final girl.
crack baby, you don't know what you want.
thinking
woop. here it is!
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- Thread starter final girl.
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thinking
woop. here it is!
thinking
sad
final girl.
Flashes of green and red lit up the obsidian black sky.
The blood-curdling screams of children, adults and magical beasts pierced the air as the battle drew on. Never ending. The catastrophes where too many to count. Bodies piled high on top of each other; the aftermath of the forbidden magic.
βAvada Kedavra!β The death curse was struck, the strike of emeraldβ like lightning! It hit a scrambling little boyβdespite being a year older than BillieβBillie recognised him as Colin Creevey! Billieβs mouth opened into an βOβ of shock as she witnessed the life drain from the boy. Fleeing the scene as quickly as she could, Billie was far from petrified; in fact, her adrenaline kicked in so the death just brushed over her head. There was too much going on for her to handle, disassociating as she sprinted. What was going on? He-who-must not be named was going to win! He was going to kill Harry and take over the whole wizarding world. Dread pitted itself into her stomach and she faltered, tumbling over onto her back. Guard down, she scrambled for her wand but it was no were to be found. Her acacia wand was around two metres away, not far, yet far enough especially in this chaos. Billie was finding it difficult to get up, her aroused anxiety causing her to stumble once again. It all happened in a flash.
A searing pain caught on Billieβs side. She looked down and her blue robes where turning a dark claret colour with blood. She turned round to see a wolf like figure towering over her, he went in for the kill. Billie squeezed her eyes shut. Nothing happened. The werewolves gain was not to kill, but to turn. Fenrir Greyback. Billie had heard monstrous rumours about this particular lycanthrope. Wincing in pain, black clouds began to dot around her vision as the loss of blood led her to drift into the soft dream-like world of unconsciousness.
β
final girl.
crack baby, you don't know what you want.
thinking
Amongst the stillness, was a pounding heart.
War had come from the horizon like a slow moving tank. Wren appeared anxious, afraid. The violence once confined to her television screen was playing out in front of her. The drama of Hollywood was written in blood in the sidewalk. She was bathed in blood, not her own, but from others. Her friends, those she would laugh with and joke without care.
Her heart hammered in her chest, pushing her just nearly over the edge. She clutched her wand forcefully, though she was not given a moment to respond to the anarchy laid throughout. One of the three Unforgivable Curses struck through the air, aimed toward the gut of the teen. The realization had met her far too late, and she tumbled toward the now muddy ground. Muddy in the sense of blood to dirt, staining the earth in a hellish hue. A sickening laugh filled Wrenβs ears, though the pain erupting throughout her was much more distracting compared to the outside world. It ripped through her very core, tearing her apart piece by piece. As though she was being tortured. Crucio, she thought, believing that she would be another victim of he-who-must-not-be-named.
Wren grasped her birch wand tightly in her palm, forcing the tears that clogged her vision to leave her. If she were going to go down, she would go down with a fight. Mustering up the strength, she propped herself to her elbows and took a deep breath. Three, two, one. She brought herself to a seated position, a flinch from her body in response. She ultimately stood, a glimmer in her eye that was undeniable. After all, she had joined Hogwarts for a reason.
thinking
sad
final girl.
A slither of white light. Hope? An angel? God Himself? A glimmer was enough to force Billie to her awakening. Her blood burnedβ Greybackβs saliva mingling into her own nervous system. The sharp, blunt force of the bite was still fresh, so she couldnβt have passed out for long. Her dark eyes opened, the brightness of candles stinging her eyes. Her face contorted into a heavy grimace as Billie felt something become applied to her wound; hands digging into her moist robe;
βPowered silver and dittany,β a soft cooing manβs voice broke the silence, Billie did not recognised it, but presumed it was a professor. Miraculously, the pain subsided rather quickly, though the mental trauma that occurred. Bile rose up from her stomach, Billie wretched heavily, rising upward despite the still rawness of her healed wound. No, no, no. Why wasnβt she left to die? She couldnβt imagine the disgust on her parentβs faces when they find out she was infected with lycanthropy.
The room she was in was silent, apart from the soft ruffling of the man mixing and meddling with herbs. It was a drastic contrast to the chaos of the war going on outside. This canβt be realβ¦ Dizziness overwhelmed Billie once again, her eyes rolling to the back to her head. βNow, now, Hartstring, youβre safeβ¦β The man whispered calmly unfazed with the girlβs dramatic response. Billie still couldn't recognise what professor it was. She wasn't sure if she was grateful or not, that he rescued her that is.
