13Disclaimer: All of the Potterverse belongs to J. K. Rowling. I own nothing.
Summary: Galina had always known that her father was an incredible wandmaker. But never had she once guessed that he was in possession of the Elder Wand. The possession of this wand was the cause of the loss of her loved ones and the reason why she was on the run. She couldn't wait to drop off Grindelwald's radar, no matter the cost.
Warning: (Graphic) description of torture, rape, death and killing. Warnings might change, as this is a WIP β I won't put up warnings at the beginning of chapters.
A/N: This little plunny came to me and it was so persistent that I instantly started writing (though I have so many other WIP that I wanted to finish so I could let you guys in on them). I hope you have as much fun reading, as I have writing it!
It was quite difficult to research the time-line, so I hope it's not too much off! I altered situations and places according to my story, so this won't be historically accurate. I tried my best, but sometimes I just ignores or changed things, so it would suit my storyline. I hope you guys can understand that π
Chapters lengths will vary, as I have honestly no idea when and how to split them.
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One β The Beginning of the End
Sitting on my bed, I simply stared at the pages of the book rather than reading it. Though the topic of the old tome was more than intriguing, 'Curse-breaking throughout the centuries' couldn't keep my mind from wandering back to the training fight I had with my father yesterday.
Ever since the death of my mother was my father almost paranoid in his effort to not only educate me but also to make sure that I could look after myself. Additional to my schooling at Durmstrang came numerous tutors. While other girls from pureblood families learned to dance, I was taught the art of duelling. While others were tutored in etiquette, I was trained in curse-breaking. Which of course didn't mean that I didn't have to know how to dance or behave in high-born company.
"A well-rounded lady knows how to hold herself β in any situation she may find herself in", my mother used to say, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
My father only reinforced his efforts to follow that mantra, after the fatal accident that ripped my mother from my life when I was still a small child. The lessons in duelling doubled and my wandlore sessions were thankfully cancelled. Though I had an extensive theoretical knowledge of that topic, I seemed to lack in the practical field. Naturally my father was a bit disappointed about that, but he made sure that I knew that he was proud of me nonetheless. At least, in his stern and gruff way.
While my father was a strict man, I also knew that he loved me more than anything else. Which made it so confusing that he was angry with me right now. Yesterday, we were in our backyard, training new disarming spells, when he suggested a mock fight to end the training session. Without any hesitation I agreed. My father was not only a master in wandlore, but also a genius at duelling. I never had to hold back, I could throw whatever I wanted at him and he always held himself tall and proud. And won. Every. Single. Fight.
But not that time. When I twirled out of the way of a bright stunning hex, I saw an opening in his defence and shot one of the new disarming spells at him. To my amazement did it hit him straight in the chest, making him lose his wand that sailed through the air in my outstretched hand. After a few silent moments, I looked at him with a proud grin on my face, but that fell when I saw his dark expression. Afraid that I had somehow hurt him, I'd stumbled towards him, but he'd only took his wand from my hand and sent me to my room. He'd not spoken a single word to me since that fight.
Sighing deeply, I closed the book with a snap and put it down. I had no idea why he was so angry with me. Wasn't my training in duelling supposed to make me better at it? Didn't my father want me to enable me to hold myself in a fight? But instead of praise, I got the silent treatment. It wasn't fair.
With another gentle sigh, I got up from my bed and wandered out of my room, in search of my father. This had gone on for long enough. I was sixteen, in a few months I would start my seventh year at Durmstrang. I was old enough that he could confide his reasons for his anger with me. Whatever I did wrong, I had to know it to avoid making the same mistake again. It was time to talk about what bothered him, even if he tried his best to avoid me.
"Father?", I questioned loudly as I came down the stars to our sitting room.
I heard noises coming from the work room and decided to investigate. Standing in the open door, I observed my father for a few moments. Taking in his googles and his smock, I had to smile at the picture he made. He looked a bit chaotic with a delicate file in his hand, and different kinds of wood floating around his head. Pieces of coral, dittany stalk, vela hair and other possible wand cores were laying on top of his workbench. Watching him handle the wand in the making in his hands with much care, I knew that he hadn't decided on a core yet.
