Chapter 1
The Storms That Fallow
"Can't believe how time flies," Ginny said looking at the paper recalling what the day was, and how many fault full years have passed sense the Battle of Hogwarts. "seems like it happened forever ago. When it has only been 19 years. What do you think Harry?"
"Think what? Time has kind of slowed down, nothing spectacular has happened sense you know...besides the kids!"
"Lucky catch." Ginny replied to Harry with a smirk.
George, Bill, and Fleur were at a graveyard, standing, looking at a stone. They were at that graveyard looking at many stones, but there was one George refused to pass. George couldn't even look at he ground in front of the headstone that barred his dead twin's name.
Frederick Weasley
April 1st 1978 - May 2nd 1998
"It's been 19 years, and I still can't show myself here." George commented. His eyes were closed, tears ran down his cheeks. The pain George had felt when he saw his twin dead for the first time, and he knelt by his head, never left him. The pain had numbed over time, but was always still there, deep within him. Every time he entered the graveyard he felt sad, for in the front row Tonks and Lupin laid in the internal rest, but it wasn't until he made it three rows back, to see his other half, doing the same.
"Nobody said 19 years was gonna cover it, nobody said anyone would make it threw this, especially you." Bill said wrapping an arm around his younger brother's neck.
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" George asked finally opening his eyes to look at Bill, who he noticed was gazing down on the headstone like it was something truly amazing.
"Wasn't tendin' for it to be, but if it was…"
"It wasn't." George removed his brother's arm from his neck, and sat down on the cool earth, using the headstone behind him as a backrest. Bill remained standing looking at his wife. She was kneeling at Tonks's grave, putting flowers down against the tall stone.
Ginny had wanted to come with, but for some resin was unable, but she did request that Fleur laid down some new flowers at the graves. She did Fred's first, and worked her way around the cemetery, finally ending at Tonks's.
"You boy's ready?" She yelled over towards them, as she stood up.
"Her English is got better, can actually understand her." George whispered to Bill, all he got as a response was smirk and light chuckle directed back at him. Bill held out a hand which George took as he stood up. This was the hardest part about coming to the graveyard. How could he leave? That was his twin, his mirror reflection, his other half, laying there 6ft under ground, and here he is coming and going. Those first few months, after Fred's death, George was ready to do the unthinkable. He wanted to die. He wanted his brother, to be with his brother. If it wasn't for Bill and Charlie, he would have too. He would be laying next to his brother, dead, but happy.
The two made their way threw the headstones, and as they reached the gates, George turned to take one last glance, then headed out after Bill and Fleur.
"You said you wouldn't summon him for another 14 plus years!" Silas was nothing more then a dark mist barley taking the form of a man. The cemetery was new, the souls were new. The racket Silas was making had made the new orbs rise from their coffins to see what exactly was going on, but they all quickly faded back down when two wings o black feathers appeared.
"Silas, I may summon who I wish, when I wish. And I did NOT summon your boy. I have had no intentions on any new member, or members, at all. This was the work of them." Death was standing in graveyard with all his glory, pointing a boney finger out at the graves. He wore the same thing he always was known to wear. His black, ripped, raged, cloak. Only this time he was in his prime. The wings of a crow, that were so recognizable, a muggle could have announced 'The Angel of Death' was coming.
"I'm sorry, my Lord." Silas, had no choice but to believe death, he had no choice but to believe that this was all their faults. "It's a shame though, that he is buried away from what we intended him to be."
"And that would be?"
"My Lord, you said it yourself, let alone he will be the first. A Hallow, who wasn't a Death Eater. We are the original Death Eaters, and any new recruits you find worth of a Phantom, well, must now be a Death Eater. Its your law, my Lord." Silas said, he was now completely visible, and looked as if no older then the night he saved the baby boy. He still wore the same jacket, same shoes, same shirt, same vest, same everything, even the same white mask. Only now the mask had been cracked, and scratched, then stitched closed, to where the battle wounds had become something of true beauty, a work of death defying art.
"You almost sound like, you wish I don't give him his fate. Am I wrong Silas? I thought 19 years ago, you pleaded for a child. Now I give you him back and you rather have him lay dead?" Death stood mid cemetery, looking at all the headstones, counting all them.
"No, my Lord, I wish for him to be a Phantom, I just didn't know it would be, say soon-"
"50, or so." Death butted into Silas sentence, as if nothing Silas said meant anything, which it didn't, but Death liked to hear his followers words of dismay.
"Excuse me, Lord? 50 what?" Silas was desperately confused by his Lord's words. Out of no where he pulls a number, that had nothing to do with the conversation they were having about the new Phantom to be.
"50 traders. 50 souls to be accused. 50 lives lost. 50 more to ride the Stallion." Death moved toward the grave of the lad they were talking about. Silas stood still, unsure of what to do, of what to say. He had been threw this a million times, new Phantoms, old Phantoms, its all the same in Silas's eyes but this, this was different. This was his half son, blessed to be Phantom sense before he was born, and Silas didn't even know his name, his age, his rebirth date, what he looked like. Death, however, already knew what the boy looked like, his name, his age, his birth, his family, and his whole life. And now the knife finally showed from the sleeve of Death's cloak.
"50? Must have been some war -"
"Battle! Not a war. Not at 50 souls each. A war does not take less then its given, it always takes others."
