Futility
Matt Dovey. ©2002 All trademarks/registered trademarks are property of their respective owners and not me blah blah blah I've got no money anyway so suing me is kinda stupid. So :p
There was nothing except the fear; it was all that drove him. He could feel the wrath of He Who Must Not Be Named bearing down on him, could feel the inevitability of the situation, yet still he ran...
How had he got into this place, this time? He could answer that easily, the recent memories of it flooding his head. The real question was: why had he let himself? He had had it all planned so carefully, so detailed, but he had underestimated everything... his feet were pounding on the ground, going as fast as they could, but his heart pounded faster. Flecks of spittle escaped his mouth in his hurry, hitting the floor and soaking slowly into the grass. He could feel the tiredness of his muscles, but the fear and adrenaline were blocking out the pain, he could not fathom how he was still running but he was...
The edge of the forest ahead was approaching him, he could see it now, its darkness standing out in the moonlight... he took out his wand, the word "Lumos" already forming on his lips when he stumbled on his robes, falling forwards... he managed to save himself just in time, but his hands fumbled his wand. He could feel the presence of He Who Must Not Be Named bearing down on him, and he stood for a moment, indecisive as to his actions, to retrieve his wand or keep fleeing... in that moment evil caught up with him. He heard a soft sound, a high, cold voice... then his body was nothing but a temple to pain, he could feel nothing except agony at its purest, most concentrated form... it filled him, burned his every molecule, and he could sense no end...
Then it was gone. He crumpled slightly, gasped, then broke into a run. He got six paces, six paces of running from that mocking laugh, so superior, before the words "Petrificus Totalus!" broke into the night. He fell solid to the ground, thumping into the wet grass, locked into position. Soft footsteps, calm, controlled, were getting closer. As they reached him, a foot softly nudged him and rolled him over, and he could see into the eyes of evil itself.
"Are you listening Ansonsay? You are going to die now. You have crossed me, done me a wrong. You know my price. Every wizard knows my price. But you chose to pay it. You thought you could kill one of my most trusted Death Eaters and escape, run from me and return a hero..." The cold laugh rose once more, and it seemed to be the only thing in Ansonsay's world.
"No, you could not manage it... you are a fool Ansonsay. You killed Shalton. Now I shall kill you."
Ansonsay watched He Who Must Not Be Named rise, the look of contempt in his eyes all too obvious. His right hand reached into his robes, and came out holding a long wand.
"Goodbye Ansonsay. Avada Kedavra!" Ansonsay's world went briefly green, and ended.