Warm colors blossomed across the horizon as a wail cut through the morning air. Tucked into the outskirts of London lay a large brick house with towering walls lining its property–encasing a forest of gnarled trees and overgrown grass.
With each gust of wind, the rusted gate groaned; it was a low, eerie sound. Most of the inhabitants of this particular building were fast asleep, acclimated to the sound of unoiled hinges and budget cuts. The soft light that glowed from the main floor illustrated the two persons who had yet to fall into Hypnos' domain.
An elder woman, draped in a thread-bare blanket, stepped out of the house. The nagging foreboding that kept her awake was proven a moment later as she looked upon a cardboard box perched upon the doorstep. Sighing, she picked up the box with a huff of exertion and wobbled back into the house, the door shutting behind her with a slam.
Inside the house the blanketed matron was greeted by her assistant who wore a mirrored unimpressed expression. A silent agreement of coffee was exchanged as the other woman produced a pacifier from the blue sleeping gown that hung loosely around her willowy form; Her clothes augmented the limp blond hair and bird-like qualities of a long nose and pointed chin. The bundle which lay inside the cardboard box shifted and started to cry. It was a babe.
"Here," the sharp-featured woman intoned, annoyance leaking into her voice as she carefully gave the wailing child something to occupy itself with. Tired blue eyes then flicked up to the matron, "Should we read the letter now?"
A curt nod was all the answer the robust woman gave before her short fingers picked up the cream envelope and walked briskly to a table, sitting down with a comfortable sigh. She picked at the wax seal- quite archaic if you asked her- and slid out a thick, expensive, parchment.
Her assistant, who had trailed behind the large woman, scampered off in the remembrance of coffee. Stumbling into a chair in her haste, the woman muttered a quiet apology before setting the chair right and continuing in a more subdued pace.
'To whomever this may concern,
Her name is Hariel Aquila Potter. Please treat her with care.'
The message came with no fanfare, no tolling of bells or surprises. It was straight and to the point. Like all the other letters she had received before it, the matron stashed it in a folder to collect dust until the grown babe would inevitable call for it. She stood, sweeping the child- no, babe- in her arms and peering at the swaddled, pale face. Too-sharp green eyes fluttered open framed by thick scarlet lashes as the hot breath of the woman washed over the infant. Peaking from under the blanket, the start of a fiery mane curls sat atop the girl's head. What had caught the matron's attention, however, was the sowilo that marred her forehead. The scar was an angry pink, as if just healed over, and stretched from her hairline to the top of her eyebrow.
"Hariel," the older woman grunted something akin to approval, handing her over to the bird-like woman with an experienced deftness. Sinking into a wooden seat again, the matron let her unease wash away like the coffee she greedily gulped down. However, the ghost of the lightning bolt lingered in the back of her head.
Outside, a single sign swung in tandem with the gate, casting long shadows in the face of the hunter's moon: The Willow's Orphanage.
"Hello Ssspeaker"
A small girl, no older than six, huddled in a bar of shade derived from an ancient oak's trunk. Her red curled into her face as she looked down (with sharp, too sharp eyes) at the small snake that had spoken. Her eyes looked out of place on her face, still laden puppy fat.
"Hello" she hissed back, reaching out a small hand for the snake to climb upon. "I'm Harry. Who might you be?"
"Ssspots of Ssun Dance." The small viper flicked its tongue, tasting the air before snaking down the girl's arm and disappearing into the grass. A brief flash of confusion overcame her face as the snake vanished. However, comprehension slowly dawned on her as she heard footsteps.
"Hawry!" A shrill voice called. The young girl spun on the balls of her feet to face the monstrosity known as Albert Shrewfoot. Standing just a few inches taller than herself, the boy had a thin physique with a mop of chestnut hair and watery blue eyes. He also, unfortunately, had a fascination with 'Hawry' and her red hair (not that his fascination would last long, she would make sure of that fact.).
"It's Harry, Albert." She emphasized the 'r' before swiftly turning around to walk away from the new boy with no self-preservation.
A sharp tug on her wild tresses sealed his fate. But, if Harry learned anything in her short lifetime it was this- the predator gains more satisfaction from the longer game. Her smile had a bit too many teeth and was a bit too feral, as she turned to face the boy. "Let us play a game, you and I."
"Weally!" Albert lit up like the Christmas tree that had stood in the common room and looked about ready to burst – that, she would happily pay to see. "What are we gonna play. Tag? Can I bring over Kyle and Mika too?"
"No, I'll just be the two of us. All the more fun, right?" She spoke with a veneer of kindness. Barely restraining herself from correcting the boy's pronunciation and slur of 'going to.' All things come to those who wait, after all.
"Right!" he happy complied gullibly, flashing a smile, his two front teeth missing. She cringed.
"How about we play hide and seek? I'll seek." Although phrased as a question her tone dripped with venom daring him to object. His small head bobbed quickly in assent as he sprinted into the woods to start hiding.
"One, two, three, four…" she counted loud enough for her voice to carry into the small backyard forest. Unseen, her smirk twisted into something vicious as she finished counting "…thirty. Ready or not, here I come."
Striding into the forested area, she crouched down and hissed quietly, "Where iss the boy?"
"Inside the hollowed oak, Sspeaker," the same black viper from before hissed before curling itself around her thin wrist. Nodding, the flame-haired girl walked sedately into the forest where she spotted the Albert hiding.
"Hello Albert," she spoke calmly from the dark shadow of a tree. Her eyes glowed faintly in the din as the chestnut-haired boy paled uneasily.
"H-Hawry?" his voice shook with nerves as the stupid, stupid boy realized the threat that was Harry Potter. "I d-don't like this g-game," he stuttered backing up into a tree and yelping.
"Albert," she crooned, her voice taking on a sharp edge, "didn't you parents ever tell you not to play with fire?" A twig snapped underneath his foot as he sprinted away from the dangerous girl with the red hair and sharp feline eyes- predator's eyes.
Tree branches whipped his face, and the roots' sole purpose seemed to be tripping him, scrambling back on all fours he let a small pained whimper escape his throat. His chest rose and fell rapidly as the girl strode– no, stalked- over, a small viper slithered up her palm as she crouched a few paces away. His breath hitched as she started to hiss at the snake. It swung its head towards Albert's retreating figure.
The snake lunged, fangs bared. A flash of pain, then all he knew was darkness.
"Help!" the hysteric voice of a young girl was enough to have the matron running out, only to see Hariel, nicknamed Harry, Potter dragging the prone figure of Albert Shrewfoot. The poor girl was in tears as her arms shook with the boy's weight. The matron swept up the boy and ushered the sniffling girl into the room.
"What happened?" the robust woman asked hurriedly reaching for the phone to call an ambulance for the pale sweating boy. The waxy sheen that settled over his skin was not good, not good at all.
"W-we were in the backyard playing and t-then he collapsed. I think I s-saw a snake." Her eyes were rimmed with red, and she reached for a tissue to blow her nose. "Am I i-in trouble?" she asked hesitantly.
"No dear," the matron cooed at the distraught girl, turning around as the sirens reached her ears and rushing out. She didn't see the young girl turn to leave, nor did she see the twisted smirk that curled her lips as the red that rimmed her eyes vanished with a wave of her hand.