as her eyes droop, still gripping my hand with her boney fingers.


“Do it!” David Broomwell Destry yells in my ear, causing Dweeble to moan and cry harder.


I flick my fingers, causing a sudden gust of wind sweeps through the room, throwing dark items around the room towards the Death Eaters shocked faces.


My nails turn a darker blue and my eyes more silver as I start letting my anger out, the wind becoming more fierce.


I can feel Dweeble’s hand squeezing mine tightly and I can hear my Father yelling something at me but it sounds like murmurs, like being under water.


The house-elf’s sharp nails dig into my hand but I barely feel it. Like being in another body, looking at the scene from afar, not really being a part of it. But I am a part of it.


As the gusts of wind turn into a tight tornado around the room, I feel my feet coming off the floor slightly.


Chairs, Death Eaters, things from the mantel, everything in the room that comes loose is either scattered on the floor or swirling around the room.


  Abraxa Malfoy holds tightly onto his family heirloom, the famous Malfoy black cane with a silver snake head on the tip. Many know that it’s not a cane but a wand that has been in his family for years.

As the room shakes when the tornado gets stronger, the Death Eaters slowly get out their wands –including my Father- pointing them in my direction.

The End

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