Will rode his broomstick through the summer night, the wind rushing past his ears pleasantly cool.
Including him and Draco, there were fourteen of them. They were scattered at low altitude, some circling above the treetops, others skimming the ground. Lucius had not come—that was why he had asked Will to look after Draco. If Lucius had come himself, he would have done it.
Their leader this time was an "old acquaintance" of Will's: Corban Yaxley. He seemed to have recovered considerably and could move normally again. Frankly, Will was surprised. He had heard Yaxley's injuries had something to do with a Time-Turner.
Will glanced around, bored. They were waiting on a patch of wasteland at the edge of Little Whinging, overgrown with weeds, dotted with sparse shrubs, and surrounded by only a few crooked trees.
It was desolate and uninhabited, so no one would notice a group of Black-Robed Wizards circling overhead.
Will glanced at Draco beside him.
Draco was riding a Nimbus Series broomstick. His black cloak was wrapped tightly around him, his hood pulled low, and a black mask covered his face, leaving only his eyes visible.
Will noticed that Draco's hands were trembling around the broom handle, his knuckles white. His whole body was rigid with nerves.
Will moved closer. "Don't worry. Stay at the back when it starts. I'm here. Everything will go smoothly, and what you're worried about won't happen."
The Death Eaters nearby looked over. Will sounded as though he could subdue Harry Potter single-handedly. Wouldn't he need their help when the time came?
Only Draco knew what Will meant. After all, he was the only one there who knew Will was actually on Dumbledore's side.
Seeing how confident Will was, Draco nodded.
"Putt-putt-putt—" A faint noise sounded overhead, puzzling the Death Eaters.