Hi! I was in love with the Harry Potter series since I was ten (or something) and I decided to write one of my own. Don't worry, From Nabradia, With Love is still ongoing! This is just something to take my mind off to a much more wider world. Don't worry (once again), this is a story I intend to keep! :D Hope you enjoy!
P.S. - This chapter begins with a long flashback, just to establish where I'm going, and this starts in the fifth book, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, after the flashback, of course, and a week into school.
Chapter Title: Prologue / Escaping Death
Description: After having a sleepover, a little girl returns to her home to celebrate her birthday with her parents, only…
Warning: Permanent character death, little blood + pain
Characters: A Death Eater, Professors and students of Hogwarts, Emmy, Carista's parents + Carista
Disclaimer: All character and setting in this awesome series belongs to J.K. Rowling except for my characters.
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"Bye bye!" A girl from inside of a small truck chirped. "We'd best have another sleepover. It was fun!"
"Yeah!" Another girl was standing outside, having gotten out just moments ago, holding a small pillow and a backpack. "Next week maybe?"
"Yeah, I'll write to you!"
"It's a promise!"
"Never broken!"
The girls reached out and locked their hands together before pulling apart, whispering 'ooooooo!' while wiggling their fingers. They stopped and giggled madly at their antics. The mother behind the wheel smiled and shook her head at the two best friends.
"Emmy, dear," she started with much regret, not wanting to stop their playful act. "It's getting dark. She need to get home soon."
"Aww, mum!" Emmy pouted when her mother have her a hard look and the other pouted too.
"It's okay!" The other smiled suddenly, inflicting Emmy to smile as well. "I'll see you later."
"Okay!" the car started and Emmy waved out of her window. "Bye, Carista!"
"Bye, Emmy!"
"Happy Birthday!"
Carista smiled as her friend waved madly before settling back in her seat as the green truck shrunk out of sight. She turned to look across the street to her house, which wasn't all that bad. It had a faded yellow paint with green framed windows and door. She smiled as she spied some shadows moving slightly through the dimmed windows. She got to admit… her parents suck badly at surprises. She wouldn't be surprised (pun, pun…) if her parents actually tried to conceal themselves in white sheets and two holes in them and come out of closets just to scare her. She giggled at the thought and crossed the empty street to her house. As she touched the doorknob, she heard a faint crash from inside, which made her freeze up. If her parents are trying to scare her…
It's working.
"Mum?" She swung the door open silently and slowly. "Dad?"
She squeaked when a pair of strong arms wrapped around her and a hand covered her mouth. The person dragged her into a particularly dark corner of the kitchen and made her sat down. She struggled frantically before a familiar scent wafted over to her. Waffles and newspapers. She ceased all action and limped boneless in her father's arms.
His voice whispered silently into Carista ear, "I'm sorry. I'm here, mother's here too. But what we need for you to do is run away. Far away from here."
A crash resounded from above and the family jumped, Carista felt her mother tense next to her. The hand was removed and the arms loosened. She spun around in her father's lap and saw his glasses glint before glancing behind her. There it was. A cake, white and shining with ten candles on top of it.
No doubt screaming 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY CARISTA, OUR BABY!'.
Footsteps pounded down the stairs near where they hid before entering the kitchen. Carista's eyes widened as her cake was pushed onto the floor, breaking off into chunks. She tensed as her father's words registered into her brain.
"Run away?" She whispered, not wanting to draw the intruder's attention to them. "Why?"
"Carista…" Mum… "You… I- Carry, you are a witch." She finally blurted out in a whisper.
If the situation wasn't so dire, she would have been leaping in joy, ideas of using magic coming to life. But no… none of that. Her mind reeled, trying to find the answers to all of the five wh's, excluding how.
"I… don't understand."
Of course she didn't. Why would her mum tell her that when an intruder was in their house?
"Carry," her father whispered but jerked as another crash resounded. "That person. She's a bad person, obviously, but she kills witches and wizards who have parents that doesn't have magic powers."
"Kill… me?" She trembled in fear, her heart pounded loudly in her ribcage and she prayed the woman wouldn't hear it. "What about you guys?"
"Us too."
Her head bowed in despair and the back of her eyes burned. No, she wasn't going to cry now. She need to run. Away from the woman. Away from the house. Away from her family.
"NOW!"
The sudden and loud voice from her mother jerked Carista out of her paralyzing thoughts. Unfortunately, the woman heard us and she spun around from the sink.
"There you are!" She screeched with a maniacal grin on her face and waved a stick-thing as a flash of green emitted from it, crackling as it flew.
The green flash went past her and stuck the father in the chest. She felt herself falling backward with him as he slumped. Her mother screamed before hurriedly wrenching her daughter out of her dead father's grasp and pushed her toward the stairs. A gasp was heard as Carista ran up the stairs, stumbling once or twice. Her mother is dead too. The thought alone made her shiver in fear. She glanced back down the stairs and saw the woman running to her, black hair and eyes wild in anger.
"Get over here!"
Her hand rose once again to wave the wand, as Carista placed the name, once again. Carista skipped a step in order to avoid the… green thing that had killed her parents. It burnt itself into the carpet before smoking slightly in failure. She panicked at the nearing form and ran to her room, locking the door as she went to the nearest window. She slammed it open before waiting for the killer to burst in.
She didn't.
Seconds ticked by and she feared the worst. What was it? Even she didn't know. The woman was a witch, that far she gathered. And a witch could use magic… that could be anything. She returned her gaze to the clearing below… and the woman was there. She flicked her wand to the house before lowering it with a maniacal grin. Carista knew she had done something, but what? The girl heard the roof creaking before the house shook. This wasn't good. She looked up to the ceiling just in time to see splintered wood coming down on her with a resounding crash. Something had hit her throat hard and it was crushing her windpipe. She gasped for breath while scratching frantically at the wood pressing against her throat.
