The dark, deep howls of the wind were the only source of sound. The only movement was the slight rustling of the grass. Everything else was quiet and still.
A figure could be made out in the dark, a slight figure. And if you walked closer, you would be able to make out a small and skinny feminine shape in the figure itself.
Dark hair hung loosely into deep set dark eyes that shown with every ounce of coldness that it was hard to believe the image had come from a human, a girl no doubt. Her eyes were staring intently ahead, not blinking once or moving. Just staring, seemingly unfocused to a certain spot.
And if you turned to look where her eyes currently stared, you would find yourself looking at most likely the worst site you would ever see in your life.
You would find yourself looking at a dark alleyway, a dead end. And on the ground, you would see blood. The grounds covered with the dark red substance. And lying on the ground, you would see around twenty full grown people, dead. Their faces pale with a tinted blue to their skin, some of their eyes open with shock while others were half closed, half open and blood shot.
The feminine figure seemed to hold her head in slight triumph, and yet, she seemed to have her head lowered in mock shame and concern. Her face held a blank look; her mouth neither frowned, nor smirked, nor smiled. Her hands loosely held onto a wand, hanging by her side. Her other hand was fingering a silver dagger in her belt, as if waiting for the slightest movement of someone where she could have the enjoyment of murder once more at the tips of her fingertips.
After about only five minutes of just standing and staring, she turned her back on it all. The wind blew her hair out of her face, so that a sharp scar was visible going across her left cheek. You could easily tell it was an old scar, as if the cut had already healed but the scar would remain forever.
Her face was dark, dark with soot and dirt, blood drops and mud. As if she hadn’t bathed in over a month. Her clothes were no longer covered by the shadow of that dark alleyway. A tight black shirt, stopping a few inches under her chest with spaghetti straps covered her upper region while an oversized black belt with a dagger hanging from it hung over ripped jeans that seemed two sizes too big covered her lower.
She moved a foot that was covered by a rather large black boot, a crunching noise from the grass echoed in the night air. Her ears seemed to perk up, her eyes set full ahead though it seemed once more as if her eyes didn’t focus on a certain part. Infact, it seemed she was looking out of the corner of her eyes if you got close enough.
If you looked down around her right side you could see her hand. Which was covered by some kind of glove, though her fingers stuck out through the ends, it stopping at her mid forearm. And if you looked close enough at what her hand was doing, you could see that she was fingering the dagger in her belt, slowly pulling it out so that it was hard enough to tell movement from three yards away.
After that everything happened so fast. There was a quick flash and sharp cut through the air and then a thump on the ground.
Turning around quickly the girl walked quickly towards another lump on the ground, far away from the alleyway, crouching down and observing the scene before her.
A rather fat man was lying on the ground in a small heap, a camera hanging around his neck, his face showing shock and fear. Though his chest was what the girl was looking at for the moment. In his chest you could see, a trickle of blood running from a large but clean cut. And in the center of the cut, was the dagger, dark blood still dripping onto the man’s shirt.
She however moved her eyes towards the camera which she ripped the strap easily off of the man’s neck. She turned it around, her dirty hands opening the film compartment and taking a quick look at the film strip before dropping it on the ground and standing up.
Her eyes scanned all around her. Very quickly, as if she did this all of the time she brought her foot up, kicking the handle of the dagger, causing it to practically jump out of the man’s chest. Catching it easily with her hands she stuffed it back in her belt, turning around and walked away—her figure fading into the darkness.
Harry could feel his breath get caught in his throat. His eyes strayed down to the dagger that was now particularly touching his neck. He had felt all of his Gryffindor bravely slip through him. Like he had suddenly become silent and powerless as soon as this cold hand had touched him.
He felt fingers tighten around his shoulder, sending shivers down his spine. The knife moved closer to his neck, if that was even possible without cutting it..
But it was what happened next that made his pale, his whole body tense up. A voice so cold, so harsh that it was worse than Voldemort himself. Filled with such hate and loathing that he felt his whole body go numb at the sound of it.
“Say good-bye, Potter”
Harry lurched forward, his breath caught in his tightened throat. That was far too real for comfort...
He went to swing his legs over the edge of his bed, but his legs were tangled in his sheets. It now dawned on him that he was covered in a sheen of sweat, and his heart was thudding painfully against his ribcage, as if trying to escape.
He let out a shaky breath while his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the night.
His hand immediately shot to his forehead, where a lightening bolt scar seared with an undeniable pain.
Why had it suddenly started hurting? It had been a long time since he had felt that same burning feeling atop his forehead, why was it suddenly choosing now to come back? Did it mean something?
At the moment he didn’t feel fit to answer any of these questions; his head was already swarming with different thoughts and emotions. So, pushing these current thoughts aside, he laid back down in his bed. Slowly, his eyes becoming heavier by the minute until he was once more, asleep.
Somewhere, two hundred miles from where Harry Potter slept in the Gryffindor boy’s dormitory, a lone figure stood tall.
A rather large knife held clasped in the person’s hand. Though holding it by the blade. Blood could already be seen sprouting from the sharp cut in the figure’s hand. A smile was plastered to his or her face as they let their hold of the knife go.
And as it slowly fell to the ground, the person used their clean hand to tuck a sheet of hair behind their ear. And slowly, the bloody one rose, coming in contact with the now known girl’s left cheek where a scar was deeply cut in a slightly squiggly line.
As she removed her hand, you could see blood dripping from her cheek, a smirk now on the girl’s face while she leaned down and picked up the knife. At the moment, it seemed, something had just happened. Something had taken place that night, if something, something big. Something large. Something that would defiantly change parts of the future.
There you do, Dancing_By_Magic ^^; and as well thanks for being such a loyal reviewer :D ~WS~