Red and Green
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns this world and everything in it, I'm only borrowing them for a while.
I can hear the crashes outside, coming closer. Flickers of light shine briefly under the door illuminating the stacks of scrolls that surround me. Red and green, oddly fitting for this time of year; I can still imagine the tinsel strewn around the rooms outside but then another image takes hold of me. The young secretary from down the hall, I never bothered learning her name and I suppose that now I never will, grabbed by the sparkly decoration and throttled by it. I can still see the fear in her eyes; I suppose they're an accurate reflection of my own.
A scream. I wonder briefly who it was, did I even know them? Huddling closer into the corner of the room, a few papers fall out. My heart stops, could it have been heard over the cacophony outside? The lights are brighter now, the sounds of the riot outside louder. I know it's only a matter of time before they find me, before I see the hideous white masks looming over me. I pray for a quick end, I've seen their handiwork and they've made my hands shake, my voice stutter on more than one occasion. Granted, never as much as now. Even my breath stutters, I can hear it over the noises outside, quick and erratic. I wonder briefly if I'll hyperventilate and pass out, my mother always used to warn me about that. I smile wanly to myself at the strange turn; odd how the mind will do anything to keep it's thoughts off something like this.
Something thuds heavily against the door. I nearly scream then and there, only my terror keeps me silent, it's hand heavy against my throat, choking me as efficiently as any corporeal limb. The voices are right outside now, their words muffled by the heavy wood that is my only shield. I'd foolishly left my wand on my desk when I ran from them the first time, down the corridor and into the storage room. I doubt it would be any good though; it obviously hadn't helped the poor soul whose corpse was my only protection against the oncoming attack. I suppose I should thank them really, their death makes it more unlikely that those outside would bother looking in here.
The brightest flash yet, envy green. I huddle closer into myself, my fear bringing out a small whimper. The colour reflects my feelings perfectly, I wish I was already dead; better that than this waiting. Knowing that they'll find you and because you hid, they'll punish you. Perhaps I should have never taken my job, stayed blissfully ignorant of what they did to their captives - still, my imagination would have more than made up for it. I lift my hands out of a sticky substance that has flowed around it, in this light I cannot see it's colour but I have no need to. Blood. In that instant of recognition I retch slightly and wipe it off on my robes, shuffling further back into the wall that can no longer accommodate me further.
There's another scream, this one much nearer and I close my mind to it. If I ignore it, it will go away. This is all a dream, it has to be, the Ministry would never allow this in it's own walls. The Aurors are only next door, why aren't they helping? Why aren't they here? See, this is all wrong, it's a dream. A bad dream, just a bad dream, realise that and you can make it end. No. The illusion won't help, I tell myself. I stop the rocking that I wasn't even aware of doing and bring my head back hard. The sparks that flicker in front of my eyes remind me that I am awake. I'm glad for the pain, however brief, it keeps my mind of that which is outside...
That which is outside. Wait. There's something missing, the light's returned to its normal, eye-straining fluorescence and it seems to be quiet now. Could it be? Could it be over? Dare I hope such? My legs are too wobbly to stand; I fall bringing nearly a whole shelf of papers down with me. There! Proof! They would have surely heard that! Crawling now towards the door, my mind to lifted in hope to register the liquid that makes my passage easier. I finally reach my goal; the door and I lift myself up with help from the handle. Quietly, gently I turn it before my patience gives out and I thump the door hard to move the block.
It's all I can do to survey everything that is outside. A small movement in the corner of my eye makes me gasp and stop.
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns this world and everything in it, I'm only borrowing them for a while.
I can hear the crashes outside, coming closer. Flickers of light shine briefly under the door illuminating the stacks of scrolls that surround me. Red and green, oddly fitting for this time of year; I can still imagine the tinsel strewn around the rooms outside but then another image takes hold of me. The young secretary from down the hall, I never bothered learning her name and I suppose that now I never will, grabbed by the sparkly decoration and throttled by it. I can still see the fear in her eyes; I suppose they're an accurate reflection of my own.
A scream. I wonder briefly who it was, did I even know them? Huddling closer into the corner of the room, a few papers fall out. My heart stops, could it have been heard over the cacophony outside? The lights are brighter now, the sounds of the riot outside louder. I know it's only a matter of time before they find me, before I see the hideous white masks looming over me. I pray for a quick end, I've seen their handiwork and they've made my hands shake, my voice stutter on more than one occasion. Granted, never as much as now. Even my breath stutters, I can hear it over the noises outside, quick and erratic. I wonder briefly if I'll hyperventilate and pass out, my mother always used to warn me about that. I smile wanly to myself at the strange turn; odd how the mind will do anything to keep it's thoughts off something like this.
Something thuds heavily against the door. I nearly scream then and there, only my terror keeps me silent, it's hand heavy against my throat, choking me as efficiently as any corporeal limb. The voices are right outside now, their words muffled by the heavy wood that is my only shield. I'd foolishly left my wand on my desk when I ran from them the first time, down the corridor and into the storage room. I doubt it would be any good though; it obviously hadn't helped the poor soul whose corpse was my only protection against the oncoming attack. I suppose I should thank them really, their death makes it more unlikely that those outside would bother looking in here.
The brightest flash yet, envy green. I huddle closer into myself, my fear bringing out a small whimper. The colour reflects my feelings perfectly, I wish I was already dead; better that than this waiting. Knowing that they'll find you and because you hid, they'll punish you. Perhaps I should have never taken my job, stayed blissfully ignorant of what they did to their captives - still, my imagination would have more than made up for it. I lift my hands out of a sticky substance that has flowed around it, in this light I cannot see it's colour but I have no need to. Blood. In that instant of recognition I retch slightly and wipe it off on my robes, shuffling further back into the wall that can no longer accommodate me further.
There's another scream, this one much nearer and I close my mind to it. If I ignore it, it will go away. This is all a dream, it has to be, the Ministry would never allow this in it's own walls. The Aurors are only next door, why aren't they helping? Why aren't they here? See, this is all wrong, it's a dream. A bad dream, just a bad dream, realise that and you can make it end. No. The illusion won't help, I tell myself. I stop the rocking that I wasn't even aware of doing and bring my head back hard. The sparks that flicker in front of my eyes remind me that I am awake. I'm glad for the pain, however brief, it keeps my mind of that which is outside...
That which is outside. Wait. There's something missing, the light's returned to its normal, eye-straining fluorescence and it seems to be quiet now. Could it be? Could it be over? Dare I hope such? My legs are too wobbly to stand; I fall bringing nearly a whole shelf of papers down with me. There! Proof! They would have surely heard that! Crawling now towards the door, my mind to lifted in hope to register the liquid that makes my passage easier. I finally reach my goal; the door and I lift myself up with help from the handle. Quietly, gently I turn it before my patience gives out and I thump the door hard to move the block.
It's all I can do to survey everything that is outside. A small movement in the corner of my eye makes me gasp and stop.