WRITTEN FOR THE HOUSES COMPETITION, YEAR 7, ROUND 8
House: Ravenclaw
Class: Muggle Studies
Drabble
Prompt: [Speech] "Wait here, I'll be back."
Word Count: 987 (google docs)
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Unprepared
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School hadn't prepared her for this.
Real battle was aeons different from slinging harmless hexes at a classmate in DADA, or duelling during meetings of Dumbledore's Army. Orla was drowning in pained screeches and screamed spells, in the crashing sounds of the castle tumbling down around her. She was moving faster than she ever had before, gasping for breath as she shielded over and over again against the two Death Eaters who had decided that taking down one fifteen-year-old girl was their sole purpose.
Her wand hand was cramping up, and they were herding her away from the thick of the fighting – away from where anyone would notice and think to help her if they weren't busy staying alive themselves.
She stumbled, barely saving herself from tumbling to the floor. As soon as she regained her footing, she knew she was dead.
One of the Death Eater's eyes gleamed sinisterly in the light of the curse shooting out of his wand, one that would do far more harm than Bat-Bogeys flapping out of her nostrils. She braced herself, wand weakly raised and a tired Protego on her lips –
"PROTEGO!" someone roared.
Orla choked on a gasp. A blinding light blocked her view of the Death Eaters as someone leapt in front of her, wand waving wildly and hexes she recognised from Dumbledore's Army pouring out of their mouth ceaselessly, beating back the Death Eaters.
The first Death Eater, the one she had taken on herself when it was just him running through the hall, turned tail and escaped, but the one whose curse might've killed her stayed and fought, until…
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
It was a children's charm. Orla could remember learning it in her very first year, in one of her very first Charms classes, grinning exultantly when she got it right first try – but the boy in front of her wasn't levitating a feather. He was levitating a man, and instead of gently letting him float to the floor, he viciously slashed his wand through the air. The Death Eater crashed against the wall and crumpled, unmoving.
He turned to her, little more than a shadow against the bright lights flashing behind him, and offered his hand. Orla clutched it like a lifeline.
"Orla, what're you doing here?" he demanded breathlessly. The next flash of light illuminated his face for a split second, shadowing his cheekbones, and...
"Dennis?" Her stomach plummeted, because Dennis couldn't be here, he couldn't, he was Muggle-born, he was supposed to be safe at home –
"Not quite," the boy said wryly, tugging Orla behind a half-collapsed wall and whispering a quick Lumos. She couldn't help the sob that escaped her when she realised who it really was.
Not Dennis. Colin.
She hated how relieved she was that Dennis was safe, how disappointed she was that he wasn't here.
"What're you doing here?" Colin repeated as she slumped against the wall. Her fingers ached where they were clenched around her wand.
What was she doing here?
Orla had hidden at the edges of the crowd when the older DA members began to usher the youngest students out, followed by protesting fifth years. She had thought that books and Dumbledore's Army and an awful year with the Carrows had prepared her for war.
"I can't not fight," she choked out.
Her parents had raised her to be pragmatic, but Orla was sorted into Ravenclaw, and her best friend was a Gryffindor. Somewhere she had picked up ideals; she had realised that a world that told Dennis he didn't belong was worthless.
She couldn't not fight. But now, in a pocket of quiet amidst chaos, her limbs paralysed, Orla wasn't sure if she could join the battle again.
"Colin –" Fear smothered her. She couldn't put her voiceless desperation to know where Dennis was into words.
"Dennis is too young to be here," Colin answered her unspoken question, his lips pressed into a firm line. "God, Orla, you're both too young to be here. I left him home, safe. Like you should be."
Orla's home wasn't safe anymore. She knew her parents; the wind had been blowing in the Death Eater's direction, and they would have been letting it push them along.
Despite that, her shoulders sagged with a modicum of relief. Dennis wasn't here. "I c-can't –"
"It's alright, catch your breath."
There was a mighty crash behind them. Colin flinched, glancing around the corner. His entire body tensed, and Orla was filled with fear and foreboding as she realised that he was going to leave the safe space he'd carved out in the middle of the battle.
"Colin…" Orla started again, her voice hoarse from shrieking shielding spells. She didn't know what to say. Colin, don't go. Colin, you're too young too. Colin, please, I'm too much of a coward to follow you, what am I supposed to tell Dennis if something happens?
Colin heard everything unsaid, in that terribly omniscient way he had. Crouched beside her, he grinned, his teeth gleaming in the light of the Lumos.
"Wait here, I'll be back."
He ducked around the wall and disappeared, taking the light with him.
Orla swallowed a scream, suddenly surrounded by darkness. She held her knees to her chest, breathing too short and too fast.
She had read books, had listened when the older students clinically delineated the Battle of the Astronomy Tower. She had survived a year of the Carrows, of torture and terror and being so bloody glad that Dennis was safe at home.
Nothing had prepared her for this.
Orla clutched her wand with both hands, her eyes wide open, because she couldn't close them, not when she could feel the battle everywhere. Not when Dennis' older brother – who he idolized and adored – was out there somewhere, and Orla was hiding alone.
Wait here, she told herself. He'll be back.
He'll be back.
a/n: beta love to LadyS and Theoretical-Optimist