QLFC, Falcons, Round 13 - WC: 1055
Chaser 1: A timid character going into battle, Other prompts: Strategy, Royalty, Durmstrang
Hannah Abbot joining the rebels in an attempt to take down a faction of the Death Eaters. AU.
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Victor Krum leads us past the tingling magical barrier and onto the grounds of his old school. Instantly, I am aware of why the students were so cold towards us all those years ago. While Hogwarts was always filled with light and life, Durmstrang Institute appears to be the polar opposite. Still cold, but thick white snow covers the ground leading up to the castle, dirtied with a darkening sky up above. The trees are dead, leaves long gone for many years it seems. No light comes from within the building. It's almost as though it was abandoned decades before.
Shadows curl around us through the thicket. My stomach churns unpleasantly. I'm surrounded by Wizarding Royalty, and I don't necessarily mean purebloods. Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley. Members of the Order of the Phoenix. I may have been in Dumbledore's Army, but this is my first mission as part of the Order. A timid Hufflepuff, struggling through words of strategy, vaguely considering holding onto Neville a little tighter for support. He's handling this fine, however. He doesn't need me. But I'm not sure I can breathe just yet. Perhaps it's the crystalline air, or perhaps it's nerves.
Voices murmur behind me, like the thrum of my heartbeat. The burn of the blood in my veins, humming as it passes around my body. I feel somewhere between dizzyingly light and heavy enough to drag my body through the core of the planet. I'm not important however. My feelings aren't considered. Only Neville wraps his fingers briefly around mine for comfort, not even looking sideways to see whether I've thrown up yet.
I wish I believed in me as much as he does.
None of us really know exactly where the others will be waiting, the Death Eaters. Draco Malfoy is several steps to the left of me, theorising with the Golden Trio. Sometimes I'm more fearful of him being so close than us being close to the Death Eaters. Sometimes I feel as though he is a parasite sent from the Dark to infect and mislead and dissuade. So far, he has been helpful, and I would never say a thing against him to the others. He's a different kind of Wizarding Royalty.
Even as the night draws closer, no lights are lit in the expansive castle before us. It makes me miss home at Hogwarts more than ever: The warm fires, huddling in comfortable chairs, the scent of parchment burning, and common room games filling the life there with more joy than a chocolate factory. It's cold here. Cold to the bone, my skin feeling as though it's peeling itself away from the blood vessels. Nitrogen spilling and flooding through my capillaries.
We wait just beyond the barrier for the moon to rise, glowing, against the dark, starlit sky.
As it reaches its summit, we begin to move. First as a unit, before branching off into squadrons of have to infiltrate the castle, take them by surprise hopefully. Try not to let them out into the open and keep the battle contained. That's the strategy we're going with. Get them isolated, separate them, attack.
I follow Neville and Draco Malfoy along the treacherous path, already missing the comfort of the dark forest.
"Hannah, are you alright?" Neville asks from beside me, his arm momentarily hanging in the air as if to brush his fingers over my own. But the pause is evident and maybe he either does not consider it prudent or would just rather not right now. I nod, gesturing for him to continue along our path. Hermione Granger casts the third muffliato charm of the evening, to be certain, and we move along, our footsteps gradually disappearing with spells drawn over the ground. The snow melts and grows anew, as though a growth filling the void.
My group and I stand a little taller, putting confidence in the thrum of magic around us. I'm not so certain it is working, but equally I see no signs of disturbance in the castle up ahead. I move with them; Neville, Draco Malfoy, and a few others I don't recognise. Malfoy catches eyes with Hermione, almost in reassurance, before moving away from her to take Durmstrang at the left bank.
Barely a second is passing as we struggle through the snow, clothes dampening then heating, silent, lonely. My heart pounds louder than an alarm and I'm sure it will alert those inside the castle. But still nothing. I am afraid. Perhaps not afraid of death, but afraid of disappointing my friends and fellow rebels. Afraid of not following the strategy and getting something wrong to the cost of all those whom I love.
We reach the east doors. Malfoy makes a sign to Neville, who responds with a similar movement. I have no idea what's going on, which leads me to conclude that Neville is definitely too good for me, in spite of me loving him. Together, we perform the magic that allows us into the castle without detection – supposedly.
Lights glare at us upon entry and the world turns scarlet red with stunning spells. We're too quick, deflecting easily. The darkness was a ruse, they had been waiting for us all of this time. Why did we bother to be slow? These thoughts occupy my head as I propel myself into battle; fingers a little too numb to fight my best, and mind a little too behind and too insecure to consider whether I am doing the right thing. The strategy is dead, and perhaps we will all be dead by the end of this. We did not consider their strategy to be waiting for us.
Spell after spell, curse following each curse, more deflections than I have ever performed. Cloaked figures seem to burst from every orifice of the castle walls, seeming to manifest from the dust and the mist itself. I can't see Neville or the others. I'm almost too busy to notice those falling around me. I'm too determined to not disappoint to consider the morals or the fears I had of battles previously.
As my comrades fall around me, I feel the sharp sting of -
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Thanks all!
