Certain Dark Things || Book Four

lxvi. the girl who lived

Harriet ran for her life.

Her feet thumped at an irregular pace over the rumbling floorboards, the sting of thick splinters aching in her legs. She slung herself around the corner as the house shook to its roots—and Voldemort screamed in rage, his followers scrambling to escape the hole Harriet had blasted under their feet. Most had fallen through to the floor below—but she thought one or two might have avoided the fall. Definitely the red-eyed bloke who'd moved to the side. Maybe Barty. She hadn't stuck around to see.

Her knee slammed into the wall, her injured arm skimming the rotted wainscoting. Cracks wended upward, ripping the ancient wallpaper, splitting the ceiling as the entirety of the old, rickety manor began to fold in upon itself. Harriet stared wide-eyed, feeling as if her brain had been bounced inside her skull one too many times, all her wits rattled to pieces.

Harriet blinked, then blinked again, shaking her head. Her cheek throbbed, a sluggish trickle of blood seeping along her gums from her bitten tongue. Her knees shook, and her muscles ached from the Cruciatus—but she had no time to breathe, no time to stop. There was a window at the end of the corridor, and Harriet braced her wavering hand with her other arm, gritting her teeth.

"Reducto!"

The window shattered, glass blasting outward in a hailstorm of brittle shards. Harriet returned her mum's wand to its brace on her leg, her fingertips buzzing and numb, and hoisted herself onto the sill. Outside, the drop straight down would land her in a tangle of brutal gorse, the property rolling away in a steep incline toward those untended grass fields and the graveyard.

Harriet grappled for the magic inside her, and it came easier than it had before. She pulled it up and over her like the tingly fabric of her Invisibility Cloak. It covered her skin and her clothes, snapping in, her body and limbs shrinking—but Harriet wasn't used to her new form. She lurched—her black, skinny talons scratching against the mottled paint—and frantically beat her wings, trying to get airborne. Something caught under her feathers, and she raised up, jumping for the sky—.

For an instant, the wind swelled beneath Harriet's wings, the unfamiliar plumage twitching and billowing, and then—.

She dropped. The abrupt sensation of her startled stomach flopping loosened Harriet's hold on her form. Suddenly, the wind was in her robes, not her wings, and Harriet didn't have time for more than a short yelp before she hit the ground. Stars burst in her eyes as she rolled, shoulder colliding with a rock, her legs skidding against sharp foliage until she landed in a heap on her back, staring at the black fog overhead.

"Shite," Harriet choked, remaining sprawled in a stunned heap as the world spun around her. She could feel the dirt on her hands, tall stalks of grass bent under her arms. Pain radiated through her injured shoulder and made her fingers twitch.

Harriet hadn't a chance to gather her bearings; in the distance, over the crunch and patter of the roof caving in upon the house, came a cold, terrifying scream. "Find her!" Voldemort ordered, the grating sound accompanied by a swell of magic growing like a mushroom cloud. "Bring her to me!"

Rolling to her abraded knees, Harriet fumbled for her wand, wiping wet grit away from her eyes on her bloodied face. She scrambled into the taller grass, hoping it did something to mask her presence as she prepared a spell. "Evanesco Vestigium," she whispered, practicing the motion Snape had taught her to erase the magical signature of her passage. The next spell, "Misceo Omnia!" Harriet had only seen Fleur use once all those months ago during the first task, but she hoped the Muddling Charm did what it was meant to do.

Footsteps came running from the direction of the house, and though Harriet hadn't any idea where to go, she dashed in the opposite direction, remaining low to the ground. Every inch of her hurt in some manner, but she pushed the pain away, forcing her body to go faster, willing her feet to be silent and steady over the irregular terrain. In the distance, she could hear the pop and winnow of magic as the Death Eaters searched.