Chapter 1: Wringburg Attack
A/N: This is the first real chapter of the SatS. The 'twin' prophecy is included. This will be the beginning of the "adventure" for the Unknown One. (By the way, Draco will appear but in the third chapter. I'm not sure if it'll be all in Draco's perspective but yeah, he'll be there.) Also, a warning: While some of the content is based from the books by J.K. Rowling, other parts on based by the movies. Just saying this now, so there is no confusion later on.
The Daughter of the Sun and Moon
Will be lost with the one left behind
and be seen not until the day of a tragic deed
Born as the unknown one
She will help in bringing an end to an era of darkness
Love, fear, and hatred will map out the way
Unto which will arrive the final day
May the hero's life remain intact, promises promised not waver
And the beginning of a new world, Protected by something never to be undone
Will fall in the hands of he who is more powerful than all,
The one to experience first-hand worlds of grief and sorrow,
For which lifeless heroes will give one final gift
In the cold hopes so he may yet see tomorrow
And rise to overthrow the servant and master from thy throne
Might old foes forgotten be confined evermore within the chains of Atlas
Sister in everything but blood,
The daughter of the Sun and Moon
Will protect, aid, and guide him in any way she can
Going to all limits, impossible or not, to protect him until the final stand
And with one final breathe
From the enemy who never should've been
Learner of magic old and of centuries stories' untold
The daughter will let go with hope unprevailed
The mist will be cast like a veil
"Harry. . ."
Inside of the home of 4 Privet Drive resided a certain dark-haired boy. He was sitting in a chair by his bedroom window, cheek pressed against the cold, frosty window as he slept. The glasses on his face were askew and his mouth wide open. Snores emitted from his mouth as he slept, even through the sharp, twisting cold dancing inside the room.
There were faint bags under the boy's eyes, and uneasy exhaustion lined his face. "Harry. . ."
With a grunt, the dark-haired boy shifted in his chair. But he didn't wake up. No, he continued sleeping as if nothing were amiss, completely unaware of the chaos breaking throughout the whole wizarding world at that very moment. He had not the slightest of idea of the news spreading like wildfire about the horrors of that night, which would later go on to be named the Red Night.
Or of how much his life was about to change.
Far away in a small forest on the eastern side of England lay a small wizarding town named Wringburg. Wringburg, in all aspects, was considerably small, with only three hundred seventy-four people occupying its homes and cottages. Considering how secretive and tranquil the town was, it didn't attract much attention from the rest of the wizarding world,. No trouble arose from there, except the occasional argument or so. Indeed, Wringburg was the place to go if you wanted to avoid being surrounded by hordes of witches and wizards. Or if you wanted to escape from something.
But on that fateful July night, Wringburg experienced terrible horrors that they'd always thought, always sure in the thinking they were safe, would never befall them. Frigid autumn winds howled fiercely, shaking the forest's trees and making them shudder. The moon was bright and round against the black, inky sky, and it cast the world into a dance of light and shadows. And it was from these shadows that emerged a dozen cloaked figures wearing plain white masks over their features. They stalked through the silent streets confidently, wands gripped firmly in their hands. Above, more figures hovered in the air, ready to strike at the slightest of signals.
"Kill everyone and spare none," the cloaked-figure snapped, turning his head slightly to address his companions. "There is to be no failure. He will not allow it." Several of the people around him trembled in fear at the thought of what they would receive should they fail in their given task. The man scowled underneath his hood.
"What about the homes?" a female voice called from the back. Her voice was thick and sweet as honey. Yet it made most men cower in their boots when directed at them.
For a moment, the male leader paused. Then in a cool voice he responded, "Burn the houses down. In fact, make well in leaving behind nothing unscathed." There were excited murmurs before the group leader once again spoke the word that would doom hundreds of innocents to their deaths. "Begin."
The action was immediate. The black-cloaked figures charged at several homes at full speed, laughing gleefully at the knowledge of the pain and death that they would cause, throwing spells left and right. Earsplitting screams filled the air as the town's citizens woke up to their awaiting deaths. With a detached look, the man watched as a woman came running out of her home, sobbing and looking over her shoulder. She didn't make it very far before someone swooped down from above and cast the infamous killing curse on her. Instantly, the woman crumpled to the ground, lifeless, her face still lined with panic. He sneered. The wench hadn't even attempted to defend herself in the least. It was the nicest death that could've been given to her. With a bored sigh he folded himself in the air and disappeared into the night. He had other business to attend to.
