Moving pictures and brave hearts
By Julia Atherley
Chapter 1
His eyes glazed over, but Helen's clutches only tightened on his now lifeless body. The warm air circled around them, but the heat from Ty's body was rapidly disappearing. A single tear fell from Helen's green eyes and landed on Ty's restful heart.
A thunderstorm of footsteps came charging towards them. Unwillingly, Helen's clasp on Ty's corpse was loosened just as a flash of light signalled the arrival of the press. A flash of light... That was all it took... Sadly Helen's last memories of Ty would be watching the light recede from his eyes, as a jet of green consumed his life. She felt a rush of emotion as reality kicked in. He had lost his last battle, at the feeble age of 14.
Voices were screeching at her, commanding her to follow them. She was helpless. Lost not only by the fact that the love of her life was now gone, but by the terrible truth that he, he the one who had once fallen, he who had been gone for so long, he-who-must-not-be-named, was back. Helen felt her body immobilise. Surely this was a dream. Any moment now she would wake up. She'd see the beautiful Beauxbaton's academy she loved to call home, and everything would be alright. Helen pinched herself. Everything was still there, slightly blurred, but yes, still there. More flashing bulbs moved towards her, and there was a preceding feeling that vomit was going to join the waterfall of tears that now splashed on the cold stone floor. She swallowed, and kept her stomach calm.
"An interview Miss Illustrly? Handsome lad, you'll be sure to make the front page of The Daily Prophet!" echoed a low, rough voice.
"Smile for the camera- please miss"
"Get-out-of-the-way!" A sly looking man was pushing through the swarms of reporters, "Helen is it? Mind telling me what happened? Witch weekly y'see." Anger grew on his face when Helen didn't reply. He was quickly silence by a towering woman, who made her way towards Helen. She wore a floor length cloak, of shimmering violet. She reached her arms forward, in an attempt to hold Helen.
"Madame Maxime?" Helen whispered through her weeps.
"Its okay 'oney, I am 'ere." Her voice was comforting, almost like a mother. Helen suddenly felt the presence of her limbs, and she curled up into her Headmistress's arms.
"Clear! Out of ze way! For goodness sake!" Her warm French accent bellowed through the courtyard, and the press parted like the red sea.
Helen yet out a high scream. Through the crowds of reporters she could see Ty's still body, under a white sheet. A group of wizards fussed around him.
"Leave him!" she yelled, "Don't- touch- him" The crowd turned. They'd heard the young girl's desperate pleas. "It was him! He's back, Voldemort's back!" At this, all wizards and witches turned silent. "Please! Listen to me," but the crowd had burst into screams and worried voices. Madam Maxine turned, and grabbed the fragile girl. She led her to a young Thestral, which was tied up against a tree, in the midnight glow.
"Fly straight to ze Academy, stay safe my dear," Madame looked incredibly worried, "'urry, before ze realise you 'ave gone. I will follow soon."
Helen took off into the night. She was only 10 miles north of Cannes. There was a foreboding feeling in her heart, things would never be the same again.
The villages past silently beneath her, she took no notice. Every now and again she'd scream, startling the gentle creature. Never once did her eye's dry, a constant flow of tears dripped from her murky eyes. The image of Ty's corpse was prominent in her mind. So still... So unworthy of this pre-mature death. A student at the Durmstrang Institute, Ty had found a broken Floo network that led straight to Beauxbaton. Helen almost smiled, when she remembered the first time they had met. A glittering memory came into view. She had sat reading alone in a forgotten room. The fireplace lay unused, and the room lay in disrepair. With a slight twinge, and a few sparks, the fire place erupted with emerald green flames, which radiated onto the pale blue walls. Helen had jumped back almost immediately, too stunned to speak, she had watched as a tall boy, dressed in blood red robes stepped out from the flames. "Wow." He had said, just as stunned as she was, "This is Beauxbaton's Academy?" he said, surveying the abandoned room. She stuttered, and slowly nodded. He raised an eyebrow, "Well, it's not where I first intended to be, but-" He paused, and stared at Helen with his stunningly blue eyes, "I'm glad to have been as fortunate to- if only by mistake- end up meeting such a beauty as yourself" Helen had blushed, she had a feeling that this boy could see more than just her appearance when he gazed into her eyes.
The warm wind whipped her deep gold hair from her face. The tears fell deeper, as the memory faded. He was gone. No amount of magic could bring him back. The boy who had challenged- she paused, even thinking his name was hard- Voldemort, the boy who had told her wonders of defeating him, who had met her every other night for almost two years, who had captured her heart and held it tight, was gone.
Helen screamed. How could this be? Endless questions circled around her. None could be answered.
The Thestral gave out a low screech as it touched the ground at Beauxbaton's. The moon was low in the sky, and radiated a silver glow across the palace.
"Thank you," She whispered to the black creature, "I'm afraid I won't be staying here long."