Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and Co., but J.K. Rowling and her publishing company does. Though this story is based on my imagination... and on with life.
Warning! Characters are different. A bunch of OOC-ness, you've been warned. Also, people that are supposed to be dead are alive, because this is my plot now. [Insert evil laugh…] This warning now applies to every chapter, so I don't have to write one for each chapter. And one more thing, I may give information on the chapter so you should read the beginning so you'll understand what's going on, background information, in other words = stuff that doesn't really happen.
Chapter One: Flight (The prologue in other words.)
"What's that?" The boy asked himself in a near whisper voice as he saw a colorful thing flit in the sky. He moves closer, his spectacles dropping low as he peers closer. Curiosity lights his forest green eyes.
He sees its wings' drifting in the wind as it glides in the park, from morning glory to morning glory. He squats down to inspect it further. His eyes widen with anticipation of what the flying creature will do. He immediately shoves dark brown hair to the point of black out of his face. A small button nose peeks out. He lifts his fingers and reaches out with his hands hoping to catch the creature, but grubby chubby fingers appear before his eyes, immediately grabbing it.
"Ugly," the chubby boy said as he looked closely at it. Holding it by its wings, he pulled the creature apart by its wings, severing it into three different pieces and then dropping it to the ground, walking on its wings as he passed the green eyed boy, all the while kicking up dirt in the green eyed boys face.
"Pretty." He yet again whispered to himself as he looked at the pieces of the creature. Small hands reaching out as it caressed the severed pieces of the creature.
"MOMMY! Look what that boy did to that butterfly!" A girl yelled, "He killed it! He killed it!" Her shrill voice rang out as it attracted attention. Curly hair shook with righteous anger as she pointed her finger at the green-eyed boy with brown eyes searching for those of authority and finding the attention of those she sought to deal with the horror that she encountered. Parents came and their eyes watched as the boy straightened himself, his hands no longer caressing the butterfly but coming straight to his side. He walked away, but as soon as he made it a meter away, the girl ran to him, grabbing his hand and dragging him back to her parents.
She then pointed at him, "He did it, he killed that butterfly," she said as she then pointed to the dismembered butterfly.
They all looked at him, his appearance. The silence after was stifling as they took it all in. The large faded clothes he wore that hung off him, his round spectacles that he pushed up as he tilted his head in a questioning manor, and his silent demeanor. The child was small, looking about the age of three.
They whispered.
"Son, where's your family?" the man asked as he kneeled to the boys level.
"There," he said as he pointed to the boy who had pulled the butterfly's wings off. He was large and chubby. His dirty blond hair short and cropped. He had a sneer on as he pushed another child off of the swings. The word mine could be heard at the distance they were at. Those eyes of theirs drew conclusions. They could clearly see that that boys' clothing where the same size of the green-eyed child's, though in much better condition. "And there." He whispered again as he pointed to a tall skinny woman and an obese man. The woman's dress clung to her creating the image of sharp angles, while the man spoke with as much bluster to his speech as he talked to what looked like a client. Greed could be seen in their eyes if the eyes looked closer.
The eyes again drew conclusions.
"I see," the man said as he patted the boy on the back, pity in his eyes, "You should never do that to a butterfly." He said as he pointed to the butterfly. He got up then, picking up his daughter and walked away. The other eyes going back to what they were doing.
"I don't get it." he said as he looked at the torn butterfly, a stubborn yet sad expression on his face. Tears lighting his eyes as he looked around him in sadness. He saw them. Those eyes that had looked at him accusing him and then ignoring him. Anger coursed through his veins, but nothing could be done. Disgusted, he walked away as he too stepped on the butterfly's wings.