"If anyone ever saw how the great Gregorovic wands are made, they would think you half mad for the mess surrounding you", I said in English.
Though I was born in Bulgaria and currently living in Rumania, we were always speaking English at home. My mother, born and raised in England, had put great emphasis for me to learn her native tongue. I learnt Bulgarian from my father und Rumanian because of the need to speak the language of the country we were living in. My parents valued their origins and were convinced that their daughter should speak their respectively native tongue. Gladly, I was rather clever with languages.
My father's hands never stopped their work, only a slight tilt of his head suggested that he had heard me. Moments of silence passed and I frowned when he kept his quiet. My initial ire turned into hurt when he continued to ignore me.
"Father", I said, my voice small, though I tried to keep my cool.
I was too proud to let him see how his behaviour hurt me, but it was hard to keep the mask on. I had no idea why he was that mad at me. We had fought before, but it had been with yelling and tears and anger. This silence was something new entirely and it hurt me more than I could've ever imagined.
The shoulders of my father dropped and he put the piece of work down. Wiping his hands on his smock, he kept his back to me, as if he couldn't face me.
"Galina", he finally said my name, so gently that it was almost whispered.
I took a step towards him. "What is wrong?"
He sighed loudly and removed his googles, throwing them carelessly on one of the chairs next to him. As he turned around, I saw his worried expression clouding his eyes. I had to blink a few times to keep the tears from falling. What had I done to make him that disappointed in me?
"Oh Galina", he said again, laying his hands on my shoulder as he peered in my face. "Nothing is wrong."
I scoffed, trying to transform my hurt into anger again unsuccessfully. "Then why are you ignoring me?"
My father closed his eyes as if in pain, before he shook his head. When he opened them again, he gave me a small smile and cupped my cheek lovingly.
"I'm sorry. My ego was just battered at the thought that my daughter could overpower me in a duel."
"That can't be all."
Holding my gaze for a second, he nodded and turned towards the chair and motioned me to sit down. I did so, keeping my gaze on my father. Though he was in his prime for Wizarding standards, he looked older today, as something was weighing on him heavily. I waited for him to take his seat as well and held his gaze when he looked at me.
"There is something I need to tell you."
I nodded, my brows furrowed at his serious expression.
"When we were training, you disarmed me."
He took out his wand from the inside pocket of his smock. It was a familiar sight, the long, pale wand, adorned with little knobs that either served as embellishment or support for grip. Though I had seen it often in the hands of my father, I had never held it myself, nor had I seen it from close-up. He laid the wand on his flat hand and leaned forward, so I could examine it without touching.
"This is no common wand", he continued.
I had to smile at that. "No wand you manufacture is common, father."
"I did not make this wand, Galya." His face was solemn.
I felt a rush of warmth at his use of my nickname, the lilt of his native tongue slightly more distinct when he spoke the term of endearment.
"I won it. In a duel", he continued.
"I don't understand."
"In my youth, before I started to earn my money with wandlore and met your mother, did I travel the world. I was reckless and hot-headed and never recoiled from a fight. This brought me a reputation and I found myself in more duels than was good for me. In the last of those duels, I won this wand. It was a harsh fight and I almost lost, but against all odds, I won."
His gaze was far away, as if he was lost in the memory. I listened eagerly, though I had no idea what this story had anything to do with our falling out.
Blinking twice, he turned his eyes back to me, then lowering his glance towards the wand that was still on his outstretched hand.
"This is a powerful wand. The most powerful wand I've ever held in my hands. It's supposed to be unbeatable."
I couldn't keep the doubting frown from my face. "Well, perhaps the wand can't be beaten, but it's owner can, as you proven when you won it."
"Indeed", my father agreed.
"Ever since you disarmed me, the wand doesn't follow my commands like it did before", he explained.
Shocked, I covered my mouth with my hands. That's why he was so angry with me. I had swayed the loyalty of his wand from him. Even though it hadn't been my intention, I had stolen my father's wand that had served him for decades. No wonder he wouldn't speak with me.
"I'm sorry", I whispered the words that he had spoken to me earlier.
