CHAPTER ONE:

There were seven of us, huddled in the Hogs Head pub. The owner, Abbie– well, her name wasn't actually Abbie, it was Aberdine, but she'd gruffly told us to never call her that– was scowling as she wiped an empty cup with a rag that was just making it dirtier in my opinion.

I could sympathize with her wanting to be called Abbie– I hated my name too. For some reason my parents had decided to call me Beaufort, which I don't think was fashionable even when it was common. Anyone who didn't call me Beau or Swan got hexed with bat bogeys.

Not that I thought I'd be able to magic up a decent bogey right now, even if I tried– I was exhausted, thanks to both extreme stress and the fact I'd been up for nearly twenty four hours straight, and I really just wanted to go to sleep, but we weren't free yet. We wouldn't be until the sun started to rise and the curfew charm lifted so Abbie could apparate us away.

I was the oldest there. All the other Muggleborns my age and older had had the sense not to return to Hogwarts and had already gone on the run with their families. I'd gone back to Hogwarts, though, because that's where my family were, and I desperately hadn't wanted to be separated from them.

Not my blood family– no, it was the fact that I didn't have a drop magical blood in me except for my own that was the whole reason I was in this... situation.

Yesterday morning I'd received a summons at breakfast– as had the six other muggleborns at Hogwarts.

It wasn't a very long summons, just a few sentences as well as a date and time. I'd only really paid attention to one part:

Beaufort Swan, you are being summoned to appear before the Muggle-Born Registration Commission.

That's when I'd known, my heart sinking somewhere long past my stomach, that I'd have to run.

Of course that was easier said then done when the Headmistress of the school was a Death Eater, as were two of the professors. The castle that had always been my home, my sanctuary, had turned into a prison from which I couldn't escape.

I'd gone through the day in a daze until my grim-faced Head of Year, Felicia Flitwick, had pulled me to the side after class, supposedly to tell me off for accidentally turning my partner purple instead of the frog on my desk (not that Lyric had minded) because I'd been so distracted while we were practicing our colour-changing charms. Instead of lecturing me, though, she'd slipped me a piece of parchment.

Pack your trunk. House elves will move it to my quarters. Meet me there at 11.45pm.

I don't think I can accurately describe the sheer scope of the relief I felt reading those words– or the dread when my best friend, Lyric Lovegood, said he wouldn't come with me. I'd begged him, pleaded with him– I'd even cried, but he hadn't budged, too afraid that they'd hurt his mother if he disappeared with me. And I could understand that– Xena was practically my mother too, but I'd still had to try.

Lyric would be safe, though, I tried to reassure myself. He was a Pureblood– and so was my other best friend, Gordy Weasley. They would be safe. I was the one in danger–  I was the Muggleborn.

Abbie slammed the cup down on the counter of the bar with enough force that all of us jumped. "Two minutes." She said, looking across at us with her piercing blue eyes. Her long white hair was pulled out of her face, into a loose braid, and her expression was grim. "Who's first?"

I stayed silent, knowing I'd be last to go. I didn't mind though– not when I was sitting among terrified looking eleven, twelve and thirteen year olds. I was only a few months off seventeen.

Only one of them was a fellow Ravenclaw– I recognized her as a second year. She'd started crying at the table yesterday when she received her summons. Quietly, of course– drawing attention to yourself was not something you wanted when you were in the same room as just one of the Carrows, let alone both. Within days they'd earned themselves a reputation for discipline.

The other professors were doing their best to protect the students, though– like helping us escape. It had been a combined effort, requiring the efforts of three of the four Heads of Houses to get all of us safely out of Hogwarts before the Ministry could come for us.

I'd gone to Professor Flitwick's office at 11.45pm, like she'd directed, where she'd shrunk my trunk and the trunk of the second year Ravenclaw Muggleborn who had already been waiting in her office when I'd arrived. She'd then hurried us down to the statue hiding the secret passageway that led out to Honeydukes.

The Head of Gryffindor, Montgomery McGonagall, and Head of Hufflepuff, Priam Sprout, were also waiting there, with the five other Muggleborns. Flitwick and McGonagall together took down the enchantments blocking the secret passageway and the seven of us ran like the hounds of hell were nipping on our heels– which they may as well have been.

Sally Honeyduke was waiting at the otherside, and she'd applied a disillusionment charm to all of us before leading us from her store to the Hogs Head, where we'd all been waiting since, under Abbie's watchful eye, for the curfew charm to be lifted so that we could be apparated away.

When Abbie vanished with the youngest Muggleborn, a little Hufflepuff first year, I felt the tension rocket up inside me. I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough I could taste blood in my mouth, and the tension I felt only continued to rise when Abbie appeared back to take the next student, and then the next. I was a mess of nerves by the time her thin, wiry hand grabbed my shoulder, her long nails digging in hard enough to make me wince slightly. "Where to?" she asked briskly.

