THE VISION THIEF - D. MALFOY

29. the letter

"I don't - what - I-" I trip over my words furiously as the air grows thin, and my heartbeat goes up. Everything comes crashing down in a second. Not only was it true, my father was really out there, but the Death Eaters had beat me to it, and found him before I did. 

I take a seat on a nearby desk, my head falling into my hands as I process this information. How in the world did they find him? I stand up suddenly and feel angry. I feel upset. And most of all I feel disappointed. All at myself. This was my fault. I was supposed to be the one to find him, but I didn't. I wasn't quick enough. I wasn't strong enough. I wasn't powerful enough. 

"Ashwood...?" 

"How do you know?" I snap. 

He looks taken aback. "I- Mcgonagall told me, she sent me to find you this morning," he says. 

"And how does she know?" I demand. 

"Somebody sent her a warning-"

"A warning?" I exclaim, feeling suddenly very overheated. 

"Look calm down. I think it's best if she explains this all to you," he says. 

"Don't tell me to calm down! I'm the exact opposite of calm right now, so no, I will not calm down," I sass. He sighs deeply. "Just come with me, we'll go see her right now," he says. I want to yell at him to leave me alone. He's the last person I want to see right now but I know I have to listen to him, and go with him anyways to see my aunt. 

I close my eyes tightly and suck in a sharp breath. "Fine," I pause, "Let's go," I say. The short walk to Minerva's office is full of the screaming thoughts in my head, taking over my body. It was a scary situation when your father, whom you've been told was dead your whole life, was suddenly being tracked down by the very people who have tried to kill you.  

It's even worse when it was up to you to find him, but you had been focused on other things such as your hatred towards a certain blonde. The emotions bottled up inside me are ready to burst at the seams. Everything I've been holding inside for days is just waiting to pour out like a flood. But I can't let that happen. Now was not the time to be selfish. There was still time to get to him before they did. I wasn't certain where he might be, but after my small burst of visions the other day, I could only determine at this point he was in some city in America. 

I climb up the stairs to my Aunt's office with purpose and when I burst inside, she looks flustered. She paces the room and stops the second she sees me. "Emma I-" she begins but I cut in. "Is it true? They really found him?" I ask in a pleading voice. 

He expression is wiped clean, and the solemn look of worry says it all. It is true. I take a deep shaky breath as I sit down. What was I even supposed to do in a situation like this? I had never experienced anything like this, and suddenly there was a race to track down my father I don't even remember. 

"Yes. It's true," she confirms after a while. "But why? What do they want with him?" I ask her. "Probably the same as you. They either want him to join them, or to kill him. Or, they could be using him as incentive, to get to you," Draco Malfoy speaks up from behind me. I clench my teeth and my fists, fighting the urge to turn around and snap at him. Who gave him the right to speak? I ignore him, but Minerva looks right at me. "He might be right, it's the only reasonable explanation," she says. 

"But what do we do? Are we just going to let the Death Eaters get to him first?" I question. A light smile plays on Minerva's lips. "Not at all. The day we stop fighting back will be the day Mr. Filch gets rid of his horrid cat," she pauses, "Nothing against cats, that one is just awful in particular," she smirks. 

A small smile works it's way onto my face, "You mean we're going to find him?" I exclaim. "Yes dear, of course!" she says. My smiles grows for a split second before it completely drops. "How though? We don't even know where he is," I explain. She shakes her head and stands. 

"That's where you are wrong my dear-" she reaches into her desk to pull out a torn, and beat up piece of paper with messy handwriting scribbled onto it. "Read this," she says, handing it to me. I take the flimsy piece of paper in my hands. 

McGonagall, 

I don't have much time but I believe I caught a lead. Ron and I found some Death Eaters earlier this week, making plans to go to New York for the Magical Congress Banquet this Friday in New York. We believe the Ashwood family name was mentioned quite a few times. We are looking into it. 

Regards, 

Harry Potter. 

I freeze and look up to her, "Harry Potter?" I question. She nods, a twinkle in her eye, but before she can speak Malfoy snatches the piece of paper from my hands. "What?! You didn't tell me Potter gave you the heads up," he sneers. 

"Mr. Malfoy calm down, that is the least of our worries right now," she says calmly. I shoot him a dirty look which he happily returns before throwing the parchment onto the table. "But that still doesn't tell us where he is exactly," I say, turning to her. 

"My Dear, you still have much to learn. It gives us exactly what we need to know. That Magical Congress of the United States of America is where they will be. They will be in New York. Your visions were trying to tell you something. The flag, the taxi, the photo. It's amazing really," she says. 

I shake my head. "But - but they beat us to it. I wasn't quick enough on figuring it out. It seems so obvious now, but I never would've guessed New York. I'm not smart enough for that," I scowl, and slump into my seat, feeling disappointed that the obvious went completely over my head. 

"Don't ever say you're not smart enough for anything. Neither of us figured it out right away, but it no longer matters. We know where they will be, and I'm assuming their plans are to infiltrate the banquet on Saturday night," she says. 

"Why thought? Why the banquet?" I ask. She shakes her head. "I'm not sure yet, but I have a feeling your father could be working for the Magical Congress," she says. 

"So what if he is working for them, what now?" I ask. 

"Well, if the Death Eaters are going to New York, we have no other choice but to beat them to it," she says. I pause completely. I freeze in my seat. "We - we're going to New York?" I ask. She smiles but shakes her head. "You and Mr. Malfoy will be going," she corrects. "I have a school to take care of," she adds. 

I stand from my chair. "I'm going to New York with him?" I shout. He looks just as dumbstruck, maybe even a little bit more. She calmly stands. "I don't think we will even make it into the country without killing each other," Malfoy snaps. 

"Both of you, calm down and let me finish," she scolds. I shut my mouth immediately. "We are on the verge of a war, and killers have found your very own father, Emma. I would think that for just a few days, the two of you could put your hatred aside to prevent whatever the Death Eaters have planned," she says, scowling at the both of us. 

I look downward, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. She's right. Completely and totally right. Now was not the time to be selfish. I had to find my Father. "I'm sorry," I mutter, and look up at her. She smiles softly, before looking expectantly at Malfoy. He looks away nervously before looking back to the ground, a harsh scowl on his features. "Sorry," he mutters in a voice barely audible, and extremely forced. 

"Thank you," she sighs. "Now, here's the plan. You both might want to take a seat," she says. I had a feeling the next few days would be full of many unpredictable things. I had no idea what was to come. But for once, I felt a fire burning inside me, propelling me forward, urging me to do things that I never would've guessed. 

My world had come crashing down the second I found out I was a witch. After rebuilding, it the past two months, everything I had learned to know had once again shattered. Even if I was once more uncertain about pretty much everything, there was one thing I knew:

My father was out there, and there was a possibility that the enemy would get to him first. But I knew, with all my heart, my strength, and my mind, I simply would not let that happen.