But my father scoffed at that, shaking his head. "That is not what I'm worried about."
"But your wandβ¦"
"I have a whole store house filled with wands that would suite me beautifully for my day to day business. I don't care for power anymore. I care for you and for your safety. Winning this wand from me was a thing of the natural order. The student has to pass his teacher at one time. But it puts you in a dangerous position."
I felt like my father was talking to me in riddles. He tried to explain to me why he hadn't been talking to me but I felt like none of his explanations made any sense. How could the winning of a training fight put me in any danger? No matter how strict my father was, I knew that he would never punish me. He continued before I could ask more questions.
"As I've said before, this is no common wand. It is centuries old and it has many names. One of them is the Wand of Destiny. But you should know it under the name of the Elder Wand."
Though my father had still a solemn expression on his face, I had to fight to keep the mocking smile from my face. Maybe the loyalty of his wand had been swayed and he was angry at me for that, but I had no idea why he concocted the story of The Three Brothers in this.
"You can't be serious", I snorted.
He looked at me with grave eyes, not even a trance of humour on his face. He couldn't be serious about this.
"So, you won a wand, that Death himself made, in your youth? Something that mother told me about in a bedtime-story? This is ridiculous", I ended, crossing my arms over my chest.
If he didn't want to tell my why he was angry, fine, I couldn't force him. But he didn't have to pull my leg. Scowling darkly at him, I moved to stand up and leave his work room, when his gentle hand on my arm stopped me.
"What?", I snapped, my angry attitude noticeable in the one word.
"Take it", my father offered me his wand.
"What?", I repeated, feeling like I was thrown from feeling sad to angry to confused and back to angry and confused again. He never left his wand out of his reach, it was always in his hand or secured in his holster.
Ignoring my confusion and reluctance, my father grabbed my hand an put the wand in it. The moment my skin touched the smooth wood, I felt a pulsing from the wand, answered by a pulse of my very own magic. The two mixed and hummed in unity and I could only stare at the piece of magical wood laying so innocently on my hand. There was a power in that wand that I've never felt before. My own wand, strapped on my lower arm via a holster β insistence from my father β added to the feeling and for a few moments I felt almost bodyless with all the magical potency rushing through me. I ripped my eyes from the wand and stared at my father, who had a knowing but sad smile on his face.
"But-", I started, but had to clear my throat to steady my voice, "but that doesn't mean that the stories are true. This is just a powerful wand."
My father shook his head. "Whatever you believe, you can clearly feel the power in the wand."
He waited till I'd nodded my agreement.
"For centuries wizards and witches were after that wand, after that power. You're in danger, Galya."
"You had this wand for as long as I can remember and there never happened anything bad", I disagreed stubbornly, "why should it endanger me now?"
Though I doubted the threat my father described, I had no qualms about believing that the wand was mine now. I could still feel the familiar hum of my actual wand, but the one from my father was just so much more.
"There are tracking spells. Not that elaborate to find the usual location, but when such a powerful magical artefact changes its loyalty, it does so with a burst of magic that can be sensed. Wizards who seek that wand already know that it has changed allegiance. And they probably already pinpointed the rough area of the wand. That's why I was working on a new wand since our duel. Many of my wands will suite me, but I need an especially strong one to keep you safe."
"Father," I started, but was interrupted.
"No", he disagreed gently but strongly, "I already waisted enough time coming to terms with the fact that you'll be targeted now. You should start packing, I'm almost finished with my wand. We'll be leaving at dawn."
"Leaving? The manor?" I got no answer and my eyes grew wide. "You can't possibly mean that!"
"Galina!", he snapped, losing his patience for the first time in our conversation. "Don't argue with me on this! I can't risk you as well!"
My hand clenched around the new wand as I took his words in. I knew without asking that he was talking about mother, and it felt like a physical blow. I had been so young when I'd lost her but even as a little child, I had noticed the harsh change my father went through with the loss of his beloved wife.
With my eyes still wide open and my mouth parted in shock, I stared at my father as he tried to regain some sort of control. Swallowing harshly, I also calmed down. I trusted him. If he thought we should leave, then I would listen to him
"What do you need me to do?" I asked him quietly.
