The cold night air scorched the girl's throat as she tore across the castle grounds, gasping for breath. There was something odd about the way she moved, as though she wasn't quite used to her own body. More striking at first glance were her robes; they were a little too long. The sleeves flapped wildly as she ran, and the hems of her trousers brushed against the wet blades of grass, soaking up moisture with every stride.
A deathly chill suddenly fell over the grounds, and the girl's breath started condensing into white vapour in front of her. She fearfully glanced over her shoulder, her short, platinum blonde hair reflecting the residual glow of the golden Fairy lights over the Grand Staircase Tower, still glittering prettily in the dark as they gradually faded.
The girl's breath caught in her throat as she caught sight of them.
Several Dementors were converging on her position, their tattered black robes flapping silently as they flew towards her, sensing her fear. The chaos in the Grand Staircase had allowed her to make her getaway unnoticed from the teachers, but the Dementors were not so easily fooled.
The iron gates bordering the castle grounds loomed ahead.
If she could reach them and get through in time, she'd be beyond the range of Hogwarts's Anti-Disapparition Jinx — and though her thoughts were scattered, risking Splinching was still better than receiving the Kiss.
Within seconds, the girl crashed into the metal gates, but instead of magically swinging open, they remained obstinately closed. She rattled the bars in a panic, only to be met with the sharp jingle of chains; the gates were padlocked shut.
"Alohomora!" she cried, pulling out her wand and pointing it at the lock.
Nothing happened, obviously.
The girl's breath turned to frost against the cold iron bars as she desperately repeated the incantation, but to no avail. The lock had been enchanted with a Colloportus far more powerful than any simple Unlocking Charm she could produce.
"S-s-so… c-c-cold…"
The girl placed her hand on the padlock. She had an idea.
"Laukaz…"
Water infiltrated the lock's mechanisms.
"Isaz…"
Frost grew across the padlock's surface as it warped, the water inside freezing and expanding.
"THURSAZ!"
The padlock shattered, and the girl forced the gates open with the last wisps of magic of the Giant's Strength rune she had invoked, just as the Dementors swooped down, sucking away at what few happy memories she had left. Her eyes glazed over, and she dropped to her knees, plunged once more into the waking nightmare she had only just escaped…
"Let me out, let me out…"
Mannaz— the Cosmic Egg, the rune of humankind— came to her unbidden, wrapping her in an eggshell of milky-white light. The Dementors faltered, drifting in confusion at the loss of their tasty prey. For a time they lingered, circling aimlessly in the cold air, then turned back towards the castle they were meant to guard, while their leader glided away to report a student's escape to its handler.
"Runic magic…" the girl said bitterly. "If I had a choice, I'd never use it again in my life..."
Taking a deep breath to steady her mind, the girl pictured Hogsmeade— the nearest point of civilisation her magic could reach— and stepped through the gate. A heartbeat later, she turned on the spot and vanished with a loud pop, the air rushing back to fill the space she had only just occupied…
…and she reappeared in front of the Three Broomsticks Inn.
"Welcome!" Madam Rosmerta called as the blonde girl pushed open the inn door and stepped in from the cold. Her smile faded when she noticed the school robes, trimmed in Slytherin green and silver. "I don't serve students outside Hogsmeade weekends," she said coolly. "And I've no wish for any more trouble from Death Eaters."
Her stern expression softened a little at the sight of the girl's chattering teeth and haunted eyes.
"Oh, very well," sighed Madam Rosmerta, folding her arms across her generous bosom. "I suppose one hot drink wouldn't hurt, but you can't stay here. Understand?"
The girl trudged to the counter and sat down, glancing over her shoulder as Madam Rosmerta filled a tankard with golden-brown Butterbeer. The bar was empty, save for a lone, hooded figure seated at the back by the windows.
"There was this pretty barmaid who used to serve the drinks," said the girl, warming her fingers on the hot tankard Madam Rosmerta had just placed in front of her. "Stacey, I think her name was…"
The girl had never seen the barmaid at school, and so had always assumed she was homeschooled and worked part-time at the Three Broomsticks. She'd harboured a bit of a crush on her, though she'd never acted upon her feelings, seeing as she'd had a girlfriend at the time…
"She was taken by the Death Eaters," said Madam Rosmerta coolly, her gaze flicking to the girl's emerald-and-silver tie. "Say, I've a rather good memory for faces, but I'm fairly sure I've never seen yours before…"
Madam Rosmerta was beginning to get suspicious. Was this some kind of trap?
"But I've been here plenty of times," said the girl, puzzled. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. Does the Express still leave on the first of every month?"
With a warm drink in her belly, her spirits began to lift, and she felt her old self stirring again. She coughed into her hand, frowning. Her voice sounded strangely unfamiliar, and her hands… didn't look quite right.
"Finish your drink quickly," said Madam Rosmerta coldly. "No need to pay, you were never here," she added, as the girl reached for her pocket. "Keep your money."
"What kind of service is this?" retorted the girl, invigorated by the piping hot Butterbeer filling her belly. "It's a wonder you still have customers if you treat them all—"
The inn's front door burst open with a bang, and two tall Wizards swaggered inside.
"She was just leaving!" Madam Rosmerta said hurriedly. "I don't want any trouble!"
"Well, well," said the first, leering at the girl. "What have we here?"
"We've just had an alert from Hogwarts— a runaway," said the second, his thick Somerset accent colouring each word. "Looks like we've found 'em…"
The girl sneered.
"Snatchers, is it? Shouldn't you be off catching Mudbloods or something of the sort?" she said coolly. "Lay a finger on me, and my father will make you regret it…"
"Oh yeah?" said the first derisively. "And who might that be?"
"Lucius…" the girl began… and then she remembered that, for some reason, the Dark Lady wanted her dead. "…Malfoy," she finished lamely. "Merlin's beard, why did I say that out loud…"
Years of practice at calling Daddy for help, perhaps?