The next morning, I get up at five a.m., unhappy that my Saturday is not used to it’s full potential: sleeping. We eat a hurried breakfast and sneak out the front doors before anyone really notices us. On our way down to the Entrance Gate, I turn to Draco. “So tell me more about this mission.”

“We have eight hours,” he begins. “Our basic mission is to take out Kaklahov and his family.”

My eyes grow big. “The ex-Death Eater?”

“Yep,” Draco smiles smugly.

“How’d you land us a job like that?” I ask, and with good reason. Ridding the world of traitor filth like Kaklahov is normally a job given to the older, longer-term members like our fathers and the Lestranges.

Draco smirked. “I’m good. Therefore, we’re going to do this well and it will be a clean job. Most of all - it can’t look like a job to the Muggle eye.”

“Why not?” Crabbe questions. Normally we’re allowed to get as messy as we want - it creates a clear message to the deceased's friends and family.

“I don’t know,” Malfoy snaps. “I don’t make the rules. Let’s just keep it simple - Avada Kedavra all the way. Get it?”

“Got it,” Crabbe and I say in unison.

“Good.”

We Disapparate as soon as we’re off of the grounds. When my feet hit the ground, we are outside a store on Knockturn Alley. Draco leads the way in and as soon as the chime rings, announcing arriving costumers, a tall man eagerly jumps out from behind his counter.

“Ahh, Misters Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. It is nice to see you again. What can I help you with?” he hisses. His stale breath of cigarettes and water rushes into my face, and I take a step back. He grins toothlessly and I glare at him.

“We need the usual,” Malfoy answers, ignoring my severe dislike for the man.

The man bows his way out of the room and returns shortly with three backpacks, filled with excessive amounts of Marl’s Disappearing Powder, bleach, and the Mrs. Scower’s Magical Mess Remover.

“By the way, Smith, we’re working extra hard today,” Malfoy winks, looking through the man’s long list of potions. “So throw us in some Wit-Sharpening Potion ... Draught of Peace ... and some bottles of firewhisky.”

When Malfoy pays the money to Smith, we quickly leave and Apparate in a small, tree-populated Muggle town.

“What’s his address?”

Malfoy pulls out a piece of parchment and reads, “493 ... he should be on the right side of the road.”

We walk down the street. Every house on the right is odd numbered, so we continue on, hoping to get there soon. 489 ... 491 ... 493.

We stop outside the driveway and Draco turns to us. “You ready to get your killing on?”

I laugh. “Always.”