"Take your small knapsack and fill it only with the things you can't leave behind. Gather your travelling cloak and some potions, let my owl out of her cote. We'll travel lightly."
I nodded and stood from the chair to follow his instructions. With a swift movement my father gathered me in his arms before I could rush out of the room. Wrapped up in his hug, I held onto his smock tightly, burrowing my face in his chest. He smelled of burned wood, fresh sweat from the work and the mint tea he loved to drink. Although I still didn't believe that I was in possession of the Elder Wand, I was afraid of other people thinking so. They would kill to get an artefact like that. I was frightened and held onto my father for a few moments longer, wallowing in the illusion of the safety of his arms.
"Were will we go?" I mumbled into his chest.
"The British Isles", he answered and gently pushed me from his chest. "Go."
I hurried out of the room, my mind already on the things I had to pack. First, I let Fanya, father's owl, out of her spacious cage. With a loving nib at my fingers, she flew out of the window and I bolted towards my room. I had no idea why we had to leave just this evening, but I wouldn't question father. I had never seen him afraid, not even when the news of Grindelwald closing in on our old manor in Bulgaria had reached us. And back then, it had been so bad that we had to relocate from Bulgaria to a remote estate in Romania. Even then, my father had kept his composure. So, seeing him with worry on his face now was reason enough to just follow his orders.
Rummaging through my wardrobe I finally found my leather knapsack and threw it roughly in the direction of my bed. I stared at my clothes for a moment and then down my body, confused what I should take with me. We couldn't attract attention, so I would travel in my usual robes, but I grabbed a pair of trousers that I had nicked from one of the neighbouring Muggle kids. Combined with a shirt it would be more comfortable to travel in. I only added a few undergarments and decided that it was enough. I still had to fill the knapsack with potions and other stuff, clothing was not really my priority. And though the knapsack had an extension charm, it was still limited.
An hour later, I swung the knapsack over my shoulder and rushed down the stairs again. I was in one of my most comfortable travelling robes, the skirt swishing lightly around my legs, while the top section of my robes stretches easily over my form. Additional to my clothes, I had packed almost every potion I could find and a few toiletries as well as some food. I had no idea for what I was packing exactly, so I hoped I hadn't forgotten anything.
Rushing in the sitting room, I saw my father emerging from his work space, a brand-new wand in his hands. The Elder Wand was safely in a holster on my hips while my usual wand was strapped on my lower arm. Eyeing my father, I nodded when I saw that he'd also changed and looked ready to depart. The sun was already setting and if we really wanted to leave with nightfall, we had to hurry.
"Do you have everything?" my father asked me.
I shrugged. "I hope so."
He gave me a small smile and cupped my cheek. "I know I didn't tell you, but I'm so proud of you. Your mother would be as well."
Tears gathered in my eyes, and I nodded silently, the lump in my throat too big to speak around it. He gave me a quick kiss on my forehead and led me towards the door, hosting his own knapsack over his shoulder.
"We'll leave the estate as it is, so maybe we can mislead them. From the village we'll apparate to a friend of mine who'll provide us with a portkey to London. From there we'll be travelling the Muggle way to stay undetected."
"Who's after the wand?"
"A powerful wizard", was the only answer I got.
A quick glance told me that my fathers face was rigid with tension. I've never seen my father so worried in my life before. It scared me. So, I followed my father and we left our estate, walking along a small road through a thin forest. There were still the last rays of sun, but the trees provided enough shades so that I had the feeling that the forest was obscure. Our feet made no noise on the road that was a mixture between gravel and trodden in soil. Usually, I liked it here, the trees and the quietness giving a rare sense of peace, but now I was only feeling fearful.
Normally, we would use the horses or the carriage, but leaving the manor as if we were still living there meant leaving this form of transportation behind. So, we walked the next ten minutes in strained silence. I could feel my father's anxiousness just as I could feel my own. With every last bit of self-control, I resisted the urge to look over my shoulder every so often, as I could almost feel the eyes of our faceless pursuer.
