The sun cast strange shadows over the Malfoy house. But on the rooftop, no one was watching the sun; all eyes were focused on the patriarch. Lucius crouched low, breathing heavily, with a steady stream of red blood dripping from his eye.
His haggard voice rasped out uneasily, “It felt so good to kill that muggle-loving bile-blooded piece of raven’s crap…” By the end, he fell forward and gripped his eye.
Draco stared uneasily at his father. “Da…”
“…I… bring me a cauldron, boy. We have no time to lose.”
Draco stiffened up at once, as he always did around his father. “Yes, sir.” He snaked down the steps to his second floor and to his father’s room, where he found a cauldron. With a minor jinx the thing was floating behind him, as well as his father’s spell-compartment cabinet. He returned to the roof to see a red glow coursing through the horizon.
Blood red, he thought to himself, before coming to his father’s side. “What spell are you going to cast, da?”
“Silence, brat! I haven’t spent the last month in Azkaban to waste my time with your foolish questions!” Draco sank back, sitting down on a hard chair, and watched as his father went to the spell components. He saw him reach into compartments Draco had never even seen before, and utter incantations that mystified him.
He could sense power from it, though. A lot of power.
Draco watched and after several long minutes, he could feel a climax building up. Finally, a surge of red vapor erupted from the cauldron and swirled around Lucius, and the man began breathing in deeply. The red vapor that didn’t get sucked into the pale man dissipated, merging with the bloodied skies.
Lucius began to laugh, falling to the ground and sending the cauldron rolling to the side. “Hehehe… now… Now, Dumbledore, I don’t need my master anymore… I will… I will kill you all… HahaHA!” His veins began to sizzle along his arms, as his hunched form grew.
The man wasn’t listening now. “I need…” his rasping voice continued, now turning to a growling roar, his back surging up and his shoulders expanding, “I need… blood…”
Lucius lunged forward and rammed his claws into Draco’s chest. “Son, don’t worry. It’s for the good of the world. With your sacrifice, we will rid this world of mudbloods and muggles once and for all!”
One part, and already Draco is dead. Do you want more? Can you handle *more?*
Or are you afraid of, the darker side of what could, and what sometimes should be.