Disclaimer: Not mine. Almost all characters belong to the very awesome J.K. Rowling. Who should continue her streak of awesomeness by not suing me :D
Sins of Angels: I'm alive, I swear! I'm just…writer's block the suck. So here's another go at a story in the Harry Potter timeline, instead of Marauders (as fun as they are). Anyway, on with the show!
Chapter 1: The Quiet Girl
The swing creaked. Not much could be done about it now, and least of all done by her, but they still creaked after a certain height. And it wouldn't be such a problem if she had come to them earlier in the day, but now it was night, and the creaking of the swings was one sound she'd rather not have.
Feyligh Whittleton, though she prefers Fey, was a small girl of age 15. Her short hair fell in clumps around her face, and it was a deep red color, almost the color of blood. Her eyes were the ever-matching startling green, and she was quite adapt at facial expressions. She had only moved to Britain from America two weeks ago, and was now living just a few houses away from The Boy Who Lived, unbeknownst to her. In fact, Fey had no idea who Harry Potter was, as her guardian hadn't mentioned the boy at all. So, quite unaware of her neighbors' identities, the small girl sat on her swing, taking care to keep it from creaking.
An unexpected sound made the girl jump in her seat and hurriedly slam her feet in the sand to stop herself, darting out of the swing and through the park to hide behind the slide. Peering over she saw a boy, his black hair astoundingly messy, and he was wearing round glasses that reflect nearby light. The boy vaulted over the locked park gate much like Fey had done with ease, and went over to the swing, seeming not noticing her. Which, of course, was good. She smiled softly at her hiding spot, observing the boy with all the more fun now that he didn't know he was being watched. But, like always, the game quickly became boring, and she turned from the boy who refused to do anything interesting, carefully and quietly making her way out of the park. She managed to do it without alerting the mysterious boy on the swing, and her smile grew at her own little inventive game. It would have kept growing, too, if she didn't hear bikes coming down the sidewalk. It was far too late for her to dodge back in the park, as the people on the bikes had surely seen her by now. So Fey stood her ground, noting how much bigger the approaching boys were, compared to her. They stopped a little way in front of her, and the most massive one gave her a smile as he leaned on his bike. She wondered how the poor contraption could withstand such a load. Sure, it wasn't all fat, as the possibility of muscle still loomed. And yet, the bike seemed far sturdier than any model she'd ever encountered.
"Well, well, what a lovely surprise…" the boy said. "I don't believe we've met, I'm Dudley. Dudley Dursley."
Fey nodded to the boy, but didn't offer her name. The simple fact was that she couldn't properly introduce herself to the small gang. So she opted for a small smile instead, and pointed towards her house. Away from them. Dudley frowned at her and her gesture, obviously displeased.
"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" he hackled on, and it seemed as if Fey was stuck. She shook her head, and then tapped her throat with her hand, as if to signify that she couldn't talk. In fact, Fey was a mute, which made meeting new people somewhat difficult for her. But the boy in front of her still didn't seem to get it. "Whatever," Dudley said, and he started pedaling again. Fey heard one of his friends mutter, "freak," before they left, and she frowned slightly at them. She wasn't a freak. She just couldn't talk. If anything, those boys could use a bit of silence, from what she saw.
She turned away from them indignantly, towards the park, and nearly fell backwards as the boy from before looked at her from the other side of the fence. Well, she supposed the commotion had alerted him of her presence. Couldn't be helped, then, if that's what happened.
"Hi," the boy said, and he already seemed much nicer than the others. "I'm Harry. I guess you're new here?" Fey nodded. "And you don't want to talk?" At this, Fey shook her head hurriedly. She did want to talk, she really did! Taking out a small notepad, she wrote in her curly, calligraphy-like handwriting "My name is Feyligh Whittleton, but please call me Fey" and passed it along to the boy. He blinked, and then nodded to her with a small smile. "Alright then, Fey. It's getting rather late; I'm going to head off. Nice to meet you." Fey nodded in eager agreement. It was nice to meet Harry too! In fact, it was probably the nicest thing that's happened to her since she moved, as she watched the messy-haired boy set off down the street. She held on to her notebook for a moment, staring at it with a smile before putting it away and setting off in the same direction. After a little while, she realized she didn't want it to seem like she was stalking him. So she darted to a smaller street and took a different route, though still keeping the green eyed boy in her sight. Once again, she was playing her game without him knowing. Perhaps it was better if he didn't anyway.
She followed him as he met up with Dudley, making a small frown at the larger boy from her hidden path. So they knew each other? Their dialogue sealed the deal. Of course they knew each other. Fey began to take much slower steps, increasing the distance between her and the boys…until the yelling started. She heard their voices raising, and she ran out of her path and towards the two boys hurriedly, coming to a stop as they came into view. Dudley was backed against a wall, and Harry was holding something. Something oddly familiar. It looked like…a wand!
The two boys turned towards her, and she instinctively took a step back. Harry glanced at his wand, wanting to put it away, but he didn't get the chance to. His attention was diverted to the stars seemingly blinking out, and the temperature dropping considerably. So much so that Fey shivered in her position, still keeping an eye on Harry.
"Fey, RUN!" Harry called out to her in panic. He said something to Dudley, who seemed to be panicking. It was just a downwind chill, wasn't it? No need to panic. A quick look up made Fey realize that there was something else here. And then she heard it, and it seemed Harry heard it too. A low rasping…and then…Fey seemed to be almost…floating. But it was a drowning sort of floatation, and Fey felt herself sinking, Harry and Dudley fading out of view and she looked around. She could still hear them, arguing, moving, but there was something else, something other than the sounds of the British night. A laugh, something that sent a shiver down her spine. And the shiver didn't stop there. Turning, she saw it. She had seen them only in pictures up until now, and certainly knew what they could do. Her mouth shut tightly, as if that could help. And she fumbled for something in her coat, something she desperately wanted to get out. But she didn't have the chance, because she saw a bright light come from Harry as the dementor passed over her, and a stag chased the thing away before it got too close. But it was the last Fey would see, as the girl passed out on the street, succumbing into blackness and that hallow laugh that she had heard before. Blackness. Nothing. She didn't even feel being moved, least of all moved in a short time by magic. And it took her a while to come out of it and finally wake up. But wake she did, and certainly not in the place she expected.
Sins of Angels: Yeah, I know it's a bit short. Still, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and keep a lookout for the next ones, they'll be here soon-ish (if my writer's block doesn't kick in full swing again). Anyway, thanks for reading, and please review!