"But this war did, my Lord. Yes only 50 or so souls rest here, but many more died then this one graveyard is showing. Didn't she tell you? All the souls she had to carry across on her Stallion. The Death Eaters doing, like before." Silas said as he took his spot next to his Lord. He stood still reading off the name on the headstone, then looked to Death.
"This is him." Death said spreading his black crow wings out, raising the knife in both hands above his head. As he did this Silas removed his mask and laid it in the center of the grave. His face matched his body, no older then 30, no younger then 25. He had almost a perfect face, besides the rough beaten skin that laid a few scratches on, there was no flaw about him. His hair wasn't quite black for it had a hint of scarlet in it. A few bangs dangled on his forehead, two of which made it just pass his eyes. Gray-blue eyes that twirled into pitch black, like his arrival from the shadows.
By the time Silas laid the mask down, every crack, every scratch, every dent was completely removed, the mask was if new. As if new, for a new Phantom. Silas stood back up and turned to face the rest of the graves, as he did he noticed that the little spheres of light were now people. All standing close to see what exactly was happening.
A black smoke spiraled around the cemetery, like a snake wrapping itself around its pray. Silas drew out his knife knowing that intruder ghosts would appear, as well as shadows, and ghouls, which were just a pain to deal with on a normal day. Nothing showed though, and the knife was dropped from Death's hands into the ground, then the swirl of black smoke reacted, digging its self into the grave, creating a shadow that came from nothing.
Silas turned away once again, wishing he could cover his ears as he heard it start. He remembered how it feels to be snatched, and split, torn back and forth. The feeling of blood rotting within, turning black with pain and misery. All the good that you have ever felt, all the joy, be slowly removed, from the soul. The soul is what makes you scream the hardest, it is what makes Death feel his power, even over the Phantoms. The way it feels, is actually what is happening. That shadow that slowly attacks the grave, the body, the soul, puts your soul into a holder, unbreakable, inaccessible. In there it slowly rots your soul, making you unable to die, but able to feel pain.
"The curse of a Phantom. Pitiful." Death finally said breaking the silence, as the grave slowly shifted, and the earth gave way to revile a coffin. "You have yet to see your child, well you have the honor of relocating him. Back to us." Death moved away, saw the ghost but made no gesture to them, and vanished within the darkness.
"Holy ground, wouldn't believe it, until now." A voice came from the dark, spooking some the ghost as others just turned their heads to the voice.
"What are you doing here? Thought you had a job to take care of LeStrain? Or are you already done?" Silas said not even hesitating to think who it was talking, or making any move towards the voice.
"My business tell you later. Are you gonna move him? Or stand there and cry? He's not dead dimwit." LeStrain said finally taking form into a young lady, with black hair.
'You know, you remind me of someone I once meet. I think I saw her name on the way here. Bellatrix? Yes, Bellatrix Lestrange. A Death Eater, killed during the war." Silas said turning to face his new guest.
"Oh, I've heard of her. One of the Azkaban break outs. Always hung around with Voldemort, until she was sent out. Now she lays dead you say?" LeStrain said shifting her way threw the graves, to stop at a larger headstone, and taking a set on top.
"No respect for the dead I can see. And yes, she lays dead. Over there at the other graveyard. Probably unblessed, with the factors considering. I will move him, just not yet."
"What makes now different from later? Besides the fact that the sun will rise, and we must ditch. The souls are our witnesses, and I'm pretty sure they don't know what's going on. Confused to whether or not they are actually dead. I want to have tickets…front row, to the first soul who tries to leave." LeStrain said, kicking her feet back and forth like a child, as she sat on top of the headstone, counting the ghost, and the graves. Silas swore her and Bellatrix could have been related, twins even. The same mess of hair, although LeStrain's was darker, same body form, same attitude towards everyone, the only difference between them was age, and life. LeStrain probably died around the time Bellatrix was born, and Bellatrix was a committed Death Eater, while LeStrain was committed to getting people out of trouble, and doing nothing.
"Have you found your name yet? Just a question I've been wanting to ask. You said you would find it for all your headstone says is LeStrain, nothing else. Any indent in cracking the case of who LeStrain is?" Silas said making his way back towards the coffin as he spoke, and standing right next to it, staring at the lid as if trying to see threw it.
"I'll open it, if you want. And I gave up on that. LeStrain is me. I don't care about my past anymore, I went threw my strikes. If coming back to life was that terrible to where I killed myself to get out of it, then I don't want to know anymore about it. So stop asking, I don't know anymore then you."
"Oh," Silas put both hands under the ridge of the coffin, and slowly moved it off. As he slid the lid off, the light from the moon showed onto the face of Silas's lost boy. Silas wasn't sure if he was happy or angry at the young man who laid in the coffin, but he knew he felt something deep down. "you know your not the only person in the world with a reflection."
"What's that supposed to mean?" LeStrain got off from the headstone, and walked over towards the coffin to view what Silas meant. "A reflection? Of whom?"
"Of him, almost identical, like you and Bellatrix." And with that Silas picked up the body, and allowed himself to become eaten into the shadows.
"Identical? Of whom? Find out soon enough, wont I. Holy ground brings ghosts, that's not fair. Perfect time to meet my other half. Storms are rolling in, planed to last for days. Mine as well bring the thunder to these storms that fallow." And with that said to no one, she vanished leaving only rolling shadows, and the silent boom of an up coming storm.