_
final girl.
crack baby, you don't know what you want.
βYou have troubled Hogwarts for too long, Voldemort...β Wren growled beneath her breath, her voice like sandpaper from not speaking for quite a few days, as she was far too concerned with the arrival of what was to be considered quite the horrendous fight. Though she could have never predicted such a dreadful scene before her. The smell of death was tangible, like water was to wood. Mold and decay around each corner, lurking in the wake of the living. There was hatred for the evil in him, and everyone had this.
Though she couldnβt have taken on he-who-must-not-be-named alone, she was determined to prove herself to her peers and teachers. She stood despite her pain, and raised her wand to cast a spell. To say she was a bit of an overachiever would an understatement. She was prone to her overactive imagination getting in the way of he simplest of things, and she would often act before thinking rationally. It was a cruel and odd system, but she had survived through everything else, couldnβt she live through this?
She was brought back to the war by the sounds of someone calling her by her name, yet it seemed as though they were speaking underwater. Was it the blood rushing to her ears? Possibly. She didnβt exactly care at the moment, but the voice grew louder, as though they were shouting in her face. It was one of the professors, though they urged her to find a safe place to hide. Wren was to open her mouth and refuse when another wave of pain coursed through her.
βWhere exactly would this place be?β She asked hurriedly, as though the wind was knocked out of her.
Wren was directed toward a small stone room, that seemed to have a comfortable silence over it. She could see there was someone expending one of the bunks in the room, and chose to introduce herself to the mysterious teacher before her. Or, what she assumed to be a teacher, based on the various potions that he had littered about. She wasnβt big on starting conversations, but this was dire. She opened her mouth, the words flowing from her lips like a waterfall.
βSir, Iβm Wren Blackwell, Iβm a student here at Hogwarts, and I need your help.β
Though she couldnβt have taken on he-who-must-not-be-named alone, she was determined to prove herself to her peers and teachers. She stood despite her pain, and raised her wand to cast a spell. To say she was a bit of an overachiever would an understatement. She was prone to her overactive imagination getting in the way of he simplest of things, and she would often act before thinking rationally. It was a cruel and odd system, but she had survived through everything else, couldnβt she live through this?
She was brought back to the war by the sounds of someone calling her by her name, yet it seemed as though they were speaking underwater. Was it the blood rushing to her ears? Possibly. She didnβt exactly care at the moment, but the voice grew louder, as though they were shouting in her face. It was one of the professors, though they urged her to find a safe place to hide. Wren was to open her mouth and refuse when another wave of pain coursed through her.
βWhere exactly would this place be?β She asked hurriedly, as though the wind was knocked out of her.
Wren was directed toward a small stone room, that seemed to have a comfortable silence over it. She could see there was someone expending one of the bunks in the room, and chose to introduce herself to the mysterious teacher before her. Or, what she assumed to be a teacher, based on the various potions that he had littered about. She wasnβt big on starting conversations, but this was dire. She opened her mouth, the words flowing from her lips like a waterfall.
βSir, Iβm Wren Blackwell, Iβm a student here at Hogwarts, and I need your help.β
thinking
sad
It was rather apparent that the man that was tending to Billie was not a professor. No, he seemed to have a much more calming aura about him that none of the teachers that taught her had. She had been at the school for six years for Merlinβs sake! Yet, she never recognised him, not one bitβ¦ Hard to tell through the slithers of light that granted her vision, she recognised by the manβs face that he was somewhat old. Heavily wrinkled cheeks, taut face and electric blue eyes that where worn with age. Was it possible that he wasn't even a wizard?
The pain that coursed through poor Billieβs veins was unimaginable. A searing hot dagger being continuously swirled round and round her bloodstream; the girlβs eyes fluttered across to the entrance of the stone, secret room. Another girl, with gorgeous flame coloured hair, was standing at the entrance, panic stretched across her face. She looked petrifiedβ an epiphany of terror! In fact, the hurt that streaked across her was unworldly.
βOh dear!β he exclaimed, running toward Wren, whisking out his wand along the way with long, bony fingers, βHow could somebody put that curse on a child!β With a flick of his wrist, he undid the curse without muttering a breath. The relief must have been ethereal. βNow, now, Wren, my name is Joaquin Yungblod. I am an Auror, one of Dumbledore's favourites... Rest his soul.β He grinned, edging toward Billie again. He shuffled with a slight bend to his back. Long wiry, iron coloured hair fell in front of his face, a sleek greasy parting in the middle of his head. Was this man to be trusted?
