In staggering pain, Lysithea raises her delicate, scratched hand to her stomach and lightly presses before letting out a loud hiss. Any measure of hope inside of her dies as the ground violently trembles around her. Despite her limited view, she sees large, enormous figures all moving towards Rowle manor. "Spurgeon," she whispered recalling her eldest son, who had been left behind within Rowle manor. And for the first-time genuine fear begins to crawl up her flesh.
"How utterly pathetic, Dolohov, to be bested by a mere witch," a loud voice said pulling Lysithea away from her fears.
An enormous giant over thirty feet tall loomed into the moonlight. The gray-skinned giant wore dark dragon leather and a thick necklace made of dragon fangs and humanoid teeth including that of humans. The giant's hair was thick and dark chopped at the earlobe and kept short. His face was clear of any facial hair, but his eyes were as dark as the pits of Hell. Even worse were the razor-sharp teeth that glittered hungrily every time he spoke.
Dolohov snarls in humiliation struggling to pull himself from the ground. Wurfbog jeers openly, before turning his gaze towards the witch. "Nevertheless, a worthy foe," he said with a touch of respect. "I will be sure to add you to my collection," he earnestly fingered the necklace hanging around his neck made from the teeth of conquered foes.
"No, that is my prey," Dolohov hissed in rage baring his teeth wildly, but Wurfbog paid the wizard no mind. The glinting silver hook reaches out and easily skewers the female witch on the tip. Lysithea is unable to suppress a scream of pain. Her breaths seem to grow both louder and fainter at the knowledge that she was about to die.
Fear utterly consumed her as Lysithea felt herself slowly being lifted from the ground. Time seemed to slow down as the moonlight struck the shattered glass pieces on the ground giving the illusion of tiny blossoming night flowers. At that moment, the faces of her three children unexpectedly to mind. Her beautiful, headstrong daughter, Bethanie, her solemn and responsible son, Spurgeon, and her youngest and oh so terribly innocent child, Esmond.
Lysithea did not believe in regret, but she knew that she was not a good mother. She was not capable of tender and loving affection. And she had not been since her father had killed it within her as a small child. Still, she had cared for her three children as best as she could teaching them how to survive and endure in their world. It was all that she had been capable of giving them, but she had given them her all. She held no regrets.
A loud bone snapping crack is heard as Dolohov hauls himself out of the ground. Utterly vexed at his prey being stolen, he glowers upward only to spot the limp skewered corpse hanging on the silver hook of the half-breed giant. Dark vicious bruises formed around her neck from the corpse of the witch known in life as Lysithe Fawley, where her neck had been easily snapped into two. The corpse's once bright eyes are now dull and empty, lifeless as they gaze down at him as if cold mockery and judgment.
"A shame, the witch was quite beautiful," Wurfbog acknowledged in rare praise before carefully removing the corpse of the witch from the tip of his silver hook.
Dolohov snarls and raises his wand to attack, but Wurfbog dangerously flashes his teeth at the wizard. "The Aurors will be arriving soon, we must move quickly," he maliciously ordered, before carelessly tossing the witch's corpse aside after having removed the upper row of teeth. "I wonder what your master will have to say after your pathetic defeat and giving the plan away?"
"Silence half-breed!" Dolohov ground his teeth in rage, but he knew that Riddle would not be pleased with his defeat and much less at having given the surprise attack away.
The giants roar loudly as giants work together to break apart the ancestral Rowle mansion. The ancestral wards flare and hold for the moment against the slew of attacks. However, the magical wards inside will only hold for so long before they fall.
The minute the Caterwauling Charm went off, those inside Rowle manor knew that the perimeter wards surrounding Rowle manor had fallen. Instantly recalling the attacks on Malfoy manor, the guests instantly began to apparate away with their families. Others used the floo as the women and children inside the ball were sent away first.
The hearths flash green while Livius Rowle foolishly tries to calm the masses claiming that it was all some sort of misunderstanding. Very few of those present believe him considering how the manor is shaking from outside. His daughter, Euphemia's pasty, sour face is even paler. "Father, you have not angered the Dark Lord in any manner, have you?" She hesitantly asked.
Livius Rowle's brutish face furrows in bewilderment and dread. He truly did not believe that was the case nor he could recall being punished for any insolence on his part. More importantly, why had the Dark Lord not included him in his plans. Then again, Rowle for all his beliefs in the Dark Lord knew that he would be ostracized for the killing of countless pureblood families. The purebloods would be baying for his blood, and he would survive a combined attack, and nor was he willing to live a pariah on the edge of society.
"Father," Euphemia interrupted with a greatly frightened expression, "the wards are weakening!"
Pulling an illegal portkey from his pocket, Livius shoved it toward his daughter. "The portkey will take you to a safe house just outside of London. Take the prepared bag and flee," he roughly ordered. "The Dark Lord has forsaken me. He will send the rest out in mass to tie up loose ends. Do not take a portkey or vessel out of the Isles for it surely will be a trap. The Dark Lord's stretch is far, and he will send them to hunt you to keep you silent, Euphemia."
"No, father, we have done nothing wrong!" Euphemia feebly protested.
"No one will ever believe us without proof," Livius roared in exasperation, and it was the truth. Who would dare to believe that he a Death Eater was not involved in the Dark Lord's plan? No one would not even he would be foolish enough to believe such a thing if told to him in confidence.
"Trust none of our kin, Euphemia. They will betray you in a heartbeat," Livius roughly said in a decisive manner. "Hide with the blood traitor of our line, my third cousin, Maribel until our name is cleared. No one will ever seek you there. Now go," he violently shoved his daughter away nearly causing her to trip.
Full of fear, Euphemia sprawled onto the ground clutching the portkey, before vanishing feeling the illegal portkey pull her away. The last she sees is the angry, pale, and stubborn expression of his father gripping his wand tightly in hand ready for battle. Her father would not go down as a blood traitor, he would rather die fighting to protect their family's honor. A proud wizard to the very end.