Chapter One: The Vegetable Patch Kid
There are five things you must do in order to properly kill a witch.
1. A witch's primary source of spell casting is their voice, remove the tongue of a witch and she will become crippled in battle.
2. Witches have been known to control their enemies through eye contact. To avoid this, blind your witch with a sharp object or corrosive substance.
3. Witches who have command over the elements can channel this power through their fingertips. Break the bones in the witch's hand or, if possible, remove.
4. Once the witch is defenceless, cut off her head and take it at least a day's walk from the body before burning.
5. Hang the body up in public view as a warning to anyone who might consider witchcraft a viable option.
If these steps are not followed you will stand little to no chance against one.
Everybody knew how to kill a witch, but no civilian ever dared do it alone, if at all. Knights, warriors of noble blood, were the only ones considered capable or willing. The reasoning behind this was two-fold.
Firstly, the punishment for the murder of an innocent often resulted in a hanging. Witches, being (as is told) cunning by nature, are proficient in secrecy and almost impossible to identify by sight. The average person would rather cross their fingers, in the hope that they grew grey without being turned into a toad, than risk execution.
The second, and truly the most important reason, is that witches are undoubtedly the most skilled killers on the face of the earth. Few would bother to engage in combat with a witch when the odds were stacked so highly against them.
This was why, when a farm-hand from just outside the capital single-handedly took down the fabled and feared Hepzibah, it caused quite a stir.
Young Tom Riddle performed the herculean task with a combination of high intelligence and exceptional good looks. He allowed himself to become one of her many victims, charmed her into thinking he was head over heels for her before she could enact that terrible spell of hers which lured many innocent men back to her home, never to be seen again.
Once her guard was down, Tom struck.
So impressive was this act that Tom Riddle, an orphaned commoner, received a full knighthood and the social standing that came with it.
The stir, however, did not end at the single historic knighthood. Many other individuals were inspired by Tom's bravery, and soon there were tales of witch hunts in every corner of the country and soon Tom, having quickly become a court favourite, was entrusted with the command of a new order, that of the 'Witch Hunters.'
More travelled to the city every year, volunteering in the hope that, one day, they'd impress the king and be granted a knighthood, just like Tom and the most valued of his inner circle.
And as the Witch Hunters broke bread and drank merrily, a ten year old girl wept in a withered vegetable patch.
The girl's name was Lily Evans and her home, the village of Cokeworth, almost five-hundred miles away from the capital, had just become the location of the country's most recent successful witch hunt.
Suspicions arose regarding Frank Bryce's vegetable patch some years beforehand after he severely injured his leg and could no longer walk for very long or without assistance. When the vegetable patch continued to thrive, though no one was ever seen tending to it, mutterings of witchcraft emerged.
Earlier that day, Rabastan Lestrange, a teenage boy with a foul temper and sour face, gathered two friends and launched an attack on Frank Bryce's house. They kicked down the wooden door with remarkable ease. Not that it mattered though, for Frank wasn't home.
After a quick search of the village, Frank was discovered relaxing by the river, a fishing rod in his hand.
Half awake, half dreaming, it took Frank a moment or so to realise that several teenagers were wading through water towards him, weapons in hand.
Panicking, Frank leapt to his feet and tried to run, but Frank was nearing seventy and leg was in agony. Buckling soon after breaking free, the three adolescents caught up to him in no time.
Given that Frank had been running in the general direction of the Forbidden Forest, a place not even a knight would consider stepping a toe in, he was considered to be undeniably guilty.
The forest ran from north to south, a great and deadly spine, dominating the country's landscape.
Its real name was not largely known, having simply been referred to as forbidden by generation after generation of parent, warning children of the creatures that lurked amongst the trees.
Everyone had grown up with tales of vampires dancing naked with werewolves in the moonlight, fairies sharing the secrets of poisonous plants with pixies, and centaurs battling giants.
A suspected witch even so much as glancing towards the forbidden forest was as good as dead already.
The burning of the head took place the next day. Almost half the village made the journey along with Rabastan and his friends. After all, it had been nearly seventy years since a witch had been killed in Cokeworth.
Petunia Evans had dragged her unwilling sister along, hoping the whole event would discourage her from those ridiculous things she did with flowers from time to time.
