QFLC Round 4 - It's a Horror Story Out There!

Team: Caerphilly Catapults

Captain prompt: 1984

Word count: 1817

Warnings: Depressing setting, inspired by George Orwell's 'Nineteen Eighty-Four' (strict, brutal totalitarianism), character death, torture

Betas: HP Slash Luv, S L Blake

This one's a bit different than my usual stories. It's dark and the main characters are OCs. I hope you like it!

Time Runs Out Eventually

"We need to move again soon. We've been in one place for too long."

Valery looked up from her canned beans at her brother, who was glancing out of a barricaded window. "I know, Adrian," she said before putting her spoon back into the can to scoop out some more lukewarm beans, "but we can't do that in broad daylight."

Adrian huffed and, with one last look outside, he turned away from the window and joined her at the little blue flame that was burning merrily in a glass jar at her feet.

"I know you're frustrated—" she reached down to pick up a can of apricots "—but we need to stay patient."

Adrian looked at her for a moment before he quite literally folded in on himself. His hands grabbed his hair at the back of his neck and started pulling as he was sitting on a turned-over bucket.

In moments like these, Valery was reminded at how young her brother really was. He might be 6' 1'' and thus seem older, but he was still sixteen. He'd be a full and legal wizard in a few months when he turned seventeen if he wasn't a Muggle-born—or a Magic-Stealer, as they were being called nowadays.

After Harry Potter had sacrificed himself four years ago, everything had changed. Lord Voldemort had taken over the whole world, both magic and Muggle, and had turned it into a sick parody of its past self. His Death Eaters were divided into groups, Purging Divisions as they were called, looking for everything that wasn't human or Pureblood. Muggle-borns were being hunted, creatures incarcerated, and Muggles… Honestly, Valery couldn't even say whether there were any Muggles left in Great Britain at this point. The last four years had been dominated by war and death.

A heavy sigh coming from Adrian's direction pulled her out of her reverie. Her beans had gone cold by now, but they couldn't risk pouring more magic into the blue flame. There were rumours amongst those on the run that the Purging Divisions had set up tracking spells covering vast areas, even whole parts of a city, to find and catch magic users—Magic-Stealers. They weren't witches and wizards anymore, at least not officially, and if all you read and heard was how you were merely able to use it because you have it unrightfully… well, eventually the vocabulary starts nesting itself into your brain, and before you know it, you're using the same language that's meant to cause separation and fear.

For a few short moments, she watched her brother push the apricots around in the can with a plastic fork before she stood up and stretched. Slowly, while cautiously watching her steps, she moved through the empty room of the warehouse they had been hiding in for the last three days and peeked through the boards blocking the windows.

"Have you heard anything from Dean lately?"

Valery shook her head as she watched three hooded figures marching down the street in front of the warehouse. "No, I haven't. Not since he left, anyway."

They had been friends—her and Dean, maybe even more than friends. She'd always wanted more, anyway, but he had always been distracted. First by his friends, then by Ginny Weasley. Maybe it was because Valery had been in a different house at Hogwarts, but she'd never asked him. His friendship was worth too much to risk it over something petty like jealousy.

"I wonder where he is."

Valery turned around to see Adrian leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, and eyes focussed on the small flame. He looked worried.

"I'm sure he's doing alright," she said softly, and her brother nodded meekly.

Dean had been something like a big brother to Adrian, always there to lend an ear whenever the younger boy had needed someone other than his sister to talk to. Their parents had died when they had been very young. Honestly, neither could really remember them. They'd always lived in orphanages for as long as she could remember, so no one really knew whether they were Muggle-borns or had more old blood in their veins.

It didn't matter anyway, she always told herself whenever her thoughts drifted down that bitter route. They couldn't prove that they had at least one magical parent, so they'd be seen as Magic-Stealers, as Mudbloods, anyway.

"If he managed to get out of Britain, then I might actually believe that."

Valery sighed softly. She couldn't answer anything as everything that would come out of her mouth would be a lie. She didn't know if Dean was alright, and she hated making Adrian hope that his friend might have made it over the border before it got too bad. However, since Dean never let her know where he was or whether he was alive, all of the 'I'm sure he's fine,' and the 'Of course, he's alive' were just hiding the fear that both she and her brother truly felt.

Because they knew that the chance that he'd made it was slim to non-existing.

Just as she wondered about how to cheer him up again, to get his mind off that dark and, for him, depressing topic, her eyes caught hectic movement down the street. Multiple people were hurrying away from the commotion and towards their direction.

