PROLOGUE

22 March 2025 – London

A foggy haze hung over the streets of London that day. The dewy droplets soaked her black skinny jeans up to her knees as she made her way down the block, determination clear from her brisk walk. Turning around the corner of the street she came to a halt, glancing up at the street sign that read Claremont Square. She frowned and looked down at the paper she was holding. The directions were clear, but yet the paper held a different street name than the sign in front of her. Muttering the address out loud, she looked back up at the sign only to see that the street name now matched the one on her paper. She shrugged, her raised eyebrow the only sign that she had been surprised, her expression straightened out again as she continued her brisk pace towards the end of the street.

As she walked she pulled her leather jacket closer around her and pulled her deep scarlet colored hood up, England was much colder this time of year than she had anticipated. Readjusting the strap of the duffle bag that hung over her shoulder she came to a halt once more. Looking to her right she saw a park surround by an iron fence, on her left was a row of Georgian terraced houses. She leaned back against the fence as she turned to face the houses. She let her eyes slide over the numbers until they landed on one in particular.

The house, from the outside, didn't look any different from the others on the block and didn't look to be anything special either. She glanced at the paper of instructions in her hand once more before folding it and stuffing it in the pocket of her jeans. She had learned long ago not to judge a book by its cover, the same rule applied for everything else, not everything was as it appeared to be. The reason this location, the building in particular, had caught her attention was because the text she had found it in didn't really say anything at all. Due to her interest for anything mysterious, historical or mythical she had skimmed through many books, seeking out and visiting the most interesting ones whenever she could. Usually there would be a description of what made the place or location interesting, but in this case the book had merely stated an address and directions how to get there from the nearest train station. Her sense of adventure had kicked in and she had booked a ticket to England immediately.

"Can you see it?"

She was pulled from her thoughts by the question and turned her head in the direction where the voice came from. Next to her stood a boy, no older than 9 of age she estimated. He was sitting on his bike one foot on the ground holding him upright. He was looking up at her with big brown eyes.

She cocked her head slightly to the side and she gazed back at the boy.

"See what?" Her curiosity spiked as she watched the child closely. The small boy scrunched his face into a frown, which she found adorable.

"Well, the house of course." He said as he waved his arm towards the houses in front of her. "Number twelve." He added in a manner of explanation when she did not reply.

She looked at the boy a little while longer before turning her face back towards the houses reading over the house numbers again. She then nodded her head and turned back to face the boy as she answered. "Yes, I can see it. It's right there." She pointed to the house which was labeled number 12 and the boy followed her gaze, before frowning in confusion.

"Can you see it?" She asked, the boy looked from one house to the one next to it. He shook his head furiously. "No, I don't see it. I see number eleven and number thirteen right next to it," he said and then turned to smile at her. "But that is ok, many people can't see it. People say it's haunted and it's been standing empty for years. Some people have seen it and tried to enter, no one succeeded but they came back with a scared look on their face saying they heard whispers from inside." She glanced between the boy and house in front of her. "Haunted you say? I think I will have a look inside." She said turning back to the boy, only to see he had disappeared. She shook her head while smiling, kids these days.

She stood there observing the house for a little while longer before she crossed the street and walked up the stairs in front of the house on Claremont Square, or as the address in her book had said, number twelve Grimmauld Place.

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