Cold fog clunged to every corner of the town. It wrapped around the dimly light streets posts, drifted over the worn road, and climbed up the sides of the silent houses. There was no moon tonight, making everything outside nearly impossible to see to the young Ariella Potter, waiting for her grandpa to come home.
The fire danced warmly, and the soft, plush chairs in which the golden brown haired girl sat upon were warm and inviting, and it was nearly midnight. But her brown eyes did not drop, they almost did not blink, as she waited silently. The minutes inched by, the fire dying, the fog looming. The chairs creating, the floorboards groaning, the girl's eyes unblinking.
The street lamps went off one by one, leaving the peaceful, seemingly peaceful British town in the dark. Ariella was left in the dark, the fire dying, the warm flickers no longer dancing. But she still watched, waiting at the window.
The floorboards groaned loudly as a bright blue light filled the room, illuminating James Potter, who stood at the doorframe of the living room, holding his wand out.
The streets stood empty, holding no sign of Harry Potter, her grandpa.
But Ariella still sat there. She sat there for the whole day. She heard the what the adults were saying in the kitchen. She knew what it meant. She knew, but she didn't want to.
James smiled faintly as his daughter turned towards him. He shifted his weight slowly, thinking deeply, thinking of his words.
Ariella sat there, waiting, knowing, a cold feeling gripping her like the fog gripped the lamp posts at the empty street. The empty street.
James sighed, his wand still out, giving the room it's blue light. "I love you. I do, but it's late. It's cold, your tired, I'm tired, let's go get some rest."
"Why?" Ariella asked, turning back towards the window.
"Because you need sleep to function," James responded, his eyebrows scrunched up.
"No, not that. Why? Why isn't Grandpop home? He went out this afternoon, he didn't come back. He never forgets to come back" Her eyes shifted back towards James, knowing, but still hoping, not quite ready to let go.
"He's," James dropped his wand, the room lost it's light. The town was completely dark now. The house of the Potter's dark and cold and foggy, like a dementor.
"He's" Ariella echoed, her throat tightening.
"Not coming tonight."
"Tonight?" Ariella echoed again, refusing to believe it.
"Nor ever," James rushed towards the twelve year old girl, hugging her skinny frame as if she would float away like a lost ballon.
"Ever?" Ariella sobbed, her tears lost in the darkness.
"Ever."
The article was published the next morning: The Boy Who Lived Lives No More: Killed By Sriya In An Unprovoked Attack. Her grandpa is dead. Harry Potter is dead.
Hello! Welcome to my first fanfic made with the help of ElChocolate, Cristina, WhaletheWhale, TheShyNekoPeep, and FashioningFuture.
This is about the third generation of Hogwarts, and what life is like now for the seemingly peaceful wizarding world. It follows canon of previous stories, including the Child's Curse. What I mean by this is that all the kids of Harry's generation is the same and their children, and then their children's children, though I'm not including the time travel because that messes everything up.
The story may be a little slow paced at all times, but later it will makes sense (There is a pre-written plot, but it can be somewhat flexible at times). There is also nothing to inappropriate in this story like swears, though there may be some fights, if you look out for those things.
Disclaimer: We don't own any of this nor are we making a profit off this story...and all of your other standard disclaimers to ensure you aren't sued or anything.
And with all that, I hope you enjoy!