Thanks for taking a look at my story!
Everything Harry Potter is copyright to J. K. Rowling and her publishers. Everything not in the books is from my own imagination.
First chapter, I hope you enjoy this. ;) Please review!
Chapter two will probably take a little while to complete as I'm very busy at school, etc.
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The man was startlingly muscular, his tanned physique that of a large foreign body-builder – the kind you would see on TV dressed in a Speedo and lifting ten pianos, and who probably spent his life weight lifting. He wore a blue, flannel, Hawaiian style shirt decorated with tropical flowers; the first buttons near the collar were left undone, displaying the top of a sculpted chest that looked as though it belonged on a statue of some Greek God. The skin was dark and with no flaws; the face was practically radiating perfection, lips pulled back in an arrogant tooth-paste commercial smile and eyes twinkling a challenge. Black hair was slicked back Greaser-style. On one arm hung a vivacious woman in a red halter top; the elbow of his other thick arm rested on a table in front of him, his lower arm at a forty-five degree angle and ready to arm wrestle his opponent. "Are you man enough for me?" He announced in a wheezy mechanical voice.
Morris stood in front of the arm wrestling machine, glancing at the man's plastic perfection of an arm. He compared it to his own thin, boney one and sighed, allowing his arm to drop limply to his side; it swung back and forth a few times and proceeded to hang there pathetically. Morris grimaced. Would he ever have muscles like the other boys – the foot ball players, namely – or was he stuck in this rangy body forever, forced to bench press fifteen pounds while the rest of his gym class laughed at his weakness?
"My grandma could blow through a straw and knock you over." The arm wrestling machine answered Morris's thoughts promptly. Morris took one last looked at the handsome, smiling face and turned away. The rest of the arcade, filled with machines flashing multi-colored lights and playing cartoon-ish music, was empty except for a few stragglers. It was getting late, and Morris decided he'd better get home. With another resigned sigh he pulled up his baggy jeans, affected a slumped posture, and stalked out towards the exit.
Today had been (as usual), a horrible day at school. It started out alright, with no incident first period. Second period, though, was a disaster. It was gym class – the class Morris always dreaded. He got to dress up in a dorky school uniform and make a complete fool of himself, whether it be missing every shot during basketball, being the last one chosen for the soccer team, or chasing around a ping-pong ball as it bounced around the gym crazily (with kids laughing at him the entire time). Today his gym teacher had announced that today marked the beginning of the miserable week that the weight-lifting unit was. Morris despised this unit more than any other. It was typical for him to get paired up with the most athletic person in his class; probably an attempt on his teacher's part to balance off his complete and utter uselessness. Today it was a defensive man from the football team – who had laughed at him through the entire session.
Once gym had mercifully ended, Morris had endured an entire day of teasing and taunting. Usually his one and only friend, a girl named Tavi (somehow short for Victoria), would sit with him at lunch and help him get through it. But now that Tavi was gone, he was alone and miserable.
The thought of Tavi only made Morris feel worse. Sometime during the beginning of the year, Tavi had stopped coming to school. He had called her house after two days of her absence and got a garbled message from her parents. Apparently she had transferred to some foreign school and wouldn't coming back for a long time or perhaps forever. Since Tavi had never mentioned this to him, Morris had trouble believing it. But he hadn't seen her anywhere, not even when he showed up at her house. She was gone, whether it be to some foreign school or to the moon. And now Morris was alone.
After school Morris had stopped off at home to get something to eat; his parents noticed the bad mood he was in and had tried to comfort him. Morris had snapped some mean things that he hadn't really meant to say to them and slammed the door shut behind him as he grabbed his skateboard. He had taken off to his favorite and only hang-out, the arcade, and spent the rest of the afternoon there alone half-heartedly playing his usual games.
Now the sun was setting and it was time to go home. Morris let the door swing shut behind him as he unhooked his skateboard from the bike locking grill. He dropped his skateboard in front of him and lifted his foot to place it on the center when suddenly, from behind him, he was given a rough shove. Surprised, Morris stumbled forward and landed elbows-first on the cement, pain searing up his arms and one funny bone tingling. "Hey!" He called out, more out of instinct than anything, and pushed himself to his feet.
A figure in a puffy, blue winter coat and a tight cotton hat was propelling down the street on Morris's skateboard with surprising speed. "What do you think you're doing?!" Morris hollered again and threw himself into a sprint, his long legs pumping roughly against the sidewalk. The figure didn't seem to hear him, for it kept going. Morris wasn't a very fast runner and he forced himself to go as fast as he could, adrenaline coursing through his veins and his stomach constricting with the effort. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears, though the cause of this was more the anger he felt than of physical exertion. Morris felt all of the stress of the day build up and fuel his temper.
