My Classified Life

Chapter Six: Voldemort Is Not In Spain

I have to admit to the fact that mom is very good at making things difficult for us. But, that is her job. Those thoughts circled in my mind while I fidgeted in my seat in first class, Christina right beside me sitting cross-legged and reading a Harry Potter book. She had headphones covering her ears and wasn't listening to anything, a universal sign not to bother her. I reached over the seat and pulled on the chord connected to the headphones and her head jerked slightly. Then she pulled them off and marked the page in the book before turning to me with a very annoyed look on her face.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“What do you mean nothing?” her voice grew louder.

“Is it a crime to just want to talk with my best friend?”

“Em, seriously. Just tell me what's bothering you already so I can get back to Hogsmeade.”

“I don't know what you are talking about.” I folded my arms across my chest.

“Oh, really? How do you feel about the mission today?”

“Fine, great even. I'm totally ready for this. I mean we practiced all yesterday and mom said I'm an excellent pickpocket and I should totally be able to do this successfully and I don't have any reason at all to be nervous-”

She cut me off from my incessant rambling and said “But you are nervous.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Considering the fact that you've been cracking your fingers for the last 20 minutes, yeah, yeah it is.”

I looked down at my hands and saw that I had been unconsciously cracking my fingers, a nervous habit I'd started. I looked up to Christina and gave a half-hearted smile and laugh.

“You said it yourself, Em. You have no reason to be worried.” She opened her book again and began reading.

“But what about you know who?”

“Voldemort is not going to show up in Barcelona, Em.”

“Oh ha ha ha.” I said sarcastically. “You know who I was talking about.”

“And I also know that the chances of them being there are like one in a million. So just calm down and try to sleep. It may be noon in Barcelona when we get there, but it's going to feel like 5 in the morning. I'm surprised you stayed up this long.” She shut her book again and put it away. In the airplane she turned the above light off and twisted and turned until she was in a comfortable position.

“It's like 1 in the morning, go to bed. We arrive in Barcelona in four hours.” I heard her yawn loudly through the dark.

I leaned back into my seat and drifted off to sleep.

For the first time since the South America Mission I was running as fast as my feet could take me. I pushed through hundreds of people along the dirty street and screamed “Movimiento!!” as I pushed a woman out of my way. I looked swiftly over my shoulder and saw the policemen who had been chasing me for the last block.. I pushed my legs faster and faster. I took off my jacket and threw it aside while I picked up speed. As I raced down to the end of the block and looked back again the policemen were far away. I turned a sharp corner and began sprinting down it. I whirred past two more blocks at top speed and turned to my right on a street corner. The echoes of sirens pulsated through the humid air. My quick breaths caught in my throat as I tried and failed to run faster from the fast approaching police sirens. I turned once again but instead of running into more people the entire street was clear of all cars and signs of life. I gazed around at the empty block. I stopped pushing and thudded to a halt midway through the street as two police cars appeared on the corner I'd been running to. I turned around and began to run into the opposite direction only to be halted by more police cars and loud sirens. Dozens of tall and muscular policemen emerged from the cars, armed with an occasional handgun and one of their police sticks. One to my left held a pair of solid hand cuffs.