Disclaimer: If it was mine, I'd have a bunch of squirrels around my house. As I don't, it's not mine.
My friend typed this up for me, and then I typed it up cause it wasn't working. Thank you anyway, nice friend Weirdo101.
Title: Race To Hell
"Oh shit." My dad, Scott, swore softly, barely audible.
"Get back, into your room. Remember the bookcase? The secret passage? Take it. Run. Save yourself. Now."
"But, Dad…."
"Now!" he said again.
I knew better than to argue. I flew up the stairs, than flew even faster into my room. Taking a sharp right, I stared at my bookcase. It was then I realized a flaw in this wonderful plan. The only way I could get to the passage was to move the bookcase. That was impossible without my wand. The thing was huge and made out of mahogany. I mean, come on. It was then I heard a tortured voice coming from downstairs. Screw the bookcase. I couldn't leave my father there alone. He was the only family I had left, adopted or not.
After turning, facing the lighted doorway, I realized it was a useless and foolish act, to face certain death and try to fight Voldemort. I crept silently downstairs, though it was hardly necessary. The only sound people would be concentrating on would be coming from Voldemort or my dad.
"Where is she?"
"Like I'm gonna tell you, you…" following was a few choice words I knew my dad wouldn't want me to hear.
"Your life is nothing to me, only hers."
"Exactly how I feel."
"Did you hear me you insignificant piece of scum! You are no use to my plans! I can kill you in seconds, torture you for hours on end. Get over with this talk of loyalty and tell me where Olivia is!"
Wait a minute. Why was Voldemort looking for me? What could I give him?
"You leave me no choice. Malfoy, remain here and you any curse necessary to get information from Scott. I would rather not do this myself, but under the circumstances, I cannot risk failure."
My dad wasn't safe, even with Voldemort starting to search the house. I slunk around the back way to the living room in a dark, thin hallway, feeling for where I last left my wand. Blended with the black wall, I stepped closer and closer to the end of the hallway. Closer and closer to the dumbest act of my life. As I got closer to Malfoy, my heart started pumping faster, not in fear, but in anger. Malfoy holding my father prisoner. In my house! My blood raised to it's highest tempature. I tried calming myself to stop me from doing something stupid. Because of my short temper, nothing good comes from trusting your instincts. I'm told my strong magic is a great gift, but unfortunately, it follows my feelings. Which is impossible to control. When I lose it, disaster occurs.
Faint footsteps started traveling upstairs. I assumed Voldemort was making his way upstairs just a few feet away from where I crouched. Then Malfoy began to speak.
"It's been awhile since I last met you, Scott. This could get interesting…or fun."
My dad said nothing, but the lack of a witty response was because he could sense I was not where I should be. He told me it was a connection of my magic. Now, I cursed the connection to hell. I knew he try and protect me, no matter what the cost, as is usual with people Voldemort accosts. Take a year ago for example. I'll never forget it even though I wish I could.
Through the dark corridor, slinking next to the wall, the safety of darkness was wearing off. Light expanded closer and closer. Malfoy was still whispering threats to my dad. My anger was getting harder to control.
All too soon, "I'll never break through my Lord. His will is too strong. I'm going straight ahead to kill him.
Now it was my turn to swear. There was no time for a surpise attack. I threw myself down to the end of the hallway and into the direction the curse was about to be performed.
"What the fuck?" (Never thought you'd here Malfoy say that, did you?) "Here my Lord! The brat is down here. The coward was waiting for a chance to attack!"
"Oh, I'm the coward!" Once again my anger was about to blow.
I raised my wand, still not sure which curse to perform. Or on who. Three other Death Eaters enter the room, followed by Voldemort.
My stupidity, no matter how brave it seemed to be, was causing a feeling of helplessness that brought and even stronger feeling. Hatred. My ears blared with sound that couldn't be heard. The world began shaking and the ceiling to bow. The effort of control was out of my grasp. I sank to my knees, even madder that I was going down without a fight. I was beginning to lose consciousness. NO! This couldn't happen. Not without a fight. Fear eluded me as I clutched my wand with sweating, clamy hands. Adrenaline coursed through my 13-years-old self. I yearned to get up off the floor and beat the shit out of those evil, contemptuous wizards. They weren't used to muggle fighting. And to watch Voldemort bleed…oh sweet revenge…for all the pain he had caused in my life. There was no way he would get me without a fight. Through my watered eyes I saw Voldemort lift his wand, his lips moved with sound I could not hear. Darkness crept inside me filling me the feeling of relief. It was over. NO! What was wrong? I had to fight. Had to fight. To save my father…to save me…to get revenge. I willed myself to get up, then a thump pierced through my reverie. The thump told me that my father had gone down too.
GET UP!!!! I yelled to myself.
To no avail. My head sank to the floor, and all light flickered out.