We Can't Wake Up

The sight of those two fueled such a rage in Marcus. It was like nothing he had ever felt before. It was not the cool feeling that usually flooded him, this was a new hot and violent smothering hate that threatened to consume him if he didn’t get away fast enough.

As soon as he was sure that he was no longer in the sight range of Anne and Percy he broke into a run; the heat pushing him faster and deeper into the forest. The trees almost seemed to jump out of the way; such was Marcus’ speed and fury.

Suddenly, he tripped and skidded along the ground. Dirt spat into his face, his hands grinding into the thick gnarly roots of the trees. He came to a halt with a thump as he collided with the stump of an old tree. Slowly, Marcus raised himself into a sitting position. He did not appear to be hurt in any way, apart from his pride. He brushed the dirt from his grey school jumper and then his hands and face. Marcus leant against the tree and his hands fell to the ground beside him.

His right hand touched something cold and hard. Frowning, Marcus picked it up and held it to his eyes. With a start, he recognized it.

“The Resurrection Stone,” he murmured, his lips only just forming the words. He twisted it slowly in his hands, admiring every angle. Suddenly, two figures appeared beside him. They had no substance, Marcus could see straight through their bodies into the trees beyond.

But he knew who they were.

Lord Voldemort stood tall and majestic right in front of him. Bellatrix stood beside him, looking scornfully at her surroundings.

She looked down to Marcus, leaning against the tree stump watching them with a carefully masked expression.

“Marcus,” she whispered. “You found us,” There was no happiness in her voice, no surprise. Her tone was flat as if she had been expecting him to find them all along and was annoyed that it had taken him so long.

Marcus ignored her and stared at his father. Lord Voldemort. Their eyes locked and Voldemort could see himself as that young student at Hogwarts.

“Marcus,” he said slowly, his voice void of any emotion, just the way Marcus would talk. “I can see it in you Marcus,” he continued quietly. “You have killed.” Something glinted in his eyes “But no-one of worth. Not even a mud-blood.”

Marcus narrowed his eyes as Bellatrix laughed haughtily at him. He stood up, already he was taller than his mother had been and was at eye-level with his father. The stone was clenched tightly in his hand. “Who has them?” he asked in a hard voice.

Voldemort knew what he was speaking of. “Harry Potter.” Voldemort spat. Bellatrix stopped laughing at once. “He has them, but not for long. He is to die soon,”

Bellatrix suddenly shrieked loudly and vanished. Voldemort closed his eyes and he too vanished.

Marcus stood silent, the stone in his palm. He pocketed it and walked back to the castle.