This is my first story. But, at least I have a great BETA! Thank you spazmoid!
Okay, last thing. I don't own anything except for Dia and the plot. Thank-you.
Chapter One
They are dead. That was the first thought that came to my mind as I came toward the house. I knew it to be true before I saw the broken front door that let light pour into the lawn. I dropped the groceries that I had been told to go out and get for tomorrow's dinner, and ran through the door. I looked on the foyer walls there standing out like neon lights, streaked and smudged bloody hand prints. I ran quickly in the direction that the smudges on the wall led. First they led to the kitchen, the marks stopping near the refrigerator. I barely allowed myself to look down onto the floor, but when I did my hand flew up to my mouth repressing a gag. My mother laid there her skull bashed in and a gaping wound in her chest. Her once alive and loving chocolate eyes were now glazed over and staring in horror at the ceiling. I let out a wail of anguish, I couldn't believe what I saw looking past her into the dining room. My father laying in a pool of blood, his face was bashed in. If I hadn't known my mother and father were the only two downstairs when I left, I would not have even thought it was my father. His face was now unrecognisable.
'Wait, Dia!' I had all but forgotten about my baby sister.
I ran up the stairs as quickly as my legs would take me. I glanced for a second at the open wall safe on the stairs and knew it wasn't the Death Eaters. Throughout the entire War I knew my family was a threat and that they were always in danger of being killed by Voldemort's followers, but this could not be them. No overly bigoted Death Eater would be caught touching Muggle money. So from that simple sign I inferred that this wasn't an order from Voldemort. This was a robber
I continued quickly down the hallway and into my little sister's room. Thankfully, she was still laying in her crib asleep peacefully. I let out a sigh of relief. I scooped her up into my arms and held her small three month old form in my arms. I sat in the rocking chair in the corner of the room and slowly rocked her, holding her tightly to me. "It's going to be alright Dia. I will protect you," I whispered into her forehead before I kissed her there softly.