Chapter One - Found
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This is my first Fanfiction ever! Please be nice.
Smoke. It unfurled, rising out of the mouth of a young boy, like a coiling serpent slithering from a cave, into the misty morning. Greasy dark hair hung limply from his head and he slouched against a lamppost, taking a drag from a half-dead cigarette. The boy's hazel eyes showed clearly the look of someone who had given up on life and just wished it to end.
The neighbourhood he lived in was a dank, miserable dump anyway.
Peeling paint hung limply from the grimy front doors of surrounding houses, which seemed large and misshapen in the heavy mist. Bags of trash and mounts of rubbish lay strewn on the ground. A collection of rotten garbage bags and bins lay on the far end of the square. The weak light from the filthy lamp above him flickered and died.
A crashing noise by the rotting garbage bins made the youth turn his head, breathing more fumes into the autumn air. And what he saw made his blood run cold.
A low, crawling shape had come slithering out of the wreckage of trash and dirt. At first he thought it was a woman, half naked and bloody, reaching out with pale hands. For a brief moment this was nothing special – there were many drunk and beaten up people wandering the streets.
But then he saw, with a jolt of horror, the glowing snake-like eyes and the forked tongue that flickered in and out of her mouth, which dripped blood. The cigarette fell from his cold fingers as he stared numbly, and scrambled backwards, his mind refusing to comprehend the images in front of his eyes.
The thing hissed, spraying blood from its mouth, and seemed to rise up off the ground, and, as it did, the boy's eyes fell below the creature's naked chest. For a fraction of a second, he stared. Then his mind seemed to jam. He did the only logical thing his frozen brain could think of. He screamed.
He screamed and he screamed. He was paralyzed, looking at something that might have come from a nightmare, and all he could do was scream. He was screaming so loudly, he didn't hear running footsteps through the mist, and a word that was shouted out.
"Oblivate!"
But then he knew warm, comforting, blissful ignorance. His voice died, and a blank, vague look came into his eyes. A hand touched his shoulder, and guided him gently away from where he had been standing.
"Go on, son." a voice said gently, "go on home."
This sounded good to the boy. Why had he been out there anyway? Home was better than out there. Home was a good place to be, right? Home had cigarettes. Where had his cigarette gone? Did it matter? He looked on the floor vaguely, but the hand on his shoulder pushed him away gently, and the gentle voice urged him to go home.
"'Kay," he mumbled hazily. The hand loosed its hold.
The boy turned and staggered away, through the early morning mist, only dimly aware of the sun sliding upwards, shedding a weak light upon the dingy houses of Grimmauld place.
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