Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc... are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.
Also, please note that while the prelude is in 3rd person narrative, the rest of the story will be in 1st person narrative.
There was no happiness to be found here.
The feeling of dread was inescapable.
Even as the teenage girl walked draped in a blanket, the penetrating cold that the dementors exuded seemed to seep into her very skin. She shivered uncontrollably, her body struggling in vain to maintain what little warmth her new found fate brought her. For although the sounds of the waves crashing against the stone walls were growing louder, so too were the voices inside her head as she approached the two cloak covered creatures...
'Take the children and run...'
The putrid smell of decaying flesh and over ripe fruit clung to the back of her throat as she passed the dementors, causing her to gag.
'Stand aside, silly girl...'
She stumbled blindly forwards as the icy fingers of loss closed around her throat, suffocating her. With the last of her strength she threw herself forwards, laughing with indescribable joy when her hands came into contact with the rusted iron gates. Forcing her eyes open she pushed them aside and walked out into the cool sea air.
A man was stood waiting wearing a patching travelling cloak wrapped tight around his body, the calm of his face emphasised even more so by the small scars that littered his jaw. The girl smiled as she approached, her stormy grey eyes reflecting the weather. The man opened his arms and enveloped her against his body. She sighed contently, relaxing into the warmth of his embrace. They stood like this for several moments before reluctantly pulling apart.
"You look dreadful." The man said, taking a step back to inspect her appearance. Her hair was matted to her waist and filled with dirt and grime, as was the rest of her. She was nothing more than skin and bones, and dark bruises covered almost every inch of her. "When was the last time you ate?"
The girl shrugged. "I don't remember."
The man shook his head. "The sooner you get away from this place the better." He took out his wand and offered her his arm. "I'll make us some French onion soup."
She couldn't help the smile. It hurt her face she hadn't smiled for so long. Grasping his arm she turned to take one last look at the place that had been her home for the past three years. The man turned on the spot and with a loud bang –
Vespa Black walked free from Azkaban.
Please Rate & Review
Constructive criticism is welcome, but flames are not