Prize for Word Sprint Wednesday July 11th, 2018
Prompt: Warpath by Hidden Citizens
Word Count: (Per Google Docs) 500
Dedication: Dessie (desertredwolf)
Battle Cry
Kreacher could feel the fight and cries of death echoing throughout the castle. Even safely hidden away in Hogwarts' kitchens, the stench of war filled its very walls of his magical secondary home. He'd never been so close to the fighting before, but the sick feeling that overwhelmed him from the energy being expelled on the ancient grounds made the old elf want to vomit.
He knew what it was all about, what it was for, and who was causing such turmoil on these sacred grounds. It made him grow slightly concerned for his new adopted masters wellbeing. The other elves didn't seem to want to notice the magic shift around them. Instead they tuddled about their business as the walls figuratively shook in agony from the damage it was enduring.
The elder elf placed a hesitant hand on the stone wall nearby and closed his eyes, allowing his magic to mingle with the castles as he registered the difference chaos altered it. The feeling of black magic was not foreign to Kreacher. He grew up in the Ancient House of Black that proudly–and openly–practiced such magic regularly around him. He witnessed it firsthand the effects of such practice physically warp the user over time.
In his youth, Kreacher never saw it as evil. Magic was just magic to his masters. But now that he'd been at Hogwarts for a little while, he was able to make out the difference of energy between there and Grimmauld Place easily. This magic was old, it was refined, mixed, and built upon by countless wizards, witches, goblins, and elves throughout its life. It was being put to through a terrible test now, a test that even he would never wish upon any magical thing–ancient or otherwise. He had to withdraw his hand after a moment, it overwhelmed him too much.
He had to do something. Hiding in the underground belly of Hogwarts while a war was waged above them felt wrong. There was something he could do, he could help his new master in this impossible task. Somehow.
"We must fight," Kreacher announced to the quiet kitchens filled with elves. They paused, looking up at him as he stood on the tabletop at the center. "We must help. To protect this place. To protect our home."
No one said anything, but the large eyes of the others looked between each other before back at Kreacher. They were not convinced.
"You feel the change. The negative energy that assaults these walls is harming Hogwarts herself. Grab your knives, pans, and forks. We will stand with the wizards and witches who protect and defend. We must fight."
The others shifted on their feet, but soon they were discarding their cleaning rags to gather what they could as weapons. Pots on their heads, utensils in hand, they were ready to protect Hogwarts with their lives. Kreacher clutched the locket around his neck.
At his core, he knew what he was going to fight for.
"To war!"