Keeper: Write about someone running out of luck
Round 1
Warnings: Minor character death (offscreen); major character death; swearing (mild)
Word Count: 2972
"Now, you need to go to sleep," Fiona informed her daughter.
"But mum!" her daughter whined. "I wanna hear a story!"
"No, sleep, now!" she said firmly, picking her child up and putting her to her bed.
"Bu—!"
"What did I just say? Sleep! You have school tomorrow!" the woman ordered, her hands on her hips.
Just as she was about to turn off the light and go out of the room, a small voice piped up, "But I only wanted to know about Harry Potter."
Fiona paused, her hand on the doorframe for support. With great difficulty, she turned around to see her daughter—her sweet, innocent daughter—sitting on her bed with the bedsheets making her look like a ghost in the lack of light.
She somehow managed to turn on the light in a daze and sat down beside her daughter.
"What do you mean you want to know about him? Do you have a death wish, Rose? He is not to be discussed!" she shrieked, her eyes darting to the corners of the room in paranoia.
"We read about him today in school," Rose informed her mother, her eyes wide at her mother's sudden change in attitude. "And from your age, I realized that you two must have gone to Hogwarts in the same year and you must know a lot about him."
The woman sighed, her body sagging as the paranoia and tension seeped out of her.
"Oh, you only wanted to—of course you did, you being my daughter," she muttered, more to herself than her daughter. "But never, never, say anything about him so brazenly in public. Do you understand me?"
"Yes mum," Rose whispered.
Fiona stared at her daughter for a couple of moments before sighing again and saying, "You are not going to sleep unless I tell you something about him, are you?"
"Nope!" the seven-year-old said, popping the p. "Like a mother, like a daughter!"
Fiona laughed and sat her daughter on her lap. "Okay then, my flower, I'll tell you about Harry Potter. But," she added and the girl immediately stopped cheering.
"But only if you promise you'll go to sleep right after."
"Yes! I promise!"
"Okay," Fiona murmured and sighed. "Lets begin from the beginning. Harry Potter became famous when he was a year and three months old for supposedly vanquishing the Dark Lord. He lived with his muggle relatives with no knowledge of magic until he was eleven and his letter got delivered to him personally by the then-Hogwarts groundskeeper Rubeus Hagrid."
"The same Hagrid who got executed for trying to organize a rebellion against the Dark Lord?"
"Yes," Fiona said, looking pained. "Anyhow, he just suddenly got thrown into the magical world with no knowledge of himself. In his seven years of schooling, he made two friends—Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger."
"Both of whom were also executed by the Dark Lord for their close association with Harry Potter, right?"
"Yes. Now, don't interrupt me anymore or I will not tell you the rest of the story," Fiona warned.
"No! I'll be quiet! I'll be quiet!" Rose exclaimed and promptly put her finger on her lips.
Fiona nodded with a satisfied smile on her face and continued, "Now, Harry Potter was a pretty average boy. The only noteworthy thing he had done entirely on his own was mastering the Patronus charm at the age of thirteen. But what he did have in excess was luck. Luck as deep and bountiful as the ocean.
"Every school year, he fought against the Dark Lord. In his first year, he got the Philosopher's stone and fought against the Dark Lord's spirit form until Dumbledore came and rescued him.
"In his second year, a terrible basilisk, set to harm the muggleborns, was let wild in the school. His muggleborn friend Hermione and some of the other muggleborns in the school were petrified. At the end, it was found that the diary of a teenage Dark Lord had been possessing Ron Weasley's younger sister—Ginny—and that she, or rather they, were behind the attacks. Again, by a stroke of luck, Harry managed to kill the basilisk. But one of the basilisk's fangs was lodged in his arm. With that he stabbed the teenage Dark Lord's diary and vanquished him. And then again, by a stroke of luck, Dumbledore's familiar—Fawkes—came and cried on Harry's arm which healed Harry.
"In his third year, he learnt the Patronus charm, went back in time, saved his godfather and a hippogriff and casted a Patronus so strong that it repelled a hundred dementors. The Dark Lord didn't appear during the year.
"In his fourth year—"
"I know all of this!" Rose interrupted. "I wanna hear it from your perspective. What did you think of the boy-who-died?"
"What do I think?" Fiona wondered. "I think that he was a wonderful boy-brave at heart, and a kindness so big that it was warming to just be in his presence. His sympathy extended to everyone-even half-giants and elves and hippogriffs. He was…the most wonderful person I've ever come in contact with."
"But he wasn't good, was he? He tried to kill the Dark Lord," Rose said solemnly, or as solemnly as a seven-year-old could manage.
"Harry…he didn't deserve to die. He was just told what to do from day one and he being the gullible boy he was, he followed every command to a tee. And that got him killed."
Suddenly, the soft sound of footsteps could be heard outside. Fiona stood up at once, wand in her hand as she treaded carefully towards the door.
"Mu—?"
"Shh," Fiona whispered, finger to her lips. Then, she opened the door with a jerk and locked it behind her with a dozen locking charms to keep Rose safe.
"Who are you?" She yelled. "Where are you? Don't try to hide!"
Her voice was lost in the dark abyss of the corridor.
