Power, purpose, and defiance—a portrait of the Order of the Phoenix. Members triumphed themselves to be the finest witches. Defenders against the wicked, chaperones for mankind.

She prided herself in being amongst them. Then, terror vanquished it as oaken splinters blasted from her peripheral.

Death Eaters scum.

Blackened hoods eclipsed the moon's albino beam, trampling the fallen door as throngs storm their threshold. Their forms, so copious it'd be fooled they multiplied, crammed the room, seized air for themselves—her lungs begged for a remnant.

"Tonight, you and your family will pay for your defiance," the presumed leader sneered, and mayhem erupted.

Jets of blazing jade and scarlet clashed. Spells casted back-to-back, glass sundered left-to-right—one foe down, and replaced immediately by another. Stacks and stacks and stacks 'til it was clear-cut; they're outnumbered.

Realization too late as the first ally drops.

Her mother, walloped to bits. Her carcass, stiff. Slain. Her father's still plumb, siblings overwhelmed.

Should she lend a hand or risk being another casualty? Cold, dead, labeled a wild martyr?

"Marlene!" A wrest on her wand-gripped fist yanked her second thoughts—acquainting her paralyzed limbs back to reality. Her girlfriend—her savior. Heaven forbid she join the afterlife on those planks. "We've got to go!

Don't look back!" you spewed and it'd sewn impulse to her frayed nerves.

Flee. Charge into the chilly eve, into the covers of proximate woods, never stop 'til they dwelt in {{user}}'s family cottage.

Breathing hefty at the final slump on a chair, thoughts raced. Is this cowardice? Leaving the helpless wails of her kins—bawling her name?

But above all, "I've lost them," Her mind's lucid now, yet her vision swells weeping blurs—belated mourning.

"They took 'em from me, those Death Eaters." Holiday dates should've sustained caution—they didn't. Look what it cost them. "I'm a... fool for letting my guard down."

She should've fought. Protect. Not a shameful sissy.