The End is Nigh ( fanfiction that is to be continued....written as part of my English GCSE controlled assessment)
Open to suggestions/improvements/questions + will be posting this on fanfiction.net if you wish to read how i continue it ;)
I knew it was the last time I would see him. I could tell from the second that I saw them – their black hooded travel cloaks and masked faces – this was not just a regular train fault. As the hooded figures dawned in on the lonely carriage, it was only a matter of time before they found their prey. Me.
I was sitting by the door, too easy to find, before being forced to leave my friends by a simple spell. (The Imperius curse is not so easy to block). Murmurs filled the carriage as “Looney’ Luna Lovegood’ was dragged from the train. Whilst my dirty blonde hair flustered in the wind, I prayed only for my father, even though the fault was his, I hoped he didn’t encounter the same fate for his actions. I couldn’t help him anymore…
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The last time I saw my father was six months ago. So much has happened in so little time. With the war in full swing, it doesn’t seem right to be returning home. For my father’s sake; I must. For a chance to prove to Xenophilius that his daughter is okay; for a chance to hear the news from my second home; to reassure myself that my father is safe; and finally to talk to the boy that I long to see and wish felt the same way.
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The night I was taken from the train was the most terrifying night in thirteen years. Locked away in a cellar that only brought back memories of my mother’s death. As I watched Mr.Ollivander shake with the symptoms of Cruciatus, the images unwillingly flooded back to me. Images of horror. Images of past. Neither were as horrifying as the scene before me. Yet both pained my heart as I sat there helplessly.
Only after my first week of confinement did I finally understand the cruelty of Death Eaters! With only Mr.Ollivander for company, I was exposed to the torture he had witnessed. He told of his past months whilst quaking in his memories. His bedraggled hair and pain-stricken face clearly showed the signs of age and fear. I learnt through his words that humans have no mercy, especially those who walk in the footsteps of the Dark Lord himself.
‘You don’t know the dangers of this world, my child. T…t…torture is the only way to gain what you seek,’ Mr.Ollivander shuddered at his statement, ‘most inhumane, yet used so frequently.’
‘Mr.Ollivander,’ I spoke quietly, as though talking to a frail child, ‘we will get out of here. There has to be a loop hole somewhere.’ The false hope in my words stuck out like a sore wand, even then.
‘My dear, your faith is admirable; however, in the past three months of my stay here I have tried everything. There is no escape from the depths of hell.’ Mr.Ollivander’s words rang out in my head.
When times are hard they say to think of loved ones and places you call home. Although time like that come sparingly, I couldn’t help but try and ease my sorrow. I thought of Hogwarts, my second home. I thought of my father and my actual home. Mostly I thought of my friends; Ginny with her friendly smile and stunning red hair; the Patils and their kindness; and the boy whose dashing charm and wavy brown hair over looks my madness to observe the inner me.
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Upon arriving home I can see that much has changed. The once-beautiful stone house now lies in almost ruins with a make-shift roof and scattered stones. The Derigible Plums tree to the left of the ‘house’ lies uprooted and singed. With no steps leading up to the front door and no wand in my possession, I am left with no other option but to climb. I scramble up the ten-foot wall - which shudders beneath me – before finally hauling myself onto the ledge. The door creeks on his hinges at my touch.
‘Who’s there?’ says a voice so familiar that my knees weaken from longing.
‘Papa, it’s Luna’ I say whilst heaving the broken door to reveal myself.
‘L…luna’ Xenophilius stands frozen as I run the few steps into his arms.
‘It has been so long! I have missed you so much.’ I exclaim leaning back from the embrace. ‘Papa?’ I ask turning to see what my father stares at so haggardly behind me.
Harry’s stag patronus stands mighty and shimmering silver in the door way,
