On The Run

Chapter 1 : Reflection

Dean Thomas sat on the damp evening grass. To his far right, beyond the trees, he could hear the motorway. The cars were zooming past, racing against each other in their anxiety to get home for this was about the time the offices in the big cities closed. He wondered what his mother must be doing right now; he had told her and Steven to quit their jobs, take Katie and Jess and go into hiding. He hadn't risked staying with them in case they were targeted as well. There was no point in dragging them into hiding in the magical world where they would not be able to keep up. They were better off at Rhonda's anyway.

He tried not to worry. Trying to divert his thoughts elsewhere wasn't working. It was as if some great force was hell bent of keeping him depressed and brooding. He wondered if this stupid war would ever end. Gentle breeze swept over him as if trying to relax him and he took a deep breath in, thinking of home. He smelt a fresh wooden, flowery smell that reminded him of the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. It was mixed with something else, what was it...? Was it... butter icing on cupcakes? It was tantalisingly familiar and welcoming. He closed his eyes, trying hard to recall the image that went with it. In his mind's eye, something sparkly blinded him for a moment and then disappeared. Behind it was a warm, bright glow. Hissing, crackling sounds seemed to be coming from it. Dean knew where this was from and sighed contentedly, allowing himself to remember.

The bright glow! The sound! He now concentrated on the sounds alone and more flooded into his ears. There was the constant scratching of quill on paper in the background. Faint chattering. Someone shouted 'Oi!' followed by swearing out loud. Dean smiled to himself – 'Ron and Hermione.' He could hear Seamus shuffling his pack of Exploding Snap. And then laughter. Loud, clear, carefree laughter (his own mixed with someone else's) that kept ringing in his ears, making his eyes burn, breaking his heart into a thousand pieces.

He knew he would give anything to be in the Gryffindor Common Room again now. To be able to stare into the crackling fire and listen to all his friends. He wished he'd had the chance to see them and Mum and Katie just one more time before disappearing – probably because he wasn't sure if he was going to live. Dean wasn't the type to give death much thought, but now that the possibility was so real, he simply wanted to see Katie, Seamus, Mum, Parvati or Neville for what could be the last time.

His throat tightened at the thought. He swallowed his emotions and suddenly he was angry. Angry and indignant and defiant and shaking and burning. His grip tightened and sparks shot out of the end of his wand.

Not really caring that there might be a Muggle around, Dean stood up and pointed his wand at a thick, fallen branch at the foot of the tree in front of him. 'Reducto!' he said in a cold, angry whisper. He wasn't sure if the curse worked on plants and trees but it had the desired effect. The branch exploded, throwing bits of broken tree, bark and singed leaves at him, the destruction he had caused giving him some sort of fierce pleasure.

He then heard Gornuk's affronted grunt and Ted's surprised yelp accompanied by a 'Blimey! Thought it was rampaging Death Eaters!' He looked around to see bits of tree bark dug into Griphook's ear (he couldn't laugh, this one was easily offended) and Dirk sneezing behind him due to all the dust.

'Sorry', Dean muttered, 'I was just...'

'Frustrated', Dirk finished for him.

'Don't worry son, happens to the best of us.' Ted said kindly and went back to looking at the photo in his hand. In it was him and his wife, a dark woman rather beautiful for her age though he couldn't help but think he'd seen some of that face somewhere. Next to the couple stood a very pretty young witch whose hair switched from blonde to violet, his daughter, holding hands with (and this had surprised him at first) his former DADA teacher. They all looked so happy that Dean began to feel some of his anger creeping back into him again.

Dirk Creswell came over and sat down next to him. 'You know I had just turned up to work when the stupid Muggle Born Registration Commission came into action.' Dean looked at the man, wondering why he was telling him this. He nodded anyway and Dirk went on.

'I thought to myself "If they see me running now, they'll know something is up and they'll stop me". So I stayed, hoping to not be noticed till afternoon so that I could sneak out with the others who usually leave at lunch.' Dirk smiled here as of enjoying a private joke.

'They thought I was related to the Archeous Creswell. They didn't think that the Head of the Goblin Liaison Office could be a common muggle-born.' This time the smile on his face was sneering and bitter and Dean understood how he felt. He remembered Umbridge's remark when she'd overheard him tell Seamus that he would rather work shelf-stacking in a Muggle store than work at the Ministry when discussing career options. She had said condescendingly, 'I am not surprised with your "Muggle" ambitions, Mr. Thomas. It wouldn't be an abomination should you decide to stick to them, hee hee.'

'But Runcorn knew', Dirk carried on, bringing Dean's attention back to the present. 'I think he had once heard me complaining about the impracticality of quills compared to pens or something stupid like that one time and was suspicious. He ordered an inspection of my family tree the minute he saw me, I think. And then, in about half an hour, I was put in front of that bloody toad.' He scowled in great distaste. 'Probably wanted to put me up as an example that no one was an exception, that they would hunt each "mudblood" down.'

'Didn't work very well for them though – the setting an example bit, I mean. Had me well scared that I was off to Azkaban, thought I was a complete goner at that point. But then they went off and stuck me with Dawlish. I remember him from school, the bumbling, gullible fool. All I had to so was distract him, and I could snatch his wand and make my escape!' He laughed and Dean joined in.

'But like I said, I thought I was doomed to death and worse when that bitch sentenced me but look now. I mean it's not much, but it's better than them Dementors, eh?' Dean agreed.

'Dirk?' Ted called from the side. 'I think those Muggle stores must be closed now. We could try Apparating into one for some food.' 'Allright', Dirk said and stood up. He nodded to Dean and him and Ted started making their way through the trees out into the open.

While the goblins carried on their furious debate over something in Gobbledegook, Dean started thinking. He understood why Dirk had shared his story. The guy was almost chucked into Azkaban and one only had to look at pictures of Bellatrix Lestrange to see what that place did to people. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he made the connection between Ted's wife and the Lestrange woman.

But Dean was thinking about Dirk. They man hadn't given him any encouragement or advice. That wasn't needed though. His story alone was enough to make Dean understand what the former Goblin Liaison Office head had meant. In war, you need to survive to make an impact. There will be good stuff and bad stuff happening to you. They key to survival was in keeping your head on the right way round through the bad stuff and capitalising on the good. And that even though blowing trees up every now and then for blowing off some steam is okay, it is quite unnecessary and not quite recommended. He smiled to himself sheepishly but now more at peace with himself.

CRACK!

Dirk and Ted almost landed on top of the goblins and quickly got up. Dean hurried over to whether they were. Dirk was drenched in sweat and shaking. He had balled his fists in an attempt to stop himself from losing it. Ted looked up at Dean. He looked just as shaken but was able to speak.

'Quick! We need to get away from here! Dementors! Followed by Death Eaters! They don't know where we are but they're comi – AAARRGGH!'