Empire
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Author's Notes: Thank you for all your comments and kudos! It makes me so happy there are people enjoying this story.
I am so excited for this chapter! Brace yourselves, friends! This is a wild ride!
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BOOK ONE
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Chapter Six
For the next day and a half, Mr Kelly taught Hermione all sorts of different things besides shooting, though she practiced with his pistol after every meal and respite. She had even shot a pheasant for supper on their third and final night camping out. Of course, Mr Kelly had also let her skin, gut, and roast it, which she hadn't exactly keen on, but Hermione endured it, even with her nose turned up in disgust, especially because Mr Kelly didn't seem to mind indulging every question or curiosity she had about one thing or another.
On the last day of their journey, Hermione and Mr Kelly arrived at the rendezvous point. They'd been on foot all morning, trudging through what seemed like an endless wood, and by midday, they reached a clearing at the foot of a hill.
Hermione's heart thudded in her chest as they cleared the woods. The clearing was small, merely a tiny patch in the middle of nowhere and it took no effort for her to see two figures standing in the open space. A man and a woman were stood there, wearing long black cloaks that reached the floor.
Goodness. Hermione breathed in a bracing breath. She'd never seen clothes like that before, which could only mean one thing: clobs. Actual clobs!
The sound of their crunching footsteps heralded their arrival. The clobs looked up at their approach, their eyes settling on the enormous, bear-like mercenary first, before they alighted on Hermione, who looked quite miniature beside Mr Kelly.
One of them moved forward cautiously; a woman with short, dark curly hair that brushed against her chin. "Identify yourself," she ordered as they approached.
Slowing to a halt a distance away, Mr Kelly narrowed his eyes at her. He let a tense and silent moment pass. Finally, he rummaged into his heavy overoat and produced some sort of badge that glinted in the sunlight, holding it up between his fingers for the clobs to see. "Neam's Kelly. An' ye are?"
"Douglas Kelly. We'd been informed of you." The woman nodded curtly. She stepped forward and proffered a hand. "Dorcas Meadowes." She nodded towards her companion standing a few metres behind her; a man with watchful dark eyes. "Benjy Fenwick."
Mr Kelly grunted and clasped her hand in a firm grasp. "Pleisur," he said in the same tone he'd used to greet Governor Martin and their party back at the settlement, which meant it was anything but.
The woman finally turned her attention to Hermione, who couldn't help but start in surprise. "And you must be Hermione," she said in a much softer tone.
Hermione had never been a particularly timid child. If anything, her dad had always rued the day he found out how opinionated she could be. But there, in a startling moment of clarity, she couldn't help but suppress the urge to shrink back and hide behind Mr Kelly's thick calf. For all the books she'd read on clobs and her excited imaginings about them, she'd never actually thought of what she would do when she did meet one face-to-face. Despite the fact that she was a clob herself, she'd been surrounded by such distaste for them, that she couldn't help but think about the scary stories that had been told about them.
She swallowed her nerves. "Hullo."
"Nice to meet you. Call me Dorcas," The woman – Meadowes – said kindly. "I know you don't know me, but there's no need to be afraid. I know it's scary, but Albusfield is a nice place with wonderful people. You'll be welcome there."
Hermione's anxiety didn't eased at all.
Meadowes extended a hand towards her, a patient and encouraging smile on her face.
Hermione looked up at Mr Kelly, who was, technically, also a stranger she'd just met, but he was her last tie to Dweller Haven and her family. Even though she knew she needed to go and required no permission, she still couldn't help but have some misgivings.
As if sensing her doubts, Mr Kelly nodded, jerking his chin up as if to say, 'go on, then'. She looked back at the proffered hand.
This was it. She was going to – officially – become a clob.
Steeling herself against her fears, Hermione took the woman's hand, placing it lightly in hers. Dorcas Meadowes beamed at her and gently pulled her forward. "Come. Benjy will show you to the carriage."
Hermione looked at the other clob. He was a slender man with long-ish wavy, dark-brown hair. He didn't look that much older than Mr Kelly. Though he looked far less intimidating in comparison, his eyes were sharp and piercing. "Hullo, little miss. Benjy Fenwick, at your service." He greeted her with a flamboyant bow and a jaunty grin. "You may call me Benjy."
Hermione giggled.
Benjy gestured made another grandiose sweeping gesture. "This way, Miss Hermione. Your carriage awaits. We've got a few days' journey ahead of us."
