At What Way Holds Hell?

At What Way Holds Hell?

by Katrina Puffinstuf

January 'Deathly Hallows' Anagram Challenge

--

Colin was running for his life.

The 35-millimeter camera slung around his neck bobbed on his chest from side to side as he dodged his way through the crowded streets of the city. He bustled past the pedestrians, ignoring their sidelong glares and curses muttered under their breaths. Colin paid no mind; he knew that the information tucked safely away inside of his camera would unleash the largest secret kept from the human race that ever was. I'm about to save their lives, for goodness sake!

Out in the street now, Colin dashed before taxicabs and motorbikes, and amidst the blaring horns, he managed to get a grip upon a solid piece of wood in his pocket. He muttered a few words, and to onlookers gasped as the running man with thinning mousy brown hair vanished into thin air.

--

Colin appeared inside of a dark room, his darkroom. Panting, he switching on the low red lamps that he used especially for developing, he prepared his film for developing with shaky hands. There isn't much time...

With a flick of his tattered wand, he sped up the process ever so slightly, not wanting to undermine the quality of the photos yet buying him the precious time he needed. Now that the film was developing, he needed to clear his mind to think.

Colin had no time and had one very important decision to make.

--

"I feel it, Wormtail," hissed the high-pitched voice, a spray of saliva leaving his mouth as he did so, "the time has come to take this war to the Final Front." The unusually tall man crossed the stone room in giant strides. There was a great window with curtains drawn. He stood facing it.

"My Lord," bowed the stubby man, "your army is strong..." He pulled at a dust covered cord, opening the curtains and showing the scene playing out below. Thousands upon thousands of creatures lay below the balcony, at rest, sprawling out along the grounds, around a large lake, and stretching for miles. There were werewolves among men, Inferi among the living, rogue centaurs and giants, dementors... communing as one for one purpose...

"Now that the Prophecy has been fulfilled," said the high pitched voice, "we can carry out what we have been waiting for for so long." The man let out a triumphant laugh that chilled the air. "Those filthy Muggles... they will never know what hit them until it is far too late." Another laugh.

Colin Creevey sat inside the Great Hall behind one of the banisters, stifling his breath. He steadied his hands with his camera and snapped it. Voldemort was captured during his great speech about his final battle against the Muggles. This was the final picture.

The snap of the shutter was heard throughout the Great Hall.

Colin was running for his life.

--

As he enlarged each photo, he heard Voldemort's words resounding in his head.

"I can offer you something you will never know in the free world! You can have the life you have always wanted if you join me, Colin Creevey..."

He offered him fame, fortune, and protection, a piece of the world that Voldemort planned to conquer. Colin never knew fame, and he certainly was well below the poverty line (his one room flat and photography usually cost him a meal or two during the course of the day). He was one of the only wizards left in the known world and he knew it. He was the link to small remaining underground. After the death of Harry, Voldemort's Army grew stronger and stronger until they enslaved or killed all who wouldn't cooperate. Only a few survived the scourge. Colin was one of them.

Each photo passed through a magical developing fluid and was rinsed off, then hung up to dry. Colin knew that he had only hours before they would pinpoint his Apparation trail. He took a Muggle cellular phone and phonebook. He contacted major news organizations. Made appointments with them within the hour. Pretty soon, the entire world would know about a war that they never even saw coming.

Colin had one chance to thwart Voldemort. The Dark Lord knew that the population of nonmagic folk outnumbered his army by billions. The only way he could even begin to wage a war against those he hated with such a passion with his army of miscreants was to have the element of surprise on his side. Colin had the only proof that magic existed by means of magical moving photographs, and, of course, his wand. He had one chance to prove to the world that there was an entire race of magical creatures that existed as well as tell them that those very creatures were out to enslave and kill them.

He needed to warn them before it was too late.

More importantly, they would need to figure out a way to defend themselves against creatures that wouldn't die. Creatures skilled in combat. Werewolves that could kill with a single bite. They would need to battle against the very thing that Colin and wizards around the world once stood for. Magic. They were fighting an enemy that they had no knowledge about. Was it even possible?

Colin bit his lip, something he had not done since he was a young man in Hogwarts. He was unsure of himself. If he went back to the underground, he would put them all in danger, but it was possible that he would be safe. If he went public with the information, it is likely no one would believe him. However, if they did... well, it was the only hope of stopping Voldemort. If wands and magic couldn't get him or his armies, perhaps a nuclear weapon could wipe out a good portion of them. He realized that he probably wouldn't live to see the sun set in the sky. Just so long as they have a fighting chance... they can stop him! They are the only ones left!

He shook his head, trying to remember an easier time.

--

As he packed his moving photographs into a yellow envelope, he turned off his red lights and bolted out of the door. He prepared his speech so that his delivery would be flawless. One taxi drive later, he found himself inside of the establishment that housed the local news. A secretary eagerly showed him the way.

He began talking as soon as he entered the office. He knew time was short.

"Sir, I realize that what I am about to tell you will sound so farfetched that you will wish to have me committed, but in this envelope, I have photographs that will make you a very, very wealthy and respected man." Colin slapped the envelope onto the table. The man in the large office chair wasn't even facing him.

"In that envelope," he said breathlessly, "I can prove to you that magic exists."

The man chuckled to himself, growing louder with each passing second, until he began all-out laughing. The laugh began to increase in pitch, until a chill passed through Colin's spinal column. As the chair slowly turned around, Colin's middle-aged heart began speeding unhealthily as he finally faced the man.

"A noble effort, Mr. Creevey," said Voldemort with a soft, eerie laugh, "but no Muggle would have ever believed you, anyway."