This is not going to be impressive, not at all. Maybe you won't even like it-but I've tried, believe me when I said that I've tried to make this as good as possible. Though short chapters may not seem impressive, I'll try to make the next ones longer and longer. But it's going to be a hard way, and it's not, of course, going to be like Dalton by CP Coulter.
I'm not that good.
Anyway, Harry Potter does not belong to me. The original characters, on the other part, do.
I am sorry in advance for any grammatical/spelling errors, or if sentences don't make sense. Feel free to review. :)
SK Youngblood
It had always been like this.
With crimson stars and tumbling nebulae and shining supernovas or fading supernovas scattered and stuck to the invisible path the moon drew on the sky; with forgotten planets and galaxies far away and dying races and knowledge either ignored or washed away and crumpling time and space continuums; they were all around that piece of life rolled into a big blue sphere covered in bits of earth and bits of plants and bits of seas and lakes and rivers and ponds-and there, surrounded by water from one horizon and by land from the other, somewhere where no person even dreamed of seeing, was the most important part of the Universe.
A castle.
Casting a dark shadow across the midnight sky, with browns and blacks and blues curled around it in a strange scarf made out of gray mist rising and lowering with the breath of the planet, the castle and its insides were blackened. Not even a single torch twinkled here and there through the velvet curtains the night was made of. With windows that were situated on the upper levels which creaked and slammed open-close with the air that exited and entered the school through various cracks in the walls and through missing gaps in the blackened, burnt bricks, safety wasn't a word to describe it in those moments when the night seemed to roll off the edge of the world, and let the sun rise. But the familiarity which followed the contours of it was like the black of the Hufflepuffs, the gold of the Gryffindors, the silver of the Slytherins, and the bronze of the Ravenclaws: ancient; therefore safe.
The door of the Ravenclaw common room opened hastily. After hushed whispers and loud swears towards the unholy and holy Gods, the tall figure closed it without intending to be quiet. Disintegrating back into the wall as though it had never been there, the door became the wall yet again-but the boy was already stepping slowly towards the center of the room, unaware of the silent and complex process which was going on behind him.
Flashing silver, the glint in his eyes-greed and hatred and disgust and irony, all mixed together-gave the blue a strange appearance. Metal-like. As though he was made of impenetrable iron, his only weak points being his pupils, which were traitors he couldn't control. He stepped forward again, and again, and again-
Then, he noticed it.
Resting in a chair was nothing other than a small, impeccable-looking porcelain doll, with blond long locks and blue eyes that matched the color of its dress.
"So, you're playing games now," he muttered under his breath.
The glint in his eyes was even brighter, amused; he looked as though he was holding in a roar of laughter even if his tone was bittersweet and he had his cocky smile up on his face again. His footsteps were loud against the rock floor, but he still walked up to the armchair and picked the porcelain dolls up with thin, long, pale fingers.
And, with the same gentle, tender movements, he twisted its head and threw it away.
Inside it, a crumpled note was stuffed in blue velvet. And even if it was crumpled and twisted, the writing on top of it was clear, dark and curved, leaning to the left side, no more than a careless scribble:
Tick-tock goes the clock
In the Astronomy Tower
Come and find me
Before it reaches the hour
Lucas smiled.
