Authors Note; Based on a dream I had. I've just developed ideas further to create a story, really.
It would be nice to have some constructive critisism or just some reviews to see if you like my work.
If not, don't read it. (:

She ran. As fast as her legs could take her. Her muscles aching and straining as she rushed forward in a blind panic, her little feet sore as she cut across the pebble stone road to stop, standing, breathing in desperately at the cold night air.
It took the young girl a while to question herself. She stood alone, finding herself situated in an old street. Empty houses and dark windows surrounding her, it was almost like a ghost town.
As her breathing calmed a little, she stretched her hot feet out against the cool grass. Where was she? Why was she running? What was she running from?
The girl frowned. She knew that it wasn't like her to forget things .. But her head was empty. It was as if someone had burnt holes on the parchment that was her memory.
Her name, her name was Lahela.
A pain in her head caused her to stumble backward a little and then she heard the voices once more, those angry shouts that caused her heart to once again race. It was as if her body knew better than she, what was happening around her.
The cloaked figures curved around the street corner, their wands blazing reds and yellows. They were aiming at her.
Lahela stifled her own scream and turned back on her heels, ignoring the pain in her legs she threw herself forward at the fastest speed she could muster. The angry group of witches and wizards were gaining on her.
Lahela's throat was on fire, through her veins, a heat burst. Tearing off her cloak she continued to run. A unpleasant sensation growing on her forearm, yet she had no time to look at the cause of such agony and carried on, tears streaming down her hot cheeks, stinging.
Lahela carried on towards a large house, throwing the gates open so that she could rush through the huge unkempt garden, passing a dark labyrinth of hedges as she did so.
The group of wizards and witches must have lost sight of her, as she could here their puzzled voices as they separated in search of her. Lahela hid behind the shrubbery before the great door of the mansion, fearing for her life.

What had she done?

Lahela realised that she was now crying. What was happening to her?
For a moment she remained quiet, her breathing was harsh and erratic. Looking down at her own hands she noticed how much she was shaking. Then Lahela noticed it.
The mark was almost like a tattoo. A decoration of morbid design that was scorched into her pale flesh.
Running her hand around the shape of the sore skull against her skin she was suddenly gagged. Without enough strength to struggle against the sudden attack, she tried to yell out in protest, but was soon dragged inside by two strong arms. The door of the manor then closing before her.

Clawing with all the strength she now could manage, Lahela fought against the attacker. Helpless as he pulled her into the house, her heels bumping against the uneven floorboards.
'You're hurting me …It's okay …' the man began. His voice seemed surprising soothing as he placed her down gently by the fire, prying her hands from him. Her wild eyes looked about the room. It was dark, dank, unclean and then up to her captive.
He smiled.
He too, like the house seemed rather dirty, though his features showed there was an opportunity for improvement if he was washed. Tall, dark and handsome … his darkened eyes showed signs of premature aging.
'You've had us all worried …' he spoke, as if he were an old friend. 'I didn't know what to think when The Dark Lord pronounced you as missing. I thought that the worst could have happened to you … and in your state...' He carefully removed the gag from her chattering teeth.
'Please don't kill me!' Lahela burst as soon as the foul tasting material was pulled from her mouth, shuffling backwards until she was almost sitting in the fireplace.
The man chuckled a little and knelt down so that his face was level with hers. 'Lahela …'
Her eyes grew wide. He knew her? A short breath escaped her mouth as she stilled in disbelief.
Like thunder, men tumbled down the stairs loudly, all masked and loud, making Lahela jump. It felt as if her heart had leapt from her mouth.
'Rodolphus,' one man spoke from behind his mask, 'There are more of them now … we need you up there.'
Rodolphus? Lahela recognised the name and looked back at the man who had known her. Who was he? How did he know her name?
Rodolphus nodded and the men returned towards the stairs, yelling and shooting curses as they made their way to the first floor of the mansion.
Rodolphus grabbed his mask from the mantle piece and turned to Lahela, his smile had faded, but his expression was harmless, towards her.
'Be careful …' he warned, 'we're here to protect you.'
And with that, he too moved swiftly up the stairs to fire from the open windows at the witches and wizards who had been chasing her previously.
Lahela remained seated as her breathing started to relax the pain in her tired muscles began to return. Wincing, she tried to stand, wiping her face as her tears had since dried and had made her cheeks feel raw.

There was a thumping against the front door that startled her. Debris falling away from the door frame as it shook. Lahela stumbled backward. The noise from those outside grew louder. Were they going to get in? Quickly, Lahela moved through the corridor, using her hands to balance herself. Paint crumbled away beneath her fingertips. This house was old.Her quick pace bought Lahela into the living room. A great room filled with books and tapestries. A normal Lahela would have admired the mysteries that the room contained, yet her fear blinded her and urged her to move onward through the manor, until she reached an empty room.
Lahela's chest was giving in and she heaved a great breath, exhausted she could only slump down against the wall. Her body had failed her now, along with her mind. She saw a figure outside of the small wooden door in front of her, yet couldn't grasp the energy to pull herself from the floor. Fear had bound her feet and exhaustion forced her to remain still.
Bellatrix blasted through the doorway, her eyes seemed even wilder than usual and once she had caught sight of Lahela, she advanced. Lahela instantly recognised the face. The bony structure, the untamed hair, the deep dark eyes that glared down upon her. Bellatrix, she remembered Bellatrix …Lahela screamed as Bellatrix pulled at her arm and dragged her to her feet only accentuating the agony Lahela was already in.
'RODOLPHUS!' Lahela screeched the only name she knew, yet silenced herself as the look of confusion crossed Bellatrix' stern expression. Without a word exchanged, a bag was thrown over Lahela's head and she felt a warmth crawl up over her body, pulling her into a state of unconsciousness.