Hiding

Suddenly, there was a loud, solid knock on the front door. Huddled between my mother and father under the kitchen table, I glanced at both of them in turn. Who knows how many hours we'd been sat like that, with the lights turned off and the curtains drawn. We'd had no communication with the wizarding world in days.

Not since Colin had left.

We had no news of what was going on, or even which side was winning. All we knew was that there was a war—a wizarding war. Colin and I were Muggle-borns, and our parents obviously Muggles, which meant only one thing in the wizarding world at that time—we were not safe. Without anywhere to go, and no added protection from anybody at the Ministry, we had no choice but to go into hiding in our own house. Nobody knew we were there. So who was at the door?

"Nobody answer it," my father ordered as sternly as he could when whispering.

"It could be Colin," I protested, my heart beating fast in my chest.

In response, he only raised a finger to his lips, silencing me. But how could I remain silent? Colin was surely the only one who had known our whereabouts for definite. Not content with going into hiding, he had fled a few days ago, determined to get to Hogwarts and fight in the inevitable war that was to come.

I had never known bravery like that. I had never had more respect for anybody in my whole life. Not even Harry Potter, whom my brother and I had idolised in our brief time at Hogwarts. Being a Muggle-born, I didn't know as much about the wizarding world as most wizards did, but I knew what being a Gryffindor meant. And there was nobody worthier of the Gryffindor title than my brother Colin. That was for sure.

Another knock came. This time, it was louder and more frantic, which unintentionally sent fear shooting through my mother. I could hear her whimper next to me, rocking back and forth to try and calm herself. It was breaking my heart to watch my family fall to pieces.

Being stuck under the table was driving me crazy. I had to know who was outside our house, wishing to gain entry. If it was Colin returning home to safety, or even just some kind of news of what was happening, then I needed to know. How could I sit cowering under the kitchen table when good news could be stood right outside the house?

I was also painfully aware that if Colin didn't return tonight, then he might never return to us. At least, if he came back to this house, he would find it empty and abandoned. After witnessing my mother slip into deterioration, only finding comfort in the few bottles of alcohol we had lying around the house, my father, despite all my protesting, decided we couldn't stay in this house and longer. It was too dangerous—and it was too painful. The house was lifeless without Colin, and it was eerily haunting. We needed to move. We needed to properly be on the run.

But leaving meant we would be severing any bonds we had with Colin. If he should return home, he would find nothing but the empty shell of our broken family home. We would be long gone, and he would have no chance of being able to find us. My parents saw it as abandoning the house. I saw it as abandoning my brother.

With this in my mind, I crept out from under the table. There was a strangled gasp and suddenly somebody was clutching at my ankle. I turned in panic to find my father gripping me. "Dennis, you can't," he hissed. "It isn't safe."

I longed to be like my elder brother. He had shown no weakness in the face of danger. I wasn't doing him any honour by hiding like a coward. If I could be even half the Gryffindor that he was, or half the wizard, then I could die happy and proud.

"I have to know," I hissed back. "I have to know what's going on—it might be news about Colin."

There was a brief struggle whilst my father wrestled with my ankle, and I, thrashing about, was quickly able to shake him off. Heart racing and palms sweating, I didn't look back as I picked myself off from the floor and walked out of the kitchen. It broke my heart, but I did all I could to block out the noise of my mother's continued weeping and my father's desperate attempt to calm her.

Peering around the corner into the hallway, I could clearly see the silhouette of a figure through the clouded glass of our front door. Whoever it was, they were big and burly, with broad shoulders and a strong structure. It certainly wasn't Colin, that was for sure. And I was pretty certain that whoever it was, they were male.

That didn't reassure me.

Could it be a Death Eater? A Snatcher? But if it was, then why would they even knock on the door? Surely they would have just blasted their way into the house, not caring about the destruction they caused.

This thought didn't give me much confidence, but it gave me enough to take my first step into the hallway, tightening my hand around my wand as I did so. The stranger knocked again, nearly sending me to the floor in a fit of panic. But, regaining my composure, I straightened up and took several more steps.

Before I could think twice about what I was doing, I moved quickly, closing the distance and placing my hand on the door handle. I was only now aware of how much my hand was shaking, to the point where I couldn't even turn the key in the lock. Giving up almost immediately, I muttered the Unlocking Charm under my breath, satisfied with the definite click which meant it had worked. The figure's head turned sharply at the noise, involuntarily causing me to gulp.

