Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.
Written for the Quidditch League – Season 5 Fanfiction Competition – Round 2
Round 2 – Where Are We Going?
Some of you are pretty new to QL, and it's still early in the season, so what better time to take a look around?
I'm sure most of you have seen the tourist-y sights, and who among us hasn't seen Hogwarts, Gringotts or the Ministry? So, grab your maps (and a returning player willing to act as tour-guide) and let's get exploring! Don't get too lost though, you still have a match to play!
Use the location assigned to your position as the setting for your story.
Captain: Gambol and Japes
Word Count: 1557
Captain of the Wimbourne Wasps
A.N.: A huge thank you to Erica for betaing :)
Against All Hope
Cenric had to stop himself from flinching when the bell above his shop's door rang, and the red-clad wizards walked in. He despised them with everything he was, especially since they had started wearing those red robes; as if they had a right to them, as if wearing the red Auror robes made them anything else than the Death Eaters that they were.
Still, he didn't say anything as the four of them marched into his shop as if they owned it. He was old, not stupid.
"Good afternoon. How can I help you?" Cenric couldn't bring himself to call them Aurors to their faces. They had done nothing to deserve that title.
The largest of the four sneered at him, while the other three looked around his shop, lips curled in disgust.
Cenric wanted nothing more than to curse them into oblivion. He restrained himself, he couldn't lose his cool now. He couldn't risk it.
"People have been seen coming into this shop," the large one said.
Cenric raised an eyebrow, lips pulling back into an almost unnoticeable sneer. "Well, this is a shop, even if business is low these days."
The large wizard slapped a hand against the counter, while the other three pulled out their wands.
"They see people coming in, they don't see people coming out!"
Cenric was itching to pull out his wand, and show these upstarts just what was what. He didn't, though. He couldn't.
"How's it my fault people don't see someone leave? You think I've stashed people here? Where would I even put them?" Cenric snapped, taking a step forward, and only the counter standing between them stopped him from advancing further into the Auror—no, the Death Eater's personal space.
The wizard pointed his wand right at Cenric, lips pulled back, showing crooked yellow teeth. "Search this place!" the Death Eater barked, and the three others spread around the shop, shoving tables out of the way, pushing things off the shelves, blasting the doors to his work station open.
Cenric fisted his hands, containing a flinch with every crash he heard. This was his life's work, and these Death Eaters were taking joy in destroying every inch of it.
What felt like ages later but was only a few moments, the other three came back to stand behind the Death Eater that still had a wand pointed straight at Cenric's heart.
"Nothin' 'ere," one of the other grumbled, looking severely disappointed.
The Death Eater in front of him narrowed his eyes, wand slowly lowering. "We'll keep an eye on you."
Cenric snorted, leaning away from the counter and shaking his head. "You do that. Make sure you have an entire battalion watching my little store. You never know, Harry Potter might drop by to buy some No Heat Fireworks."
He knew the moment it had left his mouth he shouldn't have said it; even so, he didn't regret it.
"Crucio!"
The curse slammed into him, and he tried not to scream, but it was for naught. A moment after his body hit the floor, his screams were filling his little shop. A place that had seen nothing but joy and laughter for years, was now filled with anguish.
What felt like an eternity later the curse was let up, but Cenric stayed on the floor, twitching.
"Blood traitor scum," the Death Eater snarled.
Then, Cenric heard them move, the bell jingle, and the door slam close.
Cenric continued to lay on the floor, his heart feeling as if it was about to beat right of his chest and his breathing labored.
"Damn," he muttered, fisting his hands in an effort to stop them from shaking. He wasn't as young as he used to be. He had been put under the Cruciatus far longer during the first war, and he hadn't been so bad off then.
He took a deep breath, holding it for a moment, then released it in a slow exhale. His hands twitched still, but he couldn't stay lying on the floor.
He grabbed onto the shelves under the counter and pulled himself up. For a moment, he thought his legs would give up under him; however, he held onto the counter, steadying himself. "Stay still," he snapped at his legs when he felt a tremor race down them.
