Chapter Text
An infant cry could be heard in all of Godric's Hollow, followed by a blinding green light. It was like poison seeping through the woods. Or like a serpent, quick as lightning. If you blinked you missed it. But only the visual one. Even if you were a muggle you felt uneasiness creep up your back. A sense of nausea starts to settle in the pit of your stomach. The baby's cries wouldn't help either. The feeling of death. It curled around you and would suffocate you with all of its might. If there only was a poet nearby to write down the scenery.
A quiet pop could be heard from a small clearing between 2 houses. It was rather strange that they left that one space open. It was fairly in the centre and was close to everything. Usually, people would take advantage of it. It was probably supposed to be a sentimental place. There was a small shrine, where you could worship the Balance. Death and Life. Dark and Light. Sickness and Healing. Ageing and Birth. Chaos and Calmness.
The Wheel of the Year.
But instead of a small stone shrine, stood a two-storey building. Not a building, a Home. A Home which looked to be dead. A Home that was cold and slippery. Maybe once it was full of Life, Joy and Happiness. Now it was full of Sorrow and Decease. It was a withering Daisy with white walls cracking. The paster already falling off of some spots. Ivy was growing on the sides of the wall. It was intentional. You could see that it was well-tended and beautifully spread.
The dark wooden door was torn from its hinges. It had some slimm, flower carvings along with a small window on it. The glass of the window was shattered on the ground as it hit a sharp stone.
You could easily see inside the living room, considering the torn door. The living room was rather spacious and even had a small TV on a coffee table. The kitchen was opened to the living room and had a kitchen island. To the left, as you enter, were the stairs up to the second floor.
There were pictures as you went up the stairs. There was a redhead, Irish girl with a small tattoo on her left wrist. It was a small, black Spiral. A Cycle. The girl's face was dotted with freckles, and her eyes were the colour of the emerald. Next to her was a Latina boy with wild, uncontrollable hair. He had round glasses with a silver frame. There was a black-haired boy with fully pierced ears. He usually had a battered black leather jacket which was full of drawings. Along with the black-haired one was a soft-eyed boy with dull brown hair. He had a healed wound across his face along with some scratches. There was a creole-skinned girl with curly, short hair. She wore a gentle smile along with a lot of bracelets.
A picture on the floor had a broken, wooden frame but the picture was covered from the damage. In the left upper corner were two girls holding each other. One had wolf-cut blond hair. She had her tongue out which was pierced, and had a denim jacket on. Next to her was a dark-skinned girl with her hair in Box Braids with some gold accessories. In the middle, there was the leather jacket boy and the scarred boy with their fingers intertwined. On their left was the Latina boy, and on their right was a small dirty blond-haired boy. In front of them lay a boy with short dark brown hair and a girl with short pixie-cut hair. On the upper right stood the Irish girl with her arms lazily around the creole-skinned girl's shoulders.
If you went further up the stairs, a quiet melody could be heard. It was mixed with the small sobs of an infant. It was supposed to be a lullaby to soothe the baby to sleep. Instead, it was like screeching souls trying to break free from their binds. A sound that makes your blood run cold, and makes you truly afraid of the Afterlife, or The Thing that's holding your soul hostage.
The Thing which was circling a cot. Where the sounds came from. It was dark and slippery. It made you Feel. A feeling that can not be explained in words. It was carrying, weeping even for the baby. The unfair Fate that the child got.
Both his parents are no more, the two girls in the upper left are no more, the ones who are lying were tortured, and their child is without parents too. The small dirty-haired boy is a filthy traitor. The creole-skinned girl could not deal with her friend's death, so the only thing besides killing herself was to Obliviate herself. The black-haired boy is seeking revenge, but he is falsely accused. The scarred boy has lost his lover and friends. He is all alone, but he can not Obliviate himself because he is a werewolf.
There were 4 more people. But one of them already had a child of her own and didn't have the money for another. Her twin was dead, he was forced to follow a false Dark Lord. He was the only thing keeping their lover sane. The lover was sent to Azkaban after he was caught. But it was not the lover anymore. It was a madman yearning for the love of his life who was no more. And as far as we know the last one died in a cave full of creatures, fighting for the only thing he wanted. He wanted his brother back.
The Dark was mad. She didn't have the power like Fate. She was a mere piece of the puzzle. But she was angry. Angry at Fate, angry at The False man who claimed to be the 'Dark Lord'. The Dark Lord was supposed to fight for the things the Dark herself wanted. The Dark Lord was supposed to protect the ones who couldn't do it themselves. The Dark Lord was supposed to fight for the rights of the feared creatures and 'dark wizards or witches' who only wanted to practise the nature of magic. The Dark Lord was supposed to be someone safe who would fight for the castaway. But it was all just supposed to be.
The False Dark Lord was everything but that. The witches and wizards who worshipped the Wiccan or Celtic Gods and Goddesses had no choice but to join The FALSE Dark Lord. There was no other choice because everyone who claimed to be a 'light wizard or witch' chased away them.
The Dark was furious. She didn't The FALSE Dark Lord. The FALSE one just took a title without understanding the concept or the meaning. So she wanted revenge. Revenge on everyone. The FALSE Dark Lord, Albus Dumbledore, Fate, the Whole world for hurting a little boy like that. Dumbledore was one of the worst of all. He would place the child in an abusive, never-loving household, knowing the consequences. He wanted a pawn, a broken boy hearing for love and acceptance. A boy who Dumbledore would sacrifice in the end for the 'greater good'. He would take away his childhood. He would take away HER chosen one and turn him AGAINST her. Her only child which she chose. The only one that was born as hers. He would brain was what is HERS.
