Title: Us

Chapter 1: No One

Author: tallshrimp

Disclaimer: I do not own the world of Harry Potter nor its characters. Therefore, I am not gaining any monetary profit from this.

Author's Note: Please check my profile for further information on this story. Thank you.


"Help me," he mutters, stumbling over the uneven ground. He could not see. Dark, the moon could not light the world bright enough in its crescent form. It tries though.

"Help me," he says again, louder. His jaw clenches and unclench. He breathes hard and heavy, the cuts on his chest widening with each rise and fall, as he trudges toward the large black silhouette of a castle. At least, he thinks it's a castle. He hopes it was a bright, warm castle. Or an abandoned cottage. Either one would satisfy him as long as it was safe and had medical supplies. He really needs those supplies. Magic can only do so much, and it was slowly seeping out of him with each step.

"Please," he almost cries. He talks though no person except the still bodies on his back and in his arms is around. He wishes someone was around. As he blinks away the blood—he can't tell if its own or someone else. He's begging the silence it isn't his friend's—he wishes something was around to help. He's wishing a lot lately for living beings, for people who should be alive. He trips. But he catches himself, and the curly-haired girl in his arms, before the ground can rise closer to his face.

He continues on.

If it weren't for the caked dirt on his cheek, and the possible light numbness, he would have felt the red hair tickling his skin. If it weren't for many things, he would be feeling a lot more. Not that he would want to. He's fine without the physical pain. He's okay listening to the voice in his head ("Just one more step...one more...") and the memory of three best friends laughing rather than the harsh, too shallow breaths of people, crunches of leaves, and the hoots of distant dying owls. If he could he would block the mental anguish. He would stop feeling even more. But only for a short while, he thinks, tightening his grip on the girl, hiking the boy on his back higher. There are some things he would want to scorch forever on his heart.

Hogwarts smiles at the thought and opens the gate, slowly, quietly, and lovingly.

He stares at it then passes through. He hurries his steps, seeing lights twinkle ahead. Hogwarts brightens amidst the shadows, not frightened by these three strangers. She has never seen them before, but knows that they are her children. A mother always knows.

The dirt under his feet begin to soften and harden depending on his tracks. Holes fill themselves up,caring to hustle to prevent another tangle of feet, and grass flattens to the ground; pebbles and rocks roll away. Before him and his unconscious friends, a path clears itself in the dark, urged by the warm, glowing light ahead. He does not notice. Instead, he focuses on the large double doors in front and the sense of urgency filling him. His whole body tenses, readies itself for the inevitable explosion.

"Help me," he mutters through clenched teeth.

"Help me," he says again, adjusting and balancing the bodies, powering his legs.

"Help me!" He shouts, and the doors crash open from his foot, from his adrenaline, from magic. "HELP THEM!!" He screams, hopeless names and words unknowingly spilling out. "DUMBLEDORE!! POPPY!! SOMEBODY!! PLEASE!! PLEASE JUST HELP THEM.."