Chapter 1: Misery Loves Company

Even from five thousand miles away, she felt it.

Shock rang true throughout her body over the event that transpired merely a few days ago, combined with deep regret and a twisted bit of rage that she was unable to explain. The young woman mused over these emotions while turning around a plastic black 'eight' ball, not bothering to question the toy that was incapable of predicting the future.

Sitting in this 'safe house', she concluded that she was to blame for what had occurred - she knew it all too well. Looking up at the only light shining in the sky, a deep sigh emitted from her soft cherry lips. The thin crescent moon, lighting up the midnight colored sky in a soft white light, was the only object capable of holding her attention.

A pair of eyes looked back down at the object in her hands - why hadn't she been there? And why was she still here - in this house? What made this happen? Turning the plastic ball over, she looked at the message printed in white that was surrounded by blue liquid.

IT IS TIME.

She let out a short, rather harsh, bitter sounding laugh while mentally scoffing at the ball, 'Oh, the irony of such a small phrase…'

Moving off the white window seat, she silently raised her arms above her hand and twisted to the right, then to the left before hearing a quick, sharp snap. Shaking each leg, she felt the stiffness slowly let out. The young girl then made her way to her closet, baby blue pajama pants trailing behind her feet. Attempting to quietly open the creaky mahogany door, the girl only heard a slight squeak before roughly shoving all of her clothes to the front of the closet. Her eyes caught sight of the rusty colored large trunk, trimmed in dusty silver that she had not used for what seemed like an eternity. Yanking several times on the handle, she managed to pull the trunk out only to have it drop down on her ankle with a soft thud. Biting her bottom lip stopped her from swearing, but not from whimpering in pain.

'It's going to be a long night… with no sleep… oh joy!' she sarcastically thought with a twinge of misery as she removed her ankle from underneath the weight of the trunk.

Several demanding, precise taps on her window drew her attention away from the trunk and her eyes widened to the size of saucers.

'No way… what is he doing here? …Oh, I know the answer to that… it's the last of the signs to return…'

She slowly got up from the trunk and opened the two windows that she had just been sitting under a few minutes ago; a fire colored bird flew in and landed on her white dresser on the opposite side of the room. Her eyes were glued to the majestic bird with piercing gold eyes that were considerably sad since the last time she had seen them. Raising a pallid hand, she stroked the bird's ruffled feathers - straightening them - before benevolently petting the sad phoenix.

"I know Fawkes… what are we going to do?"

Golden orbs did not reveal anything to her - just an unbearable sadness that had crept into the bird's heart when it had happened. Welling up with tears, she flung both arms around the bird, seeking comfort from the last living possession she had left from her late grandfather's - his never-aging, magnificent phoenix.

Quickly releasing the phoenix, the twenty-year-old murmured to herself, "It's time to pack… I'm going to need a cage for you, ne Fawkes?"

Fawkes did not respond, only perched himself upon her bare shoulder as she began to collect the necessities she would be using. Her old robes - which needed to be replaced, her undergarments, socks, several pairs of shoes, books, a broom, her wand, two scarves, an old hairbrush that had been her late mother's, a toothbrush with toothpaste, other pieces of clothing that would get her through her travel, a cloak, a gold locket, her stuffed rabbit and several pictures. She paused to study these pictures, looking at each of them as she traced the figures with her index finger. Sealing the trunk, she dug around her desk drawers for paper and a pencil. Letting go of yet another deep sigh, she sat down and began writing to her three adoptive family members she had left in her life. After reading these letters, she doubted they would still be her family.

Four hours later, she wrung her right hand, tense from writing, and looked over at the phoenix that was now sleeping peacefully on the silver rim of her headboard. She smiled for the first time that night before making her way to the moon and star covered bed. Lifted the heavy covers, she crawled in, and instantly allowed the arms of Morpheus and Hypnos to envelope her. [1]

xXx

Five thousand miles away in London, England or more specifically, Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, it was the start of a brand new day.

The streams of light were creeping into the disturbingly silent windows, doors and hallways of the school, filling the great institution with a sense of loss, regret and sinking depression that no one managed to escape.

The new headmistress sighed and rubbed her temples. She had just woken up and was now sitting in the Headmaster or Headmistress' office, but it only brought her to fresh tears because everything in this cramped space reminded her of the former Headmaster - Albus Dumbledore. Oddly enough, it reminded her that she would need to hire a new teacher to teach the students, if they even had any, Defense Against the Dark Arts.

