Disclaimer: Most characters, ideas, worlds, and places are copyright J.K.
Rowling. Original plot, characters, and places are mine. If I have
inflicted upon any copyrights, please notify me. Thank you.
Chapter 3: Death
The phone rang early that morning, as a wake up call I suspected. I yawned, reaching over to the phone beside my bed. I pushed a lock of hair away from my eyes to see what I was doing and pick it up.
"Hello?" I said sleepily.
"Parvati, get over to the house right away, something's happened, hurry!"
The line dropped and I could hear the ringing on the other side. I dropped it and bundled myself up back in bed. I was too tired, and it was too early. Whatever they wanted, they could do it themselves. Ten minutes later, the phone rang again. This time, I listened.
"Parvati! I said get over here! Someone's been killed!"
I tumbled off the bed, throwing the phone across the room and pulling on a skirt and a blouse. Without brushing my hair or teeth, I grabbed my book bag and ran off.
Tape surrounded the house I had been at a few days ago. Hermione, Kate, and a few others stood in a corner next to a police car. I rushed towards them, panting.
"This is your case Potter, what happened?" Kate said sternly.
"I didn't- I didn't know, wait a second!" I cried, catching my breath. "What the hell happened?"
"Those anti-witch craft people knocked the barricades over and stabbed him to death! You were supposed to watch the house! You were suppose to keep them out!" she yelled.
"You can't be serious? I'm suppose to keep one hundred people away from a house?" I screamed, frantic and afraid.
"Dammit Potter!" Ying yelled, banging his briefcase on the police car. I looked to Hermione for support, but her eyes were on the ground. I knew she didn't know what to think. I betrayed my job, and work was something Hermione was very sensitive about. I turned around frustrated and looked into the house. It seemed lifeless, corrupted, and most of all like a bad idea. I dropped my book bag and stepped up to the house. I spotted Hermione following me in the corner of my eye.
It was a normal house. In the front door was a Firebolt, and on the coat rack was a large green cloak. It looked oddly familiar, much like on Harry use to have, but I blocked everything out of my mind except for the case. I wandered around, not touching anything, but feeling everything with my eyes. In the center of the living room were blood stains.
I was mad, I was infuriated, and most of all, I was disappointed in myself. I wiped the tears from my eyes, and led Hermione back out to the front of the house.
"Why didn't we just transport him somewhere safe?" I asked Kate, with a look of dislike in my eyes.
"We didn't think anything would happen Potter!" she replied. "But if anything did, we had you here to make sure it didn't get out of hand. Well, looks like we can't reply on you anymore…"
She motioned to the others, and disappeared into the mist. I looked back at Hermione, but she had followed them. I dropped to the grass, and crouched for a moment. I couldn't do anything now, it was too late, my time had come and passed. The yard was filled with silence, the neighborhood a graveyard to my emotions.
The fog clouded across the yard. I pulled my head up from between my knees and looked around. A crowd of angry people rammed their bodies through the tape and rushed up to the house. I ducked as they pushed me around and stepped on my hands and feet. After everyone had left, I opened my eyes and looked at the house. I could hear frightful screams, knives whipping the air, and people rushing around the house breaking things. I took to the ground as everyone ran out. They were afraid not of what they had done, but what would be done to them for it. They scattered around, some staying to watch, and others fleeing in their cars. I lifted my body from the ground and walked into the open doorway. I snuck down to main room and gasped at the horrible site. I stepped back and looked around for anyone. Across the room, a black cat appeared. It crouched, and sprang onto the dead body, eyeing me. My eyes burned as it turned its head and looked right at me. I shut them, the pain slowly fading. After a moment, I opened them again, and watched the cat move around. It had a smile on its face, more like a smirk than a smile of pure happiness. I wanted to leave, but my feet were locked in place.
From behind me, I could feel a cold hand touch my shoulder and run down my spine. I turned around, and saw what seemed so familiar. More dark figures started scattering around me. I stepped back, as they surrounded me fully. This time there was no gust, no breeze, no wind. I fell to the floor as their icy hands struck me, cringing painfully.
I opened my eyes. The street was empty. My book bag lay thrown on the ground, the police car gone. No one was there but me, just like my dream. I looked back at the house. There was no body, no black figures, and no lightning. Relieved, I grabbed my book bag and began to walk away.
"Hello?"
"Ms. Potter?"
"Yes, that's me…" I replied.
