It would have been an odd sight for the muggle inhabitants of London but for the
wizard community it was all too familiar. Ministry workers were sifting through
yet another burned house, another broken home, another collection of shattered
memories. The dark mark could still be made out in the sky, reminding viewers
who was really in charge. It was a heart-breaking job.
"Oi Mick, I found em." The subdued voice of the tired worker stood out in the
early morning air. Silence fell as the other man picked his way across the
rubble to identify the bodies. I'm getting too good at this he thought as he
pranced from rock to rock with ease. I've had too much practice. He reached the
other man and looked down into the deep hole.
"Yer, that's them alright, but we're not finished yet. They had a small
daughter of three." The man scanned the scene, "she's in here somewhere."
The team worked all day but as night fell they abandoned the search,
believing the child to have been blown up. No one doubted Voldemort had it in
him to blow up a small child.
The Prewetts and their only child were pronounced dead. The country stopped
to pay respect for a pair of half lived lives and one that cut short well before
it's time ...or w as it?
~ Eight years later ~
"...Never forget who you are Arden, never. You hear me? Never ..."
Arden awoke from her troubled sleep in a strong draught. She was alive and
well, the small fact that she lived on the street did not bother her. She rolled
over on to her back and took a deep breath. Homeless! Arden always hated that
expression. She had a home. Her home was the street, the city, the country, and
the world. She shared it with everyone and anyone.
She crawled out from under the truck and yawned on the tarmac. She was on
top of a multi-story car park. Arden walked to the edge and looked out over the
city ... her city ...London. For an eleven year old she was mature. She had
short, choppy, black hair and a face full of freckles, both of which were
covered in years of grime.
Arden stretched to make her muscles suppler. Her rag-covered body was thin
from years of missed meals but she was oddly strong. It was riddled with bruises
and scars from various fights. Fights on the street were trivial but serious.
She had once witnessed a fight over a bench that had resulted in a death. The
weak did not belong on the street.
Arden was not an especially beautiful child but her large, dark, blue eyes
could stun. She was proud of her eyes for whenever she saw their reflection she
saw her beloved father smiling back at her.
Arden stared out at the waking city. She kicked a can off the edge and
watched it fall. As she turned around something flew out of her pocket.
She cursed and chased it across the car park into a wall. She gripped it hard,
brought it close to her and gazed at it. It was a photograph of a man and a
woman. Her parents. They held hands and he waved while she rubbed her pregnant
belly. They looked so happy. Content. She remembered the last time she saw them.
She was three and was playing with her father when her mother rushed into the
room.
~
"Will, he's here!" Her voice was full of fear.
"No, he can't be, he can't ..." He was cut short by a loud blast from outside
that shock the windows in their frames. "Shit!" He glanced at his daughter on
the floor. "Mary, he can't hurt Arden. She's so young, take her and go, I'll
hold him off."
Arden could fell her mother's loving stare. She hesitated ..."No!"
"What? Mary this is ..." Will stuttered.
"Take Arden outside and tell her to run. We can give her a head start but it
will take both of us." With that she took one last look at her family and ran
out of Arden's sight forever.
William followed his wife's orders and dashed outside with Arden in his
hands. "Arden listen," it was not a question. "Never forget who you are Arden,
never. You hear me? Never. You are a Prewett and we survive." He snorted at the
irony before cramming some objects in her hand and placing some very heavy
protection spells on her. "Run Arden and never stop. Take our love with you and
go." He put his daughter down and turned to go in the house. Arden just stood
there in shock. Will turned round in the doorway, fixed his eyes on his beloved
daughter and shouted, "RUN." It was agony for him to see her eyes leave his and
watch her run down the garden. He sighed and turned inside to his wife's side.
~
Arden could still feel the wet grass whip at her feet and the burning tears
slide down her face as she fled in confusion. She could still hear the cries of
anger and the screams of pain and his laughter. Arden picked herself off the
floor and walked over to the edge of the building. The laughter still pulsated
in her mind, pulling her back to the house. But her father's words were all too
strong.
RUN!
