Letters

Her body feels colder than the coolest pools of water on Earth, even if it wasn't visible, blood runs through her body, yet it gets slower… slower… but it's still there.

A wooden stick is placed inside of her pale white hands, fingers grasping onto it firmly.

And below her, just by her feet, is someone easily recognisable, a pair of wired framed glasses, something is surprising though, they aren't cracked.

Her hands are moving, aiming towards the bo- no man below her.

''Do it already!'' Glasses spits out venomously, his eyes showing anger, an immense amount of it.

Do what? Is the question that she wants to ask, but when she tries her lips don't work in the way she wants, instead they curl into a menacing smirk.

''It'll be my pleasure.'' She whispers… no this isn't her, she doesn't sound so… she doesn't know what she sounds like, but it isn't her.

''Avada Kedavra.''

A green light that is faster than any bullet escapes from the stick, and the second it touches the man, he falls down, and his eyes close, his previous heavy breathing comes to a stop.

What happened? And what was that odd green light? It was almost as if stole his sou-

WAIT WHAT?

That can't be it… no there has to be some other explanation for this, even if she has done some odd things, like being able to talk to snakes, and even her neighbour's cat fell over in front of her, when nothing happened to it, it just suddenly fell over.

Strangely enough, she never saw that cat again.

''Good riddance, our bonds have finally been cut apart by my wand.''

''Brother!''

WHAT?!

Eyes fighting open, dark orbs that look and could suck you in like a black hole, lengthy hair that sprawls all over the mattress.

Sweat pours down her hands at the memory of that accursed dream, her heart beating faster than her already rapid breathing.

It was just a dream… just a dream.

That's at least what she tells herself.

Hitting her head up, then her body, then a large portion of hair still spills down on the dusty mattress that she's sleeping on.

Her eyes twirl to the other side of the room, and there she sees a boy around her age, the younger version of the man in her nightmare.

Also known as her brother.

Eyes narrowing at him, she still holds a grudge for what he did before, even if she would have done the same thing in that situation.

A while ago her brother broke an important ornate, by accident, probably.

And when their greasy uncle found out he became furious, she could hear his voice all away across from the house.

Her brother didn't admit it was he who did it, no, he said it was her who did it! And their uncle believed it, or maybe he just disliked her more, she doesn't really know.

And no matter how much she tried to convince her uncle that it wasn't her who did it he didn't listen, that night was painful, even after all of these months, hell it might have been years, but the grudge in her heart is still as strong as it was before.

Even if she knows that she should drop it, she just can't, her heart just won't let that happen.

Even then that nightmare was horrific… even if she holds a grudge against him, doesn't mean she wants him to die, she still likes him, not that she would ever admit to such a thing.

Placing her head back on the rock hard pillow, there's still glimmers of darkness outside, so there's no reason for her to get up quite yet.

Another thing about that dream is that strange... a stick in her hand, didn't she say something about a wand? That name rings some bells but she can't put her finger on where she's heard that name before.

There's no point to dwell on it any longer, it isn't really too important, it was just a dream, a nasty one.

''Boo!''

She would've jumped out of her skin and scream in an embarrassingly high pitch, but this isn't the first time that a slimy voice has shouted in her ears at a time like this.

''That won't work on me anymore, Snakey.'' She says as her eyes turn to the corner, but her head is still laying on the pillow.

There she's seeing a tiny snake that is looking at her with those tiny eyes that are dark as hers, with red skin that is brighter than a certain dark mistresses eyes.

This snake in particular has been living in this prison for some time for some reason, she's asked why, but the snake didn't answer.

Even when she asked for its name the snake didn't answer her, so she just calls him snakey.

''It was still worth a shot.'' Snakey replies in a voice that is just as slimy as his blood-red skin.

''Well, what do you want? Did you just come here to try and scare me?'' She questions, wanting to get some shut-eye before the sun rises.

''No, they're something I needed to ask you,'' Snakey reveals, his voice getting serious, which is rather odd for a snake, and even odder for this one in specific.

''And what is that?'' She inquires, eyes flicking around the room, before they land on snakey.

''Have you by any chance met a snake that goes by the name of Nagini?''

Nagini? Wasn't that the snake that saved her in that alleyway almost three years ago? An invisible shiver enters her warm heart, making it cold, before huffing out the chills that were previously grabbing a hold of her.

