Prologue
The sky was cloudless and a full moon hung in the sky. The air was warm and sticky, but despite this, Meredith trudged down the street lit by moonlight in a heavy black cloak, the hood pulled up to hide her face. She'd spend the evening at the local muggle pub and was starting to think the last couple of drinks hadn't been the best idea.
She swayed to one side before straightening up and kept walking. She only had a few more blocks to go. As she crossed a deserted street, she paused. Were those footsteps? Meredith stood there, listening. After a few moments of silence, she continued down the street.
There they were again. This time, she whirled around, pulling her cloak lower. The street was empty, aside from a few pieces of trash blowing on a slight breeze.
Meredith turned around, but reached into her pocket and pulled out her wand, gripping it tightly. She picked up her pace a bit, her footsteps echoing. She glanced down at her wand, and then at her forearm. Although the scars had faded slightly over time, one could clearly read Mudblood, spelled out in perfect penmanship.
Her knuckles turned white and her other hand clenched into a fist. Nineteen years had past since she'd acquired her scar, and she liked to think of it as a reminder. A reminder that she was a survivor. A reminder that she was strong.
As she turned onto her street, she heard them for the third time. Footsteps. Ducking into a dark alley, she waited, her heart thumping. She raised her wand and opened her mouth. The spell was ready to escape her lips.
Her left hand started to tremble, but her wand hand didn't waver. The footsteps grew closer and closer. They had to be turning around the corner soon. One. Two. Three-
Meredith yelled, "STUPEFY!" and a beam of red light lit up the street. She glanced down at the body on the pavement, and let out a sigh of relief. It was just a stray cat. She shook her head. She was getting old, but the two previous wars made sure her reflexes were still lightning quick. Paranoia did that to you. It also made sure her nights were often sleepless, but that was another matter.
She took a step out of the alley, then hesitated. What if there was someone else out there? She considered it. Perhaps she was just paranoid. But perhaps not. She hadn't survived wars by being reckless.
Meredith fell back into the alley's shadows and waited. Straining her ears, she heard just the slightest scuff against the pavement. Her breath caught in her throat. She raised her wand once again and wet her lips.
Another scuff. Then silence. A few minutes passed by. Finally, she heard a footstep. Then another one. A man with a large nose rounded the corner, hands at his side, looking at the other side of the street. Meredith hesitated.
Just as she was about to put her wand away, she felt a cold barrel pressed against the back of her head.
"You scream, I shoot, sweetheart," a low voice said from behind her. The man on the street kept walking, not noticing the alley.
Meredith cursed herself for being so stupid. "What do you want?" she demanded, still gripping her wand tightly.
"Just a bit of fun," the man said, with an malicious lilt to his voice. He put his arm on her shoulder to yank her around, the gun slipping off her head for a moment, and she used the momentum to spin and scream, "STUPEFY!"
The beam of red light hit the man in the chest, just as he pulled the trigger, the gun going off with a loud bang. The man flew into the alley wall just as something pierced her leg. Meredith gasped and clutched her thigh. The man lay on the ground, his head at an unnatural angle.
Meredith stared at the body. She knew death when she saw it.
She pulled up her hood once again, conjured a bandage around her leg, and set off down the street as quickly as she could. Sirens already pierced the air. The muggle police would show up soon.
Meredith locked her door behind her and didn't look back. If she had, she might have seen the man with a large nose staring at her apartment.