That's exactly what she did and what she had been doing for the last eight
years.
wizard community it was all too familiar. Ministry workers were sifting through
yet another burned house, another broken home, another collection of shattered
memories. The dark mark could still be made out in the sky, reminding viewers
who was really in charge. It was a heart-breaking job.
"Oi Mick, I found em." The subdued voice of the tired worker stood out in the
early morning air. Silence fell as the other man picked his way across the
rubble to identify the bodies. I'm getting too good at this he thought as he
pranced from rock to rock with ease. I've had too much practice. He reached the
other man and looked down into the deep hole.
"Yer, that's them alright, but we're not finished yet. They had a small
daughter of three." The man scanned the scene, "she's in here somewhere."
The team worked all day but as night fell they abandoned the search,
believing the child to have been blown up. No one doubted Voldemort had it in
him to blow up a small child.
The Prewetts and their only child were pronounced dead. The country stopped
to pay respect for a pair of half lived lives and one that cut short well before
it's time ...or w as it?
~ Eight years later ~
"...Never forget who you are Arden, never. You hear me? Never ..."
Arden awoke from her troubled sleep in a strong draught. She was alive and
well, the small fact that she lived on the street did not bother her. She rolled
over on to her back and took a deep breath. Homeless! Arden always hated that
expression. She had a home. Her home was the street, the city, the country, and
the world. She shared it with everyone and anyone.
She crawled out from under the truck and yawned on the tarmac. She was on
top of a multi-story car park. Arden walked to the edge and looked out over the
city ... her city ...London. For an eleven year old she was mature. She had
short, choppy, black hair and a face full of freckles, both of which were
covered in years of grime.
Arden stretched to make her muscles suppler. Her rag-covered body was thin
from years of missed meals but she was oddly strong. It was riddled with bruises
and scars from various fights. Fights on the street were trivial but serious.
She had once witnessed a fight over a bench that had resulted in a death. The
weak did not belong on the street.
Arden was not an especially beautiful child but her large, dark, blue eyes
could stun. She was proud of her eyes for whenever she saw their reflection she
saw her beloved father smiling back at her.
Arden stared out at the waking city. She kicked a can off the edge and
watched it fall. As she turned around something flew out of her pocket.
She cursed and chased it across the car park into a wall. She gripped it hard,
brought it close to her and gazed at it. It was a photograph of a man and a
woman. Her parents. They held hands and he waved while she rubbed her pregnant
belly. They looked so happy. Content. She remembered the last time she saw them.
She was three and was playing with her father when her mother rushed into the
room.
~
"Will, he's here!" Her voice was full of fear.
"No, he can't be, he can't ..." He was cut short by a loud blast from outside
that shock the windows in their frames. "Shit!" He glanced at his daughter on
the floor. "Mary, he can't hurt Arden. She's so young, take her and go, I'll
hold him off."
Arden could fell her mother's loving stare. She hesitated ..."No!"
"What? Mary this is ..." Will stuttered.
"Take Arden outside and tell her to run. We can give her a head start but it
will take both of us." With that she took one last look at her family and ran
out of Arden's sight forever.
William followed his wife's orders and dashed outside with Arden in his
hands. "Arden listen," it was not a question. "Never forget who you are Arden,
never. You hear me? Never. You are a Prewett and we survive." He snorted at the
irony before cramming some objects in her hand and placing some very heavy
protection spells on her. "Run Arden and never stop. Take our love with you and
go." He put his daughter down and turned to go in the house. Arden just stood
there in shock. Will turned round in the doorway, fixed his eyes on his beloved
daughter and shouted, "RUN." It was agony for him to see her eyes leave his and
watch her run down the garden. He sighed and turned inside to his wife's side.
~
Arden could still feel the wet grass whip at her feet and the burning tears
slide down her face as she fled in confusion. She could still hear the cries of
anger and the screams of pain and his laughter. Arden picked herself off the
floor and walked over to the edge of the building. The laughter still pulsated
in her mind, pulling her back to the house. But her father's words were all too
strong.
RUN!
That's exactly what she did and what she had been doing for the last eight
years.