She waved her wand and the wand's tip glowed up with a bright white light illuminating the hallway. There was nothing, except for a Chinese vase she had bought during her travels.
She jerked as she heard the crashing of some glassware from her kitchen. She walked carefully towards the kitchen.
She could see that something-or someone-had utterly destroyed her kitchen. Nothing that couldn't be fixed with magic, thankfully, or she might've had a breakdown.
The soft pattering of footsteps caught her attention once again. She followed it.
"Gotcha," she whispered as she heard the pattering stopping against a cabinet.
She shined the light at the cabinet, expecting a Death Eater-or Knights of Walpurgis as they were now called-or even a common thief having invaded her home. What she did not expect in the least was this.
A cat.
Fiona burst out laughing, terrifying the poor cat even more.
I should really stop being so paranoid, she thought.
The pitiful mewing of the cat beckoned her. She picked it up.
"What is it?" she cooed. "How did you get in, lovely?"
The cat yowled and scratched at her arm, causing her to drop it.
"Aah! Blasted cat, go away!" she ordered. The cat turned around-with an attitude, just like some of the people she was unfortunate enough to have made acquaintance with in her daily life-and walked away towards an open window, leaving a trail of blood behind it.
Her blood.
She huffed, irritated that she had been disturbed by a cat of all things, muttered a quick Scourgify and Reparo and shut the window.
"Mum! Who was it?" Rose asked right away as she got back. Then, she took a look at her arm and got even more worried. "Mum, are you okay? It looks like someone scratched you!"
"I'm fine," she comforted her daughter and did a non-verbal Episkey and Tergeo which healed the wounds and cleaned the blood. "See, no blood! No scratch! It was just an overexcited cat."
"Oh," Rose muttered.
"Yes, oh. Now go to sleep," Fiona said. "It's very late."
"But mum, you need to tell the end of the story!" Rose whined.
Fiona groaned. "Fine, what do you want me to tell you? You already know everything."
"Yeah, but how did he die? No history books say that. It only says they had a fight and the Dark Lord emerged victorious."
"They have been printing this now?" Fiona muttered, seemingly to herself before saying, "Fine, I'll tell you the real way he died, but after that you have to go to sleep. Okay?"
"Okay mum!" she chirped.
"So, during the final day of the battle, Harry went to the Dark Lord, who was hiding in the Forbidden Forest with a group of Death Eaters. They had made a deal that if Harry sacrificed himself, then the Dark Lord would spare everyone on the opposing side."
"But he lied, didn't he? The Dark Lord executed everyone suspected of having even the slightest relation with Harry Potter."
"Yes, but as I said, Harry was a gullible boy. He truly believed that the Dark Lord would keep his side of the bargain."
"That's stupid."
Fiona gave a chuckle and continued in a serious voice, "As I have already told you, Harry had luck. Luck as deep and bountiful as the ocean. Never-ending, or so I thought. I believed and prayed with all my heart that the Killing Curse wouldn't harm him. That he would recover from it, just as he did the first time."
She smiled softly, a sad smile, and continued, "But even oceans have ended. So did Harry's luck. The next time I saw him, it was when his corpse was being carried by Hagrid to be shown to everyone who was fighting. At the end, Harry proved that he was just as fragile as the rest of us are. He was just a seventeen-year-old who was forced to fight for the wizarding world."
"Oh," Rose muttered after a few minutes. "You know, he doesn't seem as bad as what the books and teachers tell us."
Fiona smiled at her daughter and said, "Now, go to sleep, young lady."
"Bu—!"
"No buts. You promised you would go to sleep." Fiona reminded her daughter.
"I have so many questions!" Rose exclaimed, gesticulating with her hands.
"Save them for tomorrow," Fiona replied as she tucked the excited girl in and gave her a kiss.
"Pinky promise?" Rose asked solemnly.
"Pinky promise," Fiona replied, trying not to burst out into laughter.
"That's so sweet, I may puke." came a sinister voice from behind her. She turned around in the blink of an eye, her wand in her hand and casted a Bombarda Maxima.
The man easily side-stepped the spell.
"Well well well, Ms Granger. You finally learnt some nice spells," a sibliant voice hissed.
Rose shrieked at seeing the man's face. He was chalk-white, having silts for nose and blood red eyes. People say eyes are a window to the soul, and his was so corrupted that even his eyes reflected that.
Lord Voldemort.
"Bom—"
"Now, now, Ms Granger, I would stop if I were you. You would not risk hurting your own child would you?" a Death-Eater said, his wand pointed just underneath Rose's chin.
"What do you want?" Fiona asked desperately, while her mind was at work to free Rose from the death-eater's grasp.
"Your death, Hermione Granger," the death eater snarled.
"Hermione Granger? But mum's name is Fiona Shafiq," Rose's voice piped up, "and Hermione Granger was executed."
"Yes, so clever of her to adopt the name of a family of the Sacred 28 that has never stepped foot in Britain," Voldemort said, his lipless mouth curling into a terrifying smile. Rose was crying softly by now.
"But Lord Voldemort is cleverer. He has found you, and now you have neither McGonagall or your precious husband to save you," Voldemort said.