"I've been informed you need some help…"
"Help?"
"Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you…"
"Look, if this is a joke, I don't appreciate it."
"Oh, this is no joke, believe me. To you, it will all be real someday."
I hung up, and backed onto my bed, promising myself I'd never answer it again. Assuming it was probably some stupid teenager pulling a prank, I sighed and went back to business. My desk was a mess, as usual. Ever since Harry was killed, I never bothered to keep things in order. 'What for?' I asked myself. I shoved all the papers off it and onto the floor, telling myself I would clean it up later.
I laid my files out on the desk, and looked through them. From what I read, Rob Mitchell seemed like a normal guy. He was single, thirty-nine years old, and he lived a private, quiet life. As I read on, I found that he had once been married to a witch, but she divorced him when she found out that he was having an affair with a muggle. The name sounded familiar, Alice Grander. I pulled out my laptop from the drawer and searched her name.
"89 Seventh Street?" I asked, looking back at the files. "Rob lives on 87 Seventh Street. She was his next-door neighbor! The one who claimed he was a heretic…"
None of this had made sense so far, so I decided to put it away for then and get some rest. I laid down on my bed and stared at the ceiling. It was dusty, and spider webs grew in all corners. Feeling productive, I grabbed my household broom and began to sweep.
That night, I invited Hermione over for dinner, whipping up some quick food and setting up some silverware on the table. It had been long since I had anyone over, and I thought it would be a good way to talk to Hermione alone.
I pulled the door open as she arrived in her muggle car, which I fascinated greatly. She smiled at me, a half smile, not the kind of smile she had given me before, but the kind that meant she was trying. I served her some food, and sat down across the table.
"Nice car," I said, with a gleam in my eyes.
"Parvati, can I ask you something?" she said, her eyes wandering from place to place.
"Anything," I replied, dropping my friendly grin.
"Can we forget this whole dinner thing and pig out with popcorn in front of your muggle television?"
I smiled. It was a relief to be wrong at times.
"Just what I was thinking!" I lied, leading her into the main room with giggles.
After many house of movies and popcorn, she decided it was time for her to leave. I waved her out the door, and then shut it tightly, returning to my old, insure self. I cleaned up the uneaten dinner, and then began to organize all the old papers I had pushed off my desk. For once, I would finally be getting my life straight, although I knew it would never be the same.
Chapter 3: Death
The phone rang early that morning, as a wake up call I suspected. I yawned, reaching over to the phone beside my bed. I pushed a lock of hair away from my eyes to see what I was doing and pick it up.
"Hello?" I said sleepily.
"Parvati, get over to the house right away, something's happened, hurry!"
The line dropped and I could hear the ringing on the other side. I dropped it and bundled myself up back in bed. I was too tired, and it was too early. Whatever they wanted, they could do it themselves. Ten minutes later, the phone rang again. This time, I listened.
"Parvati! I said get over here! Someone's been killed!"
I tumbled off the bed, throwing the phone across the room and pulling on a skirt and a blouse. Without brushing my hair or teeth, I grabbed my book bag and ran off.
Tape surrounded the house I had been at a few days ago. Hermione, Kate, and a few others stood in a corner next to a police car. I rushed towards them, panting.
"This is your case Potter, what happened?" Kate said sternly.
"I didn't- I didn't know, wait a second!" I cried, catching my breath. "What the hell happened?"
"Those anti-witch craft people knocked the barricades over and stabbed him to death! You were supposed to watch the house! You were suppose to keep them out!" she yelled.
"You can't be serious? I'm suppose to keep one hundred people away from a house?" I screamed, frantic and afraid.
"Dammit Potter!" Ying yelled, banging his briefcase on the police car. I looked to Hermione for support, but her eyes were on the ground. I knew she didn't know what to think. I betrayed my job, and work was something Hermione was very sensitive about. I turned around frustrated and looked into the house. It seemed lifeless, corrupted, and most of all like a bad idea. I dropped my book bag and stepped up to the house. I spotted Hermione following me in the corner of my eye.
It was a normal house. In the front door was a Firebolt, and on the coat rack was a large green cloak. It looked oddly familiar, much like on Harry use to have, but I blocked everything out of my mind except for the case. I wandered around, not touching anything, but feeling everything with my eyes. In the center of the living room were blood stains.
I was mad, I was infuriated, and most of all, I was disappointed in myself. I wiped the tears from my eyes, and led Hermione back out to the front of the house.