Lily had been just shy of eight when she'd shown her first signs of magical talent. One of the roses in the garden had failed to bloom and Lily, feeling so sad for the poor bud, had plucked it for herself. Petunia had thought Lily a fool to keep the thing by their bed that night.
"Just throw it away, Lily," she'd scolded, "It'll only go brown."
The next morning the rose had begun to bloom.
Without hesitation, Petunia crushed the flower.
"Hey!" cried Lily, lunging for her sister. "Why'd you do that?"
Grabbing Lily's forearm and speaking in a very low voice, Petunia said, "Never tell anybody about this."
Lily never did tell anybody, but that didn't stop her from pulling the odd trick with a flower when Petunia was really getting on her nerves.
Now, it should be noted that there are few things more unsettling than the view of a man's head, without tongue or eyes, burning on a pike to the entertainment of almost a hundred people. In fact, none come to mind right now.
Lily Evans, upon witnessing this event, promptly burst into tears and fled. Petunia followed as swiftly as was possible without drawing further attention and found her sitting in a muddy patch of grass, knees pulled tight against her chest.
"Oh, Lily," sighed Petunia, "You're ruining your dress."
With a glare, Lily wiped her running nose on the sleeve of her cream coloured dress.
Petunia tried once more, "Come on. Aren't you tired?"
After a sleepless of camping, a nasty odour was beginning to fill the air and several people were beginning to wander back to the village. The two girls fell step behind a large group of grown-ups and did not speak the entire day's walk home.
When they were finally reunited with their parents, who had desperately wanted to join them but could not take the time off of farm work, it was all hugs and kisses. Lily's dejection went unnoticed.
As the sisters climbed into bed, Lily spoke for the first time in hours.
"Petunia," she said in a quiet voice, pulling the covers up to her chin. "Do you not think it's awful what they did to poor Frank?"
"Lily, please don't talk like that."
"Do you think he deserved it?" asked Lily.
"Do I think he was really a witch?"
"No, that's not what I asked. I want to know if you think he deserved it."
"Lily, witchcraft is dangerous. It threatens the life of normal people."
With a small nod, Lily blew out the candle and threw them into darkness.
Once Petunia began to snore, Lily, trying not to wake her, peeled the covers back and swung her bare feet onto the floor.
Lily winced with every creak of the wooden staircase.
Despite her fears, she managed to pull on her boots and wrap her father's coat around her without a single member of her family stirring.
Frank's vegetable patch still looked lovely and Lily wondered if it knew it was partially responsible for its owner's death.
With little hesitation, Lily clambered over the fence and settled down beside the cabbages, beginning to cry. She wasn't quite sure how long she stayed there, tears falling into the soil, but when she looked up all the plants had died and a boy was staring at her from the other side of the fence.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice croaky from all the crying.
"I could ask you that, you know," he replied.
Then, without invitation, he climbed over the fence to join her.
"Evans, isn't it?" said the boy, sitting down beside her. "Did you do this?"
"Do what? How do you know my name?"
"I've seen you before," he explained.
Lily looked closely at the boy, taking in his every feature, his hooked nose, his long black hair.
"I haven't seen you," she admitted.
"Haven't noticed me probably," he said. "I'm Severus."
"Lily."
"That's pretty."
"Thank you."
"Did you do this?"
"Do what?"
"Kill the vegetables."
Lily blinked several times before saying, quite carelessly, "Yes. I did."
"How?" asked Severus, his eyes wide in wonder.
"I don't know how," she said. "It just happens." Then, realising what she'd done she pleaded, "Don't tell anyone."
"I won't," he said quickly.
"How did you find me?"
"I live over there," he nodded over his shoulder at the one room hovel across the way. "I saw you through the window."
"Well, you should have been sleeping."
"So should you."
Before she could stop herself, Lily blurted out, "You really won't tell anyone?"
"Of course not. We're friends now, aren't we?"
Lily smiled slightly. She'd stopped crying a while ago.
"If you like," she said.
AN: I started this story a while ago, uploading this chapter and a second. But I've decided to rewrite. This chapter is basically the same but from here on out it should be different.
Thank you for reading you're wonderful.
