NOTES
- English is not my mother tongue, take that into consideration please.
- Please review so that I can get better. :)
PROLOGUE
AUGUST 1993
Diagon Alley, usually very crowded and loud, was nearly empty because of the Dementors patrolling up and down. Everyone who was brave enough to go out, or simply had no other choice, was in a hurry to get to their destinations as quickly as possible. Even though it was still August, autumn had fallen down on London. Pouring rain had frozen in little ponds where Dementors were dense.
A woman walked into the alley from the entrance in Leaky Cauldron. She was holding pieces of paper, cut out from the Daily Prophet, tightly. As they got wet, newspaper clippings turned almost into a big ball of dough in her fist. She didn't seem to have taken any precautions against the rain. The woman, who looked in her thirties, had short black hair levelled with her chin that stuck around her wet face. Her cloak was dragging behind her, drenched in mud.
As she strode along the alley, her grey eyes didn't leave the pavement for one second. She seemed to be unaware of both the unusual emptiness of Diagon Alley and the Dementors rattling threateningly under their hoods. She kept on walking sternly for a while more, then stopped. She was at the intersection between Diagon and Knockturn Alley. She looked around with uncertain eyes apparently searching for something. She opened her hand and tried to separate the pieces of paper, that might as well be glued together at this point, hopelessly. She gave up with a sigh and checked the inner pocket of her cloak. Pulling out another piece of paper, she looked at it. She hoisted her head up and, examining her surroundings, stood in front of a building that was barely separable from a simple wall. The windows of this place were so dirty that it was very difficult to believe light could still shine through them. There was an old advert hung on the entrance door. It was difficult to make out what it said apart from the title which was:
'HAVE YOU PREPARED YOUR TREE OF LIFE YET?'
She stood there for a while wondering what on earth a Tree of Life was. She then, lifted her head up to make sure she was at the right place. There was a little sign attached right above the entrance door. It simply read:
'EUSTACE'S'
Even though she expected the door to be locked, she attempted to open it, and to her surprise, it opened. A little bell rang indicating that a new customer has arrived. It was quite dark inside so it took her a while to adjust to the gloomy environment. She found herself in a box-like room. It was unlikely that anyone stepped into this place for a long time. Every item in the room was covered in a two-inch thick layer of dust and dirt. Velvet, crimson drapes covered the entire right wall. But, then again, maybe it wasn't a wall at all. There was light gleaming softly underneath the drapes. She debated herself for a while looking vaguely at the 'wall'. She was startled when a pearly white figure glided slowly through the drapes and stood behind a counter she didn't realize was there.
'Good days my dear lady.' said the see-through man in a friendly voice. 'How may I be of service?'
She showed the little piece of paper she previously took out from the inner pocket of her robes. It seemed to be some kind a receipt. EUSTACE'S was written on the top and the numbers 10845 was written below.
'Aaa,' said the ghost knowingly. 'Welcome back Miss Severe.'
The young woman looked suddenly at the man's eyes, glittering with wit, after hearing her name but started talking, trying to sound as calm as possible.
'I,' she said with a hoarse voice, 'want to remember.'
She threw the sticky roll of paper in her hand onto the counter. Only the words, 'AZKABAN' could be barely read amongst the mash of ink and paper and the loathing eyes of a vampire-like man could be seen piercing through the moving picture.
'Are you certain?' asked the old man seriously. 'There was a reason you wanted to forget what happened Miss Severe, It was your own choice.'
She stared at the barely-visible man thoughtfully for a brief moment then looked at the ring on her finger.
'I think, sir,' she showed the ring to him this time, 'It'll be more appropriate if you call me Mrs. Black.'