Lover of the Light

Old Wars

Lover of the Light

Chapter Eighteen: Old Wars

The world was off.

The day had started off in bright colors for everyone. It poured through their windows, poking them awake with a heated flash of whitish-yellow, powerful and directly from the sun glowing outside. The sky had been blue, blue, blue—decorated with thick, fluffy cotton-balls as clouds. The trees had been green, green, green; along with the grass, the hills, bushes and the vines. Some flowers bloomed in reds, pinks, yellows, whites, purples, while others were beginning to bud. The snow had melted and the cobbled streets stood out more than before. Spring was approaching and it made people start bringing out vibrant colors in their wardrobes.

Color had been all around them. Not just by the actual hues of the scenery, but in the way they had been feeling that day. It was a light atmosphere: content, satisfied, overjoyed, grateful, tingly. It had been a day of peace.

But then threatening, black wind came and dropped shadows of destruction on everything they'd been enjoying. It took away their color. It took away all the mesmerizing shades, all the blissful emotions, and it painted it all red.

Red with frustration. Red with anger. Red with misery. Red with suspicion.

The world was off because a key piece was missing.

"This has been happening for months?!" The roar of indignation mixing with fury echoed off the great and ancient walls of the office that belonged to Headmistress McGonagall. "For months she's been getting attacked and threatened and no one said anything?!"

"Mister Potter," spoke the Headmistress with as much care and patience that was needed to cool the hot-head the Chosen One was known for. "There was nothing that could've been done to help protect Miss Granger if she didn't earlier reveal any of this to the right people. Since her attack inside this castle I've upped the security within the walls and the staff did double rounds. Nothing was out of place. We did all in our power to protect her."

Harry frowned at the old professor. "Then you didn't do a good enough job, Headmistress!" He loathed the way she sounded like Dumbledore; both so assured that the castle was the safest place in the world. There had been times when he'd believed that himself, but something always happened to contradict that claim of protection. Something always came back to remind him that peace wasn't everlasting. And it was always someone he loved that set the example."Hermione was taken!"

From their places behind the Boy-Who-Lived, four other boys cringed at the latter's previous exclaim of the ugly reality they couldn't yet believe. Hermione had been taken. She was gone.

"I do not control what happens in Hogsmeade," stated McGonagall with a shrill, offended tone. She held Hermione in high regards, adored the girl silently as it was in her nature, and was equally as concerned as all of them. That wasn't wavering, she just didn't have the answers he wanted to hear. "Whoever attacked the village had to be separate from the attack she suffered in Hogwarts months ago, Mister Potter."

"A case should've been opened! You should've reported this to—"

"It was reported." Looking up from a patch of marble flooring, Draco Malfoy stared directly into the unstable, bespectacled eyes of his childhood nemesis. Not only was Potter looking back at him with wild, questioning eyes, but the Headmistress herself stopped looking so composed. "There was another attack one evening during the holidays," he explained with no emotion at all, "right before Christmas. We were in America, shopping in a wizardying location when the store started coming down. She was struck with the Sectumsempra spell and almost didn't make it. The Zabinis reported it to the Ministry and a case was opened."