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Chapter 2 - Beginning

Panic bubbled up inside Fleur as she strained at the coarse rope around her midriff that bound her to the tree with her arms by her sides. She'd managed to slightly loosen them, but it had taken much too long. A crack from the opposite side of the clearing caused her head to jerk up, wide eyes scanning for any sign of her captors. The darkness seemed to loom in upon her, as if taunting her powerlessness.

Fleur stilled and slumped back against the trunk, ignoring the sensation of the rough bark against her back. A movement slightly to her left this time caught her attention, and she tried to make out the figure that snuck through the shadows towards her. They're much too small to be an adult. A spark of hope ignited within her at the realisation that they must not be a part of the group that had terrorised the Quidditch World Cup fans. Or they were sent back to make sure I was still here.

The dark thought brought her fear rushing back, her mind running through the possibilities of what they would want with her. She'd been separated from her family in the chaos and had been defenceless against a seemingly stray spell that had bound her where she lay to avoid being trampled. A wand waved right underneath her nose had emitted a red burst, and she'd lost consciousness. Only a short while ago had Fleur woken, bound to the base of the tree where she now remained. A feeling of shame welled up within her that she'd been captured and restrained so easily.

Straining at the rope once again, she tried her best to push the ever-present heat within her outwards, but in her frantic state of mind all she managed was to warm her palms. Fleur glanced back towards where the figure had been, just as a rush of wind separated the canopy above and allowing the moonlight to stream in for a brief moment. She caught a glimpse of dark hair against a pale face as they moved closer towards her.

Only when the slight figure neared her did he meet her eyes, and Fleur was forced to stifle a gasp as she stared into what seemed to be the most unnaturally green eyes she'd ever seen. They gazed straight back at her through a pair of cracked glasses, his movement stilling. Her eyes darted up as the moonlight illuminated a strange scar on the right side of his forehead, or her left. It looks like a lightning bolt… is this that Harry Potter that Gabrielle was obsessed with when she was younger?

She was about to speak, but swiftly thought against it as he held a finger to his lips. He moved around her and paused before the ropes around her finally fell limp around her waist. Checking her pocket and realising her wand was no longer there, she frantically clawed at the dark ground around her, a muted flash of light nearby going unnoticed in her renewed panic. She started as the boy next to her dropped from his stance to avoid a spell, sending off a barrage of his own spells in response.

Fleur was tugged up and into an awkward run as she followed him through the darkness, stumbling over the thick network of roots that covered the forest floor and ignoring the raised voices behind. Flashes of moonlight illuminated the back of his neck as he guided her through before tugging her down next to a thick bush.

He gestured for her to stay. Fleur quickly shook her head, not wanting to be found again. Her wish appeared to not be enough as she saw an iridescent red light crack towards them from over the boy's shoulder. She made to warn him, but it was just a half-second later that the spell flew past his head.

The boy turned, putting himself between her and the source right as a bright green spell curved towards her from somewhere else in the gloom, rooting her to the spot. It can't be.

Fear sprung forth once again, almost stifling in nature as it neared them. It evolved into an overwhelming sensation as she tried to make herself move, but her legs failed her. An ugly heat seemed to rise out of her palms, the feeling rising to a crescendo and a buzzing filled her ears.

The green spell struck the boy in the shoulder and tore the most ragged scream Fleur had ever heard out of his throat, but only for a brief moment. He was thrown back past her as he went silent, and a cold feeling of dread filled her, swiftly stifled by the sensation that seemed ready to explode out of her. Some primal force lifted her arms up and she saw red, narrowing her eyes and allowing it to consume her entirely.

A blue inferno seemed to leap out of her very core as Fleur struck out at her attackers, searing the ground and setting the leaves around her alight. Branches cracked and vaporised as the fire engulfed them, greedily swallowing whatever it touched. Above the rushing sound that now filled her ears, she heard distant shouts accompanied by muted screams. Pushing harder, an acrid smell filled her nose as the blue-tinged blaze continued to rip through the undergrowth and forest canopy.

Fleur finally let it drop and sagged to the ground, the red haze lifting. Dimly, Fleur noted that a small circle around where she had been standing was untouched and anything within a few metres of her was completely turned to ash.

Indistinct shouts drifted towards her from behind. Please let it be over. A gentle hand came down on her shoulder, and through her squinted eyes she saw the face of her father, creased with worry. His mouth moved but she couldn't make out any of the words, allowing herself to succumb to her exhaustion.

Harry cracked open an eye, groaning as the reminders of his earlier ordeal throbbed to life. An earthy smell swiftly caused the sequence of events to rush back to him. He turned onto his back, the bumpy forest floor igniting a deep ache within it. Peering up through the leaves he spied a purple, pre-dawn sky. I really handled that whole thing horribly. Why has no one found me? Have they even noticed I'm gone yet?

He pulled himself up, spying his wand in the grass before him as he straightened. Immediately upon his fingers closing around the handle, Harry felt that same rushing sensation as he had in Ollivanders three years ago. Glancing down at the wand in his hand, the wood seemed to bubble and shift, before stilling. Thin ridges flowed straight out from the handle upwards, before curling around each other in an odd decorative pattern.

