Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine or else I wouldn't be obsessed with it.
A/N: Sorry for my grammar. Although, please review, criticism sometimes make a story better or you could also praise me. . . yep, that would be nice. The prompt is also not mine. Check the 3d short horror film in youtube titled 'Alma'.
Prologue
Another broken Christmas. An event that they all dreaded. A day, that for them, was cursed. A day to grieve. A day to remain paralyzed as they felt their soul being slowly ripped apart but yet, it was still there, steady and glued to their worthless vessels.
Forced to watch another soul being ripped apart, forced to mourn for another person's new tragedy, it was always like that at one particular cold winter day. When the shorter hand of the clock points at the number eight, they knew that it will begin again.
They always thought that their witch placed the clock right above the vintage glass door so that they would know when will the next tragedy happen. The clock itself had the purpose to make them suffer. It was there to taunt them. Another murder, the clock would tell them if it had its own consciousness.
The clock gets all its attention when the hand pointed at eight, eyes stared at it with intensity and fear.
Then at last, the eyes stared at the glass window, all of them waiting for something to happen.
Unfortunately, like every other winter, a youth would stare glass window of the shop, despite the thin ice covering the view, it was always useless because the shop itself had this spell cast on it to allure a particular person to enter the shop.
It was like a cinema, all of them waiting for the climax, and so it began.
The tale of one young Harry Potter at the early age of fourteen walked by the shop in the abandoned town that was once destroyed by the Nazis and was now believed as a ghost town.
He was always visiting the town because of its peacefulness and no one seems to care about the place anymore. Like the town, Harry too was isolated. Being adopted by the Dursleys who treated him as a freak and being a cousin to a bulky, frightening cousin like Dudley. . . . well, let's say it could be one of the worst childhood that one could encounter.
And maybe until now, he could say that his life was not the kind that someone would want. And so, Harry used this place to escape the horrid of his reality.
It was always the same, walking alone in winter until he finally get tired of it and go back to his 'hell hole'. But this Christmas, he could say that things turned out peculiar.
This shop captured the attention of Harry, so he stopped by, staring at it in wonder and curiosity. He doesn't know why but just staring at the shop made him slightly shiver, but nonethless, he can't help but thing that maybe, just maybe his could finally kill his curiosity that was bugging him and just enter the shop.
It should have made him stay away, with the creepy old dolls inside of it and this coldness that he felt was inside the shop just by giving it a glance.
The shop should be destroyed by now, with the recent war that he was grateful he got through even though experiencing it with the ghastly Dursleys.
But alas, the shop was. . . well, whole, but it looked old like it was abandoned a very long time ago.
He stared at every corner and even the eyes of the dolls looked like it was trying to cast him away of the shop.
One doll made him stay though. He had this feeling of guilt and a gleam of excitement which he was confused about because it was mixing inside of him.
Guilt because at some point he wanted to steal the beautiful doll and run away, but stealing for him is a very wrong deed for him that would somehow make him uncomfortable for a lifetime. Excitement because he just saw this doll that made his heart skip a beat.
To his surprise, the doll was very much like him. Untamed raven hair, two deep pools of deep green that stared back at him, pale features, even his glasses and timid looking posture of it while it was just standing at the shelf.
He couldn't help but smile and look closely at the doll in awe.
He wanted to touch it. He could. There was no one there. No one would be mad at him, blame him for something he didn't do, because for all he knew, the owner wouldn't be so careless just to leave a shop like this. Perhaps, it was really abandoned after all.
His hand was halfway there, about to stroke the cheek of the doll. He was so close. So, so close.
The audience was holding their breath. This was it. The climax. The center of the story. A boy finding his very own tragedy.
He held back his hand.
No.
He couldn't touch this doll. The temptation might make him steal it. He promised himself.
He promised himself that even though they're gone, he would make his parents proud, as proud as they could be. And this would be the end of it, the end not even reaching the beginning.
He stared at the doll in sympathy, maybe to himself because he just wanted to grab it right away but he couldn't.
Finally, he turned his back to the shelves of dolls and walked to the door, grabbed the doorknob and left the audience, astonishing them with the very unexpected turn of events.
Their vessels might be paralyzed, but inside of them was their souls, finally finding hope. The boy must return, he should. He was their hope.
He was their chosen one.
Finally, the curse didn't find another vulnerable victim and inside, the dolls of the haunted shop rejoiced.
One day, the curse could be gone like what happened to the boy before it even started.
The souls inside the dolls found hope. At the day Harry Potter visited was the day the audience and the character's destiny began.