Every night it was the same. The Dark Lord standing atop a pile of bodies; their eyes white and unseeing. The faces of the victims often included his mother and father, their hands outstretched towards him after being damned. His Slytherin friends were among the carnage as well and whether he admits it or not, he’s spied Granger’s lifeless body among the masses many times. Perhaps the most disturbing of all, Potter’s head was held high in the Dark Lord’s grasp. And every time, Draco is too afraid to intervene. He’s already lost everything, there was no point in fighting. He failed and the ones closest to him paid the ultimate price for his cowardice. Howling with laughter, The Dark Lord looks his way, raises his thin wand, and casts the killing curse. It strikes his chest in a fanfare of green lightning...