A/N: sorry it's taken so long for me to upload this grumbles about mountains of boring schoolwork. Please please please r/r!
- CHAPTER THREE -
The Night Stroll
Miles away from Hogwarts, nestled in the heart of the English countryside was a small, sleepy village called Ottingdon-Crombie. It was much like any other low-key place in that part of the countryside, with the routine old redbrick farmhouses, white-rendered cottages, the trim and vivid gardens, the village green, the church… nothing particularly remarkable. Surrounding the village was lush hillside where cattle and sheep grazed, and from there, dominating silence seemed to be rolling in and settling like dust upon the sleeping village.
Now nearly midnight, the large clock face on the Ottingdon-Crombie church tower counted down the final minutes of July the thirtieth. Nobody was there to witness this of course. The villagers of Ottingdon-Crombie were far too boring to be seen out of the safety and comfort of their own homes after dark. Except for maybe one of them…
The tranquil quiet was shattered as ten-year-old Monica Hildegard came charging down Church Lane, kicking a stone as she went, while muttering furiously.
"Thinks he knows what I want… I'll show him… I'll show both of them… Can't tell me what to do…"
Monica was a peculiar site. Her uncombed, frizzy, blond hair was looking even more wild than usual, and her round face was looking particularly red. On her bare arms were signs of scrapes which looked suspiciously like cat scratches, as if a young child had attacked her with a red marker pen. She wore a pair of battered jeans, trainers with the laces untied, and a black T-shirt which reached to her knees.
On the front of her T-shirt was written: My parents went to London and all they brought me back was this lousy T-shirt. It had been a hastily and poorly chosen gift from her father, as it was paper-thin and even smelled of cheapness. Monica found the message on it insensitive and even insulting, since it said parents, as in the plural, when Monica's mother had died when she had been five years old. The T-shirt just reminded Monica how easily her father seemed to be forgetting his wife.
And there was also the strange fact that Monica was carrying two black bin-liners containing all her favourite possessions, not forgetting the rucksack on her back which accommodated her sleeping kitten, Chandler. This would indicate the likely scenario that Monica Hildegard was running away from home.
She passed Mrs Green's house, a grumpy old lady who had an acute dislike to sprightly Monica Hildegard. Monica took special care in flattening Mrs Green's perfectly placed prized begonias, and then crossed the road, which was narrow and gritty with grass sprouting up the middle. Monica sat on the stone, moss-covered wall that surrounded the churchyard, pondering whether or not to lob a stone through Mrs Green's living room window, as a sort of final venture against the moody old bag.
Was it illegal to throw a stone through the window of an interfering wintry bat's house? Probably. Would Monica get the blame for it? Definitely. Did Monica really care? Well…
The truth was this random act of vandalism would get Monica into even deeper trouble than she was in now. Monica's dad wasn't too thrilled with Monica's last school report, which accused her of appalling behaviour and total disregard for the rules. Monica's father was threatening to send her to girls' boarding school because of it, which was what she was so furious about.
Monica loved living in Ottingdon-Crombie, where the air was fresh, and where she had the freedom to do as she liked. She knew for a fact that a boarding school nobody would allow her to spend hours outside in fields and woods, or to go on midnight escapades. Monica was reminded that they probably wouldn't allow her to keep Chandler either, as he clawed her back, asking to be released from her backpack. Monica would suffocate cooped up indoors all day, without her best friend Chandler for company.
"What am I going to do?" Monica whined, dropping her fluffy grey ball of a kitten onto her knee. One thing was for sure; Monica wasn't going back home. It felt like her Dad wanted her out of the way, like he didn't care how she felt. She felt like crying, but that just wasn't a Monica-ish thing to do. Her Dad had hollered at her so much before she had locked herself in her room just a few hours ago, and now the situation seemed even more desperate. Running away felt like the only solution, if only Monica had somewhere to go…
"If only Mum was still around," Monica murmured. "She would make it alright…"
Monica stared at her feet glumly, and smirked when she saw the remains of Mrs Green's begonias sticking out at odd angles from the soles of her trainers. Jeez, would she be seriously mad tomorrow morning, Monica thought. At least that would be something amusing after the hellish day she had just had.
For a fleeting moment Monica thought she heard footsteps coming from behind the church. She swiftly turned her head, ready to dart into the shadows at the first sign of hazard. Only that trail of thought was interrupted when a strange cold sensation shot like lightning down her spine. It felt like someone had slipped ice cubes down her back. This air she was breathing was beginning to get chillier, feeling like it does on a frosty winter morning.
However there was no time to worry about this possible freak weather. There was definitely footsteps fast approaching in Monica's direction, and she didn't much fancy being caught out at this hour by someone. She slid behind the low wall and made her way across to some thick bushes on her hands and knees. Thinking quickly, the best idea seemed to be waiting there until the strangers had passed. Now sinister voices drifted through the now looming mist, and reached Monica's ears, making her shiver.
"Hold out your right arm, Lucius. I wish to summon my other Death Eaters…"
"Yes, Master…"
Monica thought she was in danger of being sent home, or perhaps even being sent to the police. Little did she know the path which lay in the fates for her could be the worst. She had just stumbled across malicious Lord Voldemort in a rendezvous with his formidable Death Eaters…