''You mean they really big green snake?'' After these words slip past Snakey's eyes gain a worrying glint in them.

''So you have met her.'' Snakey sighs, his tongue zipping in and out, disappearing from view than coming into vision, almost like a phantom.

''I'm taking it that you know her.'' She hums, not noticing the growing apprehension in Snakey's orbs that show an everlasting darkness in them.

''I guess… we're no more than mere acquaintances though.'' She thought that some fear was edged into his voice, but she scraps that idea, it's probably nothing.

''Why did you ask?'' And where did Snakey get that information from? It was just a one-time meeting.

''No reason… but if you see her again be careful, Nagini can be rather… violent if provoked in the slightest.''

Walking down the streets is a woman, one who looks in her early forties, with black hair that is tied into a bun, green eyes that are similar to emeralds, and her face that is shaped severely, one that you would expect from a seasoned school teacher.

Minerva Mcgonagall was her name.

As she walks through the chilly wind she thinks about why she's here in this tiny village of Little Whinging.

And that reason is to collect the Potter siblings.

Even if they weren't muggle-borns, they were raised in the muggle world, unfortunately, so she'll need to visit them.

Dumbledore did send her here for that reason and that reason alone.

Knock...Knock…

Banging on the door with her knuckles, slightly harder than needed, forming an echoing sound that travels through the entire neighbourhood.

After a short flash of time, her ears pick up the door rattling up, just prior to it slamming open.

And when the door flies open she sees a young boy, with messy black hair, green eyes, just like his mother before him, and wired framed glasses.

So this is Fleamont Potter?

''Who's at the door, boy!?'' A voice shouts, she could feel the grease just from the sound of it alone

''I don't know Uncle!'' The young boy responds.

That should've been expected, even if it's been 10 years, that voice is still recognizable, and not in a good way.

''So what can I do for you?'' The youngster asks, his voice shaking with respect, as much as a child could ever hope to achieve.

''May I come in?''

There's no way that she would be able to tell them outside, also, the other potter sibling needs to know as well.

The young Potter shrugs his aching shoulders before replying.

''I don't see why not.'' He grumbles, pushing the door open, letting anyone that walks by seeing inside.

Now that the inside of the house was visible something was noticeable, the cleanness of, she muses to herself as she steadily steps into the small house.

With colours like a disgusting shade of pink, which reminds her of a certain someone.

''Boy! Why did you invite her in?!'' That voice snaps her out of that daze she was blinded by, after her eyes become clearer she notices a rather fat man is standing in front of her.

He also seemed rather angry, it wouldn't be surprising if he fainted because of the invisible steam that is coming out of his ears.

Vernon Dursley. She takes note the moment her eyes lay on the overweight man.

Although she hadn't met the man, she has seen what kind of muggle he was, not one that she would talk to if needed.

''I am Minerva McGonagall, and I come from H-''

''I know who you are! Pet told me, you're one of those freaks.'' The oldest Dursley cuts her off, rudely if she does say so herself.

Freak? So Petunia still has that opinion, the same one as she did years ago. She would have thought that Petunia would have let it go, but she guesses that she was wrong

''I see, then you know why I'm here?''

The fat man's cheek became red, extremely so, she might've gotten worried, if the man she wasn't talking to was so arrogant.

''The answer is no! Nobody in this house will be going to that school full of freaks!'' The man spits out vehemently, it was rather surprising that a few pieces of saliva didn't fall out of his mouth, a rather welcoming surprise.

''I'm sorry to say but that's going to be impossible.''

''No, it's not! My house my rules.''

She notices the boy on the sidelines, his face masked by a confused expression.

''I'm sorry to say but it is, their parents already booked them in to enter Hogwarts, opposing such a thing… would be impossible.''

And it would be, unless either of the two Potters decides not to go, even their current guardians wouldn't be able to stop them from going.

''My parents!?'' The Young Potter shouts out, surprise falling down his mouth, dripping into his throat.

''Indeed, a long time ago they booked you into a school, that goes by the name of Hogwarts.''

After they entered the room the young Potter who goes by the name of Fleamont, the same name as his grandfather interestingly enough, went to get his sister, who was also going to Hogwarts, she was a witch after all.

And when Fleamont entered the room with his sister Lyra, an unsurpassed shiver travelled through her, at those dark eyes, the same eyes as her.

