Some Will Seek Forgiveness, Others Escape
RueInTheNight
Sparks of light were flying in every direction around me. The colours were blinding, lighting up the charcoaled sky.
At present I was tactfully hiding behind a boulder at the edge of the battlefield. Every once in a while, I would determine that it was time to make myself seen, at which point I would run into the flurry of spells and shoot a few off myself. Dodging and avoiding various spells while sending them back over my shoulder was a tiring affair, but I loved it. Then I would gracefully retreat, barely grazed, to my nice, safe boulder. My neck, which was fifth in command at present, was too imperative to endanger for too long.
I never fully understood what I was getting into until I killed my first quarry. It was pure glory. The power, of which I had been lectured about all of my life, made itself known through my wand that cold night. A pleasant shiver ran down my spine at the memory.
The rain was sparse, the smell of blood not yet thick in the air. It's sick, I know, to think of the smell of blood and death as glorifying. I hated fighting fairly because I was always afraid of losing. When you have a place to hide, however, and things were safe for you, you had power. Power to kill anyone who dared saunter close to you, and me not having to risk my precious neck in the danger a few feet away. That's how I killed him, I waited until he stepped too far back, just far enough so that he couldn't see me, but I could get a clear view of his ugly mug.
I was reliving the splendor of my eradication of filth, when I realized that the shouts and blasting had ceased for a moment. Slowly, but deliberately I raised my head in order to see over the top of the stone that concealed my person.
The war had not stopped, but was at what one would call an impasse. Only a few spells continued to soar through the air towards their various victims. Numerous people lay, writhing in pain, on the ground. It was a ghastly sight to behold, but that's what these times had turned the world into. My eyes scanned the horizon for a reason as to why all of the deatheaters weren't taking advantage of the hesitation of the enemies. What could be so important? My brows drew together in frustration as my eyes fell on what everyone was gaping at. A low growl of indignation escaped my throat as, out of the gloom, sprinted Potter, Granger, and Weasley. How poetic. Ninnies.
They must have come from the other battle a few miles to the west. And by the looks of them, they hadn't been doing too well. They were all upright and unsupported, but they lacked that customary audacity that they usually walked with. Hopefully we were doing well at the other scene.
Nothing was happening, so I shot a few spells off towards the idiots, just to remind them that we were in the middle of a war, not a fashion show. My purpose served well. Everyone snapped back to attention and resumed dueling, including the idiot newcomers. They shot off in different directions. Potter to my left, Weasley away from me, and Granger toward me and to my right. I shot a few inconspicuous spells at Potter for spite, and then resumed my secure position behind my boulder.
I was just about to make it known that I was still alive when the boulder behind my back blew up. The explosion sent me flying, along with hundreds of shards of rock. I landed a few feet away on the mossy earth. I fell in and out of consciousness for a few moments as the pain in my side slowly subsided. Seconds later I was in a fit enough state to look around, so I did just that. It seemed that we were winning, though not one of them realized that I was lying on the ground, unmoving. Nasty, disloyal twits. Somebody help me!
I let my head drop, the pain was too much. I cried out but nothing could be heard over the ruckus caused by spells. I cursed myself for not having thought of moving my hiding spot before this; then I wouldn't be in this predicament. I wouldn't be lying, vulnerable, in the middle of nowhere.
I must have passed out, for the next thing I saw was a bushy brown head a few feet away from me. It was Granger, and she was trying, unsuccessfully, to crawl on her elbows away from my approaching father.
"Crucio!" He shouted, and aimed his wand skillfully at her heart.
Just before the curse hit her, her face clearly had defiance written all over it. But, it crumpled into the expression that could only be expected, suffering such a thing. My father stopped for a moment to let her catch her breath, to experience what it was like without the pain, then he let her have it again. I watched in agony as she struggled to make the unrelenting pain disperse. Not a sound escaped her lips.
I couldn't take it. I was the only one who should be able to put that expression on her face. That was my face to damage!
In a burst of adrenaline I lunged at my father, breaking the curse connecting him and Granger. He collapsed beneath my weight. I was much stronger than him, considering he had been in Azkaban for the past seven months.
"Petrificus totallus" I didn't want to hurt him, just get him away from her.
I crawled over to Granger; she had passed out from the pain, but was breathing quite regularly. Ignoring the ripping pain in my side, I flung her comatose body over my shoulder and headed smartly for the woods away from where the action was taking place.