Prologue
Elsa sat in the tree, twirling her ash wand in her fingers. Ever since Lord Voldemort had been defeated there was little to do for an ex-Death Eater, except to hide and hope that society would forget you. In hindsight she was one of the smarter ones. Narcissa had pulled her aside as the Dark Lord marched triumphantly out of the Forbidden Forest with Harry Potter's body. She was nervous, twitching and shaking, and hissed, "He's alive! Potter's alive! We're doomed! I must find Draco!" She scuttled off after her husband wringing her hands as Elsa stood in amazement. That woman was losing the plot, she thought. So she had taken her meagre possessions and, before the battle of Hogwarts was over, hightailed it out of there before the wizard authorities would search for the one escaped Death Eater. She regretted joining Voldemort, but since she had been sorted into Slytherin she had gradually gone down the left hand path, and she remembered the parties, sneaking out into the forest with a bottle of firewhisky, the detentions. The had kept her until her sixth year, and then she marched out with her head held high. She learnt all she needed from Voldemort. She was one of his favourites, until Bellatrix...
No, she thought, I will not think of her. I left the Death Eaters, though my Dark Mark remains. I got through the airport with a few Confundous charms and flew to Forks. The miserable little town was often overlooked, and that suited her fine. Voldemort had the forests of Albania, and she had these woods. There was talk of paranormal activity in the area also, giant bears and corpses of animals like mountain lion being drained dry. The thought of werewolves in the forest excited her. She had always found Fenrir Greyback interesting, though he was often dismissed by the others as scum.
She slid off her branch and landed effortlessly on the leafy floor. Pocketing her wand she picked her way through vines and fallen branches to the mopey, depressing town. I need money, she thought, and trotted after a bulky looking bikie. He was almost at his when she pressed her wand to the nape of his neck and hissed in his ear, "turn around," He turned, and relaxed when he saw she was holding a stick of wood and not a knife. "Sweetheart, put that down. You might get a splinter." He chuckled at his own joke, and she smiled. "Oh?" She asked, and whispered, "Crucio," so he didn't hear it. He gasped, unable to scream, and fell to the floor, twitching. She let go of him, and said, "I need money. I think you have it. Get my drift?" He threw his wallet on the ground and scrambled away from her, his mouth in a perfect 'O' shape. "Obliviate!" She said with a shrug, and left him gaping as it began to rain.