Neither knowing nor caring that whoever was outside could be a potential danger, in one final movement, I flung to door open to reveal what I hoped was somebody with good news.

"Is this the Creevey household?" the stranger asked with a thick Scottish accent.

Unable to speak, I merely nodded, taking in the sight before me. Though very burly and muscular, the young man that stood before me had warm eyes and a genuine smile. I couldn't help but immediately think he was on our side, perhaps even a Gryffindor in his time at Hogwarts.

"I could have guessed," he went on. "You look remarkably like your brother."

My heartbeat quickened at the mention of Colin. Countless others had told me Colin and I looked very alike, but to be compared to my brother in this moment meant more to me than anybody could possibly imagine.

"Do you know him?" I managed to squeak, appalled at how weak and pathetic I sounded.

A look of discomfort crossed the stranger's face. "Not exactly," he said slowly. "I vaguely heard of him during my sixth year when he got petrified by the Basilisk, but I didn't really know him personally."

"You were at Hogwarts with him?" I couldn't help but ask questions, gaining more confidence now. Whoever this man was, he knew something about Hogwarts and about Colin, no matter how little information it happened to be.

"Only briefly," he explained. "It must only have been a couple of years… I seem to recall him being particularly interested in photography."

I could only beam. That was Colin, alright.

"He came and disrupted Quidditch practice one time to try and get Harry Potter's autograph. I was very annoyed," he went on, though with amusement rather than anger.

"You played Quidditch?"

His chest seemed to swell with pride. "I was Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team for a good few years—led our team straight to victory in my final year at Hogwarts. Oliver Wood's my name—I now play professionally for Puddlemere United." There was no mistaking the pride he clearly felt for his victories. I was completely in awe, almost forgetting what was currently happening in the world.

"Why are you here, err, Mr Wood?" I asked anxiously. "Where's my brother?"

The smiled faded from Oliver's face, and the warmth left his eyes, only to be replaced with a deep sorrow. "The war's over," he said, yet there was no joy. "We won. The Dark Lord has fallen once and for all, and Harry Potter continues to live. It's all over."

I wanted to smile. I want to laugh and sing and weep with elation. But something was holding me back. Something wasn't right.

Something was very wrong indeed.

When I made no attempt to speak again, Oliver Wood continued. "Lots of people lost their lives in the war." He said it almost as an apology. I could do nothing but stare back, listening with a suddenly dry throat. "Everybody who fought was a real hero—your brother in particular. He was so young," Oliver gulped. "And so brave…"

"Where is my brother?" I repeated, louder this time, almost viciously.

"Colin was so—"

"Where is he?"

Oliver Wood hesitated, the words seeming to get caught in his throat. "What's your name?" he asked in a shaky voice—a voice not at all cohesive with his physical appearance.

I narrowed my eyes at him, a little taken aback. "Dennis," I replied warily, painfully aware of what I was certain was coming. When he seemed to be making no attempt to answer my question anytime soon, and though I knew it would crush me, I asked again: "Where's Colin?"

"I'm so sorry," Oliver told me softly, and there was no doubting the genuine sorrow that he expressed, not only through his tone of voice but through his eyes. They were gleaming, glossed over with indisputable regret.

"I shouldn't have asked," I replied quietly, regretting everything I'd said to this near-stranger.

"I watched him fight," Oliver went on to tell, reassuring warmth in his voice. "I was awestruck by how such a young, small boy could fight so well and so bravely."

It didn't matter what he said to me anymore. Everything I'd feared had come true. I couldn't even remember the last thing I'd said to Colin; I could only remember all the things I wish I could have said.

"He died a hero," Oliver continued, though I really wished he wouldn't. "I personally carried out of battle when he fell, and that's why I wanted to get the news to you straight away. I'm so sorry." He couldn't understand that I didn't want him to keep apologising. "I know it's hard, but the worst is over.

Maybe there was a silver lining in it all. The war was over; everybody was safe. But I felt so vulnerable, and so desperately alone. Maybe I wouldn't be on the run anymore, or be in hiding. Maybe things would be better in the wizarding world. Maybe Muggle-borns would finally get some equality in the world.

But even with all this in mind, I knew the worst was not over. At least, not for me anyway.

For me, the worst had only just begun.

Originally written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Season 1—Round 10

Team: Wigtown Wanderers
Position: Beater 1
Character: Dennis Creevey
Additional Prompts: Dog Days Are Over – Florence and the Machine, Dialogue: "I shouldn't have asked" and Apologise