"Adrian?" she said in a low voice, too scared to talk loudly. "Adrian, I think we need to leave. Now."

Her brother was up on his feet and next to her within mere seconds.

"Why? What's wrong?" His voice was barely a whisper as he bent down to peek through one of the clefts between the boards.

"Purging Division."

The loud bang as one of the hooded Death Eaters blasted open the door could be heard clearly. Valery felt her stomach drop as a man flew out of the doorway, hit the opposite wall, and lay unmoving. Dead.

"They're doing raids? Here?"

"Seems like it." Valery was already moving away from the windows and hurried through the warehouse, collecting empty cans, plastic cutlery, and blankets. She pulled out her wand and pointed it at the blue flame before picking up her brother's bag. "Are you ready?"

Adrian caught the backpack she'd thrown towards him, fastened it on his back, and put his right hand over the door handle. "Ready," he said as he spread his legs into a fighting stance.

"Finite."

Everything happened all at once. An invisible siren went off above their heads, alerting the Death Eaters that were busy storming a house just down the street. Adrian pulled open the door and jumped out before spinning on the spot, wand in hand, and shooting a Stunning Hex towards the hooded figures. They retaliated without a second thought and Valery had to duck behind a rubbish bin to avoid being hit by a poison-green jet of light.

"Run!" she yelled and whipped her wand through the air. The cloak of one of the Death Eaters blew up and wrapped itself around their head.

"Reducto!" Adrian shot the Explosion Hex right at the Purging Division, but they managed to conjure a shield strong enough to reflect the curse just in time. Dirt and gravel flew through the air and pieces of the pavement shattered windows all around them.

"Go! Now!" Valery had the feeling that she was shouting herself hoarse as she watched in fear as her baby brother shot curse after curse down the street while dodging those aimed at him. He wasn't even taking cover!

"Confringo!" she yelled, just before she ran out from behind the bin and towards her brother, hand that wasn't holding onto her wand outstretched. To her right, the street blew up.

"Adrian!"

He ducked behind a wooden sign advertising hot drinks that caught fire as soon as the curse shooting towards him connected with it.

Fear she had never known before surged up inside her as she watched a stream of bright green light miss his head by mere inches.

"No, no, no," she muttered as she shot another Stunning Hex towards her right without looking. She needed to get her brother out of there, away from everything, to safety, somewhere, anywhe—

"Noooo!" His scream echoed through the narrow street as a Killing Curse connected with his sister's shoulder. The expression of fearful determination still on her face, she folded in on herself, dropping to the floor, unmoving. Debris flew through the air and he could hear the Death Eaters come closer, but he couldn't have cared less at that moment.

Not looking out for any curses flying his way, he jumped out from behind the smouldering sign and collapsed right next to her unresponsive body.

"Valery—" His voice broke halfway through her name. His left hand grabbed her upper arm and shook her gently. She was still warm, yet her eyes were open, unseeing. Dead.

"Crucio!"

The curse hit him straight in the chest, milliseconds before his brain registered the immense agony. He let out a hag-ridden cry as his spine snapped back, and he fell onto the rough ground. His cheek scraped over the pavement, there was something warm and sticky trickling out of his ears and nose, his arms flailed, and he tried to desperately hold on… to something. His cramping fingers clutched onto soft fabric covering something slightly warm before his arm twitched and cramped up once more.

"That'll teach you, Mudblood."

He didn't know who had spoken those words or what they meant. Nothing made sense anymore. All he could feel was the pain deep inside, in his bones, in his veins, in his heart. His cheek was rubbed raw, and pebbles started to dig into it, drawing more blood.

He had never thought it would end like this.

They'd had hope, back when it had all started. It felt as if it had been ages ago when Harry Potter had died and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named—the Conqueror—had mocked them and forced them into submission. From that point onward, it had all gone very fast. Law after law had been enacted, Muggle-borns had been prosecuted, and the world of magic, a world that had held so many wonders once, had turned into hell on Earth.

They should have left before all of that. They should have left when Dean had gone. They should not have stayed at Hogwarts during that last traumatising year. They should have fled, ran for their lives.

Maybe then they would have had a chance. Because they never had stood a chance. Never. No matter how much hope they had carried in their hearts.

His hand cramped around a cold one lying next to him as wave after wave of agony washed through him, carrying his thoughts with them.

They should have left this godforsaken country when they had still had a chance.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Eeeeeek, that one was hard to write, but it was so much fun! I hope you enjoyed reading it.

Until next time - see ya!