∆ Wrote this at 11:49pm, so I apologise for any mistakes and the rushed plot. ∆

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By the end of the potions lesson, only two students were successful in creating the draught of living death - other less successful potions bubbling away with sickly green or yellow hues, foul smells rising from the bubbling liquid.

Tom Riddle and Five Hargreeves had concocted the difficult and dangerous potion perfectly, their small bronze cauldrons holding a good litre of the clear substance - pale vapour wafting just above it and dispersing into the cold atmosphere.

The professor beamed and congratulated the two, both earning ten house points each for 'brewing the perfect draught of living death first try.'

The class had been dismissed after a word of praise from the excited Professor Slughorn, witches and wizards scuttling out of the small classrooms quickly like mice - magic carrying the near empty bottles and jars that had been left lying around back to its rightful positions.

The rest of the day had been no more exciting than the other had been, the rest of the classes running fairly smoothly - the large clocktower at the centre of the school chiming loudly every hour and half hour, the sound disturbing the calm air - making a few students jump from shock each time it sang.

7:18 pm.

Dinner had just concluded, and Five currently had a hundred and two minutes to locate the people that appeared and seemingly disappeared near a large withering willow tree just before quidditch.
That, and the lack of caffeine that he had to deal with.

The old teen sighed and walked down from the dorm he was just in, his crisp school uniform replaced by his umbrella academy blazer and shorts - along with everything else that went with it.

Long wide halls held very few students, who had their attention onto the person they were talking to - or their tired droopy eyes glued to the stone floor, not looking at where they were going in particular.

Oil paintings of assorted sizes and gold, silver or bronze frames were placed along the grey stone walls - holding the old portraits of people both young and aged.
Their glimmering misty eyes followed the boy with curiosity as he moved soundlessly throughout the school.

Dim amber lanterns lit up the place, the light bouncing off the protruding angles of the uneven rock - not quite reaching the dark corners that held large creeping shadows.
Five gently closed the large oak doors he had pushed open, the chilly yet calm air dancing softly through his chocolate brown locks - his weary azure eyes reflecting off the light of the crescent shaped moon like two mirrors.

He strolled over to the large willow tree with an even and moderate pace, deciding against spacial jumping with the amount of energy he had left inside the tiny body of his.
The fifty-eight year old teen scowled and shoved his cold hands inside the pockets of his blazer, hollering at the crooked old tree before him.

"I don't have time for fun and games tonight - so if you assholes came out right now that would be appreciated."
The old teen's words flew out of his mouth in hisses, laced with annoyance and tiredness.

Two figures, one large one small, peeked out from behind the withering tree.
The larger definitely had a strong build, with a body that could crush anything that was unfortunate enough to of ended up beneath it.

The smaller one was most likely to be a female, with the curves that it held it just had to be - they walked forwards with a sway to the hips, body not as quite wide or heavy looking enough to beat the person beside them.

In the hands of each silhouette was a briefcase and a large rifle, its ebony metal also glinting in the moonlit night ominously.
The two suited people stopped a couple of metres away from Five, who was tapping his shoe on the damp grass expectantly.

"Let's not waste anytime and get started, if I decide to not kill you painfully, then consider yourselves lucky, Hazel and Cha Cha."

These two people, Hazel and Cha Cha, worked with Five once - disliking the old teen from the very first day they met, their dislike for him only strengthening after he left that place.
Hitmen, they are, or - well. More hitman and hit-woman.

If they were all the way out in Britain, at a wizarding school, then they had to be here on orders.
And by observing the situation, the boy guessed that their next task - was to eliminate Five.

"Killing us won't be easy Hargreeves." Cha Cha stated, nudging the chubby man beside her harshly in the ribs.
The old timer gave a sarcastic smirk.
"Oh, I know."

The boy blinked, the blue haze engulfing him - leaving nothing but the empty space that was once occupied.
He reappeared, giving a powerful roundhouse kick to the woman's side - Cha Cha grunting before quickly recollecting herself, sending one right back at Five's jaw before he could doge or blink away.

He stumbled back slightly, smirking slightly in annoyance as he wiped the busted lip with the back of his hand - a faint streak of blood dancing across the pale skin.
"Heels? Seriously, how do morons actually run around in them?" Five said as he attacked again, his blow hitting his target square in the chest.

The fight between the two continued in rapid succession, Cha Cha landing less and less of her own hits - but with the lack of any decent coffee and sleep, Five failed to notice the man that was creeping up behind him minutes later - weapon in hand.

A round of bullets dug themselves into Five's side before the whomping willow thrashed and threw the two away.

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