An overwhelming sense of déjà vu eclipsed Harry's mind as he squinted in the dark, trying to find Adeline's figure with thick bullets of rain firing from the vile storm overhead, aggressive winds coming in at every angle, fog embracing the ground, keeping their feet from view. Hermione watched him, knowing exactly what he was about to do. There was no hope in stopping him—maybe she could try. But then—what if they can't stop her this time?
As a flash ignited the shadows, he found Adeline's silhouette— receding towards the shield where Death Eaters lurked. Desperation filled his head; powered his movement.
He started running.
Hermione's voice was lost in the howling wind as she sped after him, raindrops smacking onto their faces and soaking through their clothes intendedfor Slughorn's dinner, their bolting feet thudding amongst the wet grass, splashing muddy water up their legs, tripping over Addie's disregarded shoes to which slipped off in her own rush, barely regaining balance.
"ADDIE! ADDIE, STOP!" They were yelling, as though it would help, as though she would break her monster and turn around—but her monster wasn't there. Her eyes weren't the blood-stained crimson. This was her choice. They were running; sprinting with everything they had, yet they couldn't close the gap.
Her curtain of dark hair twisted in the wind, strands sticking to her forehead, dripping rain onto her lips. Though the icy gusts, she didn't shiver. She couldn't feel the cold, her dress blowing at her legs. She may as well have been underwater; her sight was blurry and hearing muffled—she couldn't breathe without choking. Mud covered her bare feet and splattered up her calves, the shield just metres away. Voices curled and distorted in the gusts of air, reaching her ears as mere cries and yells of indistinguishable calls. Rain crawled down her skin as the voices twisted into the whistling wind, combining sounds, forming screeches like that of a banshee. She winced but continued. One foot at a time. There was no other choice; she was only putting people in danger by staying.
A bright, outline of her hand lit up the surrounding night as she held it against her side of the shield. It reflected in her eyes, glistening eerily as she stepped forward, her foot penetrating the shield's wall to the grass beyond the protected grounds.
Harry stumbled but caught his footing, Hermione just behind him, her wand out, previously tamed hair turned wet and undone in the storm, tangled as it flew behind her, short-heeled flats long fallen off, the echoing yells of Death Eaters beyond the shield gaining volume.
As the two neared, their yells caught up to Addie. She stopped running and turned around, blood escaping the corner of her mouth, sliding down her chin.
Time slowed as they met each other's eyes, and a small feeling of hope found its way into Harry's chest. She's coming back; I know it. She won't leave. She's about to step back. She's coming back.
She'll be okay.
"YOU CAN'T SAVE EVERYONE!" At this point, Adeline couldn't tell who said it, caught in the eye of a storm. She squinted.
"No—" She choked, delving into a hearty fit of coughs, hands instinctively reaching to cover her mouth. Thick crimson stained her hands. He came closer. She stumbled backward.
"Harry, Hermione—You don't get it!" Her voice was crackly; broken. She screamed nevertheless, straining it. "I HAVE TO TRY!"
Adeline's words crushed that ounce of faith, sending his heart tumbling down a cliff, punctured by jagged boulders, before hitting rock-bottom. At first, wounded: he felt wounded, like a punch to the stomach, that lurch before falling to the ground; a stab to his chest, but then—oh, did he feel it when she spun around, his heart knifed to the hilt as it skipped a beat; maybe two, or maybe it stopped completely—he wouldn't know; he didn't care. Her silhouette got smaller—he couldn't breathe. But as Hermione shook beside him, hand tight around her wand, and Addie's figure reached the edge of the luminescent shield, glowing radiantly around the outline of her figure, suddenly he started moving. He didn't realise he was running; not until he heard Hermione's screams, or until he was pushed back with an invisible force into the air, landing roughly on the ground, the wind knocked out of him, head pounding—and he forgot. He forgot why he was there; what's this water on his face? Why can't he breathe? What's that black—is it the sky? Or does he have his eyes closed?
Harry didn't know—he didn't know anything. But then it all came back like a punch in the dark and he lurched forward, just in time to see Adeline, her hand still outstretched, eyes wide. But there was something different. There wasn't a glow anymore; her face wasn't clear. It was darker than before. And he realised; he tried to yell, he tried, but nothing came out—not to him, anyway, he couldn't hear anything, but it didn't matter; he saw everything. Addie was outside the shield.
He saw her head snap to the side, hair flicking sharply, as hands appeared around her shoulders, her arms, her torso, and a rope around her mouth. Masks, too—he could never forget those masks—all around her, emerging from the shadows, staring at him. And then—she was gone, pulled into the darkness. He couldn't see her. She was gone. He tried to move, he tried, but something was holding him down—ropes? Roots—sprouted from the ground, looped around his arms, legs, torso, chained to the earth; the work of Adeline.
Hermione quivered as she aimed her wand at the roots to rid of them—but her hands shook too violently; there was too high a chance she would hit Harry. In desperation, she fumbled to tuck the wand in-between his clothes and the root, pulling upward; ripping it.
He could barely hear anything—he couldn't hear himself ask "Where'd she go?" "Hermione, where is she?" as if the shaken girl before him could answer anything other than a trembling "I don't know!"; the only words she could muster. And then, just as he was free from the roots, just as he could hear the rain and Hermione's sniffs and his own heart thumping in his ears, everything was quiet, like his whole world was turned to silence. He sat up, next to Hermione on her knees, and they traded looks; neither could hear a thing amongst the cries of a maniacal storm.
A spark of light behind them; they turned to the source.
There he stood, a blinding radiance emitting from his wand aimed to the sky, his other hand outstretched, increasing its power.
Dumbledore.
a/n
*a million years later*
hii, i'm still alive
so i kinda took an unannounced break from writing in general for a bit and it's honestly been pretty good as i'm just trying to get my life together ahahah
but i'm baaaaack!!
literally so much has happened since i last updated,, i watched all seasons of the office (the US version), trust hit 100k a week ago (i'm still v shook about that oml), and there's a global pandemic atm, that's fun.
in all seriousness, i'm getting back into the swing of writing this book which is a huge relief; it was weird- like i never stopped wanting to write this book but i just,, couldn't write it. i'm bACK THO-
stay safe everyone; wash your hands + stay home if you can :)
see you all soon!
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