Hermione paused, turned back to the stone faced Mr Kelly standing motionless behind her and lunged towards him for a big, affectionate hug. "Thank you, Mr Kelly." She may not have known him long, but those three and a half days had been long, arduous, and similarly one of the best experiences of her young life.
Mr Kelly placed a giant hand on her upper back in an awkward reciprocation of a hug. He bent down to face her and gave her a mischievous smirk, his blue eyes twinkling under the wide brim of his hat. "Gie 'em hell, kid."
Hermione smirked in return.
In the next moment, Benjy called and led her towards the carriage. The carriage was black and sleek, the kind that could only house perhaps four people. Hermione tilted her head back at the sight, silently marvelling in wonder. Carriages were rare – if there were any at all – in little Dweller Haven, wagons being more serviceable than a fancy conveyance, but she knew that the bigger settlements had them. She was also very sure they were usually drawn by horses, yet there were none in sight.
"Thank you, Kelly." Hermione heard Miss Meadowes say as Benjy helped her up onto the carriage. "We'll take it from here."
Hermione had just stepped onto the plush red carpeting, hands finding purchase on the threshold when a new voice rang through the clearing.
"Leaving so soon?"
Everyone froze, heads snapping towards the far left side of the clearing. A large, vicious-looking man stood there, his features made even more menacing in the dark midday shadows. He stepped into the sunlight and Hermione couldn't help the gasp that left her lips as she saw the...beast (because it couldn't be anything else but!) that stood there. He had mean beady eyes, matten grey hair all around not only his head but his face as well…And he had whiskers!
Hermione shrunk back into the carriage in shock, just as Benjy moved to shield her and the door to the carriage from the newcomer.
"Snatchers," Hermione heard Benjy spit lowly in distaste.
Snatchers. Hermione's heart stuttered in her chest, a strangled noise erupting from her throat. She'd heard about them, read about them, and learned about them in school. They were imperial clobs who worked for the Empire and the Clob Emperor. Their job was to hunt and capture magical and non-magical Freemen.
"We've only just got here," the Snatcher jeered with a ferocious grin that displayed his jagged, sharp teeth, "haven't we, mates?"
We?
As if on cue, rumbles of laughter echoed throughout the clearing. Hermione and the mercenaries looked around and found similar shadowy figures amongst the trees around them, their heavy feet crunching on mud and gravel. They were surrounded.
Mr Kelly cursed, and in one swift motion, was withdrawing the large gun he'd strapped to his back. Before Hermione knew it, he was shooting at the wild looking man-creature with the full intention to kill. In the next instant, everyone around her was moving, the violent rain of bullets being shot and flashes of light erupted all around her, reverberating with terrible noise and force.
Dorcas burst into action. "Benjy! Get her out of here!"
Benjy didn't need to be told twice. He dove for her, wrapping his arms around her protectively. "This will be uncomfortable."
Hermione blinked up at him as his hold on her tightened. He stood there for a long beat.
One, two…
Was there something that was supposed to happen?
Benjy seemed to realise something was wrong and let out a string of curses under his breath. "Dorcas! Anti-Disapparition jinx!"
Hermione followed his gaze and was terrified at the scene that greeted her. Dorcas' back was to them and it was clear she was fending off the flashes of light that was being aimed at her by the Snatchers, each one of them holding on to a long stick.
Wands, Hermione realised.
Dorcas cursed as she dodged a bright red light. She ducked another beam and rolled towards them. She leapt into the carriage in one bound.
"Let's get out of here, now!"
Benjy nodded frantically. He pushed Hermione into one of the cushioned seats while Dorcas returned fire from the carriage door. Benjy then pulled back out and scrambled up onto the driver's seat. Hermione craned her neck and watched him pick up a pair of reins from the window peeking out to the front, her brows furrowing in confusion because there weren't any horses, and with a swift snap of his wrists, the carriage began to move. Hermione gasped as the conveyance sprang forward, the carriage box shaking on its clattering wheels – and then, suddenly, slowly – alarmingly – it lurched upwards.
They were ascending.
Hermione froze in either shock or fear, she didn't really know anymore. The carriage was flying.
Dorcas slammed the door shut, plastering herself by the window, her wand poking out.
"Protego!" Dorcas yelled before a bright white lighted flashed out. She turned to the rectangular window that looked out onto the driver's seat. "Faster, Benjy! In case you haven't noticed, we're vastly outnumbered!"
"I'm trying!" Benjy hollered back from his perch, voice laced with frustration. He snapped at the reins again. "Blast, you skeletal beasts! I said, up!"
