Like every other day Harry left the little village and went on his way to his house. A brick mansion in decay, held together by magic and wooden beams oddly placed but he loved the place nonetheless. As the wizard reached the silver gate at the beginning of his land, he made a tiny wave with his hand to deliver a small magical push that made it jump open with a creak in its hinge. The gate smashed closed when he and his companions were through and slowly he made his way up the heavily broken, weeds overgrown road of deteriorating asphalt.
Once Harry reached a safe distance away from the gate he'd stopped. The two crups he owned, a complete black and a white one with brown dots were let to run unleashed and after he took the high hat of the unicorn he usually led with rope was let free to walk its own speed; nipping at the greens whilst pulling the wooden car filled with stock in ease. After that Harry lazily resumed the way up the path with his hands in his pockets and watched the dewdrops that were slowly forming sparkled in the last sun rays of the day. The tamed bushes on his left grew wilder, bigger between trees that grew thicker in density and higher, stronger the further he got.
The air thickened; the river on the right went from clear water with bathing ducks to a seemingly lifeless, smellish muddle with dense greenish mats floating on the surface and upon reaching the T-split, the river had turned to a mud puddle where small creatures had made their home between the many plants that decided to grow wild.
Harry never took the right path that the muddy river followed. It led down by wide steps of broken tiles that rounded a corner and left the rest out of sight. Werewolves housed there if the howls and growls he could sometimes hear were to believed. Harry's crups had already ran up the other one like they were used to and the wizard simply followed, giving a whistle to alert the unicorn that was falling behind. From there both sides were filled with wilderness and they closed the path off from the sky. It left him to roam his way through the dark if not for the lantern he brought along. He retrieved it from of the car and once lit, it drifted in the air in front of him; giving a clear sight of the broken asphalt road turning into a gravel path that crunched under his heavy boots.
Today he stayed on the main path, not derailing onto the smaller ones he passed by and, with closing in on home, the green around him thinned out, being replaced by their dead counterparts and mist traveling low above the ground. The sky became visible once again, the sun had set and the brightness of stars shone down on him. A smile tugged his lip as he reached his home, a little house elf stood there waiting to aid him with the stock he brought. Once done, he let the crups ran and play for a bit longer and stood there thinking as he watched them.
He'd heard the children whisper about the scary scarred man atop of the hill; the man that didn't age dressed in many layers of scratched leather and fur of unknown creatures. The man with the piercing green eyes of whom even the grown ups got chills as he strutted by with his bloodthirsty, two-tailed devil dogs and his too white horse with a high hat.
Whenever they were caught telling the old tale, the children would shriek with terrified faces, some would stand stupefied not able to get a sound out their throats and a few would cower and apologize, not daring to look up to whomever they spoke but in the end, they all ran to hide with tears in their eyes.
The wizard stood there in front of his house with a wistful glance down, spotting the many little lights of the houses below. In this place there wasn't a horror story atop of the hill for him. In this little village he was that man, the freak who scared them all and he couldn't say he minded. The picture sketched had grown on him and so long they didn't hurt him, like he didn't hurt them, he lived his days in peace.