He took another deep breath, then another, and one more.
Slowly, afraid, he let go of the counter and drew himself up to his full high.
"Good," he murmured when his legs held his weight upright.
His wand dropped into his hand, and with a wave, he had the shop closed and locked. He walked out behind the counter—stepping over laughter and joy and dreams—into his work room. It was just as trashed as the front of the store, but that wasn't what he cared about, at least not in that moment.
With sure steps, he walked towards a blank wall. He stared at it for a second, before he raised his wand and cast a small cutting curse at his palm.
He let the blood flow for a little bit, then he smeared it over the wall.
Many people had forgotten who he was, who he been born to. Just because he had decided to open a joke shop, didn't mean he had unlearned everything his family had taught him.
The stone rumbled, then it folded in on itself, giving way to a passage.
Cenric nodded, then waved his wand over himself, righting his appearance. He stored his wand back in its holster and walked down the stairs.
His footsteps were barely heard as he made his way down, and the further down he got the lighter he felt. Soft buzzing started reaching his ears, which made a smile stretch his lips in response.
"Mr. Cenric!"
He chuckled, leaning down to pick up the tiny blond that had collided with his legs.
"Lucas." He smiled at the child. "Have you been behaving?"
The tiny head nodded, looking at him and grinning.
"I ate all the yucky veggies. Sara said I did good."
"Did she now?" Cenric asked, walking further into the room and being greeted with a chorus of 'hellos'.
"Yes." Lucas nodded again, then squirmed to be let down.
Cenric did so, gaze sweeping around the room, taking in the twenty-seven children in his care. All of them Muggle-borns, from ages four to fifteen.
The first ones, a brother and sister, had been an accident. However, how could he have refused the desperate plea in those eyes? How could he have turned them away when they had stormed into his shop, terrified out of their minds, running from Death Eaters?
He couldn't have.
He didn't.
Then, he reached out to parents, telling them about a safe place for their children. Parents that had their wands taken from them, that had been running with nowhere to go. He couldn't take everyone, the Death Eaters would have noticed, but the children? The parents were more than happy to suffer if it meant their children were safe—as safe as they could be in this world they lived in now.
"Mr. Cenric!"
Kevin—who had just turned seventeen and should have been at Hogwarts learning magic and not hiding away in some secret basement—ran over to him.
"It's time!" Kevin smiled at him, the brightest Cenric at ever seen. "Harry's calling!"
Kevin shoved a coin under his nose, he could just focus enough to see that it was a Galleon.
"I have to go. I need to get to Hogwarts."
Cenric could only stare at the young teen, wide-eyed.
"Kevin…"
Kevin calmed slightly, his smile softer.
"I'm thankful for what you did," Kevin said. "I'll always be thankful. But I can't let them fight on their own. I have to help. This is my war, too."
"Mine as well."
Cenric look up at the new voice, seeing several of the older children behind Kevin, faces grim and eyes full of determination, and Cenric's heart broke.
These were children, they shouldn't be fighting, they shouldn't be in a war. They were, however, and there was nothing he could do to stop them.
"I'll go with you," he whispered, ready to face this coming battle head on.
"No." Kevin shook his head. "The little ones need you."
Cenric's shoulders slumped, and he could do nothing but pull Kevin into a quick hug. "Be careful," he whispered, eyes going to the children he had sworn to protect and saw himself utterly unable to do so.
Kevin hugged him back, then pulled away with a smile.
"I promise," Kevin said, and Cenric wanted to believe him.
He closed his eyes, nodding once, and Kevin ran up the stairs, seven more running up after him, all of them softly touching his arm on their way.
He took a deep breath, and when he opened his eyes again, there was still a room full of children that needed him, and he did the only thing he could. He sat beside them, holding the smaller ones close.
"Harry Potter will save us," Lucas said, burrowed into Cenric's side.
"Yes," Cenric whispered, "he will." Hoping against all hope that Harry Potter and these child soldiers would bring joy and laughter once again to his small shop.