Through the chaos and noise, one thought suddenly registered inside Hermione's mind. "No, wait!" She lunged towards the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of her escort's burly frame. "What about Mr Kelly?"
Dorcas held her back from the window with a firm grip on her shoulders. "Stay back!"
"But—"
"He's on his own, child!"
Hermione gaped at her in utter disbelief. Surely they didn't mean to abandon Mr Kelly to all those Snatchers. Dorcas pushed her forcibly onto the seat, and a new ugly, unidentifiable emotion started to rise from Hermione's stomach, rising to her chest, nearly suffocating her.
Just then, the carriage, mid-flight, rattled and shook, tilting upwards briefly as if something had suddenly weighed it down. Dorcas whipped around in alarm to peek through the back window just as Benjy shouted at them from his perch. "What's going on back there?"
Hermione, for her part, felt her heart leap in fear. And then, an urgent knocking on the to Hermione's left brought her (and Dorcas's) attention to the window.
"Mynd if I jyne ye?"
"Mr Kelly!" Hermione gasped with surprise and elation.
"Wid ye open the door, lass?" said Mr Kelly with a grimace. He was clinging onto the side the carriage, hanging for dear life, knuckles white and straining against the frames.
Hermione leapt forward and did as he bid, noting with no small about of trepidation how close they were to the tree tops. She'd didn't think she'd ever been this high up before and they seemed to still be climbing!
Mr Kelly hedge his heavy frame into the carriage box. When he was safely inside, he shut the door firmly behind him and turned to a scowling Dorcas.
"Guid o' ye tae juist leave me doun there," he said with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
"You know the rules, Kelly," Dorcas responded. "We prioritise the client first, and then it's every man for himself. Nothing personal."
"O' course. I wid niver expect anything less frae ye clobs."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Hermione watched in fascinated alarm as Dorcas stepped up close to Mr Kelly with furious narrowed eyes, half expecting a fight between mercenaries to break out there in the tiny interior. But whatever Mr Kelly was going to say in response was lost by the quaking of the carriage box – this time accompanied by distinct cracking sounds against the carriage walls.
Benjy cursed. "Glad you're hitching a ride, Kelly, but just in case everyone hasn't noticed, we – are – under – fire!"
The carriage suddenly tilted to the left and dipped downwards for a stomach-churning moment. Everyone in the box held on, finding purchase on the chairs and walls and hanging on for dear life.
When the carriage finally righted itself, Benjy continued. "I need some back up! The shield is falling apart!"
Without a glance nor a word to each other, the mercenaries got to work. Mr Kelly swung the massive rifle into his hands and Dorcas stalked towards the window to Hermione's right, her wand raised and ready. From where she sat on the bench facing the back window, Hermione could see flashes of light in varying bright colours being shot at them and, in the mist that the magic left in its wake, she could make out at least three dark shapes flying some distance away in the bright afternoon sky. She narrowed her eyes to figure out what they could be. A moment later, her eyebrows flew up in disbelief.
Brooms! There were people on brooms!
Flying brooms, a tiny voice in her mind specified. She'd be utterly enchanted if she wasn't so utterly terrified.
In response to the barrage of, presumably, deadly projectiles the Snatchers were raining on them, Mr Kelly released his own array of bullets at their pursuers. Dorcas sent out a flurry of flashes of her own. This carried on for a long, heart-pounding moment, until more curses from Benjy rang out from the driver's seat.
"Hang on tight!" he announced, and before any of them could react, the carriage banked hard to the right. It sent Hermione slamming against the wall, her shoulder smarting at the blow. Unfortunately, any attention towards the pain was quickly forgotten as a loud, terrible scream rent the air.
Hermione covered her ears with the palms of her hands instinctively; the anguished and pained cry was so horrible, it felt like it would burst her eardrums.
And then they were descending — no, falling.
"Benjy, what happened?" Dorcas demanded.
"The thestrals are down! Brace yourselves!"
No sooner had he utter those words did the carriage start to spin with its descent, corkscrewing to the ground with gaining speed.
"Shite," Mr Kelly cursed as he turned and lunged for Hermione, covering her tiny body with his giant bulk.
Fear clutched at Hermione like a vice when she realised what was happening. She clung on to Mr Kelly for dear life and squeezed her eyes shut, her stomach feeling like it was diving in a corkscrew of its own.