Billie wretched once again, an embarrassing feat, sitting upward, resting her hands on her legs, leaning backward onto the cobble stone wall. She had seen this girl, Wren, before in school. Billie wasnβt much younger than her, as it happens, they where in the same year! Robes sodden with claret, she waved a hand, raven hair sticky and wild.
"You have to rest..." Billie advised, "we weren't even meant to fight... We shouldn't even be out there," Her eyes glazed over as she again recalled the terrors of tonights war through her mind.
The pain that coursed through poor Billieβs veins was unimaginable. A searing hot dagger being continuously swirled round and round her bloodstream; the girlβs eyes fluttered across to the entrance of the stone, secret room. Another girl, with gorgeous flame coloured hair, was standing at the entrance, panic stretched across her face. She looked petrifiedβ an epiphany of terror! In fact, the hurt that streaked across her was unworldly.
βOh dear!β he exclaimed, running toward Wren, whisking out his wand along the way with long, bony fingers, βHow could somebody put that curse on a child!β With a flick of his wrist, he undid the curse without muttering a breath. The relief must have been ethereal. βNow, now, Wren, my name is Joaquin Yungblod. I am an Auror, one of Dumbledore's favourites... Rest his soul.β He grinned, edging toward Billie again. He shuffled with a slight bend to his back. Long wiry, iron coloured hair fell in front of his face, a sleek greasy parting in the middle of his head. Was this man to be trusted?
Billie wretched once again, an embarrassing feat, sitting upward, resting her hands on her legs, leaning backward onto the cobble stone wall. She had seen this girl, Wren, before in school. Billie wasnβt much younger than her, as it happens, they where in the same year! Robes sodden with claret, she waved a hand, raven hair sticky and wild.
"You have to rest..." Billie advised, "we weren't even meant to fight... We shouldn't even be out there," Her eyes glazed over as she again recalled the terrors of tonights war through her mind.
final girl.
crack baby, you don't know what you want.
Waiting for the manβs response to her pleading was as though waiting for the timer of the little time she she had left to live to end. It was an odd way to look at things for her, but the uncontrable pain coursing through her was reason enough to worry. Wren was fearful of her own thoughts, which screamed the worst of things that could possibly happen to her. She could die, without her family knowing. Without anyone caring. She would be another casualty in a war that shouldnβt have even involved her.
Her eyes darted across the room, locking once with the girl on the bunk, one of whom had been in her year. She had possibly shared a few classes with her, and could remember the little conversations they would share when Wren would forget her pencil for class. She would have flashed a smile to her, but in her circumstances, smiling would feel like a knife to the intestines.
The mysterious man appeared before her, reversing he curse of its effects immediately. Wren was consumed in a sudden warmth, that had somehow stopped the spell completely. She had never seen a wizard so talented in the arts, and once introducing himself, she knew why. He had been a friend of Dumbledore. She missed the man dearly, and yearned to her his voice once more.
When the girl on the bunk had spoken and waved, Wren could finally recall her name. Billie. She always thought it was a lovely name, and waved back in response to this. Quite sluggishly, Wren practically flung herself toward the bunk beside Billie, sighing as her body met the soft padding beneath her. Her brain told her that her peer was right. That this war wasnβt theirs. It was something so much more entirely.
Her eyes darted across the room, locking once with the girl on the bunk, one of whom had been in her year. She had possibly shared a few classes with her, and could remember the little conversations they would share when Wren would forget her pencil for class. She would have flashed a smile to her, but in her circumstances, smiling would feel like a knife to the intestines.
The mysterious man appeared before her, reversing he curse of its effects immediately. Wren was consumed in a sudden warmth, that had somehow stopped the spell completely. She had never seen a wizard so talented in the arts, and once introducing himself, she knew why. He had been a friend of Dumbledore. She missed the man dearly, and yearned to her his voice once more.
When the girl on the bunk had spoken and waved, Wren could finally recall her name. Billie. She always thought it was a lovely name, and waved back in response to this. Quite sluggishly, Wren practically flung herself toward the bunk beside Billie, sighing as her body met the soft padding beneath her. Her brain told her that her peer was right. That this war wasnβt theirs. It was something so much more entirely.
thinking
sad
Her wave was strained, it hurt to breath, let alone move her whole hand. Billie only recognised the Wren by her fiery red hair, her name; when she introduced herself to Joaquin. The bleeding had long since subsided, the blood drying a sickly brown colour as it soaked into her robe. Billie gently turned to her, clenching her healed stomach.