Meanwhile, in one of the farther cottages down the end of Wringburg stirred a girl with striking dark brown chestnut hair. She bolted up in her bed when she heard earsplitting screams split the air. Alarm had her immediately running to her bedroom window to see what was going on. Shock filled her pale features as threw open the window shutters and withheld the image of burning homes in the distance and cloaked figures. Nausea made her knees weak when she saw one of the figures drop a young boy from the air. His yells echoed painfully in her heart as he landed on the ground below with a snapped neck. Tears pricked her eyes when she saw an older woman sobbing over the boy's body, presumably his mother, before she was tortured to death by another of the cloaked figures whose laughter she heard quite clearly. The woman's screams echoed in her ears long after.
Her hand clenched around the wand that was hers but used rarely.
"Brielle!" said a sharp voice and she spun around, quickly grabbing her wand from where it lay beside her bedside table, "Protego" on the edge of her lips. Her hand lowered cautiously when she saw it was her only living relative, Aunt Joanne.
Her aunt was only a couple of years older than Brielle, seeing as she'd been the youngest of three children. But heavy age could be seen by the way she stood stiffly at the door, lines already cornering her mouth due to the stress and fear of over the several hard years. Her eyes were wide and panicked. "Brielle, we have to leave. It's not safe here. Not anymore."
Aunt Joanne had been her mom's sister. Brielle knew that when her mom had been alive, she and Joanne had been inseparable, always traveling together and watching each other's backs through thick and thin. They'd often been called the Two Saints due to their gentle, loving demeanors and smiles that could soften most men's hearts. Like her sister, Joanne had been blessed with bright crystalline-blue eyes which were contrasted sharply against her dark blonde curls. Odette, however, had been born with dark midnight waves.
For as long as anyone could remember, the two had always trusted each other, never hiding anything from one another. So it was a complete shock to the whole family when Odette Leighn disappeared suddenly, just days after fervent plans to visit the Leighn Manor along with Joanne and a friend from her school days, something they'd all been looking forward to, convincing all the Leighns into thinking her dead after it had been revealed Joanne knew nothing about her sister's disappearance except that she'd been acting odd the day before, scared even. And then she'd appeared once more several months later, pregnant and changed in a way no one knew how to describe. Especially not Joanne, who was confused about the whole thing as a whole. Everyone assumed she'd been kidnapped and intimately abused, and Odette hadn't said anything to make others believe otherwise.
But Aunt Joanne had suspected there was more to the story than met the eye, though when she tried to talk to her sister, Odette drew away. Resigned, Joanne grudgingly accepted what everyone else believed. But then the day after Brielle was born, her sister was murdered, along with the rest of the Leighns with the exception of Joanne. And Brielle of course. Aunt Joanne had been upstairs in Brielle's new room, looking after her as Odette and the rest of the family discussed politics in the living room downstairs when it happened. The only reason they hadn't been killed as well had been because of the wards Odette had strongly insisted on putting up around her daughter's room the second she was born, which to non-family members appeared as an empty storage closet. Up to this day Aunt Joanne found it odd that what Odette had fought so fiercely about had saved their lives, even when the other Leighns insisted that it wasn't needed, that it was ridiculous really.
"Brielle! Brielle, listen to me." said Aunt Joanne frantically, rushing around the room as she spoke. "We need to leave, quick. Now. Those guys -they're not good people. If we stay here they'll surely kill us." She glanced nervously out the window. "Pack your things, and be fast at it. Please." Brielle snapped back to reality when she Aunt Joanne picked up her wand and whispered "Quietus". Instantly, a small light shot from her wand and around the room. She stared.
Aunt Joanne and Brielle didn't normally use wand magic or any magic really, instead opting to do things the way a Muggle would. It was for their safety, Joanne had always said. Acting like a muggleborn or half-blood would save them from getting killed. Personally, Brielle never understood why since she knew that the Dark Lord, the one who'd killed thousands upon thousands of magical and non-magical people alike hated muggleborns and half-bloods. In fact, he made it a habit to kill them for fun. Seeing her look, Aunt Joanne shook her head in a don't-think-about-it sort of way.
So Brielle finally began moving.
She understood that they were in danger, even if the realization did take some time to sink in. And then when it did, her heart began pounding rapidly in her chest, recognizing that she was in danger. Fear seeped into her bones, leaving a metallic taste in her mouth. Her hands shook as she blindly stuffed galleons and sickles into her magically expanded purple bag, which was capable of fitting half of her room belongings. It'd cost Aunt Joanne a fortune, more than ten galleons. Brielle had been horrified upon discovering this, even more so when she discovered that Aunt Joanne had gotten not one but two. All Aunt Joanne had done though was laugh at the look on her face and assure her that they had more than enough money. Not that she told Brielle how that was possible when they could barely scrape by. And it wasn't like Brielle wanted to know anyways. She'd learned over the years that some things were better left unsaid.
