Layla Wright had no inkling that magic existed, the name Voldemort went right over her head and she had no clue what a muggle was. So how is it that she got stuck right smack in the middle of a wizarding war? When Draco Malfoy walked into the antique shop that she happened to work in, she had no clue that it would be destroyed by Death Eaters. And she definitely never thought that she and this stranger would have to go on the run.

Now, hiding from Death Eaters, she learns that this mysterious Voldemort won the Battle of Hogwarts, the infamous Harry Potter is dead, and the wizarding world, along with the muggle world, has no hope. At least, that's what they were led to believe...

Completely out of her element, with just a long barrel pistol as protection, Layla is thrown into a world she never knew existed in the midst of a takeover. She is persuaded to not only protect the wizarding world, but her own as the two collide.

Alternate Universe FF (FF Royale competition)


15. teacher

"Are you sure you want to? I'm sure everyone would understand if you'd rather just skip your turn--"

"No, I'm fine. I want to take my shift," I said, interrupting Harry while we stood at the entrance of the tent. I didn't want anyone to view me as helpless--even if that was exactly how I was feeling. "And tell the twins they can use my bed. I'll sleep on one of the cots."

I walked outside and took my place next to the tent underneath a small tree. A heavy sigh escaped my lips as my head leaned on the bark behind me, my eyes sliding shut. Behind my lids, a scene replayed. That scene. Only this time, bright red blood coated my quivering hands and the Death Eater's lifeless body mouthed, 'Your fault.'

I opened my eyes abruptly, realizing that I wouldn't be able to relax. I didn't even know if I would be able to sleep later. With another substantial sigh, I dove my hand inside my bag. Immediately, I was reminded of Draco's papers.

I pulled them out and laid them on the grassy ground. The wrinkles in the parchment, barely illuminated by the soft glow flowing from the tent, hinted frustration. I could tell he had contemplated throwing these pieces of himself away multiple times. But just as well, there was evidence of him straightening them back out over a hard surface again and again in the curved edges. With an overwhelming feeling of curiosity, I began to read:

My parents are dead. I watched them burn. I just stood there and watched my home burn down with them in it and I couldn't do anything. The worst part was hardly the smell of burning flesh--it was the fact that I couldn't feel anything. I was and am completely numb.

I guess I'm writing this in some attempt to feel. To dredge up an emotion that must be buried somewhere inside of me. But I'm at a point where I'm merely an Inferi, going through the motions as if someone is controlling my every move. I don't even remember who I used to be. All sense of self is lost.

My days consist of walking from one place to another, thinking of nothing. I sleep under trees and in the rain, abandoned houses if I'm lucky. But if this is life now then what's the point? Maybe I should have burned in that house too...

"What're you reading?" At that moment my reflexes kicked in and I stuffed all the papers into my bag with force. I heard a chuckle as I turned around. I could feel the blush creeping onto my cheeks.

"You scared me," I said, resting my hand over my chest as George made his way to the tree. He had his hands behind his back and a smirk molded on his face.

"Well, obviously it was something cheeky judging by the way you reacted."

"Obviously," I said, closing the flap on my bag and hoping he would leave it at that. 

I looked down at the ground, grabbing the tendrils of grass to occupy myself while George took a seat next to me. "Layla?"

"Yes?" I asked, still determined not to look at him.

"Don't you feel like you're missing something? Something important?" he asked. I looked up at him, curiosity firmly staking it's claim, wondering whether he was talking to himself or to me.

Realizing he was indeed talking to me, I replied, "No... I don't think so. Why?"

With a smile, he took his right hand out from behind his back and held within was my gun. "You dropped it."

Suddenly I remembered the blood and the sinking feeling in my chest as the gun fell from my hand. "Thanks," I said, grateful to have my protection back but still feeling uneasy. I placed it in my bag immediately, not keen on holding it any longer.

I could feel George's eyes on me, even as I was closing my bag to secure the firearm within. He was smiling as I turned to face him and I knew there was something else he wanted to tell me. "Yes George?" I asked.

Without saying anything, he slowly removed his left hand from behind his back. "Well, I may have taken something else from the shop." Settled on his palm was another gun, nearly the same as mine. "I want you to teach me."

My eyes grew wide as I realized what he was asking. "George, why would you want a gun when you have a wand? You have magic. I don't understa--"

"Layla, you don't realize what kind of power you have. I was there when you killed that Death Eater. He was frozen. He had no clue what was happening and that gave you more than enough time to act." His eyes turned desperate. "I need you to teach me. Please."

I didn't know if I should teach him. I didn't even know if he was emotionally stable enough to handle a gun, especially after that incident with the boxes. But he looked so hopeful--as if he could finally have a leg up in this fight. I understood completely how it felt to be helpless... "Fine--"

"Hey, Layla?" Both George and I turned our heads to the source of the voice which was coming from the tent. It was Harry. I rolled my eyes, waiting for him to tell me how I wasn't capable of guarding the tent.

"Yes Harry?" I asked, making sure to put a twinge of annoyance in my voice.

He scratched his head uncomfortably and came a little closer, not looking at me once. "First of all, I wanted to apologize for underestimating you. You have to know that I grew up with muggles who weren't strong and couldn't defend themselves if their life depended on it."

My heart softened a little. "Thanks, Harry."

He finally looked at me, still slightly uncomfortable. "We were all talking in the tent about how we could be better this time when we finally get to You-Know-Who...and we came to the conclusion that we need the element of surprise if we're going to have a fighting chance. So we all decided that--"

"Let me guess, you all want me to teach you how to shoot a gun too?"

"Exactly. Is there any way you could get us all one? Do we have to raid every antique shop in England?"

I laughed. "No, there is no way we'll be able to find enough guns like that. Very few antique shops even carry them at all, not to mention the fact that some of the towns still have people inhabiting them. We'd need a license and everything."

He kicked a rock that was on the ground. "Well, do you have any other ideas?"

I thought for a moment. Where would we get an insane amount of guns and ammunition while still going undetected? "We'll have to go to London. I might know someone."

"Who?" George said, piping up.

"My ex."

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