One
The Child Who Could Not Be Found
Two figures stumbled across the rain splattered road followed by three masked and hooded figures. One of escapes was a medium height, plump male, the other a tall and slender woman.
They had nowhere to run and their procurers knew it.
"Tell us where the child is, and I will spare your miserable life!" yelled one of the hunters. He was a big, rangy man with matted gray hair and robes that looked uncomfortably tight on him.
As he said this he avoided the eyes of the beautiful wife of the man, knowing the offer was not for her. It was a pity that a creature so fair would die but she had already made her choose
"NEVER" he screamed.
The man's face showed no fear as he said this. He thought back to his wonderful daughter only a few months old. How she looked with a small smile playing on her face and how much safer she would now be away from the world of harm she had lived. No she was far safer among people that bid not wish for her blood.
"Fine you had your chance." The man said with a raspy and bark-like voice. Grinning as he fingered what looked to be a long black stick with his long yellowish nails and stepped back behind the other two clocked men.
Now two more of these, long peculiar sticks where visible in the pale moon light. The man and woman could hear the cures said, but stood strong and proud.
The woman sang a single note of music as the cures came hurtling towards. There was a flash of green light, the beautiful music ended abruptly; it had hit her over the heart. They where dead before they hit the hard, rain splattered road.
Fenrir Greyback still smiling sauntered off with one of the death eaters at his heals. The other looked down at the dead woman. A tear escaped one of the man's gray, lonely eyes.
He stooped down and plucked a small trinket from around her fair neck, whispered apology. That was met only by silence.
He straitened him self, wiped the sadness off his face, and disappeared in to the night. Leaving the dead couple behind with only the knowledge that they had saved there child from the same fate.
In another part of England a baby with silvery blond hair awoke from her sleep. She was wrapped in a blanket of leaves at the foot of a large old willow tree.
She cried in that baby language only mothers seem to understand; a language that no one would ever understand again. She would in later years not remember what her father looked like or what the tune to her mother lullaby had sounded like.
She would only remember a howl that echoed thru the forest that night and the tree that had protected her till sunrise; the old farmer frowned her and that the tree had waved its branches in the wind as if to say goodbye.
(AN) plz review
