homesick ☆ f.weasley

.:49:.

"Kill the spare," demanded Voldemort. Emmeline picked herself up and bolted towards the cup. Meanwhile, Harry was bent double from the agony his scar was causing. Peter Pettigrew shot a plethora of spells at Emmeline. Adreneline had posessed her body, repressing the pain of her previous wounds. She ran and ran, her life depended on it. Suddenly, she toppled over. A spell had struck her. She dragged herself away but the pain was too much. She fell to the ground, hoping her still state would convince the villians she was dead and she could conjure up an escape plan. Her trembling revealed that she was still alive and Voldemort (now fully resurrected) approached her agonisingly slow. Vaguely, she could hear Harry begging for her mercy. It all felt like a dream. It was a dream and she would wake up any moment now. Except she didn't; this nightmare really was happening. Voldemort struck her. If she had to go, Harry was relieved it was painless. Emmeline inhaled and transparent figures illustrated themselves infront of her.

"Mum! Dad!" Emmeline cried. Tears were falling now. She hadn't realised how much she had missed her parents.

"My brave girl," Mrs Walshaw's ghostly face creased into a smile. She hadn't changed a bit.

"I'm scared," Emmeline admitted quickly, the joy of her reunion with her parents being replaced by the fear of the inevitable.

"No rational being can fear something it will not feel," her dad whispered.

"Does it hurt?"

"Like falling asleep," Mr Walshaw assured his daughter. Emmeline nodded, accepting her fate. Without a moment of hesitation, she reached out and grabbed the hands of the people who had brought her into the world and now, the ones who would help her out. Maybe it wasn't the happy ending that counted, maybe it was the story that made a life fulfilling.

☆☆

Harry appeared, clutching Emmeline's body. She was so lifeless. The crowd erupted with cheer, but they soon released something was wrong. Emmeline's loved ones pushed their way through the crowd, fearing the worst. Harry blinked through watery eyes and looked up at Daisy.

"I couldn't leave her," he wailed. "I couldn't save her."

Daisy collapsed onto her knees next to him. "No, no, no, no. Emmeline wake up. Wake up!" She was shaking her only relative vigourously. This couldn't be happening.

"That's my girl!" yelled Fred in a screech so full of sorrow and disbelief it would have made Voldemort feel remorseful.

"SOMEONE DO SOMETHING!" Daisy shouted. "Don't just stand there! Hermione, hand me that stupid gold necklace and we can turn back time-"

McGonagall wrapped her arms around the young girl. She was just a child and she had lost everything. "I'm sorry, Daisy, there's nothing we can do."

Daisy was wailing so violently that she was struggling to gasp for air. It felt like she was drowning and honestly, that's what she wanted. She craved an ending. A relief to this torture. The crowd surrounding Emmeline was immense.

"I don't know if this is the right time to mention it, but tecnically Emmeline didn't win so you owe me fifteen galleons," Crabbe muttered. Fred lunged for the boy, George only just managing to pull his brother back. Fred then blacked out; the trauma was too much for him.

Daisy got to her feet. She was angry. "How could you just leave her to die?" spat Daisy at Harry. If Daisy's vision wasn't as clouded with rage as it was, she would've been able to see that Harry almost matched her level of grief.

"Harry did his best!" shouted Ron, coming inbetween him and Daisy.

Neville wrapped Daisy up in his arms, sensing a brewing confrontation. She nestled into him until she could no longer see or hear.

"It's going to be okay," Neville whispered, pushing a strand of her golden locks out of her red face that was blotted with tears. Of course, he knew it wasn't going to be okay, but else could he say? There was no handbook on what to say. No one expected this to happen.

"It's not, it's not, it's not," she chanted, though her cries were muffled by Neville's shirt.

Fred was taken to the hospital wing so Madame Pomfrey could keep an eye on him. He was still unconscious and George was worried the shock alone had killed him.

Fred awoke. He was instantly bombarded with grief. His family had came to the castle to accompany him. Night had drawn around the castle, Mrs Weasley was snoring softly on a mint green arm chair in the corner of the hospital wing. To the rest of the world, this was a normal day. Probably bordering on tedious. But, to Fred Weasley, this was the worst day imaginable, for he had lost the love of his life.