Author's Note: This is a little idea I had after reading someone else's story. Please read and review. Thanks a lot!
Yours truly,
severussnape922
This story is dedicated to The Half Mad Muggle, who was the first ever author whose stories I read and who inspired me to write fanfiction.
Disclaimer: I do not own any Harry Potter characters. I earn no profit from writing this.
Prologue
A jet black raven soared high in the azure blue sky, appearing to the naked eye like a tiny black speck. It spread its wings out wide, enjoying the wonderful sensation and thrill of catching the warm updrafts in the hot, windy, air. It threw back its head and cawed in triumph when it spied a potential prey: a small, fat, and juicy rabbit out of the corner of its obsidian eyes.
It swooped low, skimming its wings through the swaying treetops as it honed in on its unsuspecting prey. The hooked beak and razor-sharp talons flashed in the early evening sun as it circled slowly around the rabbit. Judging the moment to be right, it folded its wings and plummeted rapidly towards the rabbit.
Unknown to the raven, a hunter had also sighted his prospective game, the rabbit. The hunter took out his deadly crossbow, which had sang many a death song to his game. He took out an arrow, feathered with duck feathers, which was as straight as a die. He closed one eye, and sighted his game with the crossbow. He drew back the bowstring until it was at its tauntest, then released the arrow.
The arrow sped through the still and silent undergrowth, making the air whistle and thrum at the speed it zipped past. The arrow then found a target.
The raven never knew what hit it. It cried out in utter pain as the sharp arrow pierced straight through its wing, breaking the bone. The arrow came to a stop a few feet away from the raven, so strong was the impact. The raven's cry spoke so clearly of pain, of misery, and above all, complete despair.
The hunter froze on the spot. His eyes flickered over the gruesome scene. Realisation dawned onto the hunter. The hunter then understood what had just transpired. The hunter scooted away, as silent as a cat, reasoning that he could find better game deeper into the forest. The hunter also did not want an injured raven on his hand. Who cares about that idiot bird...
The raven flapped its now-useless wing weakly and wearily. The raven felt overwhelming darkness blanketing it, luring the raven in. The raven surrendered helplessly to the darkness, and it knew no more.