Even if the two couldn't be compared, Lyra was just a child, after all, those eyes of hers were slightly strange for a child, whereas Fleamonts eyes look like the one you would expect from a child, a rebellious one, but still a child nethernless.

Lyras dark marbles looked slightly cold? No, they weren't cold, there just wasn't much emotion in them, they looked lazy and emotionless, as if nothing was interesting for her, not even being told that she was a witch, still, she's seen children like this before, quite similar to a younger Snape, yet they were so different at the same time.

And that is worrying on its own.

It almost makes her look like a doll, and that appearance will just probably be enhanced as she grows older.

''Can you prove it?'' Lyra's voice breaks her out of her deep thoughts,

''Do you mean to prove that I'm a witch?''

This wouldn't be the first time she's had to prove that, most muggle-borns as that as one of the first questions.

''Yes.''

Fleamont gases along awkwardly, his lips stay closed, not even a breath comes out, which is rather odd, did Lyra say something to him on the way down perhaps?

''Very well.''

Standing up from the bony chair she was set upon, grabbing a wand from her pocket, just before pointing it at the glassy table, and after that she utters.

''Wingardium Leviosa.''

The glassy table floats above, and just as this happens Lyra's eyes become large, her face showing the most emotions she's seen all day.

She believes it was because of the spell that she just showed, but it wasn't, no, it was something else entirely.

''I see,'' Lyra mutters, regaining control of her emotions, reverting back to their normal state.

''So do you believe me now?'' She questions the young girl.

''I guess… it would stupid of me to not believe you… after that showing.'' The black-eyed girl's eyes are glued to her wand, not leaving it for even split a second.

''What is Hogwarts though? Remember you saying that just after you came in.'' Fleamont finally speaks up with a curious voice.

''Hogwarts?'' Lyra inquires, her eyes leaving the wand, instead they meet her bright eyes.

''Oh yes, I almost forgot about that, Hogwarts is a school of Witchcraft of Wizardry, and one of the best in the world.'' She beams proudly.

''There's schools for people like us then?.'' Lyra wonders out loud.

''Why of course, there's multiple around the world, but Hogwarts is most definitely the most prominent one.''

No matter what anyone says Hogwarts is still the best wizarding school in the world.

''How interesting, but how do you know that we have magic as you say?'' Lyra inquires.

''Well, if you got the acceptance letter then you are definitely a witch.''

There was just no way that Lyra wasn't a witch, she saw all of the letters just before they were sent off, just like she normally did at the end of every year, and she saw both of the Potters on it.

''What letter? I didn't get any.'' Lyra tilts her head to the side, yet her hair that is too long for her tastes doesn't move a single miller meter.

''What? You should have.''

How could have she gotten lost? Maybe the owls forgot one? No that's impossible, that's never happened in the history of Hogwarts, as much as she loathes this thought, could it be because of the Dursley's? Did they do something?

''Well, I know why you didn't get yours,'' Fleamont admits, and as soon as this happens Lyra's eyes become dangerously sharp, far more deadly than any sword could hope to even come close to.

''Did you do something?'' Lyra demands, her voice showing a massive amount of suppressed is, another worrying thing that she might just tell the headmaster later.

''Of course not!'' Fleamont waves his stick-like arm together, trying to deflect that idea off of him, but because that armour of his wasn't steel, that accusation pierces through him.

''Then why do you know what happened?''

Perhaps she should have stopped this argument that was growing and stewing the longer it went on, but she decided not to, not until it reached its boiling point anyway.

''I know what happened because I saw that happening.'' Fleamont slips out.

Before Lyra could retort she prompts a question.

''So then what happened?''

''Well a few ago's some letters came, one that was for me and Lyra, but she wasn't home at the time.''

''And what happened to these letters?'' Lyra requests.

She's too quite curious about what happened to those letters, Fleamont doesn't seem like a bad type, so something must have happened, unless she was wrong on her first impressions, which would be unfortunate because of his parents.

''When I tried to open it Uncle Vernon took it away from me, and no matter how many tries I attempted to take it back, he wouldn't.''

Those damn people, they never should have been left here, even if it was for their own protection.

''That does make sense, it does sound like something that the fat man would do.'' Lyra hums out.

