Don't Let Me Go *Marauder's Era*

Prologue

The young girl looked up at her father, her hazel green eyes big with disappointment. "But daddy . . . " she trailed off, her eyes lingering on the frozen yogurt shop behind them. She trudged along glumly, her sandaled feet kicking the cemented stones. The child wished she could have a big ice cream cone-specifically chocolate, seeing as she loved chocolate-with sprinkles and a cherry on top. But that wasn't what happened. Her father took her hand and dragged her along, walking quickly. He glanced over his shoulder nervously, before looking down at his daughter. Her father seemed to be quite regrettable.

"Not now, sweetheart," he said, his eyebrows furrowing with worry. "We're late."

"What are we late for?" The young, ignorant child asked, still upset over the ice cream. "I thought we were going to go to the park?" She grumbled under her breath, not expecting her father to hear her. But he did.

"Honey," his voice had that edge to it, warning her not to push him. He looked extremely stressed out. "Please. Let me think." He said, discretely telling her to shut up. He walked faster, dragging the child along with him. She stumbled behind him, biting her tongue not to complain. The man turned behind an alley, taking out his wand slowly, hoping his little girl wouldn't notice.

The child noticed. What was going on? She had to jog to keep up with her father. Her stomach held a deep fear inside.

"Daddy, I-" she began, planning on asking him about what was going on. Suddenly, her father suddenly froze. The child found herself suddenly grabbed and she was off the ground. Her father had picked her up and began running with her. The little girl whimpered, her father's grasp squeezing her fragile ribs all too hard. "Dad-"

"Be quiet, Eleanor!" The man hissed, his eyes nearly beginning to water with fear. "Please, baby. Please. We'll talk later . . . " If we can survive . . .

Eleanor gulped. By now, she was far too big to be picked up by her father. She was nine years old and was 4'4. She was no longer a baby. Even though she was not the easiest child to carry (due to her constant moving to get comfortable, whining complaints, and dozens of questions), her father somehow seemed to have enough patience to put up with her.

She was carried down a long, seemingly never ending alley. It was quite silent in the alley, besides the sounds of distant car engines, sirens, and beeping. All common sounds in downtown Manchester. There was also the sound of her father's heavy footsteps pounding on the wet cement. It had rained earlier that day, so puddles were splattered every few feet.

The child saw a green light to her left. She frowned, whispering to her daddy, "What was that?" Despite her bluntness, the girl could feel her heart pumping a bit faster than normal. Her father seemed to notice the green light and nearly cussed in front of his daughter. For the first time, the girl saw her father crying. He ran even faster, although absolutely exhausted. He ran for his wife, Danielle. He ran for himself. But most importantly, he ran for his daughter. The innocent child in his arms. If anything happened to his baby . . .

"We've found you, Queen. You can stop running now!" A taunting voice called from nowhere. The girl looked around, her eyes wide.

"Daddy, what's happening? Dad, I'm scared," she whispered, her hands beginning to shake as she held tightly to his neck.

Her father looked down at her quickly, continuing to run. "Baby girl, I love you so much." He said, his eyebrows determined. He didn't answer her question. That both scared and irritated the child.

"Daddy, I-" she started, before her father suddenly dropped to the ground, shielding his daughter with his body. The girl could see, between his head and shoulder, that a green light had struck the spot they'd just been. Quickly, her father jumped up and picked her back up again, resuming their run. His wand was drawn and he had an unreadable expression at this point.