In the Shrieking Shack

Her small footsteps pattered their way up the winding trail. The sound of feet against dirt was lost, though, beneath her sobs.

Thoughts, words, and anger coursed through her veins, blurring the vision already obscured by tears.

She stopped the juggernaut that was her hurtling body and tumultuous emotions dead at a small, rickety gate barring her passage. Beyond it was the unknown: it was forbidden. She snorted - forbidden, just like living my own life, huh?

It's not like that! You just can't expect to go cavorting anywhere without a thought...

I'm not still an infant! I can take care of myself! You just don't trust me!

We trust you!

Then why can't I...

You just can't.

Fine! FINE! Then I'm leaving!

MAFALDA HOPKIRK!

And with one last defiant stare down at Hogsmeade, at her imprisonment, and at those who she had grown to hate, she turned her attention towards the latch of the locked gate.

As her fingers fumbled with the pins and chains, she silently thanked the sky for providing her with a full moon - in her blind rage, she had forgotten her wand.

She managed to loosen the chains locking the gate enough to slip her small frame through, and continued her journey rather more cautiously. The path became much more treacherous, but she made her way towards the dark shape on the hill highlighted by the moonlight.

Suddenly, every muscle in her body froze. She thought she heard someone yell - the sound had come from in front of her - from that - that house. Waiting, not daring to breathe, she listened. The moon went behind a cloud. She waited. Nothing. She heard nothing. It must have been her imagination...her imagination.

Ever cautiously, she kept going up the now-darkened path - something was drawing her towards the house, begging her to come in and explore. Thrill of danger, threat of death, and inevitable rush of exhilaration! Buy one, get two free!

The house looked much scarier, now that the moon was no longer shining on it. The front door was almost in complete blackness, but she steeled herself and entered.

Her eyes slowly began to make out shapes in the darkness inside the house, and she gasped. The house looked as if it had been destroyed by the blitzkrieg. Pillars were torn from their places of support and broken into matchwood; walls were torn apart, revealing plaster, framing, or even the garden.

Then, heart stopping, she heard it - what was that? - a scraping, scratching sound, muffled grunting. She tasted the fear inside her own mouth, and, eyes seizing upon a staircase, scurried up to the first floor as quietly as she could. Need to hide, need to hide, need to - there! She squeezed her way into a small room - must be a closet - probably where he stores his bodies! She muffled a cry of panic by shoving her bulky sweatshirt into her mouth. Tears formed in her eyes - was today a good day to die? She sank down to the floor, clutched her knees to her chest, shaking with fear, afraid it would hear the shaking, whimpering into the sweatshirt, rocking, pulling her knees in for comfort, for support, willing that this day was not her last.

Squeezed in a closet, huddled on the floor, inside a forbidden, destroyed house, far from anyone and anything except death, she whispered, "I'm sorry...I'm sorry..."

Then the moon came out from behind the cloud.

It was the worst torture either of them had ever endured. Screams and shrieks permeated the house from downstairs, finding their way through cracked floorboards and hollow walls. Sobs racked the frame of the small girl, whose efforts to stop them, to quiet the noise, went unnoticed by all. The madness raged on below her and inside of her, one louder than the other, keeping her safe.

In her mind, she saw her mother and father sitting down in front of a warm fire, completely oblivious to her screaming. "Is being sorry not enough for you?" She tried to get their attention, tried to apologize, tried to at least get them to even look at her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered again, her mind now back inside the shack on the hill.

And as suddenly as it had come, it was gone. The room darkened, and the shrieks subsided. But still, her sobs lingered on. No amount of muffling could prevent the noises from escaping downstairs.

Pounding footsteps up the stairs. A scream. A door, wrenched open. Sobs, cries, have mercy!

"You must pay attention - you must get out of here! Now! Go, go, get out, get -"

A spasm of pain lanced over his body, but, catching his breath, he grabbed the girl's skinny arm, and pulled her onto her feet.

He looked into her eyes - brown - and said, earnestly, "You are in danger. I do not want you to get hurt - now, please, just go, get yourself out of here!"

She paused, having just noticed his figure. He was small - not frail, but not exactly tough either. His body was raked with scars; blood streaks covered his tattered robes. She saw in his eyes - traced with green - that he was still so young - almost her age - just a boy...

"What are you waiting for? GO!"

The pain in her heart spurred her feet on, carrying her out of the house. She stopped in the garden, and looked back at the house once more.

What kind of madness had taken over his body? And he was so young...

And then, a single sob left her battered torso, a sob for this boy, for his future, for his fate.

Its sound, unbeknownst to her, traveled into the sky and mingled with the sobs still emanating from the shack, giving them companionship for the first time in the boy's existence.

She turned back towards the small town beneath her, and made her way down the winding path, slowly and without fear. She was going home.

***

She opened the front door to her house quietly, but she was bowled over by the four arms that grabbed her nonetheless, holding her tight.

Through tears and sobs, she asked them, "Did you miss me?"