#180 in Fanfiction || #1 in Hermione ||
In the language of literature, there exists a seemingly-concrete, antonymous relationship between good and evil, light and dark, hero and monster. And yet, we often disregard the transition from one to anothe...
"Do we climb!?" Hermione frantically asks, her panic so blind that she cannot see the flaw in the logic, even though the logic is far better than running into the flames.
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"No, it'll just follow us!" Tom shouts back, well practiced in Fiendfyre although never defensively. The flames quicken towards their forms, the screaming, hissing, and roaring echoing loudly in their ears and making it even harder to think through the panic of the moment. But--more inclined to tense situation than the other three--Harry is open-eyed to the situation, gratefully acknowledging a collection of old broomsticks in a nearby pile of junk. Was this the Room's magic? Or is it just a perfect coincidence?
He does not care.
"Here! Take one!" Harry shouts, swooping forward for the four brooms before tossing one to each person, Tom, Hermione, and Ron, and then climbing onto a broom himself. Hermione's fear and Tom's dislike is all but forgotten with the flames now towering over them, the girl shoving the Diadem safely onto the crown of her head and kicking off the ground with no more practice than a First Year. This time, however, she stays aloft.
Like in a dramatic action sequence, the four broomriders soar out of the engulfed gully of flames, into the open and smoky air of the larger than life Room or Requirement. Forming into one massive dragon, the jaws of the fiery beast snap towards them, almost managing to light the broom sticks on fire, but not quite close enough for true damage to be done.
For their obvious age, the brooms are quick, all four people dodging about piles of inflamed rubbish with their lungs heaving in the smokey and hurting air. Tom almost loses his heart when he hears a scream from behind them, thinking it to be Hermione, only to see the girl still flying safely beside him. Rather, upon looking back, Tom sees Goyle plummet to a fiery death that he more than deserves for trying to kill Hermione.
And the thought is reciprocated in Ron, the boy loudly quipping, "Serves him right."
If Hermione disagrees with their judgement and Goyle's sentence, she does not evoke as much, likely too focused on the path ahead, more than the others given her inability at flying well. "C'mon! This way!"
"Wait!" Harry cries, slowing from his forward position with the remembrance of the other people in this room. "What about Malfoy and Blaise?"
Ron turns to Hermione with an aghast look on his face, not directed at her, but the sheer notion Harry implies, "He's joking, right?"
"No, they're with us. We need to go back," Tom decides, no longer held back by their lacking suspicions of him as he makes the decision for the Golden Trio. Taking that as the decision, Harry turns his broom widely around, slowing before accelerating as he darts towards the perched Slytherins on a tumbling pile of junk.
Shaking his head, Ron huffs in complete irritation, not betrayal for only he would do such. "If we die for them, I'll kill you, Harry!"
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