The Daughter of the Order

This idea came to me randomly. Doesn't make much sense, but I thought I'd write it. Then I thought I'd post it. So here.

It was the 26th of July, and every day the first of September was drawing closer.

Amy sat sullenly on the front step of her semi-detached house on Magnolia Crescent, tapping her mother’s wand against her leg. Several small yellow sparks shot from the tip. If any of the Muggles in the area saw… her mother would have been furious at the risk her daughter was running of exposure.

If she had still been there.

The front door opened behind her, but Amy didn’t turn her head; she knew who was stood there. Sure enough, it was her father.

“Come inside Amy, sulking in the open won’t make me change my mind.”

Amy didn’t reply, but her fist clenched around her mother’s wand. Willow wood and unicorn hair, seven inches… Amy thought as she tried to refrain from yelling at her father.


His voice had taken on a stern tone - he knew she hated her full name.

“…what are you doing with Emmeline’s wand?”

“She told me if anything happened I was to have it,” Amy answered, trying to keep the croak out of her voice. “With Ollivander gone, I wouldn’t have been able to buy a wand before I went to Hogwarts, would I?”

“Amy - “

Now the voice was wary, pleading for her not to argue.

“She wanted me to go.”

“That was a year ago! She wasn’t to know that Dumbledore would be killed, if she was here she would agree it was much too dangerous - as a member of the Order of the Phoenix, she would know that it was only a matter of time before You-Know-Who took over the school!”

“As a member of the Order of the Phoenix, she died,” Amy said coldly. “She would want me to learn how to fight against him.”

“I can teach you,” her father said agitatedly.

“Yes, since you’re not off risking your life for the Order like she was,” Amy said softly. She heard her father’s shocked gasp; it had been a low blow.

“Amy, I am a Squib. The only use I am to the Order is to keep an eye on Harry Potter, like Arabella Figg. That’s why we moved here from London -”

Although only eleven years of age, Amy was very sharp. “I was under the impression that we left London because that was where Mother was murdered.”

Jake Vance sat down next to his daughter, rubbing at his tired eyes in exasperation and exhaustion.

“Amy, please…come inside. The boy is being moved today and there are no doubt Death Eaters on patrol in this area. If they see you…”

She tucked her long black hair behind her ear with the wand and made no move to get up. Jake got to his feet and went into the house, leaving Amy to stare into the darkening sky. If her father was right, somewhere up there were the people responsible for her mother’s death…

In the distance, a small shower of purple and green sparks exploded. Fireworks… but Amy wasn’t fooled. She leapt to her feet and whipped the wand out, leaping over the low wall surrounding the front garden .

Suddenly a dark slim shape hurtled through the dark sky and hit the ground in the centre of the street, smashing on impact. Amy hurried over and examined the wreckage of the broomstick - she saw the golden writing and picked up the pieces of the Firebolt in awe. She had never been allowed a broom…

“Reparo,” she muttered, and though she had never cast the spell before the broom instantly reassembled itself, whole in her hand. With a glance at her front door, still open and spilling light into the street, she mounted and kicked off from the ground.

As she soared towards the bursts of coloured light, screams and voices carried on the air and she saw dark shapes hurtling in every direction.

Her wand arm outstretched, Amy stared around, trying to determine which of the figures were Death Eaters so she could exact her revenge. The shapes were indiscernible - she followed the roaring sound of an immense engine instead, dodging jets of light aiming for the giant motorbike that had now come into view.

A wall had appeared out of thin air, and one of the four hooded figures that had drawn level with Amy hit it and dropped. A second figure slowed and dived for the unconscious Death Eater, but suddenly anger pulsed through Amy.

She aimed the wand at the conscious Death Eater who was trying to save his friend and screamed, “Relashio!”

He let go of his friend’s arm as though burned and shot a curse at Amy before zooming into the darkness after the motorbike. She dodged the green jet and dived after the falling Death Eater, but above a roaring tongue of blue fire swept the sky - Amy dived out of the way but the Death Eater could not avoid the spreading flame and his body was incinerated.

Cursing, Amy shot after the others and the motorbike .

A large black shape plummeted metres from Amy and she was blasted sideways on her broom as it exploded into a fireball. Dazed and with scorched clothes, Amy hung numbly to the broom as she hovered , trying to recover and see where they had all gone.

Further on in the night sky, red jets of light seared through the blackness like lasers. Amy had barely righted herself on the broom before another stream of the white-hot fire shot in her direction; she ascended rapidly to avoid being burned like the Death Eater and found herself face to face with something from her worst nightmares.

Hovering like smoke, black robes billowing, red eyes glowing like rubies in the white of the face with slits for nostrils. The vertical pupils stared in hatred but the lipless mouth curved into a mirthless smile as the wand was raised.

“Avada Kedavra!”

She had tried to dodge but the spell hit the broom and shattered it; now she was flying without the Firebolt, or was it falling?

Cold dark air rushed past her, whipping her hair and clothes, and with a sickening terror and grief she realised that she had lost her mother’s wand. The last thing she saw before she closed her eyes tightly was the Dark Lord swooping after her like a bird of prey, robes streaming behind him.

The last thing she heard was his cold, high laughter.

Jake Vance had heard the commotion in the air; worried about his daughter he ran out of the door and found the spot where she had been sitting vacated. She was nowhere in sight. He scanned the dark skies, full of streaks of green and red, with a helpless horror rising inside him. She couldn’t be up there…

And then something fell. He ran out to the huddled mass, as broken as the broomstick had been, and let out a howl of rage, disbelief and horror as he recognised the body of his daughter. The roaring in his ears blocked out the cold laughter; he didn’t realise the presence of the Dark Lord was anything other than Death until he turned and saw him.

“Lord Voldemort has mercy,” he said in a hissing whisper, pointing the wand at the defenceless man in front of him. “I must rejoin the chase, but you must join your family…”

And a muttered curse, a jet of green light later, it was over.

The End

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