Suddenly, up ahead, came a four-way intersection. The thief would have to cross at the street corner. Cars were lining up in front of a red light which would soon turn green. Morris felt a surge of triumph: the skateboard stealer would have to stop or else get hit by a car when the light changed! He sped up, ready to get his skateboard ( perhaps the only thing he liked in this world ) back. However, something quite unusual happened.
The man in the thick coat reached into a pocket at his side and withdrew a long, thin stick. Morris saw him point it to his feet and heard him shout something. All of a sudden, the skateboard burst forward as if propelled by rockets, leaving a trail of green flame in it's wake. The man and skateboard whizzed across the street and reached the other side just as the light changed.
Morris nearly cried out in frustration as he was forced to slow to a stop as a long chain of cars went by in front of him. He swore, standing on his toes and trying to see over them, but his efforts were in vain. By the time all of the cars had driven passed, the thief was no where to be seen and the sidewalk across the street was empty. Morris felt his anger recede into the all-too familiar feeling of depression. He sighed, frustrated, and submitted to the idea that he'd never see his skateboard again. What was he thinking trying to go after it in the first place? It's not like he could've taken it by force or anything. Morris, thinking that he'd better get home before his parents got really worried, turned around to start the long trudge home.
A scream and a loud crash from the down the street made him whirl around quickly. His heart leaping with renewed hope, he ran across the street and down the sidewalk. The boy steered himself around the corner, and about a block away, saw a sight that made him want to both laugh and cry.
A woman sat in her parked car near an expired parking meter, eyes wide as she gawked at a man lying sprawled on the front of her windshield. She let out another scream, her hands clutching the steering wheel white-knuckled. Morris instantly recognized the man on her windshield as the blue-coated thief. As he jogged nearer, he saw his skateboard ( now mangled) lying a few feet away from the car. The thief had obviously ran smack-dab into the woman's parked car as he rocketed down the street. A few people nearby were watching in shock, another woman fumbling around in her purse for a cell phone.
Morris approached the scene slowly, kneeling to pick up his skateboard and inspecting the damage. It was pretty much ruined beyond repair, and a few green sparks hissed from the back like a broken electrical wire. Morris threw it to the ground and stared at the man on the windshield. Was he still alive? If so, he wouldn't be for long. After ending such a bad day with the wreck of his precious skateboard, Morris was ready to kill.
From behind him, Morris heard the woman talking rapidly on her cell phone to the police. He ignored her, taking a single step towards the car with the frightened woman still frozen inside. She screamed again, and Morris almost did with her.
At that instant the man's heard jerked up, his bloody and broken face looking directly at Morris. Morris stared in horror at the crazy, twisted smile on his split lips and the insanely victorious look in his eyes – shuttered, dark eyes of a psychopath. He heard the woman behind him stop talking to stammer at the sight before her.
The man laughed; it was a high-pitched, fast, ringing laugh that made Morris's heat leap with panic. Morris stepped back, very much disinclined to do anything but run now. Something about the man's demeanor dissipated Morris's anger and replaced it with intense fear. However, he stood rigidly still as he heard the man shout something that made little sense to him.
"Lord Voldemort triumphs! Hogwarts falls to the Dark Lord, and the rest of the world shall soon follow!!" He declared loudly and with a voice filled with intense glee. Then, before anyone could react to his deranged announcement, he withdrew the long stick from his pocket and pointed it at Morris. "Crucio!" He bellowed.
Morris felt rather than saw the beam of light hit his body, and then felt himself falling over. Whether he hit the ground or not he did not, because suddenly an intense pain swept his body. All of his muscles began to convulse and twitch, constricting and trying to push against each other. A fire seared behind his eyes and his mind reeled – he heard a scream ( was that his own? ) and another searing fire momentarily blinded him. His body rocked and fought against itself frantically, and Morris's mind could register nothing but pain. Stop please ... let me die, let this stop! He heard himself think and shout, though the words were no more than unrecognizable gurgling.
Over the roar Morris heard in his ears he heard the distinct noise of the man's high-pitched laughter and felt his body leap slightly into the air as it was hit with another beam of light from the wand. Morris screamed again, but he could do little more for at a darkness enveloped him. Right before he died, he saw the fleeting glimpse blurred color moved about in his swirling vision. Then his eyes closed and his tormented body quieted.