She is thankful that Vernon wasn't in this room, otherwise, she might have had to separate a fight, even if she wants to think that wouldn't happen, she could feel it in her heart to be true.

''So when will Hogwarts start?'' Lyra doesn't take a breath in between sentences, her eyes lowering down until they reach her wand, just like they were before, those pitch-black orbs extending through it, almost like it was see-through.

''The first of September, so a little over a month away.''

''So soon?'' Lyra mumbled under her breath quietly, her ears only heard it because of her hearing that is sharpened beyond anything a Blacksmith could never hope to form.

The room becomes a soundless abyss, even quieter than the holidays at Hogwarts, it's rather peaceful, but Fleamont finally speaks up, cracking the current atmosphere, replacing it into something else entirely.

''So you said something about our parents when you first came?''

She swore that Lyra's eyes turned blood red for a second, a shade of red that looked demonic, but it disappeared even quicker than it formed, so she just chalks it up to her imagination.

''I did say something along those lines, well what do you want to know?''

''Where they like… us?''

''If you mean whether or not they were a wizard and a witch? Then yes they were, your father was actually from a rather old wizarding family.''

''Are they dead?'' Lyra voices a question.

Fleamonts head spins around, his lips part before something flies past his mouth.

''Of course, they are! Aunt Petunia said that they died in a car accident!'' A slither of anger is in his throat, making it throb painfully.

''And you really think that she was telling the truth? Sure they probably are dead, but that worm isn't a good liar.''

So she wants confirmation?

''Unfortunately, they aren't in the realm of the living, they passed away when you two were very young.''

''I thought that was the case, but… how did they die? I seriously doubt that it was because of a car accident.'' Lyra sighs out.

''You're right on that one, I'm not even sure if they a car or not, but they didn't just die, they were killed?'' She says sombrely, the two of them were some of her favourite students.

They died too young, there was a lot the two of them could've done with their life, but it was cut short by an Avada Kedavra.

''What?!'' The shock in Fleamonts face and voice could be viable, his voice was shaking like a leaf, and with those eyes, his feelings could be made out easily.

Lyra was dealing with it better, still, her feelings could still be shown, instead of the fear, those eyes showed anger.

Some people deal with things in different ways.

Anger and fear, two siblings, both reactions are completely understandable. It could provoke fear because who knows, they might next be. Fear could also be understandable, maybe more so, they took her parents away, never being able to meet them, but that anger might turn into something else, something more vicious.

''Why? Why would someone just kill them?'' Lyra asks, her voice showing a mountain of suppressed rage that wants to burst, cutting the mountain that is trying to surpass those feelings.

''It all started many years ago, there was a war that was started by a certain someone, and your two parents were in the middle of it.''

''A war? So they were soldiers.'' Lyra comments.

''Well, I don't like that word… but in a way, I guess you could say that.''

''Is this war over? Or is it still going on?'' Lyra asks another question.

''Oh no, the war ended a long time ago, just after your parents passed.''

''In fact, the reason why the war ended was because of you Fleamont.'' She suddenly reveals.

That might've been too sudden, the boy's eyes seem like they are going to pop.

''Me?!'' His voice grows in volume, and there's a tinge of disbelief In it, she would have thought the same if someone told her that, especially at that age.

Lyra also looks on in disbelief, although her feelings are less pronounced, probably wanting to stay out of it.

''Let me explain, where should I begin?'' Placing a finger on her chin, before she starts where she left off.

I'll start from that accursed spell.

''Well you see, there's a certain spell, one that takes the life of anything it touches, far worse than any muggle could ever hope to become.''

''A muggle? What on Earth is that?'' The Boy Who Lived inquires.

''Oh yes, I almost forgot that you have been in the muggle world for a long time. We witches and wizards call people with no magic muffled.''

''Getting back to what I was saying before, the spell I was talking about, the one that steals the life from it touches, otherwise known.'' Taking a breath before uttering those words.

''Avada Kedavra''

''What?!'' Lyra snaps, the previous edges of emotion were instead replaced with feelings that were clearer than the sun.

After realising what she said, something that looks like a thick ball falls down her throat, prior to apologising.

''I'm sorry, please continue.''

How odd… another thing to note down in her mind.

''Well, that spell takes the life of anything it touches, and no one has survived it, at least Fleamont here did the impossible, and rebounded it, defeating the user in the process.''

