Chapter 1 : Tattered Victory
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“Victoire Weasley’s death was tragic,” The Pastor who was conducting the ceremony said, “but I have been assured that her death was instant and she that she felt no pain.” Around me, people sniffled and cried into their handkerchiefs and tissues. I was in too much shock to cry, after what I had seen and gone through; crying was the last thing I was thinking about.
Revenge was on the top of my agenda.
Victoire wasn’t supposed to die young; she still had things to discover like marriage, children and loosing her hair. “My heart goes out to the Weasley family who have just suffered a terrible loss, her death must have been so tragic.” The Pastor shot the Weasley family a sympathetic look before turning to me, “and Teddy. To loose your fiancé in this way only days before your wedding.” As everyone’s heads in the congregation turned towards me I felt a wave of guilt wash over me. No one here knew how Victoire really died, not even her parents; a backfiring spell they all said. But they were all wrong. Victoire wasn’t killed by a backfiring spell; she was too smart for that. No, Victoire Weasley was killed by a Hellhound.
I’m not crazy I saw it with my own eyes. There was a girl, a small girl standing over our bed in the middle of a rainy night. I woke up first, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I should have grabbed my wand, I should have killed that bitch when I had the chance, but instead I grabbed my pillow and went back to sleep assuming that it was a dream.
I awoke moments later to Victoire’s screaming. I flung my eyes open and saw blood. So much blood. I reached for my wand but found it missing.
“Looking for this?” The little girl asked, my wand in her hand. Victoire’s screams rang through my ears. Looking around I saw Victoire huddled in a ring of salt. Her hands were covering her face and blood was oozing from her leg and arms.
“What the hell?” I said. The little girl laughed. I lunged towards Victoire but was pulled back. Looking over my shoulder I saw a ginger haired girl with jet black eyes.
“Hello Sweetie,” she whispered seductively into my ear, “You’re not going anywhere,”
“TEDDY!” Victoire screamed behind her ring of salt, “Help me,” she sobbed.
“You had this coming Victoire. We were always coming for you,” the girl sneered, “Here they come,” she taunted as a piercing howl erupted through our house. I froze. Victoire let out a muffled scream.
“Hellhounds.” Victoire whispered. The little girl and the redhead laughed, confirming my fiancés fears.
“You know they say that a Hellhound is the most painful way to die,” the redhead said, taunting Victoire with her life.
“Leave her alone,” I snarled, fighting against her strong grip. The little girl walked over to the salt ring and kneeling down, she blew at the salt ring. The salt blew away, leaving a small gap. I watched as marks began to form all over Victoire and soon she was covered in her blood.
“Lilith stop.” Everyone in the room spun around and, standing at the foot of the bed was a man in a trench coat. He lifted his hand and, in a flash of light, the claw marks stopped appearing on Victoire – who had fallen to the ground. The girl, Lilith, and the redhead who was holding me then vanished as though they had never been there in the first place.
As soon as she vanished I jumped off the bed and ran to Victoire. Cradling her in my arms I willed her not to be dead. But no willing could undo what had been done. “Come back to me. Please, Vic, come back.” I prayed tears streaming down my face.
“I am sorry.” The man in the trench coat said, looking down at Victoire and me. Then, he vanished too.
“Teddy, the funeral’s over,” I was jolted out of my waking-nightmare by Victoire’s best friend, Amy, shaking my shoulder. Standing to my feet I pulled Amy into a hug. She was the first person to arrive at the house that night. “You were thinking about it again weren’t you?”
“It’s kind of hard to stop thinking about it,” I snapped. Amy glanced at me sympathetically, but thankfully she didn’t take offence.
“Teddy there is someone here who wants to talk to you,” Amy said nervously. I nodded as a response. Amy put her hand fleetingly on my shoulder before moving out of my way. Standing behind her was a man, a man in a trench coat. It was him.
“You bastard.” I said before punching him.
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