Thankfully sooner than later, I could see the nearby village at the end of the street. The population was a mixture between Muggles and magical folk. We've been living at the manor only for a few years, but I had made some very close friends in the village. Actually, my best friend was a Muggle girl who thought that I went to boarding school for the most part of the year. The other witches from the village were friendly enough, some of them were in the same year as I at Durmstrang.
"What about-", I started when my mind drifted towards my friends.
"You can write them", my father interrupted me.
Swallowing my stubborn reply, I face the village again, when I heard a quiet popping sound. Frowning, I thought that I had simply imagined the noise, when I heard it again and again. What were the odds of people apparating here while we tired to leave the country? I was actually pretty sure that things like that could easily happen by chance, but my nerves were too strained to dismiss it as a coincident.
Keeping my eyes forward, I whispered to my father. "Did you hear that?"
He hummed in agreement, but kept from answering otherwise. That only increased my anxiety and I felt my heartbeat quicken. I tried to keep a relaxed posture and expression, as if I was only taking an evening stroll with my father, but dread made it hard to breath.
A few seconds passed before my father started to rummage through his knapsack. I just barely kept myself from staring at him with wide eyes. Was there no threat or was he just that good of an actor?
"Galina dear, I almost forgot to give you your allowance to buy that dress you told me about", he said, his voice clear and smooth. "The maid also sketched out some pattern for new dress robes I want you to order."
He offered me a well-filled pouch and a black notebook that I had never seen before. Too confused and scared to answer, I took the two items from him, and barely kept from flinching when he skilfully sneaked something smooth and tiny in my hand as well.
"Thank you, father", I answered rather stiffly and pocketed the objects in my knapsack, using the digging through my belongings to see what my father had given me.
I almost stumbled when I saw that it was his signet ring. This was my answer. The popping sounds were reason to worry and my father expected the worse. With a deep breath, I slipped the ring on my middle finger, the only finger that could hold the jewellery that was made for my father's little finger.
Securing the bag over my shoulders again, I startled when I felt a touch on my cheek. Raising my head, I saw the strong face of my father looking down on my, tears in his eyes that made my lip tremble with emotion. I knew what would come and I had no idea what to do.
He lowered his head a bit to whisper in my ear while we were still walking. "Always remember, my daughter: I'm so very proud of you."
He straightened again and pulled his shoulders back. I faced forwards as well, but I couldn't stop the tears from falling. This simply couldn't end well. What should I do, what could I do?
"Galina?"
"Yes?", I asked in a small voice, sounding more like an afraid child than a sixteen-year-old young woman.
I didn't know what to do. Who was after us?
"Run", my father said, his voice just as calm as before.
Without a second of hesitation, I pushed my feet into the ground and propelled myself forward, pumping my arms to gain speed. My eyes were locked onto the nearby village, tunnel-vision creeping up on me to focus my attention on my only goal: making it to the village as my father had planned.
Something hot breezed past me, only missing me by inches, and I ducked with a chocked gasp, but never stopped running. Casting a glance over my shoulder, I saw my father engaged in a duel with three other wizards. Hot on my heels were two more, close enough that I could see that one of them had brown and the other straw blond hair.
Acting purely on instinct, I flicked my wand over my shoulder and cast a strong physical and stationary shield. Not slowing in my sprint, it took only a split second to hear the tell-tale sound of flesh connecting with something hard and I knew that both men had run into my barrier.
Using the small reprieve for another glimpse, I saw my father on his knees, still throwing sickly coloured curses. But it was clear that he was losing. Even over the distance, I felt our eyes connect, his grim face softening for a moment before he was battling his opponents once more. There were no words needed to know that he wanted me to flee.
With a sob, I tried to apparate, but not only was my concentration almost non-existent, but there was also an anti-apparition jinx up. I stumbled in desperation but caught myself before I truly fell. My vision was blinded by tears and I had problems breathing trough my fear.
Sending another curse over my shoulder, I risked another quick glance to see if I had managed any harm on my attackers. The scene made me come to a stumbling stop. My father was kneeling in the middle of the street, his head hanging in defeat. The wand of the only still standing opponent was pointed at his head, his own wand nowhere to be seen. He was beaten.
I knew that he wanted me to get to safety, I knew that he wanted me to run, but I just couldn't leave him behind.
