A/N: I finally updated! (for anyone who bothers to read this) I hope you like it! If I misspell a word, or some of the information in this is incorrect, please tell me.
Update: For those of you who have reviewed, thank you so much! I don't think I had to change much in this chapter, but I have a few ideas about how to add some more paragraphs in the story! Thanks again! (sorry it's so short!)
The tombstone stood lifeless in a neglected corner of the cemetery. When I got a bit closer, I could see a large crack running down the middle, disfiguring the E in Evelyn Reynold's name.
"Hi mum." I whispered, I hadn't come to see her in awhile.
Might as well be now.
There was nothing else to say. I had stopped pouring out my heart to the inanimate object years ago. It never replied, and Clara had always been more than happy to listen to me prattle about trivial things.
So I sat for a few hours, resting my head against the stone. I even allowed a few tears to escape.
The sky had begun to turn a deep mauve. It was time for me to leave.
The streets were empty as always when I walked home. The flickering yellow street lamps cast dark shadows over the sidewalk.
I could have sworn I heard footsteps behind me.
I turned around; no one was there, although I heard a muffled cracking noise moments before. Was this some kind of joke?
There was a mist that seemed to get heavier as I walked to my flat. I was thankful that I wasn't very far away.
One day, I saw Fred tapping the wireless in different places, and muttering gibberish.
"Let's see..." He tapped his forehead with his wand, turning one of his eyebrows yellow - I snorted - "What was the password again?"
"I dunno." Fred said, "Since we went into hiding, I haven't really kept up all that well."
"What are you doing?" I asked, baffled.
"Potterwatch." He answered, "It's a sort of news channel that Fred, me, and some of our other friends from the Order created."
"You know," Fred said, "To keep everyone updated on what's really going on in the wizarding world."
I had finally gotten them to explain to me what "The Order" was - an organization of wizards dedicated to fighting You-Know-Who, the Dark Wizard who had apparently caused all of this fog, freak accidents, and other abnormal things.
"So." I had said testily when they explained who You-Know-Who was. "It's his fault that I was sacked."
I watched as He tapped the wireless again, this time in a different pattern.
"Hippogriff!" He said sharply.
That night, I learned about "Potterwatch". It was a station for wizards that provided news, safety precautions, Harry Potter sightings, and even comic relief.
It was amusing to watch Fred chat with the people on the air. (three wizards that night: Kingsley, Lupin, and Lee Jordan were their names)
"That's how we almost got caught by the Death Eaters." he explained a few days later, "From Potterwatch."
Riiiiiing. Riiiiiiiiing.
That was odd. My telephone had been out for ages.
And I hadn't called anyone to fix it.
"Hello?" I answered, puzzled, "Is someone there?"
No reply. Maybe it was just defective.
Before I could hang it up however, I heard a hiss on the other end.
"Huh?" I blurted out. According to a friend of my mother, I had inherited my father's ability of lacking proper telephone skills. "Who is this?"
No one answered.
I rolled my eyes. Whoever it was, they couldn't use a phone.
Later that night, I was walking to the post office to send a letter that had been laying out on the table for months. For some reason, one of my mother's friends, Rachel's mother, in fact, had wanted to keep in touch with me.
It was only a few blocks away. I never expected to be in any danger.
Something - probably a mere crack in the sidewalk - made me trip on the way. I didn't think much of it, I was always a bit clumsy.
I heard footsteps behind me, and suddenly they stopped.
I stood up cautiously, it was stupid to think that someone was following me. They had probably just gone into their house.
I hoped.
I stumbled around the corner, running my fingers against the worn-out cement wall. I was almost there.
But before I could even reach my destination, a scratchy voice - the voice of my nightmares - muttered, "Stupefy!"
I felt my body freeze. I lost control of it.
I toppled over, and landed in the frosted sidewalk.
"We got her." another deep voice, probably belonging to a man, said.
"Muggles." Lestrange spat, as if he was referring to dung.
Standing over my stunned body, was the man that had haunted my dreams for weeks.
Lestrange.
