Phoenix Ascending Prologue-- Frostbite
As the night dropped its star-studded veil, the boy with the dark hair ran across the frozen plane. The wind whipped wildly through his already tousled hair, throwing it this way and that as his feet hit the frozen ground in a pounding rhythm dissonant from the frantic beatings of his heart. He ran like a man possessed, and in many ways, he was.
Though it was unplottable, the tiny circle of stones on the horizon grew into a ring of huge monoliths no more than a few paces from the boy. And then, ringing clearer than his own tortured memories, came the echoes…
We are gathered here today to mourn the passing of a member of our community, too often misunderstood…
Out of nowhere, the dementors appeared, their black robes barely visible in the half-light of midwinter dusk. The boy felt the all-too-familiar wave of cold wash over him along with the all-too familiar words, an echo of death played out once again in his ears.
A shrill scream cut through his senses-- Harry! No!
The boy shook his head, trying desperately to free himself from the snare of the past, the echoes from the dementors.
He's dead… oh god… he's dead…
The ring of black robed figures closed in around him, their suffocating presence weighing on him, beating him down, and bringing him to his knees…
He's dead… oh god… he's dead
… dead… dead…In the shadow of inanimate ring of stones, they surrounded the boy, drawing him closer and closer into their stranglehold. One of the horrible black robed figures reached up a light spindly hand, as white as death's pallor, and ever so gently took a hold of his hood, pulling it back. "Hello Harry," Lord Voldemort smiled.