A heart that is growing just as black as her eyes, yet at the same time it's shrinking, and it will keep on shrinking until it shrivels up like a dead plant.

Black, the colour that is represented by death, which is rather amusing, or is it the opposite?

Her skin is vibrating at the thoughts that have been implanted inside of her with great care, it was almost as if a surgeon opened her up and placed them in her, locking them in, not letting them escape, no matter how much she tries.

Death, her parents are dead, although such a thing isn't surprising, to hear it other than her aunt's mouth… brings about other feelings.

She almost thought that she didn't have any, it was a rather stupid idea, she had to come from somewhere.

They weren't just killed, but murdered, that just makes things worse, she would have honestly preferred if they died from a car accident, murder, the word is nasty.

Is it nasty because it was her parents that died? The name parents feel so foreign to her, this is the first time she's learnt a single grain about that, her aunt always lied about them, and she knows that all the things were lies, her aunt was a bad liar, even as a child she knew this.

Another reason why she hates that worm.

Although not everything was bad, learning that she was a witch was rather welcoming.

She always knew she wasn't normal, she's always had odd abilities like being able to control snakes with her voice, and even levitating things with her mind, it's been that way ever since she was young.

And the boy who lived? What a ridiculous name, it was a revelation she wasn't expecting, but that also reminds her of the dream she had last night.

Avada Kedavra.

That name repeats and repeats in an infinite loop, a never-ending cycle, and the reason for that is because of that dream, and that spell that her brother rebounded.

A dream… yes that's all that it is, a dream, it's just a coincidence, there's no it will or could become anything more, a dream can't become a reality.

And killing her brother, As if! Even if their relationship is strained… she would never even consider killing him.

He's the only family that doesn't hate her… or so she believes.

The falling rain falling on her hoodie, tomorrow, tomorrow Mcgonagall said that they'll get their wands, their first taste of the world outside of the 'muggles.'

A wand… she also had a stick that looked like a wand in her dream.

Wobbling her head, that must be another coincidence, a spine chilling one, but just a coincidence.

She's starting to despise that word, the word coincidence flies into her ears, repeating it over… and over again, cycling over and over again, just like before.

Bump!

Her body collides into something hard, her hood whips back, wet hair flows down, almost meeting the floor below her, her body trips up, and she would have fallen over if someone caught her wrist.

''Are you alright?'' A kind voice speaks up, just before her body is pushed up with great care.

Looking upwards she sees a woman, a woman who looks to be in her mid-twenties, with dark hair that camouflage with the night perfectly, even if it is pouring with rain her hair looks magically perfect.

With pale skin, her face is oddly beautiful too, and green eyes, the shade of green that is similar to that light in her dream last night.

''I'm fine, I'm sorry for bumping into you.'' She apologises politely.

''It's no biggie, I wasn't really looking where I was going so it was kinda my fault.'' The woman also apologises, even if there wasn't a need to.

And that was the last thing she said to each other before they walked in opposite directions.

''How interesting.'' The woman mutters to herself, the rain blocked the noise out so Lyra didn't hear it.

Hum...Hum...Hum…

A smile, one that is fake, almost anyone could see it, yet nobody would ever call it out, because of the user's eyes, dangerous is the only way someone could put it as.

And with those dangerous chips, she looks down, looks down at the man below her, as he tries to crawl for mercy.

''I didn't say you could go, did I?'' A woman's voice echoes throughout the tunnel that they are in.

''P-please let me go.'' The man begs, but she isn't just about to let that go.

''Hm, I don't I want to.''

''I'll do anything! What have I ever done to you?!'' The man screams, tears are stuck in his eyes, and it stays there because of the massive amount of it.

''Don't raise your voice at me, unless you want to turn out like your friends there.'' Her eyes turn towards the floor below them, multiple bodies, cold corpses.

''I-I'm sorry! Just please let me go.'' His begging becomes even more pathetic, she doesn't know if this is amusing or jot.

''Well… I was going to.'' The man's eyes gain a light of hope in them, perhaps he might die.

''But I've changed my mind, we're going to have some fun for the next few hours.''

The only things that could be heard were maniacal laughs and screams of agony, but nobody heard a thing, and even if someone did they wouldn't tell a soul.

Unless they wanted to turn out like him.