Now, she couldn't help but think that her aunt had probably suspected something like this would happen. The mere thought made her nauseous so she instantly pushed the thought to the back of her mind for later pondering. If they even survived that long.
As she finished shoving her most precious things inside, an earth-shattering boom reverberated throughout the room, causing everything in the room to tremble. The cloaked figures-the Death Eaters-were getting closer. Brielle quickly shrunk her bag and placed it in the pocket of her pajamas, taking Aunt Joanne's one as well, who looked at Brielle with a grim look on her face that Brielle didn't quite understand. Not then. "Let's go." she whispered quietly, fear and determination etched on her pale, angelic features. Aunt Joanne gripped her pale beech-made wooden wand in one hand as she made her way out into the dark hallway.
Gnawing her lip anxiously, Brielle followed after her aunt, taking great pains to keep her footsteps quiet on the cold stone floor. Now wouldn't be the time to trip and all flat on her face, thus alerting the Death Eaters to her and her aunt's presence. "Why are Lord V-V-Voldemort's people attacking Wringburg?" The words that left her mouth were little more than a terrified whisper. She knew that the current Dark Lord was the most feared wizard in the entire wizarding world, and that the figures out there were his people, ones who served him. Just like she knew that they killed countless people in cold blood. Growing to fear him, Brielle was positive that she'd scream or faint if she ever saw him flesh to flesh, her fear went that great.
Her aunt gave out a faint choked sound at the Dark Lord's name. Like her niece, she was frightened of the Dark Lord. The fact that he'd ordered the whole Leighn family killed didn't help matters.
In a somewhat subdued voice, Aunt Joanne replied, "I don't know."
Brielle closed her eyes as, unbidden, endless possibilities of why Wringburg was being attacked assaulted her mind. Maybe one of the residents had angered him? Was he singling out the small towns and cities first? Had the war already started once more? She flinched when she heard one of many screams pierce the already noisy air. Her aunt's face hardened into a mask of determination and she cast her wand at the ready. Honestly, Brielle didn't think anything could be worse than hearing the people she'd grown up with, the only neighbors and friends she had, being murdered. Anguish ate at her insides.
Just then, as if to prove her wrong, that things could get worse, a sharp whistle cut through the air. She froze as she heard the unmistakable sound of the front door to the small two-story cottage slamming open. "There are people in here," a deep, cruel voice snarled almost at once. "I can smell them!" She choked back a hysterical scream as more than one person's footsteps creaked against the downstairs floor.
"Yes, yes," a high, sickly sweet voice cooed. Brielle's skin crawled and she shut her eyes tightly for a brief second, praying for what it was worth that she nor Aunt Joanne weren't found by the owners of the cruel voices. "The filthy Light mongrels must be cowering in a corner, scared out of their senses, as they should be. Oh, soon they'll learn who their real masters are." Aunt Joanne paled as laughter, loud and slightly wild, filled the air. One man snorted in agreement. Brielle's lips trembled as Aunt Joanne desperately nudged her back the way they'd come.
"Shh. Brielle, hurry." her aunt pled, voice cracking. Brielle felt her heart freeze as the Dark Lord's people destroyed their stuff (belongings that she and Aunt Joanne had made themselves through painstaking effort and patience) below. Her body trembled violently as she re-entered her bedroom, knowing fully well that she'd soon die if they didn't find way to escape. Soon. The bedroom curtains swayed softly in the air, appearing gentle and mystical and making her believe for one split second that everything was normal. That she and Aunt Joanne weren't about to just die. That there weren't murderers downstairs yearning for their blood and death. But the image was cruelly ruined when outside her window, she heard a loud sob and a green light flashed from across the street. Another person had just died then.
Brielle stiffened when she heard the unmistakable sound of feet walking up the stairs.
In a few moment's time, the Dark Lord's people were going to arrive and kill them. Aunt Joanne and Brielle would never live to see another morning. She would never get to visit her mom's homeland or travel to her dream place. Despair gripped her tight and hard, and she let out a faint echo of a sob.
Suddenly, she was being gripped by a frantic Aunt Joanne. Brielle blinked at her as she began speaking rapidly. "Listen to me very closely, Brielle Leighn. This"-she thrust a small round object into Brielle's hands-"is a portkey. It'll take you anywhere. France, Belgium, the United States. And right now, this will take you to Hogwarts, to Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster. Albus-he's a smart, kind man. He'll take good care of you. The word, the word to activate the portkey is 'Forgiveness'. You need only to tell him who you are-"
"No! What are you saying?" Brielle cried. Tears streamed down her face and she clung to her aunt like a drowning person, suddenly dreading the next words that she knew her aunt would say. Something that she'd been afraid of.
