The War | The Sister Book #4 | Harry Potter Fanfiction

Chapter Twenty-Three

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"Who took her, sir?" I ask slowly, my question hanging in the air like smoke. We don't need an answer.

The sound of water dripping from the tap is all to be heard. My eyes flicker over the piles of Quibblers and spilt ink, seeing blaring red headlines of Harry's face. I glance at Hermione.

"Voldemort," Xenophilius whispers,

The taboo curse. 

As jets of black smoke start flying towards the house I hit the ground, spells ricocheting off the walls and breaking windows, cups and throwing the newspapers into the air. I cover my face, the screeching of breaking glass and hissing of curses splitting the silence. A spell hits a stack of Quibblers, sending them into the air, white paper floating through a mess of flying glass and stone like doves. 

Xenophelius is nowhere to be seen. 

"Take my hand!" Hermione screams, wriggling forward, and as I inch across the ground, I stretch my hand out, closer and closer, until my fingers finally find hers

xxx

We tumble into fresh, bitter evening air, collapsing into a heap as the smell of pine needles and dirt fill my senses. I blink. I'm lying on my side on the damp ground, and as I sit, I know there's dirt in my matted hair and on my face. I can feel it clinging to my skin. I try to wipe it off with my sleeve, but it doesn't work. 

"That treacherous old bleeder!" Ron snaps, getting to his feet and dusting off his pants, though it does nothing to help the dirt that stains the front of them, "Is there no one we can trust?"

Harry stands and helps me to my feet. I nod respond to Ron, motioning at the beaded bag. Hermione passes it to me wordlessly. 

"They've kidnapped Luna because he supported me. He was just desperate." Harry says softly, 

I start rummaging through the bag searching for a bottle of water. My throat feels like sandpaper. Whatever was in that tea was not pleasant. I pull out The Fellowship Of The Ring, pinning it under my arm as I continue to search. I feel almost sorry for him, losing his daughter like that. I understand why he tried to hand us in. I look around at the woodland we've apparated to. The trees are sparse and tall, petering out ahead of us and across a swampy grassland, I can see a lake shivering in the evening light. Behind us, the trees continue for as far as the eye can see, a grey, green and brown landscape, speckled with fallen trees and shrubs. 

Ron takes a breath. "I'll do the enchantments,"

I give up on my search for water. Hermione raises her hand, her breath catching in her throat. I look up.

Slowly stepping out from the trees, seemingly merged with the forest, are five dark figures. My hand flies to my pocket, taking out my wand, as one steps forward. He smiles, baring a set of yellow teeth,

"Hello, lovely."

I bolt, Hermione at my side, we skid over the forest floor, throwing spells over our shoulders, hoping to hit one of our pursuers. Snatchers. Again. My leg starts to sting, and my pace starts to slow. I yelp in pain as I leap using the wrong leg over a fallen branch and feel terror claw at my heart as white flashes fill the silent forest around us. 

My leg buckles beneath me and and Hermione grabs my arm, yanking me sideways and pulling my down into a gulley, under a fallen log. She snatches the bag from my hand, pulling something out of it and shoving it at me. 

"Leave-"

"What?"

"Disapparate!"

"I can't-"

"Well you can't stay." She snaps, breathless, "Try. Picture something. Go to it. They can't find out you're still alive, they can't..."

"Come with me-"

"I'm not leaving the boys."

"Hermione-"

"Go!"

As the log above us starts to splinter as curses hit the wood, I close my eyes, catching a glimse of Hermione as she turns and starts running. I consider wrapping myself in the cloak, staying here, but I can't. I can't stay here. 

I bite my lip, tears stinging my eyes as I will myself to leave this place.

The air is snatched from around me and my feet hit solid concrete. I stumble sideways, hitting something- Someone. He glances at me, sneering at my dirty face and continues to walk. Another person pushes past. Then another. A stream of coats and hats walking through a dark alley between two busy streets. 

The walls are a dark brick, and I step sideways, out of the way, struggling to breathe. Where in gods name have I taken myself? I start fumbling with the cloak, desperate for cover when something catches my eye.

My breath hitches.

Ahead of me, about to enter the small pub on the other side the wall I'm pressed against, stands a boy. 

He was talking with a man he resembles. He wears a tailored black suit and has neatly combed platinum blonde hair. His hands hang loosely by his sides and his skin is incredibly pale. He has a black umbrella in one hand. 

He has a pair of frightened, grey eyes.

And they are staring right at me. 

xxx

get keeeeeeeen 

See you on Saturday lads