βSo, the Crucio curseβ¦β She exhaled, the warmth of her breath mingling with the icy air to create a cloud, βI wasβ¦β the truth about her being attacked by a werewolf almost slipped out her lips, but no, she couldnβt. Couldnβt dare to tell anybody what she might have become, βI fell. Pierced myself straight into the gut with a metal gateβ¦β That was a rather unbelievable story, she felt tears prick her eyes, before choking on her own breath. A little spluttering sound that was seemed to be forced despite being more than natural. Occurring thoughts and the creeping aura of anxiety spiked the room, filling it heavily with its intangible smoke. Billie could not even dare to fathom what the war was even about. It was more than just He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named visible grudge on Harry Potter, no, it was something deeper, the politics too complicated for the young girl to fathom. Billie could not stop thinking about the horrors that where occurring outside. They had to do somethingβ they just had toβ they couldn't just sit here wallowing in an absorbed pit of self pity!
Suddenly, a scream pierced the air. A flash of white as somebody apparated into the hidden, cobble room.
"Help! Help!" The cries were desperate, they held a body in their arms, so Billie just knew why. The mysterious body was masked, but the flash of burnt-orange hair showed the possibilities of who it could be. It was a rather tall man but the fact that they where relatives was apparent. "It's Fred! Fred! He's dead!" He screamed, the lifeless body being gently placed onto one of the bunks. Immediately Joaquin stood up, his bones creaking with age;
"I have to get out there." He muttered under his breath, walking towards George and embracing him in a hug. "You stay there, try your best to muffle the bleeding, there could be a chance he's still in there." Joaquin let go of the sobbing man, and with a swift movement, he too disapperated out of the room.
βSo, the Crucio curseβ¦β She exhaled, the warmth of her breath mingling with the icy air to create a cloud, βI wasβ¦β the truth about her being attacked by a werewolf almost slipped out her lips, but no, she couldnβt. Couldnβt dare to tell anybody what she might have become, βI fell. Pierced myself straight into the gut with a metal gateβ¦β That was a rather unbelievable story, she felt tears prick her eyes, before choking on her own breath. A little spluttering sound that was seemed to be forced despite being more than natural. Occurring thoughts and the creeping aura of anxiety spiked the room, filling it heavily with its intangible smoke. Billie could not even dare to fathom what the war was even about. It was more than just He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named visible grudge on Harry Potter, no, it was something deeper, the politics too complicated for the young girl to fathom. Billie could not stop thinking about the horrors that where occurring outside. They had to do somethingβ they just had toβ they couldn't just sit here wallowing in an absorbed pit of self pity!
Suddenly, a scream pierced the air. A flash of white as somebody apparated into the hidden, cobble room.
"Help! Help!" The cries were desperate, they held a body in their arms, so Billie just knew why. The mysterious body was masked, but the flash of burnt-orange hair showed the possibilities of who it could be. It was a rather tall man but the fact that they where relatives was apparent. "It's Fred! Fred! He's dead!" He screamed, the lifeless body being gently placed onto one of the bunks. Immediately Joaquin stood up, his bones creaking with age;
"I have to get out there." He muttered under his breath, walking towards George and embracing him in a hug. "You stay there, try your best to muffle the bleeding, there could be a chance he's still in there." Joaquin let go of the sobbing man, and with a swift movement, he too disapperated out of the room.
thinking
sad
It was gut-wrenching, to see somebody lose someone they loved. Billie placed her hands to her face in shock, not sure what to say or do, luckily it was Wren who took charge. War brings a complex death and destruction yet still, poppies somehow manage to seed themselves on the war-torn ground. Blossoming into the stunning red flower; the colour of bloodshed that lay beforeβ¦ The phase that consumed Billieβs brain left tears pricking her eyes, she stood up, feeling her healed wound tear under her. It was an almost impossible feat, furthermore she managed to do it. The anti-climax was, that she fell to the ground, mustering the strength to shuffle toward pots and bottles of different herbs, waxes and ointments.
βHereβ¦β she croaked, on all fours, with one hand clenching her stomach, the other reached out to Wren. It was a potion that read;
βHeβ¦ He was caught in the explosion in a fight with a death eaterβ¦β George whimpered, trembling as he kneeled down with lifeless Fred, blood soaked his clothing which was not very fitting for a battle; jeans, a shirt and a blazer. There was also some burn-healing paste next to where Billie crouched, for his scathed skin, which she too handed to Wren. George whispered cooingly to his twin brother, stroking his hair, consoling him, "It's okay, it's gonna be okay. Bloody hell Fred, you can do this..." He choked on his last words, before bursting into a river of tears. They streamed down his face, pooling on his skin.