"What do you mean? They all died!" Rose shouted, her voice quivering.
"Silence!" the death eater snarled, his wand pressing against her throat.
"No, let her question. She is young, and has a curious mind, just like her mother, isn't she Granger?" Voldemort asked, idly twirling his weird knobbled wand around.
"How did you get in?" Fiona—or Hermione—asked in a measured voice. "I have blood wards."
"Mew," the death eater said and Hermione's eyes widened.
"You little—!" Hermione seethed.
"It was a stroke of brilliance. I had never thought that someone as intelligent as you would be so forgetful so as to set up wards against unregistered Animaguses," Voldemort said.
"Now, where was I, young Rose? Ah yes, your mother's real identity. You see…
Hermione closed her eyes, knowing that Voldemort wouldn't do anything when he was telling a story, and casted her mind back to the day after the battle ended.
"You need to leave," Ginny whispered as she helped pack Hermione everything. "The Portkey will take you to America, and you will have a nice life there. You will be safe."
"Come along with us, please," Hermione begged, her eyes filling with tears.
"No. We don't have that many prisoners to polyjuice. It has to be three."
"Then let me fight! You are not even seventeen yet! You have your entire life in front of you!" Hermione said, begging her to reconsider.
"No, you are pregnant. By staying, you will be executed and you will die, along with your unborn child. Ron should go with you, seeing as he is the father and McGonagall will guide you both." Ginny said. "Now go! It is nearly morning, and the executioners will be coming soon."
"...And that is how your mother escaped." Voldemort finished his story and Hermione opened her eyes.
"Then how did papa die?" Rose whispered. "You said he died in a battle. And why are we here instead of in America?"
"I couldn't stay there, knowing so many innocent people were being killed. Ron, the Professor and I made a decision to come back when you were a year old. But by doing so, we captured the attention of death eaters at the border.
"Since we were from America with no proper certificates, and the death eaters were newbies who didn't know our faces, we were considered muggleborns. So we were taken to Malfoy since he was in charge of what to do with muggleborns.
"He identified us and tried to kill us. He killed McGonagall, and I almost died, but by some weird stroke of luck a memo from someone distracted him at the last moment and I took the chance and wiped his memory. We fled taking up the name of Burke," Hermione explained in a detached voice.
"As for how your father died, well I killed him myself," Voldemort said. "At that time, I confess I did not know that they were Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger."
"Mrs Burke, I have to talk with you," Voldemort said in a crisp voice.
"Ye—yes, your Majesty?" Hermione—or Penelope as she was called—replied, standing up from her office desk and curtseying as was proper.
"Do you know anything about the Order of the Phoenix?" Voldemort asked.
"They…they were a terrorist group that threatened your rule, my Lord," Hermione stammered. "I don't understand, why are you asking me this?"
"I think that you have quite a relationship with them, don't you Mrs Burke?" Voldemort hissed.
"I—I don't understand!" Hermione said, breathing harshly as sweat formed on her brow.
"I think you understand very well. Passing all the information that you gather, prodding death eaters until they tell you some secret or other…I know everything which goes on in Britain, everything."
"Stupefy!" she shrieked, cursing her ability of not having learnt more deadly spells.
Voldemort easily side-stepped. "Ava—"
"Pene—" Ron started as he entered the room, but it quickly changed to horror and he screamed, "Bombarda Maxima!"
Voldemort was sufficiently distracted and, under the guise of all the debris and smoke, she crawled away towards the door. Thank the lord she had an office by herself, or she couldn't imagine the chaos it would've caused.
"Victor, come," she hissed at Ron.
"No, I have to be in here. To hold him off while you run away. You have to go. Rose will miss her mother more than her father."
"Ron, no don't talk like that," Hermione whispered, clutching his arm.
"No, go," he whispered. "I love you."
"I love you too," Hermione whispered, tears slipping from her eyes.
"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort shrieked and Hermione averted her eyes. She gave a stifled sob and ran out Apparating into her home, grabbing Rose and Apparating again.
"After that we came here and I adopted the alias of Fiona Shafiq," Hermione explained. "But how did you find out?"
"The Killing Curse had missed its mark. When I got to him, I saw some very interesting things in his mind and tortured him until I got the whole story. Since then, I have been devoted to tracking you down. I must say, you did a fantastic job, succeeding in hiding yourself for three years.
"Now, it's your turn," Voldemort said, smirking evilly. "It seems you have finally run out of luck. As the muggles say, third time's the charm."
"No please, not my mum!" the little girl begged.
"Not your mum?" Voldemort questioned. "Well then, what will you give in exchange of your mother, then?"
"Leave my daughter out of this, you son of a bitch! Leave her, don't harm her. She didn't do anything wrong." Hermione snarled, her fingers itching to do a spell but knowing that the Death-Eater would kill Rose before she got the chance.
"Well then, that quite settles it then," Voldemort said.
He then turned to Rose and whispered conspiratorially, "Let's see if your mother is as immune to the Killing Curse as Harry Potter once was."
Rose was crying by now, as the gravity of the situation sunk in her head.
Voldemort smiled.
"Avada Kedavra!"
THE END