Your bed chambers were dark, the moonlight barely allowing you to see a thing but the dim light flickered off of the assailant's arm. His cold fingers were pressed over your mouth - his narrowed eyes glaring down at you.

"Shh.." He hushed you, half of his face hidden by a deatheater mask. The dagger he held started to dig into your throat, beads of crimson dripping down, "Orders are orders."

You, a “mudblood”, pinned to the wall in your own room by some.. man - how lucky of you.