Billie watched with sorrowful eyes, it was terrible. Who could do this? What evil could possibly conjure enough magic to cause such injury?
"There... There must be a spell to heal wounds?" She turned to the fully fledged wizard that was the mourning George. Pitifully he shook his head slowly.
βHereβ¦β she croaked, on all fours, with one hand clenching her stomach, the other reached out to Wren. It was a potion that read;
'Blood-Replenishing'
βHopefully thisβll workβ¦ Itβs what Joaquin used on meβ¦β She added, she also passed Wren a bottle of specifically anti-septic alcohol,βHeβ¦ He was caught in the explosion in a fight with a death eaterβ¦β George whimpered, trembling as he kneeled down with lifeless Fred, blood soaked his clothing which was not very fitting for a battle; jeans, a shirt and a blazer. There was also some burn-healing paste next to where Billie crouched, for his scathed skin, which she too handed to Wren. George whispered cooingly to his twin brother, stroking his hair, consoling him, "It's okay, it's gonna be okay. Bloody hell Fred, you can do this..." He choked on his last words, before bursting into a river of tears. They streamed down his face, pooling on his skin.
Billie watched with sorrowful eyes, it was terrible. Who could do this? What evil could possibly conjure enough magic to cause such injury?
"There... There must be a spell to heal wounds?" She turned to the fully fledged wizard that was the mourning George. Pitifully he shook his head slowly.
final girl.
crack baby, you don't know what you want.
Too much was happening too soon. She couldnβt wrap her head around it. Even though it were one of the simplest things to comprehend, that Fred needed help, that Wren might not have been able to save him. There was little to no hope in reviving him, and that too brought tears to her eyes. Her heart thumped rapidly in her chest, and she failed to hide her trembling hands. Her crazed red hair stood on end, and she couldnβt have looked worse, splattered in blood that wasnβt even hers.
She noticed that Billie was still sprawled to the ground, holding a potion to her grasp. She kneeled to her eye level and took it gently. βPlease, do get some rest, alright? Your pretty face shouldnβt look so sullen.β Maybe it was too broad of an approach, but her point had been made.
She stood and turned to the weeping George, whom she couldn't help if she couldnβt save his brother. She took in the information he had tossed about, and used it to her advantage. Although she was running against time, she could only hope for the best.
(This is so short omg...)
She noticed that Billie was still sprawled to the ground, holding a potion to her grasp. She kneeled to her eye level and took it gently. βPlease, do get some rest, alright? Your pretty face shouldnβt look so sullen.β Maybe it was too broad of an approach, but her point had been made.
She stood and turned to the weeping George, whom she couldn't help if she couldnβt save his brother. She took in the information he had tossed about, and used it to her advantage. Although she was running against time, she could only hope for the best.
(This is so short omg...)
thinking
sad
A rather discombobulated (i always wanted to use that word in a sentence) Billie shuffled backward, she had done her part. Now it was all up to Wren. She felt helpless. The strong, heavy emotions that buried themselves into the her brain like botfly larvae bursting yellow, flourishing into fully fledged flies that buzzed violently around her ears. It was a strange sound, one must compare it to tangible mental anguish, yet it grew louder, more than that. Like her thoughts were bursting out of her ears and into the real world. It just was not right, her spirit was drawing itself out of her soul, her whole body becoming four-dimensional. She could not just sit there and do nothing! The loud thoughts that spun her into a crazed disassociation. Yet, she was still able to see what was going on around her and she winced at George's scream.
Fred's heart beat was no longer audible. The gentle rise and fall of his chest subsided greatly, until it came to a standstill.
βNo. No. No. Fred wake up,β George shook his brother, rather frantically in disbelief. He couldnβt just die like this.
Fred's heart beat was no longer audible. The gentle rise and fall of his chest subsided greatly, until it came to a standstill.
βNo. No. No. Fred wake up,β George shook his brother, rather frantically in disbelief. He couldnβt just die like this.
final girl.
crack baby, you don't know what you want.
