Movement. Quick. Whiplash. Quick, quick- I run, I feel as though movement around me is happening in slow-motion; adrenaline keeping me faster than I’ve ever been, fear making sure that my wand is held tight in hand, instincts turning me every way to get to the other side.
To the right. Now. A bright flash of blue. I barely know what I am saying; what spells are flying across me, by me, to me; things are too- Behind me. Quick. I duck. A body charges into me. A physical attack? Not a Death Eater – they would not use something that… Muggle. I fall. He falls with me.
“What are you?” He is screaming; crazed. I recognize him, one of the faces that had been up in the air – floating, masked figures laughing as he spinned, and then fell. “What the hell are you?”
My wand flashed before I can barely recognize it, and he is on the ground. “Not the bad guy,” I whisper, and then keep running. Something feels strange, and I raise my hand to my head. It comes off wet, only slightly red. Blood. Tears. Not the bad guy – but I do not know anymore. Choices must be made.
The left, a white mask. A command, a voice I recognize. “Go to your mother.” I freeze. Then, I keep moving. Movement. All the time. Fast enough and choices that must be made are left behind me and in front of me; with my father killing that Muggle and my mother fleeing instead of choosing or fighting. Just move.
no subject
Movement. Quick. Whiplash. Quick, quick- I run, I feel as though movement around me is happening in slow-motion; adrenaline keeping me faster than I’ve ever been, fear making sure that my wand is held tight in hand, instincts turning me every way to get to the other side.
To the right. Now. A bright flash of blue. I barely know what I am saying; what spells are flying across me, by me, to me; things are too- Behind me. Quick. I duck. A body charges into me. A physical attack? Not a Death Eater – they would not use something that… Muggle. I fall. He falls with me.
“What are you?” He is screaming; crazed. I recognize him, one of the faces that had been up in the air – floating, masked figures laughing as he spinned, and then fell. “What the hell are you?”
My wand flashed before I can barely recognize it, and he is on the ground. “Not the bad guy,” I whisper, and then keep running. Something feels strange, and I raise my hand to my head. It comes off wet, only slightly red. Blood. Tears. Not the bad guy – but I do not know anymore. Choices must be made.
The left, a white mask. A command, a voice I recognize. “Go to your mother.” I freeze. Then, I keep moving. Movement. All the time. Fast enough and choices that must be made are left behind me and in front of me; with my father killing that Muggle and my mother fleeing instead of choosing or fighting. Just move.
Mia/Slytherin/261