"No", I whispered and took a determined step back towards the men, facing my two pursuers who had used my distraction to almost close the distance between us. Before I could even voice a single spell, my father raised his head for the last time and caught my eyes. I was too far away to hear his quiet words, but I could still read the words from his lips.
Bombarda.
"NO!", I cried, but crouch low behind a shield on instinct.
Though I was protected, the force of my father's hex threw me backwards and I landed hard on the street. The air was knocked from my chest and I saw dark spots appear in my vision. Ringing in my ears made me deaf for a moment, and I rolled onto my belly clumsily. Everything ached, everything hurt, but nothing was as tortured as my heart.
My father had decided to end it on his terms.
I pushed myself to all fours, then to my knees, and then to stand on my wobbly legs. The street was destroyed. The three man closest to my father were blown to pieced, just like he was. There were traced of blood and fragments of bones. The sight was too unreal to realize that all those bits and pieces had been wizards not only a minute ago. Now they were only smudges.
Stumbling on my feet, I heard a pained groan through the insistent ringing in my ears. Gathering my wits, I saw my two pursuers not too far from me, one of them obviously regaining consciousness. I was stumped for a second before my training kicked in. With a few quick flicks of my wand, I stunned and bound the two men.
I turned on my feet and stumbled as my sense of balance was not yet restored. With heavy feet, I dragged myself towards the village and away from my father, one single question echoing through my mind.
What am I supposed to do?
The plan was to apparate to a friend of my father β he was in smudges now β who would provide us with a portkey. But I had no idea which friend he'd meant. I felt numb and hurting at the same time, and I could distinctly feel the burning hot trail of tears on my cheeks. Without my father β he was in bits and pieces β I had no idea what to do. I didn't even know who I was running from. What should I do? What had my father β he had painted the street red β planned?
I fell to my knees and hurled the remnants of my lunch up. The ringing in my ears raised to an almost deafening crescendo before it stopped suddenly. After a few more moments of retching and coughing, I was sure that my stomach had nothing more to give.
Wiping my mouth on the sleeve of my cloak, I got to my feet once more, careful to avoid the sight of the street behind me. Using my other sleeve to dry my tears, I stumbled the last yards towards the village. Father β ignore the thoughts, ignore the sight, ignore your emotions β wanted us to travel to the British Isles, and that's what I would do. Romania was a long way from Great Britain and it wasn't safe times to travel, but I had no other choice.
One foot in front of the other, one step at a time, I made my way through the last bit of the forest, finally reaching the end of it. Only when I entered the village and made my way towards the apparition point did I hear the screams and yells. Blinking to regain my focus, I saw the flickering lights of flames licking on some of the houses. They were attacking the village as well!
"Mina!" I rasped the name of my best friend.
Without any conscious thoughts, my feet carried me towards her home. I hurried along the small streets, trying to avoid the main road where most of the havoc seemed to be. Ducking behind some hedges and using all the cover I could get to keep myself from being detected, I crept along the smaller alleys of the village. There were yells and bangs, it was utter chaos, and I couldn't be seen before I knew were Mina was. I had no idea if the attack was because of my father and me or if it was simply bad luck. Grindelwald had been coming closer and closer to this part of our country, we had known that.
Reaching the small town-house, I got up on my tippy toes and peered through one of the windows, but the house seemed empty despite the burning candles. Tipping my wand against the pane, I unlocked it and pushed it open. Pulling myself through the now open window, I fell rather awkwardly into the kitchen of the house. I ignored the dull pain of new bruises forming and crept through the kitchen.
"Mina?" I hissed, my voice tight with fear.
A loud bang from outside made me flinch and I ducked low on instinct. Clenching my jaw, I swallowed another sob and moved towards her room, the half-dried traces of my tears itching on my cheek. Outside, the world seemed to have transformed right into hell. Fire was licking on everything that was flammable, screams filled the air and almost drowned out the occasional yelled curse. It was a battle field.
I reached my best friend's room, but it was empty. The candles were still burning and her slippers stood close to her bed, but she was nowhere to be seen.
"Where are you?" I asked the empty room.
