Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
| | |
000.
IT WAS EERILY silent as Felicity and George Goodwin made their way home from a long, tiring day of work. They didn't notice it then, both too exhausted to do much else other than focus on putting one foot in front of the other, but an air of foreboding was on the loose and rolling towards their home in Godric's Hollow. It was thick with despair, slowly maneuvering through the sky and settling over the small neighborhood in which they resided, biding its time before it made itself known.
Felicity seemed to sense it first. She stumbled to a pause on the sidewalk, the feeling of her heart skipping a beat and her stomach twisting overwhelming her. She reached a hand out to grab her husband's arm, and the dark haired man glanced over, an expression of worry replacing the tiredness that was once covering his aged face.
After a moment, Felicity simply forced herself to relax and shook her head of the sudden onslaught of anxiety, telling herself she was tired and needed a cup of tea to calm herself down. She had worked a long day, with all the reports flying in from strange occurrences happening in recent times. Ever since Halloween night, things had been rather hectic for their community.
George Goodwin was also feeling the strain of both work and the tragedy that happened two months prior, as he offered his hand to his wife, moving forward towards their home at a slightly quicker pace. The loss of his best friends still weighed heavily on his mind, and the fact that he was not there...
Felicity had reminded him again and again not to dwell on it, but George found himself sinking into doubt more often than not. Truthfully, the cloud of uneasiness had been hanging around the Goodwin family for a while – it was only a matter of time before it swallowed them whole.
When they turned left onto their quiet, quaint street, the couple was abruptly stopped short when they heard a loud, spine-chilling sound coming from where their house was located, at the end of the cul-de-sac. It was a cry. A horrifying, bone-rattling cry that could only be caused by excruciating pain.
Felicity turned to George with wide, fearful eyes. "Is that... Was that Alice?"
George didn't take the time to respond. He grabbed his wife's hand and hurried her forward, running as fast as his tired, aching legs could take him towards the house, where their one-year-old daughter was waiting for them under the care of a close friend. His mind was rattled with horrifying images of what could have possibly happened while they were gone, what caused Alice to scream how she did.
When they reached the front porch steps, George let go of Felicity's hand and bolted towards the front door, which was left ajar and made his heart drop to his stomach. He shoved his way inside, his dark hair flattened against his forehead with nervous sweat as he glanced around hurriedly, taking in the sight before him.
Alice Longbottom, with her short brown hair tucked behind her ears and long, pallid face, was lying on the carpeted floor in the Goodwin's living room. Her entire body was tense and writhing on the ground, letting out shrill cries of utter agony. Standing above her, wand drawn and face set in a cruel, frightening smile, was a witch George had only ever heard stories about. Black curls engulfed her face and neck, with pale skin apparent against the red that was coating her lips, which were pulled against her teeth as she grinned.
"Felicity, stay outside!" George shouted, hearing his wife stomping up the wooden steps to try and see what was going on. "Just stay out there!"
"What's happening, George?" Felicity cried, hands going to her mouth in fear. "What is it?!"
George didn't get a chance to respond. Alice suddenly stopped shaking as the famous Death Eater, Bellatrix Lestrange, shifted her wand to George as soon as he made his presence known. George did the same, mirroring her actions as he brought out his own wand in one quick movement. His stomach twisted in the realization that when the darkest wizard to exist disappeared, after his long reign of terror, his followers had not yet been caught. And the utterly crazy ones, like Lestrange, were still roaming the streets, trying to avenge him. It only made sense she would come to George Goodwin. He was there that night, after all. A few streets away, at the Potters – his best friend's.
George stared avidly at the dark haired woman, daring her with his eyes to go against him – one of the top rated Aurors in London. She only smiled, however, and motioned with her head behind her.
As soon as George moved his eyes and looked around her slim, malnourished figure towards the darkened hallway, he felt bile rise in his throat. Hidden in the shadows, barely visible in the dim light from their living room lamp, was a man standing terrifyingly still above a rickety baby carriage. Esme Goodwin, barely even one years old, awoke with a red face and clenched hands when the man suddenly grabbed her around the middle and pulled her out of the bed. He held her up amidst her wailing cries, bringing her closer to his sharp teeth.
George let out a shout when the Death Eater sunk his canines into the baby's chubby neck, causing red liquid to gush out of her once smooth skin and pour onto the carpet below. The father wasted no more time. He muttered a spell at Bellatrix, who deflected it, but it was enough time to press the button on the side of his watch.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, out of thin air, several people arrived outside of the Goodwin's home. Aurors – George's closest friends.
"George?!" Felicity called from outside, desperation and fear laced heavily within her voice. George forced himself to ignore her, as he continued to watch the werewolf, wand shifting back and forth between him and the other witch in the room.
Bright flashes of light engulfed the room not a moment later, and the house was soon overtaken by a fight. The other Aurors worked to capture the two escaped convicts as George catapulted himself towards his daughter, grabbing her from her abandoned spot in her bed, where the werewolf dropped her, and hugging her close to his chest.
Felicity was there by his side in seconds, ripping her traveling cloak and fastening it over Esme's wound. She took the child from her husband's arms, whilst George covered both her and the small girl with his body so they could not see what was happening around him.
Which meant, when the time came, all Felicity could see was a vague flash of bright green light, a strangled sound of pain, and the man she was so desperately holding onto go limp in her arms, the warmth slowly dissipating the more she tried to tug him closer.
