Her youth sized feet pitter-pattered through the brush behind her home. Her mother called out to her, warning her to not stray too far before dinner time. Ignoring her mother's calls she continued to race on through the trees. Her hands widespread, skimming the trunks of the trees she passed. She searched through the fallen twigs and branches, finding the perfect makeshift wand. Brandishing her new wand, she jumped and rolled, shouting out the few dueling spells her older brother taught her.
"Expelliarmus!" she yelled, pointing her branch at a nearby rock.
Giggling with glee she continued on her way, running through the woods, spelling inanimate objects as she went. She raced through the fallen leaves on the ground, staring up at the dim light cast through the tall timber. A broad smile was cast across her face, ecstatic to be out in the fresh air practicing her spells for when she was old enough to attend the same wizarding school as her brother. She slowed to a walk, taking in her surroundings, fascinated by the simplistic beauty of nature. She heard a tumbling of a rock to her left and she turned her head, assuming there was someone there. Had her brother followed her out there? She followed the sound of twigs breaking, seemingly underfoot. Searching through the columns of wood she heard a swishing sound; similar to the leaves shifting through the wind. She looked up to find that the leaves were still, no wind blowing through them. She caught her foot under a root, buried deep beneath fallen foliage. She tripped, falling down onto her knees, scrapping the palms of her hands. With a huff and tears forming behind her eyes, she sat up. She wiped her hands down the sides of her shorts, rubbing the dirt and vegetation from her. She wiped her tears away with the backs of her hands, sniffling at her discomfort. When she opened her eyes, her hands fell from her face, her intake of air audible.
A foot from her face appeared a deep crimson flame, flickering with the unseen breeze. She glanced around her finding a trail of four more floating flames, leading up the hill. Overcome with curiosity she leaned forward, reaching out her fingers brushing the body of the flame. With instilled instinct she pulled away quickly, afraid of the burning sensation. When she settled her panic, she felt no burn from the ball floating in front of her. The closer she inched towards the light, the more entranced she became.
The flame burned cool, centimetres away from her face. As she admired the dancing flare, the pupils of her eyes dilated, the colour of her iris disappearing. The flicker of the flames reflecting in her darkened eyes. The whispering of the will o' wisps picked up again. Under their trance, she stood back up, skipping up the trail, following each new wisp as they appeared before her; guiding her. Her steps fell onto the ground, in a perfect rhythm. The further up the hill she advanced, the louder the whispers became. In her rapture, she began to hum. The tune was familiar, something her young ears had grown accustomed too.
Further up the slope, the greenery sparse leaving ample room to roam. When she reached the top of the hill, the will o' wisps faded and her trance like state dissipated. She found herself staring at the lone tree on the top of the clearing on the hill, engulfed in white blue flames.
In the tiny town of Wiltshire, located in the middle of the English countryside, an ancient prophecy was afoot.