Run || Harry Potter FF

iv || revenge

We pulled up to my house after a very, very long drive, or at least, that's the way it felt. There was explaining and talking, but mostly arguing. The air of animosity was strong but was abruptly dissolved when we arrived at my village. The streets were quiet and completely empty, just as they were when we left. The houses around me looked utterly vacant, just as my parent's house did.

But still, I left the two strange and hostile boys in the car while I went to find out my parent's fate. I gripped the cold door knob and took a deep breath before turning it, my heart racing all the while. It opened to reveal the all too familiar walkway that surely had my footsteps ingrained within the tile forever. "Hello?" I called out. The sound waves bounced off the walls and called back to me, signaling that the house was empty. It even smelled as if it hadn't been inhabited for a couple of days.

I began to walk through the house, searching every crevice for some sign of what had happened. But nothing could be found. My parent's bedroom was the worst to search--their scent still clung to the blanket on their bed and the towels on the bathroom floor. It held on tight to the wallpaper and the tacky rug on which I cried. 

As sobs racked my body, I could only pray that they weren't dead. That had always been my worst fear--losing them. When I was faced with the reality that they were mortal, back when my dad was first diagnosed with cancer, I fought against it. I convinced myself that they would be with me always. And when my dad went into remission, well, it only confirmed it. But now...

I had to pull myself together. I had to find out what happened to them. And I knew, oh I knew, deep in the core of my bones, that it had to do with that wizard You-Know-Who or whatever the hell his name was. And I wasn't going to stop until we found a way to get rid of him. I didn't care that it was 'impossible'. I didn't care that the only savior they had was dead. There was a way, and I would find it. 

I wiped the tears off my face hastily with an expression of determination. I pulled myself together like tightening the strings on a corset or knitting a hat: string by string, tear by tear. First things first, I told myself, provisions. I grabbed a suitcase out of their closet and packed it with my father's clothes. They should fit Draco and Neville--my dad was fairly tall and had lost some weight during chemo.

Then I made my way to my bedroom. It felt foreign and alien, even though I'd only been gone for less than two days. My covers still laid askew across my bed and my pajamas were still on the floor. I stuffed whatever clothes my eyes fell on first into the suitcase along with a few other essentials, including my secret stash of money that I kept under my mattress. I changed my stained shirt and bloody jeans and went into the bathroom.

I lifted my new, clean jeans to inspect the cut. It was swollen around the edges and completely open for any kind of debris or bacteria to get inside. It looked terrible. I cleaned it carefully with alcohol, and though the sting of it was cring-worthy, it wasn't nearly as excruciating as the fresh wound in my heart.

I took one last look at myself after I bandaged it. The shadows under my eyes looked profound on my pale face. I was already inheriting Draco's dark circles. I guess that's what being on the run did to you. The freckles splashed across my nose looked even more prominent than usual from the lack of makeup. My hair hung limply around my shoulders, the bright red washing me out more than ever. It fit me better now. The fiery resolve deep in my body matched it fautlessly.  

I went down to the kitchen finally, packing some food in a plastic bag. I found my mum's purse on the counter and took whatever money she had inside and stuffed it in my bag. She would have wanted me to have it. I gave my house one last look, inhaling deeply to remember exactly why I was going to do what I was about to, and then I walked out.

When I got back to the car, it was silent, but the grimaces that I had left them both with were gone. Maybe they had talked it over and put their resentments aside. All I knew was that they were going to have to get along if we wanted to do something to help everyone.

After putting the suitcase in the trunk, I climbed into the passenger seat. "They weren't in there..."

Neville sighed. "Look, I didn't want to say anything until you saw for yourself, but You-Know-Who has been invading muggle villages and towns and cities one at a time for awhile now. He takes the people inside and...he makes them work for wizards--"

"You mean he makes them slaves," I corrected, knowing that's what he meant by his hesitation. "You don't have to be soft with me. Just tell me the truth."

He looked uncomfortable. "Well, yes. Essentially, that's what's happening. None of the muggles realize it because of the charms. I'm really sorry, Layla."

It was silent then. I could feel the pity radiating off of their bodies but I didn't acknowledge it. I didn't want their pity. I wanted revenge. "Well," I began, breaking the silence. "I have to find my parents and he has to be stopped."

"But Layla, he's too--"

"No. The man you told me about...Dumbledore...or even Harry Potter for that matter...would they just stand by and let this happen? What did they die for? For nothing?"

Silence again. Neville looked down at the steering wheel, his cheeks were inflamed and I saw a tear escape his duct. Even Draco was looking solemn. I had hit a nerve. "The only reason he isn't being stopped is because nobody thinks he can be. But he can. Everyone can. You don't need to be the Chosen One or a have a special spell, you just need to believe. I know I sound like a Disney movie right now but it's true. We can do this. 

"And I know I don't know you and maybe I don't have the right to talk about this but Draco, he killed your parents... And Neville, he killed your Gran. And he stole my parents. So we can't just sit back and let him get away with it. I don't know about you, but I want revenge. And I may be the only muggle on earth who would dare stand up to someone who can do magic, but I'm not going to let fear dictate me. I refuse," I finished. A fire burned in my chest that prevented any tears from falling. The only desire or emotion I allowed inside of me was a burning passion for You-Know-Who's head on a platter.

I waited for them to agree, to throw their hands up in defiance, to tell me their plan to assassinate the ultimate dictator, but instead, I heard the hum of the car as Neville turned the key and the quiet click of Draco's seat belt and I knew that they were with me.

And as we continued down the road in silence, I knew that this would bind us together forever. We were joined by the desire for revenge.