"Arresto momentum!" Hermione heard Dorcas shout though she couldn't see her. Unbelievably, their descent seemed to slow.
Did Dorcas do that? she thought in awe. Magic truly was a wonderful thing!
But whatever relief Hermione had begun to feel, it was gone in the next instant. Their carriage shook and rattled — and its occupants along with it. The sound of their conveyance crashing in the trees was deafening and a symphony of breaking branches and trunks washed over them.
They landed with a thunderous rumble. Hermione felt like the world was crumbling around her. When it seemed like they had landed safely, Mr Kelly looked down with a look of concern and asked, "Are ye aricht, lass?"
Hermione pried her eyes open and tried to take stock of her body and surrounding. Mutely, she nodded.
"Everyone in one piece?" Benjy's head popped in to peek in the carriage from his seat outside, eyes assessing the state of his passengers.
"As we'll ever be in a crash like that," Dorcas muttered with a wince from her spot on the other corner of the carriage across from Hermione and Mr Kelly, right under the window. She lifted herself up and kicked the bent door open with a crash. "We'd better get out of here before the Snatchers catch up to us."
Benjy appeared by the door with an expression of grave dismay just as Dorcas jumped out. "We're still within the Anti-Disapparition Jinx's area. We'll have to flee on foot."
Dorcas cursed colourfully in response. "Just how far does the jinx's area reach?"
"We need tae get goin'." Mr Kelly lifted himself out of the now destroyed carriage, its wheels broken and one missing, the box tilting sideways. He turned to help Hermione out before he added, "They'll be here suin. I dinna think we gat vera far o' this thing."
No sooner had he said those words and Hermione's feet had touched the ground did something – or someone –break out of the trees and foliage, coming at them a breakneck speed. Hermione's heart seized the sight of the feral beast. It was the man-creature from earlier, its tongue lolling out of its viciously grinning mouth, fangs and all, and he was running towards them on all fours like dogs would.
Before Hermione got the chance to be properly horrified by this display, Mr Kelly had lifted her off her feet and she was quickly handed over to Benjy like a sack of potatoes. "Get yerselves oot o' hir!" Without even waiting for a response, Mr Kelly turned, whipped out his rifle, and started shooting at the advancing creature, each shot so loud, they sounded like canons to her ears.
"Benjy, go!" Dorcas seconded, her own wand rapidly firing at the same target.
Not needing to be told twice, Benjy did just that. He swooped Hermione up in his arms and started running. Hermione, speechless and slung over Benjy's shoulder, was scared stiff, her eyes roaming wildly. Up above, she could see the other Snatchers arriving one by one on their brooms, hovering unnaturally above, and Mr Kelly moving to pin his back to a tree, shootiing fiercely at the newcomers.
"Oh no, you don't!" roared the beast-man, his eyes pinned on Hermione and Benjy's retreating forms.
And then he gave chase.
"Benjy!" Dorcas called out in warning and tried to run after the beast-looking Snatcher, but two others cut her off and held her back, parrying and trading magic lights with her.
Benjy ran through the woods with Hermione's weight in his arms. He huffed in exertion, the heavy weight of a ten-year-old girl weighing him down. From behind them, they could hear the rapid approach of their assailant, the crunch of leaves and twigs heralding the sound of doom. He was approaching them fast. Inhumanly fast.
In contrast, Hermione could feel Benjy's stride starting to slow. Frightened, alarmed, and growing rather frustrated by how helpless she felt, she cast her eyes about the dense wood in the hopes of finding something to slow that man – that thing – down.
Her mind, unfortunately, drew a blank. For all the practice she had done to control her magic, she had never used it against anyone before! Except for that time with Reggie Wright, of course, but she hadn't meant for that lightning to strike. And she didn't even know how she'd done it! The only time she'd ever even really thought of defending herself against anyone was with Mr Kelly, when she'd asked him to teach her how to shoot with a gun! And she didn't have a gun!
She paused, her mind racing as an idea struck. She didn't have a gun but – she looked down, saw the stone and gravel that flew under Benjy's noticeably slowing gait – she did have bullets!
Looking back up at their pursuer, Hermione paled at seeing how close the beast-man was, her heart leaping in her throat. Taking a deep breath, she reached into the familiar well of magic inside her, feeling it rise to her skin like a buzz of static. She focussed on the largest rocks and pebbles she could see on the ground and bid them to float upwards. They obeyed with little effort. With a powerful thrust of her arms forward, she sent the rocks launching towards the Snatcher.