βFred...?β Wren kneeled down to the level of the bunk and put his wrist to her hand, holding her finger for a moment. Please be a pulse, please, she begged. She sat there, waiting for what seemed like hours, waiting to hear the beautiful sound of something. Anything. Maybe she was just being too overly hopeful for the situation, maybe she was too determined for this man to live. She looked at him for a moment longer, and as dread washed over her, she knew she would be the one to break the news. Fred wouldnβt be waking up. Billie certainly couldnβt do it in the state she was in, so Wren was forced to speak.
βHey, George? You know your brother loves you, right? And that no matter what, heβll always be there for you,β as she said this, she was overwhelmed with emotion. She had loved the goofy twins, and now hated what she would be forced to do. In an alternate reality, she could have saved him. She could have. But death was now their reality, and Wren was on the verge of having a complete mental breakdown. The past few hours had been hell for her, and now carrying the weight of a heavy heart was nothing more to help.
βIβm so sorry, George,β she continued breathlessly, her voice cracked with emotion. Her brown eyes were murky with tears, plastered to her eyelashes like dew would to grass. βIf only I could have done something sooner. I could... could have saved him.β
βHey, George? You know your brother loves you, right? And that no matter what, heβll always be there for you,β as she said this, she was overwhelmed with emotion. She had loved the goofy twins, and now hated what she would be forced to do. In an alternate reality, she could have saved him. She could have. But death was now their reality, and Wren was on the verge of having a complete mental breakdown. The past few hours had been hell for her, and now carrying the weight of a heavy heart was nothing more to help.
βIβm so sorry, George,β she continued breathlessly, her voice cracked with emotion. Her brown eyes were murky with tears, plastered to her eyelashes like dew would to grass. βIf only I could have done something sooner. I could... could have saved him.β
thinking
sad
A gut load of rage burned inside of Georgeβs stomach, the roaring fire was kindling stronger with every word that escaped Wrenβs mouth.
βWell you didnβt. I couldnβt so nobody could. Itβs all my fault I wish it was me instead!β It was totally out of character for the Weasley to act in such mannerisms, yet the dire situation brought out the worst in people, possibly even the best. Maybe it caused them to realise how precious every ounce of life is. The sobbing and the mourning was choking, a tight gasp on Georgeβs heart, squeezing every bit of life out of him like one does with a tube of toothpaste. The spirit of Fred was gone from his body. Pallor face, taut cheekbones, he was a ghost of what he used to be. Literally, though, he was a ghost.
A translucent light of hope. Hope, that one could not subdue with a simple wave of a wand. Paranormal magic was thaumaturgic; a miracle. Through the heavy tears and wallowing guilt, a pale emerald light flickered from the tip of Fredβs wand. Billie watched in more that awe as it swirled, the illuminated brilliance that projected into the air above them was far past that of a wizard could conjure. Inchmeal, the light radiated into a shape of somebodyβs body. It was Fred himself, standing above his brother. It was an act that was only visible to George, the twinβs eyes glinted with the reflection.
βThank you,β Fred's ghost spoke, βI love you with all my heart. Donβt you ever forget that. Dead or not, I am still here for youβ¦β Before too long, the light trailed into the air, wishing away into nothingness. It was a brief words, but it changed the heart of George foreverβ left an imprint of belief. Georgeβs head was tilted upward, the image of amazement reflecting in his eyes.
βI love you tooβ¦β His state of speaking was a dream-like, as if transported into another world...
Billie was detached from whatever Wren and George-- mainly George-- were experiencing. She still clenched her stomach tightly, the pain easing from it slightly. She was lucky not to have bled out and died herself.
βWell you didnβt. I couldnβt so nobody could. Itβs all my fault I wish it was me instead!β It was totally out of character for the Weasley to act in such mannerisms, yet the dire situation brought out the worst in people, possibly even the best. Maybe it caused them to realise how precious every ounce of life is. The sobbing and the mourning was choking, a tight gasp on Georgeβs heart, squeezing every bit of life out of him like one does with a tube of toothpaste. The spirit of Fred was gone from his body. Pallor face, taut cheekbones, he was a ghost of what he used to be. Literally, though, he was a ghost.
A translucent light of hope. Hope, that one could not subdue with a simple wave of a wand. Paranormal magic was thaumaturgic; a miracle. Through the heavy tears and wallowing guilt, a pale emerald light flickered from the tip of Fredβs wand. Billie watched in more that awe as it swirled, the illuminated brilliance that projected into the air above them was far past that of a wizard could conjure. Inchmeal, the light radiated into a shape of somebodyβs body. It was Fred himself, standing above his brother. It was an act that was only visible to George, the twinβs eyes glinted with the reflection.