Running his thumb along one of the ridges, a cool sensation enveloped him. Something to look at later, perhaps. He shoved his discomfort and aching body to the back of his mind as curiosity came forth.

Focusing on his surroundings, he saw a ring of gutted forest just ahead of him. A blue-tinged ring encircled a small patch of untouched grass, dew glistening in the fading light of the moon.

Harry stopped suddenly as he saw a charred outline from where he could only assume he'd been struck from. Looks like she might've been rescued. Good for her, I guess. Not sure why it's all burnt though.

Spinning back the other way, he squinted out towards where the tents were. He'd been lying just metres from the tree line, the open flap of an abandoned tent flapping lowly in the wind a short distance further.

Finally leaving the lingering gloom of the forest and moving towards the tents, Harry noticed that the green skull and serpent in the sky had dissipated. The sun had just begun to peak over the horizon, casting a golden glow over the field of tents. Leaning forward to peak into the one next to him, he heard a series of cracks.

Pulling his head back out of the tent he saw a group of crimson-robed individuals sifting through the rubble, casting spells and murmuring amongst themselves. One of them saw him and immediately pointed his wand at Harry. These must be aurors.

"Identify yourself!"

The rest spread out around him and imitated the stance of the first before he had a chance to reply. His anxiety spiked at having so many wands in his direction, and he subtly dropped his wand into a back pocket before replying with hands raised.

"Harry Potter, Sir."

He saw the routine widening of their eyes, a few flicking up to his scar.

"There's been quite a few people worried about where you got off to. The minister's been busy enough all night," he replied as his sudden shock faded, before turning to whisper to another auror. Within a few seconds of a murmured patronus, another crack heralded the arrival of Arthur, whose relieved glance and deep exhale at seeing him sparked an unfamiliar feeling within.

"Thank goodness you're alright Harry, Molly's been in a state ever since I got the others home. Where did you get off to, and why not try find someone sooner?"

The feeling faded as he once again recalled what happened, unsure if he should divulge so much information. He'd force me into the Janus Thickney Ward if I told him what happened, surely.

"I hid in the forest after I got separated from all of you, and I only just made it back. I didn't want to run into that mob again."

Arthur scrutinised him for a brief moment, running his eyes over the dirt that decorated his clothes before replying.

"I'm relieved you had the presence of mind to do so Harry, what happened last night was a terrible thing. What matters now is that you're safe and unharmed. Let's get you home so you can get some rest."

Harry opted to not correct him, as he technically was unharmed, at least on the surface. Whether the after-effects ran deeper than a few bruises he wasn't quite sure, but not eager to find out so soon either. He thought to ask about the girl but banished the thought. Best I just keep that to myself, otherwise the questions will start again.

Arthur stepped forward after taking an old newspaper from one of the aurors just they'd finished waving their wand around it, holding it out to him.

"It's set to activate in half a minute to take us back to the Burrow. Steady yourself," he stated with a kind pat on Harry's shoulder.

After the uncomfortable spinning sensation had faded and Harry had regained his senses, he was immediately smothered by Mrs. Weasley once again, who had seemingly just begun to prepare breakfast. He excused himself, declining an offer of early breakfast and headed up to Ron's room for some more rest.

Preparation for the trip to King's Cross was messy as usual, however they managed to arrive a few short minutes before the train left.

Harry settled into a cabin with Ron and Hermione as the Hogwarts Express lurched out of the station. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but it didn't quite feel like the years before. Gazing out of the window, he reflected on the strange atmosphere the Burrow seemed to carry after the Quidditch World Cup.

It was almost like Arthur knew he'd withheld something from him that morning, and the awkwardness permeated through to everyone else. He hadn't heard anything more about that girl he saw however, which was unsurprising as the Daily Prophet had made its best effort at censoring the true events. It had only covered the Quidditch World Cup briefly on the third page, dedicating the final two lines to the description of unruly celebrations gone slightly wrong.

Surely an international, Ministry-sanctioned event would get more coverage than that? Harry thought as he fiddled with the edge of the robes he'd just changed into. Ron and Hermione hadn't spoken to him once that whole trip. It wasn't like this at the Burrow was it? The realisation stung deeper than he'd expected and left him digging for answers.

Sure, he'd interacted with both plenty in the last few weeks of the summer, with little else to fill the time with. Harry had made sure to throw himself into his schoolwork whilst at Privet Drive, but could afford to relax whilst with his friends, or so he thought.

They'd never sought him out in return like they used to. No chess invitations from Ron, and no homework nagging from Hermione. Something still niggled at his thoughts as the train pulled into Hogsmeade and left him scratching his head for answers. Even Molly had not tried to coddle him as much, and their trip to Diagon Alley had been particularly strained. Much of her attention had been on the mayhem the twins caused without fail.

He watched Ron and Hermione continue their muted conversation opposite him, which had died down whenever Hermione had focused back on her book. Occasional glances thrown towards him that he hadn't seen before only worried him further. How could I have missed that? This reminds me of primary school…

Holding on to the optimism he'd had for the return to Hogwarts this year, he immersed himself once more in his Charms book for the year.