Some of her makeshift bullets hit the intended target, but it did nothing more than bounce off of him. She gulped. It didn't even slow him down. She rushed to look for other objects to throw at him — a couple of bigger rocks, a branch, but nothing seemed to deter the beast, though it looked like it only served to annoy him.
From the corner of her eye, she saw a fallen tree trunk, dried and misshapen. Now that should at least give the beast pause. Hesitating for a second, having never moved anything larger than a kitchen table, Hermione summoned the tree trunk up, letting the rush of magic wash over her more powerfully, putting all she had in her intention.
The tree trunk shivered and lifted off the ground, slowly, laboriously, until all of the wood was completely floating in the air. With a quick glance at their pursuer once more, Hermione clench her fists tight, and allowed a burst of magic to ignite the bark.
A second later, the metre and a half long tree burst in to flames. With a heavy exhale, Hermione slashed a hand out and she flung the trunk at the creature.
It hit him square in the chest, a sickening crunch, a loud "oof" and a heavy thunk erupting at the collision.
Benjy stopped, turning back slightly to see what had happened. He gaped at the sight of a flaming log and the fallen Snatcher. He craned his head up to look at Hermione with confused, stunned eyes.
"What did you do? How did you do that?" he asked, then shook his head. "Nevermind that. It doesn't matter. Now's not the time."
But before Hermione could even have a moment to feel relief at his dismissal of her actions, a fierce, outraged roar reverberated throughout the woods. She whipped her head back towards the beast just in time to see him rip the flaming log apart with an enraged cry. She blanched. This man wasn't just a beast – he was a monster!
Benjy, it seemed, was in agreement. Unable to run anymore, he quickly set her back down to the ground, his expression distracted and grim. He placed two hands on her shoulders and hissed, "Run." He didn't wait for her response as he stood to his full height. He gave her a slight push and withdrew a stick from within the folds of his long cloak. He turned to the beast that advanced furiously towards them. Lights began to emanate from his wand as he shouted one incomprehensible word after another.
The beast dodged each one, his gait not even slowing.
Realising Hermione had stayed rooted to the spot, Benjy turned to her, beads of sweat dripping down his face in rivulets and shouted harshly, "RUN!"
Hermione didn't need to be told twice.
She scrambled across the forest floor, and ran as fast as her legs could carry her. She ran mindlessly, her heart thudding in her chest so loud, all she could hear was the drumming of her blood in her ears. She ran and ran and ran, turning left, right, heedless of any direction she took, until she found herself in front of a large stream.
She skidded to a halt, panting heavily. Her mind whirled in confusion and panic, unable to catch any thought. Her lungs burned from exertion. Sides aching like it never had before, she looked around her, frantically searching for a place to hide — someplace her pursuers wouldn't even think to look.
And then she saw it.
A large willow tree stood by the bed of the stream, a wild bunch of shrubs gathered at the base, tall enough for her to crawl and hide in. She quickly made her way to the bushes and crawled in, her feet squelching into the large puddle that had pooled around them. She crawled farther in, deeper and deeper still, until she realised that the hollow under the willow was larger than she'd thought, half submerged into the water, large enough for her to wriggle further under.
She creeped inside, completely soaking up her satchel and her clothing, but she ignored the water and the cold. She needed to hide.
And hide she did. For as long as she could. For what felt like hours.
Hermione could hardly hear anything from within the tree hollow; the loud, consistent gurgle of running water was deafening in her half-submerged state. But she waited anyway, holding even her breath, afraid they'd hear it.
Hermione couldn't believe this was happening. She hugged her knees and satchel to her chest, squeezing her eyes shut against the nightmare she was going through. Because this had to be a nightmare. Snatchers, clobs, beasts, everything she'd read in the books were right! The place Beyond the Dell was dangerous!
For what seemed like a terrifying eternity, Hermione holed herself up by the stream, until the sun had noticeably set, the water turning cooler and darker than it had been before. She wondered if Mr Kelly, Dorcas, and Benjy were okay; if they were searching for her. She shivered. She had to find them soon.
After a long minute ticked by with nothing but the sound of rushing water around her, she debated whether 'soon' meant now. Her teeth were beginning to chatter, the cold settling so deep in her bones, she could barely feel her hands and feet anymore. If she stayed here any longer, she'd die of hypothermia. Plus, things would become a lot scarier in the dark.
She came to a decision a moment later and steeled herself.