βThank you,β Fred's ghost spoke, βI love you with all my heart. Donβt you ever forget that. Dead or not, I am still here for youβ¦β Before too long, the light trailed into the air, wishing away into nothingness. It was a brief words, but it changed the heart of George foreverβ left an imprint of belief. Georgeβs head was tilted upward, the image of amazement reflecting in his eyes.
βI love you tooβ¦β His state of speaking was a dream-like, as if transported into another world...
Billie was detached from whatever Wren and George-- mainly George-- were experiencing. She still clenched her stomach tightly, the pain easing from it slightly. She was lucky not to have bled out and died herself.
final girl.
crack baby, you don't know what you want.
In retrospect, Wren hadnβt expected George to become so aggressive from what she had said. She could understand why he was so upset, but felt that he had no room to blame himself for the deeds he had done. There a guilt growing in her heart, that maybe she could have been more aware, or maybe she could have sprung into action sooner. Nevertheless, there was nothing left to be done. She hated to hear such awful things to come from George, but all people grieved differently.
Before realizing this, a bright light shone throughout the room, causing Wren to squint. She raised a hand to her eye level, peeking through the slits in her hands. The light had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Wren chose to ignore this, and turned to George. She nodded toward him in a truce like manner, before turning toward what once was her warmed bunk.
Wren flopped onto it like a fish out of water, sighing quietly to herself. She tilt her head to look at Billie for the first proper time in the minutes, and rather liked her dark, but messily done hair. Wren, on the other hand, stuck out like a ginger stick. It was an odd image, but it fit her nonetheless.
With little to now talk about, with Fred soon to leave, Wren asked, to no one in particularβmore Billie than anyone else, βWhat house are you in?β
Before realizing this, a bright light shone throughout the room, causing Wren to squint. She raised a hand to her eye level, peeking through the slits in her hands. The light had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Wren chose to ignore this, and turned to George. She nodded toward him in a truce like manner, before turning toward what once was her warmed bunk.
Wren flopped onto it like a fish out of water, sighing quietly to herself. She tilt her head to look at Billie for the first proper time in the minutes, and rather liked her dark, but messily done hair. Wren, on the other hand, stuck out like a ginger stick. It was an odd image, but it fit her nonetheless.
With little to now talk about, with Fred soon to leave, Wren asked, to no one in particularβmore Billie than anyone else, βWhat house are you in?β
thinking
sad
The dark navy robes where plastered with blood, so the obvious question was rather difficult.
"Ravenclaw..." She said, miserably looking down at her stomach, fiddling with her crumpled lapel. Her wand was missing but that wasn't the stop most priority it was what was next to come that impended on her. "What about you?" A soft high pitched whisper in the darkness of the room. Beginning to shiver slightly, Billie embraced herself into a tight hug, her skin pallor and cheekbones taut.
"Ravenclaw..." She said, miserably looking down at her stomach, fiddling with her crumpled lapel. Her wand was missing but that wasn't the stop most priority it was what was next to come that impended on her. "What about you?" A soft high pitched whisper in the darkness of the room. Beginning to shiver slightly, Billie embraced herself into a tight hug, her skin pallor and cheekbones taut.
thinking
sad
Billie's parents did not take much notice of Hufflepuffs, too soft they said. But their daughter had no prejudice against the house; in fact she believed it brought out the best people. Ravenclaw was full of air-headed kids who think they know everything!
She pursed her lips in confusion, wiping her furrowed brow leaving a streak of mud mixed with blood across her eye. What was Wren doing? Her silent question was answered as soon as her companion piped up.
"What is it? What have you found?" Billie was still a little dreamlike from her previous unconsciousness, so her responses were slow and a little unenthusiastic.
She pursed her lips in confusion, wiping her furrowed brow leaving a streak of mud mixed with blood across her eye. What was Wren doing? Her silent question was answered as soon as her companion piped up.
"What is it? What have you found?" Billie was still a little dreamlike from her previous unconsciousness, so her responses were slow and a little unenthusiastic.
final girl.
crack baby, you don't know what you want.
βI havenβt found anything yet, silly!β She laughed, slightly amused by the misinterpreted comment. She wasnβt much for joking around in times of malice and destruction, but thought that this might just be the turn around for them. Maybe they just needed a little positivity? And Wren would bring it.
It did sound cliche, and she knew that. But nevertheless, what else could they do? Sit around and pout about how crummy everything around them was? Wallowing in their own self pity? No, she wasnβt up for that. She had to do something.