"Why didn't we just transport him somewhere safe?" I asked Kate, with a look of dislike in my eyes.
"We didn't think anything would happen Potter!" she replied. "But if anything did, we had you here to make sure it didn't get out of hand. Well, looks like we can't reply on you anymore…"
She motioned to the others, and disappeared into the mist. I looked back at Hermione, but she had followed them. I dropped to the grass, and crouched for a moment. I couldn't do anything now, it was too late, my time had come and passed. The yard was filled with silence, the neighborhood a graveyard to my emotions.
The fog clouded across the yard. I pulled my head up from between my knees and looked around. A crowd of angry people rammed their bodies through the tape and rushed up to the house. I ducked as they pushed me around and stepped on my hands and feet. After everyone had left, I opened my eyes and looked at the house. I could hear frightful screams, knives whipping the air, and people rushing around the house breaking things. I took to the ground as everyone ran out. They were afraid not of what they had done, but what would be done to them for it. They scattered around, some staying to watch, and others fleeing in their cars. I lifted my body from the ground and walked into the open doorway. I snuck down to main room and gasped at the horrible site. I stepped back and looked around for anyone. Across the room, a black cat appeared. It crouched, and sprang onto the dead body, eyeing me. My eyes burned as it turned its head and looked right at me. I shut them, the pain slowly fading. After a moment, I opened them again, and watched the cat move around. It had a smile on its face, more like a smirk than a smile of pure happiness. I wanted to leave, but my feet were locked in place.
From behind me, I could feel a cold hand touch my shoulder and run down my spine. I turned around, and saw what seemed so familiar. More dark figures started scattering around me. I stepped back, as they surrounded me fully. This time there was no gust, no breeze, no wind. I fell to the floor as their icy hands struck me, cringing painfully.
I opened my eyes. The street was empty. My book bag lay thrown on the ground, the police car gone. No one was there but me, just like my dream. I looked back at the house. There was no body, no black figures, and no lightning. Relieved, I grabbed my book bag and began to walk away.
"Hello?"
"Ms. Potter?"
"Yes, that's me…" I replied.
"I've been informed you need some help…"
"Help?"
"Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you…"
"Look, if this is a joke, I don't appreciate it."
"Oh, this is no joke, believe me. To you, it will all be real someday."
I hung up, and backed onto my bed, promising myself I'd never answer it again. Assuming it was probably some stupid teenager pulling a prank, I sighed and went back to business. My desk was a mess, as usual. Ever since Harry was killed, I never bothered to keep things in order. 'What for?' I asked myself. I shoved all the papers off it and onto the floor, telling myself I would clean it up later.
I laid my files out on the desk, and looked through them. From what I read, Rob Mitchell seemed like a normal guy. He was single, thirty-nine years old, and he lived a private, quiet life. As I read on, I found that he had once been married to a witch, but she divorced him when she found out that he was having an affair with a muggle. The name sounded familiar, Alice Grander. I pulled out my laptop from the drawer and searched her name.
"89 Seventh Street?" I asked, looking back at the files. "Rob lives on 87 Seventh Street. She was his next-door neighbor! The one who claimed he was a heretic…"
None of this had made sense so far, so I decided to put it away for then and get some rest. I laid down on my bed and stared at the ceiling. It was dusty, and spider webs grew in all corners. Feeling productive, I grabbed my household broom and began to sweep.
That night, I invited Hermione over for dinner, whipping up some quick food and setting up some silverware on the table. It had been long since I had anyone over, and I thought it would be a good way to talk to Hermione alone.
I pulled the door open as she arrived in her muggle car, which I fascinated greatly. She smiled at me, a half smile, not the kind of smile she had given me before, but the kind that meant she was trying. I served her some food, and sat down across the table.
"Nice car," I said, with a gleam in my eyes.
"Parvati, can I ask you something?" she said, her eyes wandering from place to place.
"Anything," I replied, dropping my friendly grin.
"Can we forget this whole dinner thing and pig out with popcorn in front of your muggle television?"
I smiled. It was a relief to be wrong at times.
"Just what I was thinking!" I lied, leading her into the main room with giggles.
After many house of movies and popcorn, she decided it was time for her to leave. I waved her out the door, and then shut it tightly, returning to my old, insure self. I cleaned up the uneaten dinner, and then began to organize all the old papers I had pushed off my desk. For once, I would finally be getting my life straight, although I knew it would never be the same.