Chapter 4: No Magic, No Way Out

By: MauradingIntoTuesday

The night stretched endlessly before them, the cold biting at their skin as they trudged through the woods. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a faint silver glow over the rolling hills, but it did little to light their way. The wind howled around them, carrying with it the sharp scent of damp earth and something wilder, untamed.

James shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets, his teeth clenched against the chill. His legs ached from the effort of running, and his entire body felt bruised and battered from the night's events. But it wasn't the physical pain that gnawed at him—it was the stark, unsettling realization that they were completely helpless. No wands, no magic. Just two wizards in the middle of nowhere.

"You've got a plan, right?" Fabian's voice cut through the silence, his tone dry despite the situation. He walked a few paces ahead, his posture tense but his face set in its usual mask of calm confidence. Even now, without magic, without knowing where they were going, Fabian carried himself like he could handle anything.

James let out a sharp breath, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "If you've got any brilliant ideas, now would be a good time."

Fabian slowed his pace, glancing back over his shoulder. "Not exactly the inspiring leadership I was hoping for, Potter."

"Yeah, well, we're not exactly in a position to be picky, are we?" James snapped, his voice harsher than he intended. He was cold, exhausted, and the weight of everything that had happened was pressing down on him like an iron weight. The mission had gone sideways, and now they were out here, completely vulnerable, with Death Eaters likely still on their trail.

Fabian stopped, turning to face James fully, his expression softening. "Look, I get it. This is… bad. But we're not dead. That's something."

James barked out a humorless laugh. "Not dead yet. But without our wands, we might as well be."

Fabian's eyes narrowed slightly, but there was no malice in his gaze. "Wands aren't everything."

James shot him a disbelieving look. "They are when you're being hunted by Death Eaters."

Fabian just shrugged, his usual grin flickering across his face. "Maybe. But I'm not giving up just because we've lost our sticks."

James sighed, rubbing his hands together for warmth as they resumed walking. The landscape around them was desolate, with no sign of civilization in sight—just the endless stretch of dark trees. The village Fabian had mentioned was nowhere to be found, and the farther they walked, the more James's frustration grew. They were wandering blind, with no direction and no resources.

For a moment, the silence stretched between them, broken only by the sound of their boots crunching on the frost-covered ground. James tried to think, to push past the gnawing fear that threatened to take hold, but the lack of options made his mind feel sluggish.

"How far is this village, anyway?" James asked, his breath visible in the cold air.

"Not far. A couple more miles, maybe," Fabian replied, though his voice lacked the usual conviction. James could tell Fabian was running on instinct now, just as much as he was. They were both bluffing, and they both knew it.

A shiver ran through James, though he wasn't sure if it was from the cold or the growing sense of dread gnawing at his stomach. He glanced around at the empty horizon, the endless stretch of nothingness surrounding them. "What if we don't make it? What if they find us before we even get there?"

Fabian didn't answer immediately. He walked in silence for a moment, his expression unreadable as he stared ahead into the darkness. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, steady. "We will make it."

James glanced at him, surprised by the certainty in his tone. "You really believe that?"

Fabian shrugged. "I believe we don't have much choice."

James snorted, shaking his head. "That's not exactly comforting."

Fabian shot him a sidelong glance, his grin returning, though it was smaller this time, more subdued. "Comfort's overrated. Survival's what matters."

They walked on in silence after that, the wind cutting through their clothes and the cold seeping into their bones. The ground beneath them became rougher, the gentle slope of the underbrush giving way to uneven, rocky terrain that made every step feel like a battle. James's muscles screamed in protest, but he forced himself to keep going, driven by the simple, unyielding need to survive.

The night wore on, the moon rising higher in the sky, but the village Fabian had promised still hadn't appeared. James's breath came in shallow bursts, his body aching with fatigue, but he didn't say anything. What was there to say? They were lost, and for all they knew, the Death Eaters could be closing in on them right now.

"Hold up," Fabian said suddenly, his voice cutting through James's thoughts.

James stopped, glancing over at him. "What is it?"

Fabian tilted his head slightly, listening. "Do you hear that?"

James strained to listen, his ears picking up nothing but the wind and the faint rustle of grass. "I don't hear anything."

Fabian held up a hand, silencing him. Then James heard it—a faint sound, distant, but unmistakable. The soft gurgle of running water.

"There's a stream nearby," Fabian said, his voice tinged with relief. "If there's water, there's a chance we're close to the village."

James felt a flicker of hope stir in his chest. Water meant they were nearing civilization. It meant they had a chance.

They followed the sound, their pace quickening as the faint gurgling grew louder. The land sloped downward, leading them into a shallow valley where a small stream cut through the landscape, its surface shimmering faintly in the moonlight.

Fabian knelt beside the stream, dipping his hands into the cold water and splashing some onto his face. He let out a long breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "We're getting close. I can feel it."

James crouched beside him, his hands hovering over the water. The cold air bit at his skin, but the sound of the stream was soothing, a small reminder that they weren't completely alone out here. They still had a chance, however small.

But as they knelt there, catching their breath, James couldn't shake the feeling that time was running out. The Death Eaters were still out there, somewhere, hunting them. And without magic, without wands, it felt like they were fighting with one hand tied behind their backs.

Fabian stood up, brushing the dirt from his trousers. "Come on, we can rest once we get to the village."