Anything. Just to make things a little bit easier for them. She would try, but there was no promises involved. She was just as trapped as Billy was. And if they were going to get anything done, they would have to do it together.
She looked up from what she was doing, and asked,βAre you okay to move? I mean, itβs okay if you canβt, I was just wondering.β
It did sound cliche, and she knew that. But nevertheless, what else could they do? Sit around and pout about how crummy everything around them was? Wallowing in their own self pity? No, she wasnβt up for that. She had to do something.
Anything. Just to make things a little bit easier for them. She would try, but there was no promises involved. She was just as trapped as Billy was. And if they were going to get anything done, they would have to do it together.
She looked up from what she was doing, and asked,βAre you okay to move? I mean, itβs okay if you canβt, I was just wondering.β
thinking
sad
Billie shuffled slightly, the pain subsiding due to the effects of the potion she drank earlier.
"Yes, I can. I'm not as useless as I look!" The apparent and clear joking tone matching Wren's, she could tell by the poor girl's attempt-- hint-- rather at humour was more than futile. It was brilliant, why welter in the blood when they could swim above it? Billie shuffled herself off the bunk, landing on her two feet, dizziness dotting her vision as she took a few tentative steps forward. Slightly hunched over she managed to find her balance, her hand grasping the cooling stone warm. "We can't just sit useless in here? What's you plan?" Billie would normally be the first one to come up with a genius manoeuvre, yet she was too tired and sick for her mind to comprehend any structure for a plan of action.
"Yes, I can. I'm not as useless as I look!" The apparent and clear joking tone matching Wren's, she could tell by the poor girl's attempt-- hint-- rather at humour was more than futile. It was brilliant, why welter in the blood when they could swim above it? Billie shuffled herself off the bunk, landing on her two feet, dizziness dotting her vision as she took a few tentative steps forward. Slightly hunched over she managed to find her balance, her hand grasping the cooling stone warm. "We can't just sit useless in here? What's you plan?" Billie would normally be the first one to come up with a genius manoeuvre, yet she was too tired and sick for her mind to comprehend any structure for a plan of action.
thinking
sad
Sickly looking, Billie groaned in effort, under her eyes hung a dark shadow of indisposition. She was clearly reluctant to get out of the safe room, making no effort to deal any sort of help. Plus, it wasnβt just the lack of motivation, it was the pain. She knew she had elaborated how sore the wound was, but it really truly was pulsating with a sore stinging sensation. The dark magic that ran through her veins was well and truly settled; it was like nothing else. How long have they been down in this bunker anyway? Reluctancy led itself to becoming curiosity. What if the fight was over? It was a possibility that her curious and knowledge-seeking nature as a Ravenclaw was too much to bare.
Skirting round the walls, Billie felt a soft patch of stone. How could stone possibly be soft? Yet, it was not, when applied pressure to it, it pressed like a button.
βIβ¦ I think I found something.β It was a button made out of stone, just like Wren guessed. Her chest burnt with an anguish that she could not hide, she applied further pressure untilβ¦ What had she done? Bracing herself to her death, the stone wall creaked, a glimmer of sunlight. Glimmer turning to shard, to a ray, to the full blown consumption of brightness.
Light. Light; something so pure and ethereal. From the heavens, it blessed the cursed blackened ground below, the yellow turning the dark, deconstructed remains of the Hogwarts castle. Blockades of rubble and remnants of the guardian statues lay in complete wreck on the ground. If you closed your eyes, the faint, blissful hooting of an owl contradicted that any battle to that had been fought on the grounds. It was calm, peaceful.
Skirting round the walls, Billie felt a soft patch of stone. How could stone possibly be soft? Yet, it was not, when applied pressure to it, it pressed like a button.
βIβ¦ I think I found something.β It was a button made out of stone, just like Wren guessed. Her chest burnt with an anguish that she could not hide, she applied further pressure untilβ¦ What had she done? Bracing herself to her death, the stone wall creaked, a glimmer of sunlight. Glimmer turning to shard, to a ray, to the full blown consumption of brightness.
Light. Light; something so pure and ethereal. From the heavens, it blessed the cursed blackened ground below, the yellow turning the dark, deconstructed remains of the Hogwarts castle. Blockades of rubble and remnants of the guardian statues lay in complete wreck on the ground. If you closed your eyes, the faint, blissful hooting of an owl contradicted that any battle to that had been fought on the grounds. It was calm, peaceful.
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