Hasting back, I reached the window that I had opened and slipped back out again. Rushing around the house, I peered around the corner only to see Mina and her family held at wand's point by wizards in dark uniforms.
"Protego!", I yelled, but no shield charm was powerful enough to withstand the killing curse.
I rushed forward but there was nothing I could do. Bright green lights zipped through the air and found their target. Mina and her family crumbled in a heap. No, no, no, no, no.
I used their moment of surprise to stun one of the wizards, before I was engaged in a battle with the remaining ones. Anger and hate streamed through my fear and all I could think about was to hurt those people just as badly as they had hurt my loved ones.
Ducking under a brownish hex, I sent a spiteful Avada Kedavra as an answer, feeling nothing when it hit one of the men. With every curse, I took a step closer, with every hex, I gained the upper hand and with every passing second, I made them fear me more. It was like a choreographed dance, using well elaborated footwork for fluid turns, that gave me an efficient position to counter-attack. Father β he was dead, dead, dead, they had killed him β had taught me to battle and though Mina β on the dirty ground, motionless, lifeless β had educated me about tolerance and empathy, I chose to ignore her lessons at the moment.
"That's her!", I heard the distant yell and the last attacker was distracted enough so I could hit him with a curse that would send him into a coma where he would live through his worst nightmares until he either died or the curse was lifted.
Still in a crouch I observed my surrounding. The ground was littered not only with my opponents but also with dead or injured villagers, most of which I knew. I bared my teeth at the few remaining people that were still on their feet. One of them, a girl my age, had her finger pointed at me to accompany her yell to inform the others about me. Wanda, that stupid curvΔ, I knew her from school. She was surrounded by other wizards and witches in the same black uniform as the ones that I fought had worn.
I kept my low duelling position, my old wand in my right hand, ready to fire curses, my left hand held onto the Elder Wand, maintaining a small shield in front of my body. I had no idea when I'd drawn the powerful wand, but I had also no intention of pocketing it.
Narrowing my eyes as one of the wizards pulled an object from his cloak, I saw him speaking into it. It took me a few seconds before I realize that he was using a two-way mirror. Ignoring the whimpers and sounds of desperation and pain around me, I kept my focus on the enemies in front of me, trying my best not to curse Wanda. She'd always been a stupid bint, prejudiced and cruel. Wanda's yell seemed to indicate that the men were after me. Or at least partly interested in me.
What should I do, could I do, to make it out of this alive?
My thoughts were cut short when a tall man appeared in the middle of the street with a loud crack. An imposing figure with blond, almost white hair and sharp but handsome feature. I identified him immediately.
Gellert Grindelwald.
Though some of the people out on the street were Muggles and didn't know of him, we all froze in fear. There was something about him that almost screamed danger and I felt a shiver run down my spine when he locked his eyes on my still crouched form. My teeth were still bared and the tears were still falling.
His lips stretched into a smile that was as charming as it was face when he addressed me, but I didn't listen to him. All of my mind was consumed by one thought. He had apparated here. They had to lower the anti-apparation jinx to allow him that. Maybe they hadn't raised it again. With that in mind, I took a last look around me, glancing at the still living villagers, both magical and Muggle, that I would leave behind. Seeing Mina's crumbled family near me. Wanda, unharmed and flanked by her parents. Lastly, looking towards the edges of the village where my father β red, red, so much red β had fought for his life and lost.
I redirected my eyes back to Grindelwald, looking on his lips that formed word, but I still heard nothing. I concentrated and focused and fixed my mind on that one destination that I wanted to reach. When I felt my whole self consumed by the need to apparate to that small village at the border to Hungary, where my mother loved to spend her vacation, I spun on the heels of my feet, still in my crouch, with Grindelwald talking about something and me fully aware that I was running away. But I refused to end like Mina β lifeless, cold, in the dirty β or my father β blown to smithereens, red, liquidly.
Unfortunately, the anti-apparition jinx was already up again.
Fortunately, it was nothing against the combined powers of my determination and the Elder Wand.
With a deafening crack, I left the village behind, the furious roar of Grindelwald almost inaudible against the sound of my disappearance.
A/N: Let me know what you think!