Elysia Dumbledore [A Harry Potter Fan Fiction]

Chapter Seven ~ The End of the Games

Swivelling his head, he saw my instantly. My blue contrasted well with the overflowing green of the grass and the people, that it was hard not to see me. The music hummed loudly, buzzing like a swarm of bees rehearsing a beautiful melody.

Wordlessly, our hands came together, and our feet skipped along to the swift beat, driving us further in to the sea of celebrations. Men cooed at us, women giggled, but I couldn't take my eyes off of him. Thousands of butterflies pulsed through my stomach, threatening to escape and swarm him.

My worries, my fears, my torments fluttered away with these butterflies as I placed my full confidence in Drew, trusting him to lead me wherever he'd like. His head now navigated away from the path we were treading, and into my eyes, which were already searching his.

The music stopped, the world halted, holding it's breath for a brief moment.

We leaned into eachother in perfect unison, and the kiss that followed was like... Fire! It burned me, spreading across my skin, and we were torn apart. Looking around, I saw that the music had stopped for a reason, men robed in black, adorned in skull masks were casting spells of fire in all directions.

I tried desperately to clasp my hand within Drew's, but we were torn apart by the terrified people fleeing the scene. I looked to see that I was right beside the stadium, in the very centre of the wide expanse of tents that were being burned, burned, burned.

Alone, I leaned against the wooden poles that supported the enormous stadium, and watched in horror as every soul fled the campsite. My chest inhaled and exhaled at a rate that it rarely reached, and I considered running as fast as my legs could carry me, before I remembered something.

My wand.

I ran with such intent that I hardly noticed that hot coals burning my bare feet, or the embers that clung to my dress and threatened to spread. My hair loosened itself and flayed wildly behind me, no doubt as wild as the expression in my face.

I ran, I ran so fast that the Death Eater's behind me could scarcely keep up with my pounding legs and focused face. Smoke filled my lungs, steaming the delicate organs within me, roasting me alive. My eyes stung from the sheer thickness of that awful smog, but I persevered.

Scarcely. They were close behind me, threatening to catch me at any moment.

The Weasley's tent could hardly be told apart from any other tent, but I could almost feel this invisible connection between me and my wand, and I knew that it was guiding me through the darkness. I allowed my tortured eyes to stay closed as I ran, blind, through the debris.

The tent could scarcely be recognised, what with it's caved in entrance and burning edges, but I crawled my way in to it and searched the place for my trunk. The smoke was unbearably thick inside of the burning tent, with it's sources of fresh air very small.

In fact, they were only large enough to continue to fuel the fire.

The trunk, small and black was now within a few feet of me. Desperately, I lurched my body forward and dug my hand inside of it. My wand lay on top of all of my other worldly possessions, engulfed by the tiny tongues of flames that were threatening to ruin my possessions.

It was strangely beautiful, the change in my wand. The grey-white colour of the eucalyptus had been charred slightly by the flames, giving it magnificent black swirls over the previously bare coloured casing. Somehow, the destructive fire had made it even more immaculate.

 I gasped out a bubble-head charm, and felt the air around my lungs clear instantly, and I could finally breathe fresh air. Pointing my wand at the trunk, I rasped out a word that I hope could transform in to a spell, as it so often did.