"Nearest airport." I said, and she snorted.

"Furthest one away it is." She said.

"Wouldn't they look there first, though?" I protested. She laughed, and I could still hear the rough sound of it as she twisted on the spot, apparating us away from Hogsmeade, away from Hogwarts.

I didn't recognize the big airport in the distance and looked up at her unhappily. She rolled her eyes at me. "Calm down, boy, you're not important enough for them to think things through that well." She said. "Death Eaters are mostly idiots. The Carrows certainly are– they'll check the closest airports first. Get on a plane, go back to America, and don't forget that even when you're overseas, the Trace will still pick up on any magic you use." I shuddered at her warning.

"I thought international apparation was impossible," I said, not bothering to ask how she knew I'd be going to America– my accent was a giveaway. Abbie laughed again.

"You're a thinker." She looked approving. "Good. That'll keep you alive longer. Just because you can't apparate directly from Britain to America, kid, doesn't mean a powerful enough witch or wizard couldn't make a number of smaller apparations that will get them there. It'll take longer, and it'll take more energy, but it's still possible. Listen kid," she looked seriously at me, and even as worried and afraid as I was, I still couldn't help but notice that her piercing blue eyes looked oddly familiar. "If you, for whatever reason, activate the Trace, you'll have five minutes, six at the most, to get as far away from wherever the hell you are as possible. Understand?"

"Yeah," I nodded, swallowing, "and thank you. Really." Abbie snorted.

"Don't thank me yet, kid. You're still not out of Britain."

"I was being optimistic– you should try it some time." I said before I could stop myself. Abbie didn't seem offended though, just shook her head.

"Kids." She muttered, but there was a hint of fondness in her eyes as she reached over and ruffled my hair. "Don't die."

"I'll do my best. Can't make any promises though." I said, and yes, that was definitely fondness. "Please don't get in trouble for helping us." I said, because I didn't even want to think about what might happen to her if the Death Eaters found out she helped us get away.

"I'll do my best. Can't make any promises though." Abbie grinned, and it was my turn to roll my eyes. All too soon her face turned serious again. "Good luck, kid." She said, quietly, and I swallowed past my suddenly blocked up throat and nodded at her.

And then she was gone, disappearing with a quiet pop.

I exhaled shakily, and looked around. I was in what I was fairly certain was the long-term car park area of the airport– I was still too far away from the actual main building to know which airport I was at, so I started the long trek to the building in the distance.

The sound of the planes taking off was painfully loud, but it helped to drown out my thoughts. Focusing on a specific goal helped too, and I was relieved that I'd had the foresight to put my passport, as well as my wallet, in my pocket instead of my trunk, which was now the size of a marble and would be staying that size for the next seventy-two hours.

Entering the airport, as I disappeared into the crowd of muggles I immediately felt a huge weight lift from my shoulders. In my jeans, runners and ordinary knitted jumper, I was very forgettable; just one more face in a sea of faces.

I actually felt like I might just survive this after all.

-

I ran into my first obstacle when I learned that buying an international plane ticket as a minor was actually not possible.

At this point, having had to find the right floor, gate, counter, etc., I was so exhausted that when some official or other said they'd need to get into contact with a parent or guardian, I gave them my mother's number and pretty much sat there in a haze as I tried not to fall asleep while upright.

It took hours for everything to be sorted out, various relevant authorities both in Britain, wherever this was, as well in America all trying to coordinate. I didn't even have a good explanation as to how I'd found myself stranded in a different country when records showed I'd never left America in the first place, but I mumbled something about my best friend and boats and they seemed to have better things to do then keep asking for explanations.

By the time everything was coordinated with the relevant American authorities, I'd been awake for nearly thirty-two hours. At least they had me on a plane that was leaving in under and hour and as I had no visible luggage with me other then my passport, wallet and wand (which I only just got through security, as apparently it could be considered a weapon. I'd pointed out that I could use a pen to poke someone's eye out just as easily as with my 'stick' and that it was very important to me, and they'd finally reluctantly let it on) I was able to board the plane quickly, and as soon as I'd buckled myself in to my seat I basically passed out. 

Not even the sound or sensation of the plane taking off dragged me from my much-needed sleep and the next time I opened my eyes it was because the woman sitting next to me was poking me with her sharp elbow. I would have been much more upset about being dragged from Morpheus's sweet grasp if it weren't for the fact that the reason she was waking me up was because the plane had landed, and I was left quietly stunned that everything had actually worked out- I'd escaped Britain alive, right under the Carrows' noses.

I was officially in America.