Lily Evans

Chapter 19

Chapter 19

       My first instinct was to scream. I'm a huge screamer, I always scream. At the cinema, when I stub my toe (which is unfortunately frequent), when someone jumps out at me, even when my bath is too hot and plunge foot in without thinking. So when no sound came out this time I was confused. Why were my excessive vocal chords suddenly failing me? I tried to reach up to my throat, but sensed no movement. So I tried to move. No movement. I attempted to blink, but found no eyes. I attempted to breathe, but found no lungs. I was non-existent, a mind floating hopelessly through nothingness.

       I figured this couldn't be real, or real in it's own inexistent sense. It was like I was trapped within a dreamless sleep. The nothingness was started to close in on me, I felt suffocated, this was the end, this must be the end... so I screamed, again. This time I conjured up all the energy I could feel, despite the fact that it appeared I had nowhere for the energy to come from. I took a non-existent breathe in, and this time the sound was created. My suddenly existing ears noticed it. There was no time, I knew that there was no time wherever I was(n't), so I have no idea how long it look for the energy to build and the scream to happen, the sound to be noticed. My nose started to smell. My skin started to feel the pressure or air falling over it's surface. My eyes saw black, I blinked, and they saw colour. It took many move blinks for my eyes to focus, but when I was where I was, I felt like I had only slightly reached my reality. The first barrier, and this must be the second.

       Somehow I could see that it was sphere, but my hands felt no shape. The 'walls' were red, though black in some parts, and white in others. Like smudged ink blots. I looked at my body, and thankfully found that I was still in my clothes, even though there was no one around I'd always hated the feeling of being naked. I felt them, just to give my senses something to notice. They didn't feel the same, the fabric was like clouds, but denser, and there was no texture. Next I reached my hands towards my captivating walls. They were real, they were solid and hot. Hot enough that it should burn me, but weird enough that it did not. Slowly, recognition was progressing in my brain, the colour, the shape, the glow, the ultimate, hidden magic. It was exactly like the ball I found in the rubble of my home, Voldemort's own special form of Dark Magic, designed to bring my father to death. So this must be something to do with Voldemort, that man at Diagon Alley was a Death Eater.

       I have come to the conclusion that I am either dead, lying ignorantly in limbo, or I am just to wait her for Voldemort to arrive and do as he wishes.

       Voldemort.

       Lord Voldemort.

       He's coming for me, I know it. He hasn't killed me, I'm his prisoner. But who else? Harry, Ron and Hermione were only a few metres away from me, a Death Eater could have gotten them too... Or maybe he only wanted me, like what Dumbledore was telling me. Oh God! Sammy! Voldemort's after him too. My brother, my innocent, six-year old brother, barely recovered from the snake attack. If Voldemort got him... I can't even think about that kind of thing. I can only hope that Dumbledore made sure to keep him protected. Oh Sammy... I miss him so much.

*****

       "Such a shame, her family's magical blood line is so pure, but she poses too much of a threat. Her and and the boy must die." The voice was cold, hearing it made me feel like I'd plunged into an ice river. My breathe came short and sharp, my hands started to move before my eyes. I was feeling for the precious walls of my bubble, I'd started to feel like this was the only protection I had from him, the moment it was gone, I was dead. It was gone, but I wasn't yet dead. My senses told me I was lying on the ground, cold, tiled ground. My eyes told me this was true, and Lord Voldemort was standing over me, staring at me with a mild interest.

       "Ah, she is a awake," he hissed, his eyes glinting red, "Wormtail! Fetch our guest some water." I heard a quiet bang, a whimper, and then a long trail of scuffling. I blinked up at Voldemort, unsure of what he meant. Wasn't he just going to kill me?

       "Stand up." I didn't obey, I stayed where I was, completely motionless, barely breathing. "I command you to stand up." With his white-spiders of hands, he pulled out a wand. From the first glance, it looked like an ordinary wand, but I knew how it was more like a slaughter weapon. He pointed it at me, the point looking far too sharp. Suddenly, my body tensed and I felt like a puppet on strings. My body stood up, despite everything my brain was screaming at it. I tried to look away from his red, snake eyes but he desired otherwise. Another point of his wand and my neck was bent, my chin punched upwards. Though I know this pain will seem pitiful once it all really begins.

"I think I need to teach you some manners." Once again, the cold, merciless piece of wood was raised. No word was uttered, just pain.

It has begun.