chapter four. the bolter

ALICIA FELT UTTERLY USELESS. It was an alien feeling, one she wasn’t accustomed to. Useless, incompetent, incapable — none of these were words she'd ever ascribed to herself. Yet, here she was, stumbling through a dark, suffocating forest, each step feeding the gnawing doubt in her mind.

The air was damp, the kind that clung to her skin and made her designer blouse feel like a shroud. She glanced at Arabella and Ruelle, who were locked in yet another argument. Their voices rose and fell in sharp, clipped tones, but Alicia barely heard them. Her thoughts were elsewhere.

She hated this place, hated the ominous weight of the trees and the unnatural quiet between the rustling leaves. Think of France, she told herself. Think of the Côte d'Azur, the boutiques, the cafés… anything but this forsaken wilderness. Hogwarts, with its draughty corridors and unpredictably shifting staircases, was paradise compared to this.

But no amount of daydreaming could change the reality she wasn’t prepared for this. What were they supposed to do? she thought, exasperated. Wander aimlessly until something — or someone — found them? Or wait like sitting ducks, hoping for a miraculous rescue? The very thought made her stomach churn. Alicia Crockford did not sit idle. She needed a plan, something, anything—

A scream.

Alicia froze mid-step, her breath caught in her throat. The scream sliced through the oppressive silence like a dagger, echoing in her ears. She spun on her heel, heart pounding, but the forest seemed to close in tighter. Arabella and Ruelle were gone.

Her mind reeled. How long had she been walking alone? How had she not noticed?

Fear gripped her, but Alicia forced herself to think. Breathe, she told herself, closing her eyes. In. Out. Slow and steady, just like her mother had shown her all those years ago before she’d boarded the Hogwarts Express for the first time. Back then, she’d been a nervous little girl. Now, she was—

A blast.

The ground beneath her trembled. The air exploded with sound, a deafening roar that sent shockwaves through the trees. Green light flashed, illuminating the forest in eerie brilliance.

Alicia’s eyes snapped open, her pulse spiking. She didn’t need to see who — or what — caused it. She didn’t need a second warning. Her instincts screamed at her to run.

She bolted, the heels of her expensive shoes digging into the dirt, every step a battle between speed and balance. The branches clawed at her arms, her hair whipped around her face, and her breaths came in short, panicked gasps. She didn’t care. She couldn’t stop.

Somewhere, through the chaos, she saw a glimmer of hope — a clearing up ahead. Her legs burned as she pushed herself harder. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, a drumbeat of desperation. And then, finally, she burst into the clearing.

She stumbled to a halt, her chest heaving, mascara streaking down her cheeks like rivers of black ink. For a moment, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. But no — she recognized them. Bushy brown hair. Fiery red hair. And piercing green eyes.

Hermione. Ron. Harry.

The trio turned sharply, their wands raised, bracing for an enemy. The moment they saw her, confusion replaced their wary expressions.

“Alicia?” Harry called, his voice tinged with disbelief. Her name rolled off his tongue like a hesitant question, and for reasons she couldn’t quite explain, the sound of it sent a small, irrational comfort coursing through her.

She blinked, momentarily stunned by the warmth in his voice, before remembering how she must look. “Oh, thank Merlin,” she gasped, a dramatic edge creeping into her voice as she stumbled toward them. “I thought I’d never see a friendly face again!”

Ron stared, wide-eyed. “Bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath. His gaze swept over her from head to toe, clearly astonished to see Alicia Crockford — who was usually polished to perfection — disheveled, with dirt-streaked clothes and a look of genuine panic.

Alicia, oblivious to Ron’s stunned expression, let out a loud, dramatic sigh of relief. She stumbled forward, her steps slow but determined. Without preamble, she enveloped each of them in a hug, as if they hadn’t just been in a forest filled with dark magic and danger.

Hermione stiffened in surprise, clearly unused to such overt displays of affection from Alicia, while Ron looked more confused than anything. Harry, though startled, returned the gesture awkwardly, patting her back as though unsure what else to do.

“Are you... okay?” Ron asked hesitantly once Alicia had finally released them, his tone laced with a mix of concern and disbelief. He glanced at the others, as though expecting someone else to address the obvious.

“Are you hurt?” Harry’s question followed immediately, his voice steadier, the concern in his eyes genuine.

Alicia, now standing a little straighter, waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Oh, no, no, I’m perfectly fine! Just a minor inconvenience,” she declared, though her appearance suggested otherwise. “I got lost in the wilderness, you see. Couldn’t find my way back to the tents, but it’s all sorted now that I’ve found you lot.” She exhaled dramatically, placing a hand over her chest as though the ordeal were some grand adventure. “Why do you ask?”

Ron didn’t bother answering. Instead, he pointed wordlessly at her face, knowing exactly how she’d react.

