A/N: Well, people…behold! My very first fanfic! Please be gentle when reviewing, but sincere—these musings tend to be rather shoddy at best…
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, along with all the fantabulous, schmexy male characters, belongs to J.K. Rowling, not I.
A Legacy Worth Killing: Prologue
Lydia beamed contentedly down at the display of stuffed animals before her. Everyone was in their proper place, playing their proper role, lives and existences at her command. Her full child lips spread to reveal a rosy grin, dimples intact, as she made each one of her toys bend to her every whim. Johnny would speak especially to Susan; Rosanne would become jealous and react by giving Johnny mean looks and no attention; Johnny would then become sad and give both girls his promise of loyalty. Lydia giggled quietly. People were so much fun to play with.
A slow, secretive shiver snaked its way down the young girl's back. She turned suddenly, glancing at her surroundings with a cautious eye and an unexplainable sensation of foreboding. "Cocoa? Is that you? You silly kitty! Come out now! Mommy will give you a doll to play with if you do…!" Lydia voiced out in bright tones—however, the jolliness had dispersed from her mood as she cast a wary look about her, especially toward that of the encompassing forest that morphed seamlessly into the backyard at which she was playing.
"Cocoa?" Lydia's voice shook now.
A streak of moonlit silver darted through the trees in complete silence. The last of Lydia's previous bravado quickly evaporated. She could handle noise. A meek meow, the wail of cicadas, the sweet whisper of a breeze's caress. But this silence held nothing but a sour tinge, a cascade of loneliness, and the roiling, boiling, teeth-grinding inferno of internal agony. A sinister reek, one that Lydia only recognized as fear. The small girl started up in haste, all toys abandoned, now that her life was threatened. She ran as fast as her short, round legs could carry her, stumbling and tripping all the while.
A tall and broad shadow loomed over Johnny, Susan, and Rosanne. The pale, long and slender fingers of a wiry hand reached for and grasped all three toys. Despite the cuts and grime that crisscrossed and wove to create a tapestry of hard-living on the pallid skin, the grasp and resounding hold on the innocent playthings belied a fearsome, desperate strength. The lips—rough and chapped, cracked and bleeding in some places—managed a tightly drawn and completely mirthless smirk.
"Well, Johnny," a voice like the racing wind and rolling thunder of a summer storm rasped. "Answer me this. Why are you such a fool?" The voice burned with agonized intensity and the steel-gray eyes bore holes through the well-dressed doll. Johnny appeared to look quite well-off and, of course, dashingly handsome. Tendrils of dirty gossamer strands of moonlight bangs impeded the death glare bestowed upon the doll; the smirk grew impossible in length, splitting the face in half.
"Learn this well, Johnny," came the fervent whisper. "You're one bloody hell of a fool idiot if you ever thought for a moment that you weren't being used. " The vise-like grip tightened until Johnny's head popped off. The smirk grew sympathetic. "But at least you've still got your health."
A/N: Rather short—however, the more reviews, the more I can beat myself over the head in order to update sooner…
