Disclaimer: OF COURSE I do not own any of J. K. Rowling's awesome
characters!!!
~~~~~~*~*~*~~~~~~
Times were hard these days. What could be a bigger proof of this statement than the state that the little, one of the few remaining all-magic towns of Britain left was in? Stonehengesburg had transformed from a cheery, warm welcoming town to a hard-hearted, mistrustful place where strangers were unwelcome and smiles were misplaced years ago during a particularly strong attack by the Dark Lord. Ever since his Second Coming, when he rose once again, his power had increased a hundredfold.
And his power was growing stronger every day. Seven years ago, The Dark Lord had come up with a way to scatter the opposition and possibly even slay the Potter boy. With his genius mind, he had fashioned a way to create a plague that would attack only magical folks- Muggles were immune to the plague due to their white blood cells, which are different from magical humans, that prevent them from performing magic and contracting the disease. In a weird blast of perverse humor, he had decided to name his creation The White Life, in referral to the The Black Death, which roared through Europe during the Middle Ages like a wildfire, killing millions. His disease was certainly going to be an epidemic, however the symptoms were a little different. For instance, it preserved life. Forever. However, the symptoms were irreversible and worse than death. A victim became white all over, hair, eyes and skin all become white as death. However, it is impossible to die. Victims are frozen in a state of neither life nor death; they cannot return to their previous lives nor can they go on to their death in peace. The sickness attacked the magic particles in witches and wizards' blood. Without these particles, the very essence of true life in a wizard, the core of a person's spirit, will die, starved from the magic it needs to survive.
And it had spread. The Dark Lord's followers had smuggled the infection to his other servants in Azkaban, where they willingly contracted it to please their Master. And it spread from there. There was no cure. Everybody feared it. If little children contracted it, their mother would abandon them to save herself. Towns became nearly deserted. No longer were they bustling centers of commerce, but silent graveyards of empty houses. A few of the most popular towns still had a few people, an inn or pub, and possibly a shop or two, like Stonehenge.
Always a popular tourist site for magic folk, it contained a pub that served as an inn, and a broom-cleaning service station. Wherever one went, however, travelers were always feared and mistrusted, either because they could be spreading the plague or because they could be agents of the Dark Side. There had been about twenty Ministers of Magic since Mr. Cornelius Fudge, and people never dared voice their opinions on anything political, for fear of 'mysteriously disappearing' as people tended to do these days.
With Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley reduced to shambles, Stonehengesburg was the last intact wizarding community still in existence besides Hogwarts in England. However, it was greatly changed. The place was dreary and quiet. No market stalls were open from morning to night as there used to be. Markets attracted people, which attracted the plague. No longer were the houses freshly painted in vivid and refreshing blues, pinks and oranges. No longer were there magical fireworks every Saturday. Decorative places and flashy bursts of magic attracted You-Know-Who's unwanted attention. No longer did the bells of the courthouse chime to call the people to debates on social and economical issues; politics of any kind were to be avoided.
The Pub itself was owned and tended by the landlord and landlady and their daughters and sons. The boards creaked, the beds were lumpy, the service was dismal, and the food unremarkable. The whole place smelled strongly of dirty gym socks, and the atmosphere was surly and hostile. There were about three long tables with long wooden benches in the pub. Mug stains and dagger marks disfigured the tabletops, and a pathetically weak fire burned in the colossal fireplace as way of warmth. It was not uncommon to see two cloaked figures with their hoods tightly drawn around their faces, huddling in opposite corners drinking a dirty mug of watered down butterbeer, with the bartender peering at them curiously and the waitresses avoiding their glance altogether.
It was to this miserable inn that three cloaked figures made their way to through the pelting rain, sloshing through freezing water and mud and muck. Their nondescript grey, brown and black cloaks are soaked with icy rain and mud. Their teeth seem to chatter in time to the rhythm of their boots trudging through muck as they slowly persevere forward. These three are seeking a way to end the plague. Their names are Harry, Ron and Hermione.
~~~~~~***~~~~~~
Hey, how does it sound so far? I know it hasn't really started, but I'm just putting it out to see if it maybe has potential and maybe get ideas for how to continue.
If you like it, please review. If you hate it, please review.
If I need to be more descriptive, or my writing style sucks or whatever, definitely review. If you review, IT WILL MOST DEFINITELY MAKE MY DAY. I'm not kidding. My other story got 1 review and that was just asking to review her stories, and I was so happy.
