Chapter Text
A spell flashed past him, but he kept running. His breath was quickening, a cramp was in his side, but he managed to scramble up onto a chipped statue. “Sorry,” he grunted, heaving himself up. They were close behind him. He drew something from his pocket, and threw it behind him. Suddenly, a green stench mist erupted behind him, and his enemies groaned as they struggled to see through it. “Thanks,” he said to the statue, clambering down the other side.
“Anytime,” the figure replied, but he was already running and didn’t hear it. His felt his wand between his fingers; the phoenix core always gave him strength in the bleakest of times. He also wished Hagrid were here to help him; Hagrid always gave the best advice, and was great company. But before he could stop and reminisce on the days of just a few months ago, he was alerted by Peeves, who shouted at him from the end of the corridor. The Death Eaters were close behind him, shooting spells left and right. They weren’t very bright, he thought, as he shot protego behind him for protection. He had to get the secret passage by the makeshift swamp he’d created from the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes numerous products. The twins were a lifesaver, no doubt about it.
Frantically, he twisted the nose of the Merlin statue, and slid inside the secret passage, although it wouldn’t be secret for much longer. Casting a spell to make sure it wouldn’t close, he crept off into the tunnel, making sure to avoid the muggle traps he’d laid on the ground. Being muggle born with a handful of brothers and sisters, he sure had a lot of them. He lifted his arms to shield himself from his wand-stealing machine, and journeyed on. Finally, he came to the end of the tunnel. It was damp, and he heard himself breathing hard. He heard Voldemort's army close behind, their angry, distressed cries echoing throughout the chamber. Peeves floated above him with ink blots in his hands, anxiously waiting for the wizards and witches to arrive. He knew he was on the fifth floor, but he had to get to the slide that led to the third…
He ultimately decided to turn right. Yes, that would lead him away from the fight, towards the staircase which he could use to find the slide leading to the third floor…
Merlin, this castle was large. he jumped over the puddle of slippery oil which lay on the ground, and found himself up against a brick wall. Cursing, he fumbled with his wand and thought of the spell he needed to cast. If he used reducto, he would be heard, but if he tried to get the stones away quietly, it would take too long… No… There was no right choice.
“Reducto!” he yelled, shielding himself from the impact. The bricks tumbled around him but he surged on, heading down the staircase and sliding through the gap in the wall next to the eighth step. He fell immediately, sliding down on the shoot, quickly tumbling out into a deserted classroom. He sealed the exit behind him and ran to the corridor, heading down it three times until a door appeared. He dashed in it, shutting the door behind him.
“I… made… it…” he panted to no one in particular, looking around the Room of Requirement. He'd be safe here for the time being. He had to find a way to destroy Voldemort and Nagini without killing them. He was against killing, as any teenager should be. Harry was dead, and so was the diary, the ring, the cup, the locket… He counted them off on his fingers. Two more that Dumbledore and Harry had left for him without realizing it.
Looking around, he noticed a comfy armchair in the room, and he sank into it gratefully, wiping the grime off his sweaty face. The room resembled the Ravenclaw common room, a fact of which he was grateful. There were some books along the shelves, but no video games, and he understood why, for he was in the magical world. But everyone knew he preferred games to books, and alas…
No one really understood why he was sorted into Ravenclaw, in the beginning. They’d clapped politely for him at the sorting ceremony, but inside they’d been thinking it was a mistake. What did this child have to offer to the magical scholarly world, to knowledge, to life?
He laughed as he thought about his first few months here. He’d gotten low marks in all his classes, and was ridiculed for it by his dormmates. They’d tried to help him, pretending to be nice, but really just wanted to protect their house’s reputation. Why would this bad student belong in Ravenclaw, some asked. They belong in Gryffindor, or even worse, Slytherin.
Jokes on them, he thought smugly as he stretched in the chair. He was placed in Ravenclaw for one reason, and one reason only: he would be the only one smart enough to defeat Voldemort, because the Sorting Hat was never wrong. The only problem was just that everyone else was. And if he couldn’t defeat Voldemort in an evacuated castle, who could? He smirked. He, Kevin McCallister had more than a few tricks up his sleeve.