And the roof isn't helping either.
Her legs are in pain and no doubt bleeding from the wood sticking through them. She felt her pants getting wet from the loss of blood and gave up overall. She heard her killer whisper something before a crack reached her ears. Above her, she suddenly saw a giant green skull with a snake slithering through it's mouth. As time passed, she felt lightheaded as she watched the snake tie itself into a knot, still floating from the skull's jaws. Carista faintly heard another crack but ignored it for the time being. She opened her mouth wide to take her last deep breath but coughed as she felt her windpipe crack, collapsing from the sheer weight. A piece of wood, a heavy one, fell on her left eye, making her scream as it cut deep. She opened her mouth again only to feel the loss of the heavy weight pressing down on her and she was lifted into someone's arms.
Someone muttered something and she could breath again. More cracks filled the air and voices flooded her ears. They were all muddled up but she was dizzy, colors danced around her eyes but they were mashed up together.
"Is she okay?"
"What happened here?!"
"Don't tell me-…!"
The voices continued and gave the clueless girl a major headache. Isn't she dead? No wait… she almost died. But… her parents didn't make it. All because of that crazy woman.
"Dad," her voice cracked violently, making her groan. That voice wasn't smooth and bubbly as it was before. Now, it was scratchy and rough. "Mum…"
She blacked out.
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Now Harry is positively bored. Dumbledore had just finished his occasion speech to the students and they were left to eat the delicacies that had magically appeared on their plates. Sighing, Harry could help but to notice the creeping feeling that had been climbing over his body the last few minutes, and also over the past week too. He nervously glanced around the Gryffindor table but they were too busy indulging themselves in their multi-conservations to notice.
"What's wrong, mate?"
The voice made Harry relax if just for a moment. He looked up to meet the gaze of his long-time best friend, Ron. Next to him were Hermione, lowering her Daily Prophet with a worrisome expression plastered on her face.
"Have you been feeling… feeling like someone's staring at you sometimes?" He asked, looking for their reactions but all he got was confusion.
"No, Harry," Hermione spoke up this time. "Why? Are you feeling nervous about something?"
"Yeah… Well, I-" He suddenly growled, scaring his two best friends, and stood up suddenly, facing the rest of the Great Hall, and shouted, "Will you stop the staring and show yourselves?!"
Silence.
Eyes were peering at him like he had finally gone crazy (if he haven't already) but they eventually returned to their chatter, only a bit quieter. The first years looked like they were petrified by a Cockatrice and one dropped his fork into his plate. Harry groaned in defeat and plopped uncharacteristically into his seat.
"Is there something the matter?" A familiar voice croaked and Harry inwardly groaned.
"No," he looked up at the pink-clad woman with a neutral expression. "I'm fine."
"Oh. Well, in that case, eat up. You will need your strength."
He gave a small smile and a nod as Umbridge but that turned into a scowl when she had her back turned. Strength for what? Reading? He looked back to his plate and proceeded to eat the chicken that is turning cold.
"Harry?"
"WHAT?!" He snapped, stabbing his fork deep into the meat of the chicken.
He looked up and saw that Ron is glaring at something next to him and Hermione is staring at Harry like he had gone crazy. It was then he finally decided to look behind him, only to get a face full of paper. He backed up slightly and saw a hand attached to the said papers, and looked up to his visitor.
She is seemingly short but Harry couldn't tell from his position from his seat. Her skin is tanned and a short, light brown hair framed her face. Her eyes are very similar to a certain Malfoy he knew, shimmering even a lighter grey. A green and silver banded scarf was wrapped around her neck and the rest of her outfit were faded grey. No wonder Ron was glaring at her.
She's a Slytherin.
Her hand that held the notepad, waved it around, catching his attention to it. Squinting, Harry barely made out a scrawl wrote across the paper.
you said show yourself and so i did
"That was you?" Harry questioned the girl but she quirked an eyebrow. "You have been staring at me the entire time? Why?"
The girl took back her notepad and scribbled on it but were interrupted with a question from Harry.
"Can't you talk?"
"You rather hear me talk?" She snapped, making the trio flinch at the roughness in her voice. "So I'll talk. Fire away."
Harry blinked stupidly but registered moments later that the girl wanted a question.
"Oh, um…" He started lamely. "Are you mad? At me, I mean."
"What?" Her face was scrunched in confusion but softened as she sat down next to Harry, also placing down her notepad. "Oh, that. Don't worry. My thyroid cartilage was damaged."
"Huh?" Ron and Harry chorused.
"Oh for goodness sake!" Hermione exclaimed but elaborated. "The thyroid cartilage is what makes up most of your voicebox."
"Oh." They chorused once again.
"Leave it to the smartest girl to figure things out, eh?" She smiled at Hermione and she did so back.
"Naturally."
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A/N: Don't hate me. That was probably the worst cliffhanger I've ever wrote. But shower me with love if you don't think so~ Okay, I'll shut up now. Oh! And the thyroid cartilage? It's real, look it up, but I don't know if it is possible if you can talk with a damaged one. But my imagination is like when you have strep throat or a flu, your voice's scratchy? Yeah, like that but more non-sickly. (Sorry for any confusion in this segment. I'm deaf, so yeah.)
If you spot a mistake or is confused about a point in this story, please do tell! But if you have something to say other than the mistakes, do tell too~
I'M HAPPY, OKAY. SHADDUP.