The Dark couldn't let that happen. She couldn't let the world take away her Child. So she started to scope up a now sleeping child in her arms. She was about to take off when the dark-haired boy stumbled into the room, crying. Everything went down so fast. A giant got there too then he left with HER child. The dark-haired boy was nowhere to be seen, and The Dark was moving. She raced after the giant who took what was hers. The giant stopped on a too-familiar street. It was where the Irish girl's sister lived with her family. The Dark was fighting every way possible to get to her child but she was a second too late.
Dumbledore was there and caught her. She was captured and there was nothing she could do about it. She was in a glass phial. The only thing she could do was watch as her child was kissed by the disgusting man on the forehead, and was placed on the doorstep of her child's abuser. She was furious about leaving her child out in the cold that Samhain brought with him. Then the house was replaced with an office. It was the headmaster's office. The darkness knew it very well enough where she was. Dumbledore faced her and started talking in her language.
"You will never claim him as yours. I need him, the world needs him to die. So there is no need to fight against it."
His cruel smile spread even further, making him inhuman. She was shoved into a cage with her glass phial. Dumbledore didn't care to look when she hit the cold ground, making a crack on her glass prison. When Dumbledore turned away and blocked the small opening of the cage with concrete, she started to work on the crack to open up.
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At the Pettegrew president stood the dirty-haired boy, begging for mercy. The dark-haired boy was laughing and didn't pay attention just for a second, and the dirty-haired boy cut his finger off and waved goodbye to the dark-haired boy, who was too stunned when the boy turned into a rat and ran for the sewers. The black-haired boy just laughed and laughed while tears were falling down his cheeks. He didn't protest when he was taken away. He just laughed, a dead laugh, which was full of pain and regret. He was sent to Azkaban without a trial
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On the ground lay a denim jacket full of blood. The blood was already dried on the jacket, making a purplish colour. Next to it was Gold accessories, which had some dark braided hair chunks in them. Some pieces were long some were just strands of black hair. Around them grew mushrooms in a circle. There were some blue, and purple Forget Me Not in the circle.
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The creole-skinned girl was crying in a corner with a knife in her hands. She was so close to just letting the thoughts out, to just not feel, to just forget. When that thought crossed her mind she didn't hesitate to grab her suitcase and pack it full. She got everything she would need, grabbed her passport, booked a ticket to the USA, grabbed her wand and put it against her temple. She was already crying. She was looking at the copy of the picture that was on the floor. She was just looking at the picture of their life when they graduated. It was happy. There was no war, there was nothing to worry about. They were just youngsters studying for the things which were to come. So she just put the picture away and sat down. A quiet 'Obliviate' could be heard across the small apartment. A small yellow light lit up the bedroom, while all the memories of her friends were washed away by the light. Every picture in her house faded away leaving only her without her friends.
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The scarred boy was curled up on a queen-sized bed crying while squeezing a battered leather jacket. He was howling even though it wasn't the full moon. He was weeping in disbelief and betrayal. He couldn't, he wouldn't believe it. The letter was from Dumbledore, informing him that the Potters died and his lovers betrayed them. The letter was burning in the small fireplace, erasing every word the headmaster said.
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Two people were lying on the beds of St. Mungo's Hospital. They were spacing out of their heads. Not saying a word. Their hand were locked together. They were trapped between life and death. There was nothing that could help them.
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There was a marble Tombstone under a big Willow tree. Some twirly engraving on it, but the moss that was growing on it was covered up. In front of it was a deep blue Aster bush. The blueish colour matched the greyish withe of the Tombstone. There were rain clouds over the tree. In some time, the rain will start pouring down and wash away the moss from the carving.
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A messy browned-haired boy with sharp features was sitting in a dirty cell of Azkaban. He was looking at his arm where a small Aster flower was tattooed. It was filled with a watercolour texture of deep blue colour. He was thinking of the matching one one his lovers back. The flower, which was now lying on a wooden coffin 6 feet down below with a greyish Tombstone on it and the same deep blue Asters in front of it as his arm held with care.
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There was a dark, curly-haired boy, fighting against Inferis. The last thing leaving his mouth was the word 'HELP' as he was pulled underwater. He so badly wanted to be saved. He so badly wanted to be hugged by his brother. To be pulled out before drowning, and becoming an Inferi. He so badly wanted to see The Sun one last time. He so badly wanted his best friend to be there. He didn't want to become an Inferi, with clouded white eyes fixated on the surface of the water. He wanted his best friend. He so badly wished Cratcher would come back with help. He so badly wished he didn't tell him to stay away. He so badly wished, wanted.
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A white, rasta-haired girl was banging on the Black Manners door. She was furiously shouting her best friend's name. She was already crying. She felt her knuckles starting to bruise. But she just continued until an old house elf didn't open the door. She was rudding in and shouting with her wand in her hands. She was demanding to see her best friend. The house elf refused to lead her to his master. She was already pleading. Then the house elf took her hand murmuring under his nose about breaking a promise to his master, and apparated.
Hehe <3