James nodded, forcing himself to his feet. His body ached, his muscles protesting every movement, but he pushed the pain aside. They had to keep moving for another hour, though time meant little when trudging through the cold woods. Finally, the trees parted for a valley and hills.

"There," Fabian said, his voice laced with relief. "That's got to be it."

James squinted, his heart pounding in his chest as he saw it. It was small, distant, but it was there. A village. Shelter.

But there was something not right.

The air was still, unnaturally so, and there was something off about the place—something unsettling in the way the light seemed to dance faintly on the horizon without any real source.

"That doesn't look right," he muttered under his breath.

"Let's look anyway," Fabian whispered as though he was too afraid his voice might carry.

James nodded, his stomach twisting. The flicker of hope that had surged in his chest when they first spotted the faint glow quickly faded as they drew closer to the village.

What they had mistaken for signs of life was something else entirely—a ghost of what had once been a bustling place, now reduced to ashes and rubble. The remnants of homes stood like broken teeth against the night sky, charred beams and crumbled stone framing empty windows.

"This place…" Fabian's voice trailed off, his usually confident tone softened with disbelief.

It wasn't just abandoned—it had been ravaged. The whole village looked as though it had been consumed by fire years ago, left to rot under the moonlight. There was no sign of life, no movement, just the eerie silence of a place long forgotten.

James stood frozen for a moment, the cold wind biting at his skin as he took in the desolation around them. The realization hit him hard—there was no safe haven here. No warm bed, no shelter from the cold, no friendly faces offering help. Just ghosts and memories of a place that had been destroyed by the war.

Fabian let out a long breath, shaking his head. "Well… shit."

James swallowed hard, the bitter taste of disappointment mixing with the fatigue that weighed down his limbs. "Looks like we won't be finding any rest here."

Fabian scanned the ruins, his eyes narrowing as he assessed their situation. "It's not ideal," he said, his voice steady despite the tension in the air, "but we're exposed out here. We should at least hide in one of these buildings for the night. Get some rest before we figure out what to do next."

James didn't argue. He was too tired to come up with a better plan, and as bleak as the burned-out village was, it offered more protection than the open hillside. They had no other choice.

"Alright," James muttered, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "Let's find somewhere to hunker down."

They made their way cautiously into the village, their footsteps echoing eerily in the stillness. The ground beneath them was rough, uneven with debris, and the air was thick with the lingering scent of smoke and ash. James's eyes darted from shadow to shadow, half-expecting to see some remnant of life moving in the darkness, but there was nothing. Just silence.

They passed what remained of the village square—an old well, now dry and crumbling, and the skeleton of a marketplace that had long since been consumed by fire. Fabian led the way, his steps quiet but purposeful as he approached one of the more intact buildings near the edge of the village.

"This one looks like it could hold up for the night," Fabian said, gesturing to the half-standing structure. It had once been a house, but now only the walls remained, charred black from fire and weathered by time. The roof was gone, leaving an open view of the sky above, but the walls were solid enough to offer some protection from the wind.

James nodded, too exhausted to care about the state of the place. It was better than nothing.

They stepped inside, the ground beneath them littered with broken beams and scorched debris. Fabian kicked aside a few fallen stones, clearing a small space for them to sit.

James sank to the ground with a groan, every muscle in his body screaming in protest. His legs felt like they were made of lead, and his arms ached from the effort of dragging Fabian earlier. He leaned back against the cool stone wall, his breath coming in shallow, tired bursts.

Fabian dropped down beside him, his usual grin gone, replaced by a tired, grim expression. He rubbed his hands together for warmth, glancing around at the ruined walls with a sigh. "Not exactly the Ministry Guest Suites, but it'll do."

James let out a weak chuckle, though there was no real humor in it. "At least we're not out in the open."

Fabian nodded, his eyes flicking to the narrow gap in the wall where the wind whistled through, carrying with it the distant sounds of the night. "We'll be safe here for a few hours. But we can't stay long. If the Death Eaters are still on our trail, they'll be searching everywhere."

James swallowed hard, the weight of the situation settling heavily on him again. He knew Fabian was right. This village, with all its crumbling walls and eerie silence, offered only temporary refuge. They'd be back on the run soon, and without magic, without wands, their options were dwindling fast.

"We'll figure something out," Fabian said, his voice quieter now, as though sensing James's thoughts. He leaned back against the wall, tilting his head up to look at the sky through the open roof. "We always do."

James didn't respond, his mind too clouded with exhaustion and worry. His eyelids felt heavy, the cold air making him drowsy despite the tension that coiled in his gut. As much as he hated the thought of sleeping in a place like this—abandoned, exposed—he knew he didn't have a choice. His body was at its limit, and they needed to rest.

"Get some sleep," Fabian muttered, shifting to find a more comfortable position against the wall. "I'll keep watch."

James blinked, too tired to argue. He settled in against the cold stone, pulling his jacket tighter around him for warmth. The ground beneath him was rough and uncomfortable, but his body was too exhausted to care. His mind swirled with thoughts of Death Eaters, of broken wands, of Lily waiting for him back home, but it all faded as the pull of sleep finally overtook him.

The last thing he heard was the low murmur of Fabian's voice, barely audible over the wind, as he whispered, "We'll be alright."