Slowly Drifting || Self para
George had done the most he could to help those that didn’t want to fight go get out of the castle. Him and Meeko had managed to fend off all lines of attack up until that point, and fewer and fewer people were finding their drop locations. George was almost out of broomsticks to hand out anyway, and it appeared that at least in this location- things had died down quite a bit. “Thanks for your help, Meeko.” He had told her, as he rose into the air. He couldn’t have done it without her, that was for sure. It had become apparent that the limitations of his missing eye were a bit more severe than he had wanted to admit to himself.
He had only gone a few feet forward and upwards before he heard loud screaming from below. There was a giant fire burning down the hallway, and he could see a few straggling students running away from it. Behind them, were a group of Rattigans troops laughing gleefully. It was apparent that the quiet George had thought was happening, had really just been a ruse to have them let down their guard.
George threw back a look at Meeko, willing her to understand that she needed to help those final kids. He rose higher in the air, taking out his wand and firing the first shot toward the approaching wizards. They scattered instantly, unaware that George was above them, but they were quick to figure it out. Suddenly, George felt like he was back at Hogwarts again, dodging errant bludgers in order to help his team. Except this time, the bludgers were spells and Merlin knew what would happen if he was hit with one.
Inside, he could feel his energy building up. It had been a really long time since he’d used his ability, and for good reason. He still couldn’t control it totally, and the thought of accidentally hurting an innocent in the process was enough to make him hesitate. However, if he could take out this group, then he would feel like he’d done the best he could have, and be able to finally get some sleep in one of the safe areas.
With great effort, he dodged the spells, throwing his own at the attackers when he had the chance. There were a lot of them though, and he was worried that one wrong move, and he would be taken out. The magic inside him was building heavily, and he felt trapped inside his own body. What was the point of having phenomenal cosmic power in such an itty bitty living space? He weaved around pillars and underneath an archway, blasting the attackers back toward the growing fire.
Suddenly, and with a sharp pain in his head, his magic exploded. Much like it did that day he caused his mother and step father to be in a coma. Just like the time he found out about his girlfriend cheating on him and almost destroying the great hall. Just like the time he found his real father and felt a sense of such joy that he couldn’t contain himself.
Just like any time he felt overwhelmed with emotions.
With great concentration, he gripped the broomstick hard and focused the energy at the enemies. He never would have been able to do this if he hadn’t of practiced for all the years since he first lost control. The magic sped out of him at the speed of light, and with a kind of wicked satisfaction, he could hear the screams of the enemies below. He looked down in time to see them all but disintegrate in front of him.
George let out a breath of relief, for a second there he had been afraid that there were too many. He smiled and started to head back toward Meeko, at least to let her know that the coast was clear, and to warn her that there was fire down the hallway.
Maybe he should have been paying better attention.
Maybe he should have just landed and walked to Meeko instead.
Maybe he could have checked to make sure he had actually gotten all the enemies.
There were a lot of maybes involved, but George didn’t have time to think about those as he tried to weave away from an errant spell that a lone survivor cast his way.
It wasn’t anything major, maybe a disarming spell, but as George wove around it, he realized with sickening horror that he had overcompensated.
That’s the thing about having one eye. Your depth perception sucks.
George struck an archway with a sickening crack, and his broom broke in half from under him. He tumbled off the broomstick, heading toward the ground at breakneck speed. He didn’t even have time to register what was happening before he hit the ground, landing on half of his broomstick and sending it straight through his chest.
A broom maker impaled by his own broomstick. Death was just full of irony wasn’t it?
