Chapter Text
“The ministry has fallen… the minister of magic is dead,” Kingsley’s voice echoed through the air.
A beat of deafening silence. Then, an explosion of noise.
There was screaming, chairs scraping back as guests scrambled frantically toward their loved ones.
Harry leapt to his feet, eyes instinctually scanning the crowd for that familiar red and bushy brown hair.
He locked eyes with Hermione across the floor - there was too much space between them - but she didn’t dare shout his name. She grabbed Ron’s arm beside her and took off toward the center as Harry ran forward.
Pops of apparition wove into the chaos - it was impossible to tell who was arriving and who was fleeing.
A man appeared next to Harry as he flung a chair blocking his path to the side.
The man, wearing a death eater mask, swore loudly as he struggled to his feet. Harry didn’t stick around to see what he would do next. He jumped over an upturned table and lunged toward the center of the room where he knew his friends would be waiting for him.
Harry spotted Ron’s pale, panicked face watching his approach.
“Harry!”
A frantic voice, but Ron hadn’t opened his mouth to speak.
Ron’s eyes were locked somewhere behind Harry’s shoulder, and he looked terrified.
With a quick glance back, Harry couldn’t decipher who had irresponsibly alerted the Death Eaters to his presence amongst the shuffling crowd but immediately decided they were not a friend.
He ran harder, breath searing his lungs, closing the distance between himself and his friends - his lifeline.
It all happened in a flash, like a lightning strike.
He caught a glimpse of Hermione’s red dress and a feminine hand reaching toward him, a desperate invitation to escape.
Just as Harry took one final leap, fingers inches from Hermione’s grasp, he was blinded.
An eye-searingly, white light encompassed his entire world.
All the noise suddenly ceased - head spinning, body collapsing in on itself - and with a final sensation of weightlessness, Harry knew no more of this world.