The only reason Albus Dumbledore's death had anything to do with the position of the Defense against the Dark Arts was the grim fact that the previous professor had cold bloodedly murdered the Headmaster using the fatal Killing Curse. She shivered subconsciously, 'To think he could have done such a thing. And we all trusted him after Dumbledore announced that no one would judge him.'

A depressing fact that the man had had enough guts to betray the deceased man; Albus had entrusted him with a variety of information and had his full trust. Not to mention going against the one person who believed he had changed and the only one who would have stood by his side. To think that man had played with the former Headmaster's granddaughter. It was revolting enough for her to want to rip out his heart - if he even had one.

'Just where am I going to find another professor capable of teaching the supposed cursed position?'

Her attention turned from the daunting windows and school grounds, finally resting her gaze to a silver trunk several yards away, placed next to the entrance of the office - the rotating spiral staircase. That trunk held all the rest of Albus Dumbledore's possessions. There was no one who would come to collect them for she no longer knew where his only relative had been sent off to. In fact, he had not even mentioned her once since the girl's departure, where she was sent or if they would ever see her again.

Her eyes fell on the papers that she would have to grade sooner or later; it could wait. She moved them into another corner of the dusty office that was usually sparkling clean without a trace of dust to be found. Then she remembered that the students would be excused from school after the funeral procession. Professor Dumbledore would be the only man to ever be buried on Hogwarts' grounds - with or without the consent of the Minister and the Ministry of Magic.

'This is all happening way too fast, Albus. You were supposed to retire before I became Headmistress… not die, especially the way you did…'

She knew it would be a rocky start at the beginning of her role as Headmistress. If only she had all the support, respect and knowledge that Albus, her dear friend, had had when he was alive. It was also a shame that the Boy-Who-Lived, otherwise known as Harold James Potter, would not tell her about what he had been discussing with the late headmaster. Dumbledore still had influence when he was dead, she noted solemnly, if not more so than when he was alive.

'Maybe if I bring her back… maybe she would be able to open Harry up; she could help him. I don't know how to help him, Albus. What did you tell him, that he could not mention it to anyone else? Do you think she would be able to help him with whatever it was that the two of you discussed? Oh, Albus, where is she; where did you send your beloved granddaughter? It just won't be the same without you…'

xXx

Twirling a strand of her waist-length violet hair in-between her index and thumb, her lavender eyes narrowed at the gently flowing river. She was waiting for something interesting to happen; she really wanted something to happen before she became bored out of her pretty little mind.

She had let her dark hair grow out since she turned sixteen, and surprisingly enough, it grew quite fast - a bit too fast for her liking - but the waist-length suited her.

A dull, harsh wind quickly whipped around the edge of the river and she subconsciously tugged on her violet skirt. Softly whining to no one, "Why couldn't our fuku skirts at least be knee-length? I would be so much warmer down here!"

Nothing happened in the depths of Hades, or more accurately, the River Styx [2] - at least not usually. Just Charon [3] - the anorexic looking ferryman, who had soft white hair; even though he was barely over twenty-one and had a distant pair of brown eyes, he kept coming back and forth on his boat. One more dead spirit entering into the "other side" each time, then Charon disappearing to retrieve another soul.

Twirling a six and a half foot glaive with a g-shape at the top, she patiently waited. Looking towards the opening of the River Styx, she decided Charon wasn't coming as quickly as he had for the last several weeks - due to the on-going war in some diminutive dimension she had never heard of. Thus she decided to plop down behind the iron-wrought gates and wait.

Before she could even finish her first game with a summoned deck of tarot cards, she heard two voices - that was extremely unusual. None of the dead spirits were allowed to talk on their journey on the River Styx, otherwise Hades [4] - the Lord of the Underworld - would sentence them to a trial, to receive their punishment; unless Persephone [4] was with him, then he gave them a simple punishment that his pallid wife would agree to, which was far and few between.

Dropping her tarot cards, she stood up and pointed her glaive towards the in-coming boat, eyes narrowing to thin slits. Her heart began to beat faster when she heard a rather familiar voice …

- She - she died? But…how? And when? -

- Had there been a surprise enemy? Why hadn't she been informed or summoned help? -

- Were the others coming? Who had died? -

As these questions ran through her mind, she prepared herself for the worst.


[1] ~ Morpheus; Hypnos

Morpheus is Hypnos' son, God of Dreams from Greek Mythology. Hypnos is God of Sleep.

[2] ~ Hades; Styx

Hades is a reference to the Underworld of Greek Mythology; Styx is the river in Hades.

[3] ~ Charon

The Greek Mythology ferryman who brings in the dead spirits on the River Styx.

[4] ~ Hades; Persephone

This is a reference to the God of the Underworld of Greek Mythology; Persephone is his wife.