Disclaimer: I don't own HP and Gashlycrumb Tinies.
AN: Inspired by Edward Gorey's Gashlycrumb Tinies.
I recommend checking this out before reading this fic. Check my profile for the link. Enjoy!
Warning: This is rated T for mild language and violent deaths. I'm sure the kids of today can handle the atrociousness of the killings. But if you find this story too disturbing, leave me a message and I'll change the rating. Thanks!
I'm not really sure how many 'tinies' I'll be killing.
Summary to Gashlycrumb Tinies:
Dramione. Four years after the war with Voldemort, Draco and Hermione are now working at the ministry as Aurors and bitter rivals. Now a series of disturbing murders of young unsuspecting teenagers has the wizarding world in panic. Will they finally settle their dispute and team up to stop the murderer? Or will they end up as 'additional' victims themselves?
Preface
In the dark alleyways of Godric's Hollow, a hooded figure lurks in the distance… not far from the suspect, a view of a young wizard, fair skinned with curly sandy hair was writing a letter in the comforts of his lounger as seen from the window.
Our suspect licks his lips from excitement of doing in his seventh victim.
His spine tingled and adrenaline was pouring over him. "It is time." He muttered to himself in an eerily shrill voice.
In a flash, the suspect whipped out his wand and pointed. "Wingardium leviosa!"
Peering through the glass window, the suspect grinned even more as he saw the quill the boy was holding suddenly 'slipped' from his hands and drop to the floor.
The boy stood up and bent over to retrieve his quill but it kept on rolling until finally it went under the massive Moroccan rug, farther and farther under it with the boy left with no choice as his wand was left on the table, unable to summon it, crawled under the rug reaching for the quill until only his feet were sticking out from the rug.
Unbeknownst to him, the felon outside was almost jumping with joy as his perfect plan was coming to life.
"Perfect." He hissed. Then he muttered another spell that made the rug hard as lead, suddenly crashing heavily on the innocent boy.
The boy struggled and thrashed frantically under the rug probably gasping for air.
After a few moments, the boy stood still.
Flushed with adrenaline from his success, the murderer removed the charm on the rug, making it an ordinary fabric heavy rug and made a pensieve of what occurred and placed it inside a tiny glass vial and into his bewitched small satchel.
Before apparating from the scene of the crime, the triumphant killer whispered to himself:
G is for George smothered under a rug.
Then with a loud pop his high pitched cackle lingered in the air only to be drowned in the screams of young George Quimbley's parents at the sight of their young fifteen year old's demise.
AN: Creepy, isn't it? Short as it is, it's just a preface with promise of more to come. If you like what you read, do leave a review. Suggestions, rants and raves are very, very much well received and appreciated. Thanks!
- Margaux