Dean Thomas crept through the forest silent as a mouse. Dry leaves and underbrush surrounded him and inundated his nose with the scent of decay. He stepped lightly every time he moved, trying to avoid crunching the leaves under his feet. Sounds echoed all around him and he was on high alert for anything that sounded out of place.
Every time that he started to feel a sense of panic creeping up on him, Dean would close his eyes and imagine himself playing hide and seek in the forest behind his grandmother's house. It had looked much like this one and if he squinted hard enough, he could almost imagine little black ringlets of smoke coming out of his grandmother's chimney in the distance. For a moment, the illusion would allow him to relax, but then the distant crackle of dead brush would snap him out of it and he would remember where he was and why he was running.
He was Dean Thomas. Possibly half blood, but with no way to prove it. Officially registered a muggleborn. The Death Eaters were hunting him and would surely kill him if he crossed their path. This was no childhood game. It was a matter of life and death. This was his silent mantra reminding him of the consequences should he fail.
As darkness began to seep through the canopy of trees, Dean reached a small, obscure cave in the side of a cliff. Bushes blocked any potential view of the entrance and vines hung across the front of it, causing it to blend into its surroundings. Up until this point, he hadn't seen any better place to spend the night.
Slipping his wand out of his pocket, Dean began reciting the litany of protective spells that he'd come to know as of late. "Protego Maxima, Protego Totalum, Protego Horriblis, Salvio Hexia, Repello Inimicum, Muffliato…"
Once he was satisfied that the cave was well hidden, Dean retreated into it looking for a good place to light a fire. There was a divot right in the center of the cave that looked perfect for it. "Incendio," he whispered, watching little blue flames shoot up from nothing.
That night, as Dean huddled around the fire for warmth, he felt lonelier than he ever had in his life. At home he'd always had his grandmum, cousins and mum to keep him company. At school, Seamus was always by his side. Even when he'd first fled, he'd had a bit of company in Ted Tonks, Dirk Cresswell and Griphook the Goblin.
The thought of Ted, Griphook and Dirk caused Dean's stomach to lurch. He tried to push the memories down, but they came flooding to the forefront of his mind. They had been in the forest, setting up camp when a group of snatchers had surrounded them. Everyone knew that surrender meant death, so Dirk and Ted had made valiant stands.
"Run Dean! Go!" echoed back and forth through his mind, inextricable from the flashes of blinding green light and the sickening thumps that had followed it. Dirk and Ted had sacrificed themselves so that Dean could live and he would not let that sacrifice be wasted.
Trying to push the memories from his mind, Dean reached for his book bag. In the front pocket was a well-worn scrap of parchment. At this point, he knew the words by heart, but reading them brought him a strange sense of comfort anyways.
Dean,
The Ministry's just announced a new Muggleborn registration program. Rumor has it that it's so they can round them all up. You've got to leave. Go into hiding. Things aren't safe for you here anymore.
I've done some research on protective spells that you might need. Whenever you get to a location, use them to secure the area.
Protego Maxima
Protego Totalum
Protego Horriblis
Salvia Hexia
Repello Inimicum
Muffliato
Homenum Revelio
Take care of yourself, mate.
Seamus
Even though the words were few and dire in their nature, reading Seamus' words made Dean feel just a little less alone. He wished that he could owl him and tell him of his adventures thus far, but he knew owls were easy enough to track. It was a risk he couldn't afford to take.
Carefully, Dean re-folded the scrap of paper and returned it to its home in the front pocket of his book bag. As he settled down onto the cold rock that lined the cave, his thoughts turned to home and his bed. There wasn't anything he wouldn't have given to be spending the night under the comfort of his down comforter.
For a long while Dean lay awake, wondering about his fate. He thought about school and what it might be like now that Snape was the headmaster. He feared for his friends terribly. Thoughts of Harry crossed his mind as well. He'd knicked a copy of The Daily Prophet out of a bin about a month ago and found out that Harry had been missing for weeks. He felt convinced that Harry was alive still, but in his lowest moments, sometimes he wondered.
Sleep was just beginning to take Dean when voices only a short ways from the cave entrance startled him awake. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, but he reminded himself that they'd never be able to see the cave through his protective enchantments. Still he listened.
"Oi, Scabior. What's that smell?"
"What smell? Don't smell nothing"
"Smells like smoke to me, but I don't see no fire."
Dean felt his blood freeze in his veins. "Aguamenti," he whispered, extinguishing his flames immediately, but deep down he knew it was too late. He'd been careless to leave the fire burning, but he'd been so desperate to chase away the chill that haunted him, even if it was just for the night.
"You're right. Smells like fire and where there's fire that usually means someone hiding."
Holding his breathe, Dean hoped that these snatchers were of the mountain troll variety, too stupid to do proper spell work.
"Homenum Revelio," shouted one of the snatchers.
Bile bubbled up into Dean's throat as his stomach dropped simultaneously to his feet. In seconds, they would realize he was there and they'd rip through his defenses. As soon as they entered, he'd be outnumbered and cornered in the back of the cave with no escape in sight. He had no choice but to try and fight his way out.
Wand in hand, Dean crept to the back of the cave, trying to hide himself behind the rocks that jutted out at different angles. If he could get the right vantage point, he might be able to pick his attackers off one by one and then make a break for it.
"Oi, you lot! Over here! There's a cave!"
An icy panic washed over Dean. His heart beat a frenzied rhythm in his chest and his palms were slick with sweat. Every fiber of his being was telling him to run, but with no way out, he forced himself to hold deathly still.
Footsteps echoed off the low ceiling of the cave as the snatchers entered. This was it. Dean raised his wand and in the last moment before chaos broke loose, he had one last coherent thought. He wished he'd sent that owl to Seamus after all.
Hi there!
This story was originally posted on HPFF for The Muggleborns Under Voldemort Challenge where it won 1st place. I know that it's suspected that Dean is a halfblood, but since his father's location is unknown, it was assumed he was muggleborn. In cannon, we see a small snippet of him on the run, so I was excited about the chance to expand on that a bit.
I'm really excited about this story and would love to hear your thoughts. Feel free to leave me some feedback in the little box below.
Thanks for reading!
~Kaitlin/TreacleTart