*

Sing a song of sixpence
A pocket full of rye
Four-and-twenty blackbirds baked in a pie
When the pie is opened
The birds begin to sing

A scream echoes amongst the trees to the left of them. It sounds too much like a bird, and Padma loses her rhythm, trips, stumbles, scrapes her hands on the forest floor. Parvati sobs quietly and tugs her back up, dragging her deeper into the trees. For a moment, Padma can feel the racing of Parvati's heart through their joined palms, and her mouth dries, pulse thrumming. Padma shakes the fear off, her eyes going blank as she searches for the words; they slip absently through chapped lips, escaping in little puffs of frosted breath:

What did I dream?
I do not know;
The fragments fly like chaff.
Yet strange my mind
Was tickled so,
I cannot help but laugh.

Parvati once asked her how she could always be so calm, no matter what the situation, and yet rolled her eyes when Padma declared Poetry to be her calm, returning to the Teen Witch magazines that lay over her bed like a second coverlet.

Poetry: rhyme, rhythm, words, step by faltering step, breath by stuttering breath; it had served her well when she crept out of her common room and discovered Professor Flitwick with a bullet hole in the center of his forehead (the first time she had ever seen a dead body-the first time she'd ever seen the results of a Muggle weapon)-it had prevented her scream when she saw the Muggles surrounding Hogwarts with their lights and their masks (reminding her all too much of the Death Eaters coming to steal them all away-but then, a bullet took care of Lord Voldemort, too.)

They are being herded like sheep, and it amuses Padma that the safest place in Hogwarts is the one place they've always been forbidden to go.

Baa, baa, black sheep,
Have you any wool?
Yes, sir, yes, sir,
Three bags full

They break through the cover of trees and find themselves facing Hogwarts still-they have been running for hours, they have been running in circles, and they are no safer now then they were at the beginning. There is a Muggle official carrying a bullhorn, and in a loud, staticky voice he proclaims, "All wizards and witches who come to us will retain their freedom-we are not barbaric, nor inconsiderate of your needs."

Padma wants to believe them but all she can see are Professor Flitwick's staring eyes (that dear man wouldn't have hurt a single fly) and even as she's backing away, she discovers that others are stepping forward-there's Millicent Bulstrode, Hannah Abbot, Cho Chang, faces pinched and white in the glaring overhead lights. And Parvati... Parvati is letting go of her hand.

Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
With silver bells and cockleshells,
And pretty maids all in a row.

But no no no the words are sticking together in her head, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, and she grabs onto Parvati, dragging her back in the cover of the trees. "Parvie, Parvie, no. We can't!"

Parvati shakes off Padma's hand, turning wide, frightened eyes to her twin. "But you heard them, Padma! If we go to them, it'll be all right!"

"But you've seen what they've done! How can you trust them! They're Muggles!" Padma can't believe she's saying the word 'Muggle' as she would say the word 'cockroach' and it shames her that fear has brought her down this far.

The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

She can't remember the next line, and all of the panic she's been fighting since the siege of Hogwarts began comes crashing into her, stealing the breath from hyperventilating lungs, and she pulls Parvati down, hiding her face in her twin's dark hair. "This is the way the world ends."

"Padma, stop it! You're scaring me! Come on! It'll be okay! Trust me." Parvati hugs Padma tightly, and tilts her chin up, looking intently into her eyes. "Freedom with them is better than living on the run, isn't it?" She pulls on Padma's hand and stands up, breaking the cover of the trees.

This is the way the world ends.

Padma watches Parvati with tired, haunted eyes as she joins the lines of the students who have appeared to answer the summons of the Muggles, the bright, blinding white lights bleaching her of color, harsh and stark on the students' frightened faces. There are more now, from every House of Hogwarts, and Padma wants to scream out for the professors (they are supposed to protect us where are they why aren't they here) and finds the strength to fight fading out of her tired body, along with the whispers of forgotten lines and stilted rhythms.

This is the way the world ends.

She takes one step forward, and then another, her shoulders slumping under the weight of being alone, of cold hope, and she finds herself wondering if giving herself in to their version of freedom would be that bad; wonders if their version of freedom is the same as her version of their freedom, and takes another step forward. She is just about to break cover when a hand jerks her back into shadowed trees, and she finds her back up against rough bark. "Don't. Oh, Padma, please, please don't." It's Hermione Granger, her voice thick with tears, and Padma can count the number of times they've spoken together on one hand, and yet she is here, her bushy brown hair attempting to tease a sneeze out of Padma as they sink down to the ground, huddled together. Padma shuts her eyes tightly and they hide for what seem like hours, until the Muggles and their lights have gone away for a moment, and all Padma can hear is the echoes of Hermione's fear in her ears.

Not with a bang, but a whimper.

*