Spells and Visions; A Harry Potter story

YEAR 5: Chapter 1: Running Away

The start of a new year! Unlike the previous years, this chapter starts immediately where we left off at the end of year 4. Enjoy!

"So," mum said, after we had come home. "I've heard several things from Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. Odd things, most of it not true, of course."
"What do you mean?" I said, frowning.
"Well, he said your Headmaster mentioned things about the Dark Lord returning, which is nonsense, and of a young boy who died, tragic accident of course. Probably was at the wrong place at the wrong time."
"No, it wasn't," I said.
"What?"
"Voldemort is back. I saw it happen, mum, and I wasn't the only one."

"Jynx," Neville whispered, laying a hand on my arm. "Don't. It's no use."
I pulled my arm back.
"Mum, I am not insane. I have literally spoken with Voldemort. I was there when he killed Cyril."
"Nonsense," she said. "You've been told all this rubbish, and they expect everyone to believe it." She huffed.
"Well, they won't get to me. I heard Harry Potter was involved with this. So, of course, you can't seriously believe it."
Mum turned and walked away.
"But it's true!" I said, getting angrier. "Voldemort needed Harry's blood to come back. His servant Wormtail helped him, along with Barty Crouch Junior, disguised as ex-Auror Mad-Eye Moody. Do you think I could really make that all up?"
"Of course not, but your silly friends would've helped you with that," mum said stubbornly.
"My friends are not silly. They, and I, are just as sane as you are. Cedric Diggory was there as well, why don't you ask him then?"
"Isn't that the boy from the Triwizard Tournament? And don't use that tone to me! I am your mother, and you should believe what I tell you, because we of the Ministry understand cases like this much better than children like yourself. Now-"

"But you don't!" I blurted out. "Fudge doesn't know everything, because he hasn't seen everything! Harry has seen everything, I have seen most, and Cedric has seen some. Fudge only has seen Harry appear with Cyril's body and the Cup, which had been a Portkey, Crouch made sure of that. Why can't you just believe that unfortunate things happen sometimes? I accepted it, although with difficulty. On whose side are you?" I left out the part where I was involded. It would only cause more trouble.
"That's enough!" mum said, almost as angry as me. "Don't talk to me like that. Come to your room!"
I knew what that meant. I looked back at Neville, as mum led me to my room, and he looked at me with a 'sorry-you-should've-shut-up' look.

Mum pushed me in my chair at my desk, went to her room and returned with paper and a quill. She put them on my desk.
"Now, write: 'I will respect my mother and not tell lies' fifteen times," she said.
It had been quite a few years since I had last done this. And this was the first time I had to do it alone. I always got in trouble with Neville, or he got in trouble, but not the other way around.
I hesitated, and then slowly picked up the quill. It was black, and had a really sharp point.

I thought of my chances. If I Apparated, it was game-over. If I tried to run past my mother out of the room, ot was also game-over. There was definitely way more she was capable off.
I relaxed my left hand, and got ready to embrace the pain. I put the quill on the paper, took a breath and wrote as quickly as I could 'I will respect my mother and not tell lies'. I waited, and pressed my lips together to not yell as the words formed on my hand, cutting through my skin, blood visible. I breathed heavily through my nose. The text disappeared and my hand was healed again.
Now for the remaining nine times.

After, what seemed like years, and a whole lot of pain later, I blinked, so my tears of anger and pain would not fall out of my eyes.
My right hand shook as well as my left hand, and my mother, who had been standing behind me the entire time, took the quill and the paper out my hand and left the room.
I sat silent for a second, then Neville came in.
"J?"
I slammed my fist on the table, stood up, and Apparated to the garden. I did not tolerate being punished for being right. It was a lovely summer evening, sunset, and I would surely have loved to sit in the garden for a while, had I not just been tortured. So I ran. I ran faster then I had ever done before, tears of anger falling. I was so mad at my mother, and at everyone who was stupid enough to not use their brains for once. I wiped my tears aggressively away and kept on running, further and further, until I was at the Muggle village Neville and I used to visit.