Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition-Round 4
We have the Potters, we have the Malfoys, and we have the Weasleys. All wonderfully well known and lovable families. But what about the smaller, important, but less significant families? Let's not forget about them! For this round, you will be writing about those forgotten families! You can have multiple members, or just one; so long as the focus is around your given family.
Position: Beater 2
Beater 2: write about the Shacklebolt family
Word Count: 1112
Prompts:
3. (word) rare
14. (object) pot
Kingsley dodged Muggles coming his way as he tailed Rodolphus Lestrange. The final Death Eater left. Apprehending him meant a lot to Kingsley. Lestrange had been captured by Kingsley before, but he had escaped from Azkaban.
He could tell Lestrange knew he was being followed. He kept looking behind him, his eyes shooting back and forth, going from a slow walk to a slight jog. Kingsley's heart beat quickly as he tried not to be seen. Lestrange turned a corner. A mob of drunken party-goers walked towards Kingsley, knocking him back.
"Move—let me through." It took a while, but he managed to squeeze through.
Kingsley ran to the corner and looked around. Lestrange was gone. He rolled his eyes at the mob and sighed, blaming them for the loss.
That's when he spotted a familiar shadow lurking in an alleyway across the street. Kingsley smiled. He ran through traffic as cars honked at him, ignoring the commotion and focusing on only the task of catching Lestrange. Grasping his wand, his head peeked into the alley. The shadow was still there, but it was becoming more and more faint as it made its way further into the alley. He followed it.
It was like being stuck in a maze. There'll be a dead end at some point, right? Kingsley started to think this wasn't Lestrange.
As he decided to leave the alley, spells started coming at him left and right, Kingsley blocking each and every one. Then, they stopped.
His knuckles turned white as he tightened the grip on his wand. He took small steps, keeping a Shield Charm around him. A small rustling noise came from behind him, and he turned to see a rubbish can shaking slightly. Just a rat. It's nothing. Kingsley sighed. The moment he turned back, a spell hit his Shield Charm and rebounded down the alley. He found himself face-to-face with Lestrange.
Kingsley began dueling fiercely with the Death Eater in front of him. The alley was filled with bright jets of light from the spells cast quickly back and forth between the two men. Though they were equally matched in skill and speed, Rudolphus was ruthless. Kingsley heard the incantation a moment before the spell crashed into his body.
"Crucio."
Kingsley was trying not to scream, trying not to give in. His whole body was tense with fear. He tried to reach for his wand that had fallen from his hand when his body had dropped to the ground. A wave of panic rushed over him as Rodolphus approached and picked it up. The pain stopped.
"It's quite a pity, you know. Such a talented wizard, on the wrong side." Rodolphus chuckled.
Kingsley took shallow breaths, shuddering between each one. "You're the one on the wrong side, Rodolphus. You're alone, the last Death Eater. What are you supposed to do?"
Rodolphus scoffed. As Kingsley tried to stand up, Rodolphus pointed his wand at him and he fell back down, writhing in agony. Oh, what he would do to be back home again.
Kingsley's groans echoed in the alley. He listened to Rodolphus speak to him.
"You don't deserve to die," he said softly. "You deserve to be alone for the rest of your life, just like me."
As the pain continued. Kingsley became weak, unable to hold on for much longer. He became limp, sprawled on the ground of a dark alley.
Kingsley woke up to find himself in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar place, with two unfamiliar people crying by his bedside. His brown eyes darted back and forth, his calm breathing becoming short, uneven breaths.
The people looked up, and one tried to calm him down. "Dad. Dad. It's okay. Shhhhh. You're at St. Mungo's. You'll be fine."
She wiped her tears and tried to hold his hand. He pulled it back, startled at the stranger's affection.
"He-he doesn't know us." She started to sob again as she ran out of the room. The slam of the door made Kingsley jump. The other person followed, staring longingly at him before she left.
It had been several weeks since Kingsley was brought to St. Mungo's. The visitors that introduced themselves as Healers were in his room daily, sometimes twice. They ran their wands over his body doing what they called "diagnostic spells", and brought in pots of potions and what they called "medicine".
The other two visitors also came daily. It was just the one person who always spoke to him, but both kept him company. The one who always spoke to him read him books and the newspaper, always telling him to remember her voice. He never did.
Kingsley heard murmuring outside the curtains drawn around his bed, just as he heard every day.
"We haven't made much progress yet, but at least he's eating by himself now."
No one answered.
"Would you like to see him?"
He was sitting up in his bed, his legs dangling over the side, and head down when the curtains were slowly drawn open. He looked up to see three faces in the doorway.
"You have visitors, Kingsley." A woman in white spoke softly and smiled. They always spoke softly to him. She had the same voice as the person outside.
He hung his head and kicked his legs back and forth, watching them, as if he were a shy child meeting new people. The nurse left, leaving him alone with the unfamiliar faces. The visitor who always spoke smiled and said the same thing she always did when she arrived.
"Hi, Dad. How are you?" The two people pulled up chairs next to his bed.
His legs continued to swing like pendulums, his eyes following their every move. Their presence no longer surprised Kingsley, since they were there every day. He was actually becoming quite interested in why they were there.
"Dad?" The figure stood from her chair and put her hand out to touch him.
"Leave him, Elise."
She slouched back down in her seat, crossing her arms.
Kingsley stopped kicking his legs. The second visitor had finally spoken. He gave a weak smile, now aware of who was visiting him. My wife. He turned his head just as his wife stood up from her seat, her hand over her mouth in awe. Not quite making eye contact, he held out his hand. She squeezed it tight. This rare moment made the room quiet.
Kingsley reached out his other hand toward where his daughter was sitting with her arms crossed in disappointment. Kingsley could feel the tears rolling down his face as took in his daughter's astonished expression.
"El-Elise? S-stay with me." Kingsley whispered. "Please."