Hermione crawled out of the submerged hollow cautiously, trying to make as little noise as possible, but in the silence of the wood, every move she made felt much louder than it was. It was nerve-wracking. Wet, scraped and shivering, she trudged through the forest, lost, hungry, and alone. She was beyond terrified. Fortunately, she had enough presence of mind to stick to the shadows, wide watchful eyes turning at every creak and rustle of the wind.
At last, long after the sun had set and only the last vestiges of twilight remained, Hermione saw a figure slumped on the ground against a tree, a familiar hulking frame in dark clothing. Her heart seized in fear for a beat until she saw the wide brimmed hat that lay a few metres away.
Mr Kelly, she realised.Relief overriding her need to stay silent, she ran towards the mercenary. "Mr Kelly!" she yelled. She skidded to a halt beside the prone figure. She planted her hands on one of his massive arms slung limply over his torso and shook him awake. "Mr Kelly! It's me! Mr Kelly!"
But Mr Kelly refused to rouse. In fact, he was deathly pale and cold to the touch.
Hermione's breath caught on her throat, tears welling up in her eyes, and she suddenly found it harder to breathe. No. "Mr Kelly! Mr Kelly!" she kept repeating as her thoughts caught up to her. No, no, no, no!
Hermione knew about death. She'd been to several wakes at Dweller Haven, some funerals. But she'd never been so close to a dead body before.
Her tears choked her and she could hardly see anything. This wasn't happening. No, this wasn't happening!
In her grief and shock, she didn't hear the crunch of eerie footsteps approaching behind her, slow, measured – like a predator's prowl.
"Ickle mudblood…" a sinister purr emerged from the gloom.
Hermione froze, the words freezing her blood colder than the water at the stream ever did. Mechanically, she turned, eyes wide, terrified.
The monster loomed a few metres away, cast in ominous shadow. The sun had fully set, the moon illuminating the forest floor silver, and she could swear she saw eyes of red menace pierce through her.
Knees quaking, she stumbled back, falling to the ground hard on her bum. She tried to stand, but her knees seemed to fail her. Her mind went blank with fear, unable to do anything but stare at a monster worse than any of her nightmares could conjure, her bones trembling, lips quivering.
"I've finally found you." He seemed to savour each word as his mouth moved into a terrifyingly satisfied grin.
Hermione crawled back on her bum, unable to stop the strangled sound that left her throat. Her hands, cold and stiff, groped at the rough forest floor helplessly, whatever self-preservation she had helping her inch herself backwards.
And then she felt it: a cool, metal bumping against her fingertips, ridged and hard, unforgiving.
A heartbeat passed. A gust of wind blew past. Beast and girl stared at each other for a tense, motionless moment – predator and prey.
And then the beast launched itself at her.
In a move that was either borne out of instinct or luck, Hermione grabbed the pistol from the ground and pulled the trigger.
BLAM!
The echo of the shot and the silence that rang after it was deafening.
For a moment, time had stopped. No one moved.
The beast's eyes widened in shock, his malicious grin slacking as he slowed then stumbled back. He looked down at his side, just above his right hip, and watched in incomprehension as blood bloomed from his ragged clothing. He stared back at Hermione with a look of surprise.
One that she mirrored.
Hermione's hands shook, the barrel actually clattering in her grasp.
Unable to process what happened, she picked herself up on shaky legs and ran back into the dense wood, Mr Kelly's pistol still in her hand. She ran and ran and ran again until her lungs burned. Until she couldn't anymore. When she finally came to a stop, she found herself staring blankly at the pistol in her hand, her grip white and frozen in place. Despite the horror that had happened, it was as if her hand knew not to let this weapon go.
Breathing raggedly, she tossed the gun to the ground.
She'd just shot someone. She sank to her knees and heaved. She'd killed someone!
Then the sight of Mr Kelly's cold, dead body sunk into her mind. Poor, gruff, awkward Mr Kelly.
They'd killed him, too.
They'd kill her, too.
Numbly, she looked at the gun again. If it weren't for the gun, she'd be dead, too. She crawled to the discarded weapon, and after a long internal debate, placed it in her coat's inside pocket.
Mr Kelly hadn't thought Hermione understood him but in that stark moment, she did. She understood him very well.
Survive.
She stood, finding resolve in the horrible events that had just occurred. She would survive.
But before she could take another step, a flash of red light illuminated the world around her. before she could turn around, she was hit by what felt like lightning.
She went out like a light.
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Author's Notes: Please let me know what you think! We're about to get into more exciting territory!