Alicia froze. Her eyes widened in horror as her hands shot up to her cheeks. “Is my makeup ruined?”

“Oh, no,” Alicia groaned, dragging her thumb under her eyes and inspecting the black smudges on her fingertips. She let out a strangled sound, somewhere between a whine and a gasp, before furiously rubbing at the mascara streaks. “This is the worst! And these were enchanted lashes, too!” she muttered under her breath, still trying to salvage her appearance.

“Alicia—” Hermione began, clearly trying to bring her back to the matter at hand.

But Alicia was already speaking again, waving them off as she worked on fixing herself. “Have you seen Arabella and Ruelle? We got separated somewhere in this dreadful forest. They just disappeared! One moment they were there, and the next—” She broke off abruptly, her words catching in her throat.

Her eyes darted behind her shoulder, and her entire posture changed. The color drained from her face, and even her breath seemed to hitch. “Did you hear that?”

“What?” Hermione whispered, her grip on her wand tightening.

“It sounded like…” Alicia trailed off, her voice uncharacteristically soft, as if speaking louder might summon whatever was out there. They all stood frozen, straining to hear. There it was again—a faint, uneven sound, like someone staggering through the undergrowth.

“Stay here,” Harry muttered, stepping forward cautiously.

Alicia grabbed his sleeve instinctively. “Are you mad? You don’t just walk toward creepy noises in the dark!”

Harry shot her a look, his green eyes calm but firm. “Stay. Here.”

Reluctantly, she let go, her hands clutching her scarf instead as though it might offer some comfort.

Harry moved closer to the trees, his wand steady in his hand. “Hello?” he called out, his voice steady but edged with caution.

The footsteps stopped.

A tense silence fell over the clearing, thick and suffocating. Alicia held her breath, gripping Hermione’s arm as though her life depended on it. Hermione didn’t protest, her own focus locked on the shadows ahead.

“Who’s there?” Harry demanded, stepping closer to the treeline.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their own breathing. And then, out of the stillness, came a voice.

It wasn’t panicked or pleading. It was cold and deliberate, slicing through the air like a blade.

“Morsmordre!”
A flash of blinding green light shattered the darkness. Alicia flinched as something vast, glittering, and emerald erupted into the sky, momentarily outshining the moon. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared up, transfixed.

It was a skull, grotesque and luminous, its hollow eyes glowing with an eerie brilliance. From its mouth slithered a serpent, coiling and twisting as though alive, etched in a haze of greenish smoke that writhed against the black backdrop of the sky. The Dark Mark.

“What the—?” Ron gasped, his voice trembling as he craned his neck to stare at the horrifying symbol.

The mark rose higher, blazing like a sinister constellation, its presence heavy and foreboding. It seemed to seep into the very air, tainting it with an unspoken dread. Alicia could feel it pressing down on her chest, squeezing her lungs, making it impossible to breathe.

For a moment, none of them moved, rooted to the spot in stunned silence. Then, Alicia’s instincts kicked in, and her eyes darted around the clearing, frantically searching for the person who had conjured it. Shadows danced wildly in the greenish glow, but there was no one—nothing but the still, suffocating trees.

“Who’s there?” Harry called out, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

Alicia could barely hear him over the pounding of her heart.

“Harry, come on, move!” Hermione’s voice was high-pitched with panic as she seized Harry’s jacket, yanking him back with more strength than Alicia thought possible.

“What’s the matter?” Harry turned to her, startled. His eyes flickered with confusion, but they softened at the sight of Hermione’s pale, terrified face.

“It’s the Dark Mark, Harry!” Hermione hissed, her voice urgent. “You-Know-Who’s sign!”

“Voldemort’s—?” Harry began, his voice low and disbelieving.

“Harry, come on!”

Alicia felt rooted to the ground, her limbs refusing to obey her mind’s desperate commands to move. Her stomach churned, and the air seemed heavier, laced with dread. She had read about the Dark Mark, heard whispers of its significance from her parents, but seeing it — feeling it — was something else entirely.

Her paralysis broke as Hermione tugged Harry again, and Alicia stumbled forward to follow. The four of them had just begun to move when the air around them erupted with sharp cracks, like a volley of gunfire.

Alicia whirled around, her heart leaping into her throat. Figures were materializing out of thin air, surrounding them in a tight circle. Wizards.

In the greenish glow of the Dark Mark, Alicia saw their wands raised, each one pointed directly at her, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Their expressions were hard and suspicious, their postures ready for combat. The clearing was alive with magic, the tension electric.

“Get down!” Harry yelled, his voice cutting through the chaos.

Before Alicia could process what was happening, Harry’s hand was on her arm, yanking her down toward the ground. She let out a surprised gasp as she hit the dirt, her expensive robes catching on the twigs and leaves.