Ava Adore

Caitriona was terrified. One minute she had been walking calmly down Tottenham Court Road, still wearing her formal dress. It had been a formal night at her school, a dance. Her date had left her in the middle of the evening for one miss Andrea Larkin, the school tart. Caitriona was still being penalised for being a virgin by her peers, even though she was only fifteen. Far too young an age to be having mature intercourse. She didn't think she'd wait til marriage, but at least she'd wait for someone she actually cared about, and someone who cared about her. Stephen Cash was not that person. All thoughts of the formal were driven out of her head, however, when all the light on the street seemed to go out, and there was a distant screaming and racket.
She scooped up the hem of her long, irridescent blue dress and scurried behind the closest thing to her, a large trash bin. At least with the distraction of fear, her sense of smell was dimmed. She crouched low behind the bin, trying not to cast any shadows. Caitriona clamped one hand over her mouth to hide the sounds of her fearful, laboured breathing. Three men in cloaks, hoods and frightening masks that shone in the twilight were walking past the bin in the alley. Their sharp boots echoed on the cobblestones, each one seeming to coincide with Caitriona's thumping heart beats. "Oh, please," she thought, "oh, please don't let these strange men find me here." She silently cursed Stephen Cash for leaving her. If he had spent the duration of the dance with her, she would still be in that stupid gymnasium drinking disgustingly sweet punch and tolerating his pawing hands. Right now, that positively sounded like paradise.
The men passed from one end of the alley to the other, never noticing Caitriona's presense. She didn't dare breathe a sigh of relief or retreat from her hiding place. It couldn't have just been three men who caused all that screaming and commotion. That's when she saw a small group of people running down the alley. They were her classmates, she realised with a thrill of renewed fear. They were being chased by more masked men, this time brandishing sticks that shot sparks. The group must have been drinking down at a pub, finding the brew much more appetising than the school-provided beverages. "Crucio!," one of the men shouted. A girl in a bright pink knee-length party dress fell to the wet ground, twitching terribly. The screams of her school mates drowned out her shocked gasp: that was Andrea Larkin being attacked. The other girls huddled together against a wall, too paralysed by fear to move. They could only stare in terror as one of the men waved his stick over Andrea. She stopped writhing in pain, but she still twitched and moaned. The brunette was on her back, staring up at the sky with glazed, tear-stained eyes. Her mascara and eyeliner smudged her face. The man, short and squat, leaned over the girl and caressed her long hair. "This one's mine," he said. He had a voice like a rat. He looked up at his mates with a sadistic smile on the half of face that the mask revealed.
"Oi, Pettigrew, why do you get the fittest one?" The short man straightened his posture, pulling Andrea up by her hair with an inhuman, silver hand. "Because I caught her first," he replied casually.
Another man stepped forward, this one more commanding than the rest. He had long, glistening blond hair, a strong patrician jaw, and a walking stick that appeared to be made of liquid silver. Something about him stirred a sense of familiarity in Cait, but she wasn't sure why. He was like no man she had ever encountered before. "I'll take that one," he said, sounding bored. The girl he had gestured to was Lana Highmoore, Cait's friend. "No," she whispered. "Kill the rest," he said. She was about to spring forth, to do what she wasn't sure, when a hand clamped over her mouth and another pulled her firm to the ground. "Stay still, you idiot," a voice hissed in her ear, "there's nothing you can do." She squirmed against the man holding her in place and was surprised when a low groan inssued in her ear. "Stop it, I'm not going to hurt you. And close your eyes for this."
But Caitriona could not close her eyes. She could only watch in horror as flashes of green light hit the rest of the girls against the alley wall. She did not know what the light was, but she knew it was bad as the girls slumped to the ground, their lifeless eyes still open in terror. It was like watching a firing squad. She began trembling uncontrollably, silent tears were streaming down her cheeks. She wore no makeup, but this did not comfort her in the slightest. All she could think of were the dead bodies before her, the ones that had belonged to her school mates, girls she had been dancing with just hours before. Now, finally, she closed her eyes.
The man behind her held her tightly, afraid she would do something rash and stupid in her despair. Caitriona could not bring herself to move. After what seemed an eternity, the men spoke. "We'll take these girls back to the manor. Leave the bodies. They'll send a good message to the aurors. Muggles are less than animals to us." Caitriona looked up, confused. Muggles? They exited the alley, dragging with them Lana and Andrea. They were crying, trying to cluctch onto each other for comfort. With a loud crack, the captors and captives disappeared. In an instant, Cait was pulled up onto her feet. She wobbled in her high heels, and the man placed a supportive arm around her waist. She turned to face him, but a hooded cloak was covering his features. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"That's not important. What is your name?"
"Caitriona."
"Caitriona what?"
"Rohe." A sharp intake of air came from beneath the cloak. "I have to get you out of here, before the aurors come. Grab hold of my arm, and do not let go for anything, do you understand me?" The girl nodded, her blonde ringlets shaking as she did so. He clutched her arm, and with a sickening sensation and cry of shock from Cait, they were gone.