Taking a step back, Aunt Joanne smiled shakily at her. Her eyes were full of tears, making the amber of her irises glow brightly. "I always knew that my time would come." she said. Although her face was distraught,, her voice was calm, serene. Brielle tried to open her mouth to speak but she rushed on. "I'll be okay, sweetie. You'll be okay, you'll survive. I'll be reunited with my sister and the rest of my family. Death is simply but an old friend that we'll all embrace at one point or the other." She swallowed hard. "But you. . .Brielle, remember all that I've taught you. Don't you forget who you are, okay? You will have a complicated future ahead of you and ultimately a difficult decision but you're so strong, so good. You'll never be bad, not like her. I know you'll make your parents proud, wherever they are. Me as well. I'll always love and be with you."
She made a claw mark with three fingers out, an old prayer symbol that'd supposedly been in the family, tracing back all the way to the original family member. Aunt Joanne stepped back just as the dark wizards outside attempted to break the door down once more. They succeeded this time. Brielle cried out as the door banged open and in rushed in four figures cloaked in midnight black robes and donning white masks that covered their faces from views. Three of the four figures held a wand in their hands, she noticed. Her blood roared in her ears. A fresh wave of fear assaulted her and she staggered back, struggling to remain upright as she looked at the Dark Lord's people, the ones who had just killed dozens of her friends. The ones who'd possibly even had a hand in her parents' murder. Oh Merlin. Please help me.
One of the figures stepped forward and took off the mask to reveal wild, scraggly hair, a cruel face that was lined with cruel hunger, and glowing yellow eyes. Brielle let out a loud, shrill scream despite herself, backing against the window as he grinned, exposing sharp teeth. One of his companions, a female by the outline of a slight body through the robes, laughed sadistically. "Look at her face! Oh, this one, I'll enjoy playing with!" she shrieked gleefully.
"Elle, go!" Aunt Joanne screamed, raising her wand and firing off a curse as the man with the cruel face advanced. He snarled. "You will not harm my niece, you bastards!"
Brielle shook her head. "No, I won't leave without you -"
"Crucio!" the woman screamed, pointing her wand at Brielle. Brielle's eyes widened and it was only the Brielle's fast reflexes that saved her from terrible agony as she twisted her body and rolled away. The spell sailed past her and out the window. A second later, somebody started screaming in agony. Horrified tears pricked her eyes. But no. Right now she had to focus on getting out of here alive with Aunt Joanne.
"Elle, please! Go!" cried Aunt Joanne, swerving around the curses thrown at her, firing counter curses with amazing speed, her eyes flashing pure gold. She made a dash for the door when she spotted an opening through the bodies but she didn't make it in time. Brielle could only watch, petrified, as one of the figures gripped her by her hair and shoved her to the ground roughly, laughing. She went sprawling across the floor with a grunt of pain, her wand rolling away, leaving her completely defenseless
Just as quickly, Aunt Joanne rose to her feet only to fall to the ground once more as she was hit with a binding spell. When she was placed under "Crucio", Brielle moved in her direction angrily but then threw herself to the side again as the guy, the werewolf she realized in horror, rushed at her. "GO!" The look on her aunt's face broke her heart. Through clear the agony drawn over her face, Brielle saw terror, determination, and love. Aunt Joanne still tried to protect Brielle as one of the wizards aimed a sword at her, which appeared out of its sleeve magically. Somehow, she managed to throw herself in its path and tripping it, even as her body writhed and convulsed. "GO!"
"Confundus!" Brielle shouted loudly, and the spell hit one of the Death Eaters, who advanced menacingly towards her, wand held aloft, straight in the chest.
"E-Elle - Please! You n-need to - " A horrible screeching sound ripped from her aunt's throat.
Brielle finally caved in to the pleading. It broke her heart but she knew her aunt was right. She knew she couldn't die today. Not until she did what she'd been trained to do. It wasn't time. "I'm s-sorry. I-I'll always love you." She stumbled over her words as she backed away, never tearing her eyes away from her aunt, who stared back at her with a face. For a moment, her gold eyes lost their pain and she smiled proudly at Brielle. But then she threw her head back and howled. The moment was over.
Brielle wept openly as she took a deep breath and said the word to activate the portkey that would take her away and doom her aunt to a miserable ending, "Forgiveness." just as the woman who had attempted to torture her in the beginning fired off the killing curse, her face twisted with fury. Her body left the ground. Instantly, the world began spinning as she was tossed and spun around in a cloud full of dark colors. There was a sudden tugging just behind her navel, which made her light-headed and dizzy, but she still heard her aunt's cry of pain and saw, somehow, as a sword was rammed deep into her back, saw her collapse to the ground, as Brielle was magnetically pulled forward, forward-
And then Brielle was gone.