Anyway, Please, please, please review. Thank you!!!!!
~~~~~~*~*~*~~~~~~
Times were hard these days. What could be a bigger proof of this statement than the state that the little, one of the few remaining all-magic towns of Britain left was in? Stonehengesburg had transformed from a cheery, warm welcoming town to a hard-hearted, mistrustful place where strangers were unwelcome and smiles were misplaced years ago during a particularly strong attack by the Dark Lord. Ever since his Second Coming, when he rose once again, his power had increased a hundredfold.
And his power was growing stronger every day. Seven years ago, The Dark Lord had come up with a way to scatter the opposition and possibly even slay the Potter boy. With his genius mind, he had fashioned a way to create a plague that would attack only magical folks- Muggles were immune to the plague due to their white blood cells, which are different from magical humans, that prevent them from performing magic and contracting the disease. In a weird blast of perverse humor, he had decided to name his creation The White Life, in referral to the The Black Death, which roared through Europe during the Middle Ages like a wildfire, killing millions. His disease was certainly going to be an epidemic, however the symptoms were a little different. For instance, it preserved life. Forever. However, the symptoms were irreversible and worse than death. A victim became white all over, hair, eyes and skin all become white as death. However, it is impossible to die. Victims are frozen in a state of neither life nor death; they cannot return to their previous lives nor can they go on to their death in peace. The sickness attacked the magic particles in witches and wizards' blood. Without these particles, the very essence of true life in a wizard, the core of a person's spirit, will die, starved from the magic it needs to survive.
And it had spread. The Dark Lord's followers had smuggled the infection to his other servants in Azkaban, where they willingly contracted it to please their Master. And it spread from there. There was no cure. Everybody feared it. If little children contracted it, their mother would abandon them to save herself. Towns became nearly deserted. No longer were they bustling centers of commerce, but silent graveyards of empty houses. A few of the most popular towns still had a few people, an inn or pub, and possibly a shop or two, like Stonehenge.
Always a popular tourist site for magic folk, it contained a pub that served as an inn, and a broom-cleaning service station. Wherever one went, however, travelers were always feared and mistrusted, either because they could be spreading the plague or because they could be agents of the Dark Side. There had been about twenty Ministers of Magic since Mr. Cornelius Fudge, and people never dared voice their opinions on anything political, for fear of 'mysteriously disappearing' as people tended to do these days.
With Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley reduced to shambles, Stonehengesburg was the last intact wizarding community still in existence besides Hogwarts in England. However, it was greatly changed. The place was dreary and quiet. No market stalls were open from morning to night as there used to be. Markets attracted people, which attracted the plague. No longer were the houses freshly painted in vivid and refreshing blues, pinks and oranges. No longer were there magical fireworks every Saturday. Decorative places and flashy bursts of magic attracted You-Know-Who's unwanted attention. No longer did the bells of the courthouse chime to call the people to debates on social and economical issues; politics of any kind were to be avoided.
The Pub itself was owned and tended by the landlord and landlady and their daughters and sons. The boards creaked, the beds were lumpy, the service was dismal, and the food unremarkable. The whole place smelled strongly of dirty gym socks, and the atmosphere was surly and hostile. There were about three long tables with long wooden benches in the pub. Mug stains and dagger marks disfigured the tabletops, and a pathetically weak fire burned in the colossal fireplace as way of warmth. It was not uncommon to see two cloaked figures with their hoods tightly drawn around their faces, huddling in opposite corners drinking a dirty mug of watered down butterbeer, with the bartender peering at them curiously and the waitresses avoiding their glance altogether.
It was to this miserable inn that three cloaked figures made their way to through the pelting rain, sloshing through freezing water and mud and muck. Their nondescript grey, brown and black cloaks are soaked with icy rain and mud. Their teeth seem to chatter in time to the rhythm of their boots trudging through muck as they slowly persevere forward. These three are seeking a way to end the plague. Their names are Harry, Ron and Hermione.
~~~~~~***~~~~~~
Hey, how does it sound so far? I know it hasn't really started, but I'm just putting it out to see if it maybe has potential and maybe get ideas for how to continue.
If you like it, please review. If you hate it, please review.
If I need to be more descriptive, or my writing style sucks or whatever, definitely review. If you review, IT WILL MOST DEFINITELY MAKE MY DAY. I'm not kidding. My other story got 1 review and that was just asking to review her stories, and I was so happy.
Anyway, Please, please, please review. Thank you!!!!!