Disclaimer: I don't know if I'm supposed to have one of these or not, but since I don't want to get kicked off the site for plagiarism, I just want to clarify that I don't own Harry Potter, or anything related, (as if you didn't already know that), and I don't claim to.



Chapter One
Little Hangleton



The villagers of Little Hangleton used to call it the "Riddle House", even though the Riddles had no longer lived there. It stood on a hill overlooking the village. It was one of the only things still standing in Little Hangleton.

If there had been anybody left to talk about it, they would have certainly talked about how spooky and mysterious the old house had been. They would have talked about how fifty years ago the three Riddles had been discovered dead in their drawing room one morning. They would have talked about how the cause of death had never been determined and how the murderer, if there had been a murderer, had gotten clean away. And they certainly would have talked about how only a year ago Frank Bryce, the gardener of the Riddle House, had turned up dead in one of the upstairs rooms. But there was no one left in Little Hangleton, as John Covington had soon discovered.

John had been bicycling out to the country to visit his mother when he had come upon the remains of Little Hangleton.

Having traveled this way many times and having passed through the small village before, John was more than a little shocked when he first saw the smoldering ruins from a distance. But coming for a closer look, John had realized it was true. Little Hangleton had been completely destroyed.

Just as strange was the fact that the "Riddle House" had survived unscathed. There were the usual signs of age and neglect: a few boarded and broken windows, tiles missing from the roof, and the overgrown weeds and ivy that were creeping their way up the house. But the fact that it wasn't a pile of rubble like the rest of the village was simply amazing.

Despite the state of the village, John had been forced to take shelter amid the ruins when a strong, sudden thunderstorm raced into the area. Soaked, tired, and hungry, John sat beneath a half-collapsed roof and marveled at his surroundings.

Being a very practical man, John was at a complete loss as to the thorough destruction around him. An earthquake, maybe? Or perhaps it was some massive rebuilding project? Whatever the reason, he should have heard something about this before now. Judging from the wreckage, it seemed as though the town had been destroyed for several weeks. Yet there had been nothing on the news or in the papers. And entire villages just didn't go falling to pieces everyday.

A sudden thought struck John. Maybe he was the only one who knew. The village was relatively isolated and if everyone who lived there had really been killed...

A movement in the wreckage behind him snapped him out of his thoughts. He spun around.

There, only six feet away, was an enormous shaggy black dog, staring back at him. It sat there, soaking wet from the pouring rain outside.

Startled, John jumped slightly and cracked his head on the low ceiling. He swore loudly and began rubbing his sore head. The dog stared at him.

"What?" snapped John, irritated now. He was tired, he was sore, and he was hungry. "What do you want?"

Then to John's dismay, the dog walked over to him, clamped its jaws softly around his arm, and began to gently pull him outside.

It wants me to go with it, John realized. It was a crazy thought, yet he felt a strange urge to do so. Maybe the dog had a family it would lead him to, and that might mean food, shelter, and dry clothes. Before he fully realized what he was doing, John was pulling on his raincoat, strapping on his backpack, and mounting his bicycle.

The dog, seeing that John was going to follow, set off into the rain, occasionally looking over its shoulder to make sure that John was still there.

The two began making their way through the ruins of the village. The rain continued to come down in sheets and soon, John was soaked to the bone.

This is stupid, he began telling himself after about fifteen minutes. What am I doing? Here I am in the pouring rain, following a dog.

But just when John was about to turn back and take shelter once again, the dog came to a sudden stop. Having been lost in his thoughts, John had to quickly slam on the brakes, and in doing so, tumbled from the bicycle.

He began swearing loudly once again, but the dog wasn't paying any attention. It had gone suddenly tense and was growling at something ahead. John wiped his glasses dry and peered into the driving rain.

A dark figure was walking towards them.

"Hello?" John called. The figure did not answer.

Maybe he could help, John thought suddenly, maybe he has a house nearby.

The figure stopped about ten feet away.

"Hello?" John tried again. No response.

The dog was growling very loudly now and was showing its long, sharp teeth.

The figure was speaking now. It was a deep male voice, although the words were being swept away in the wind. John strained to hear but he only caught bits and pieces of what the man was saying.

"...thought you were smarter...been snooping around again...bad mistake, Sirius..."

John stood there, completely bewildered. What was he talking about? But then the thought ocurred to him, as strange as it was. The man was talking to the dog.

The figure suddenly raised its hand and said something that got lost in the wind. The dog attacked. It sprang forward and knocked the figure to the ground.

John stared, open-mouthed.

Now's my chance to leave, he thought suddenly. He grabbed up his bicycle and turned to go but stopped dead in his tracks.

A giant, twelve-foot long snake was staring him eye to eye.

John's first reaction was to go for the knife at his belt, but it was too late.

The snake was too quick. It bit him in the shoulder and John felt himself beginning to go numb. The deadly serpent whipped itself around him and soon had him completely wrapped in a strangle-hold from head to foot.

John's vision was beginning to go foggy and he fought to stay conscious. He looked over to the two figures struggling with each other on the ground and found that the dog had disappeared. A gaunt man with black hair was in its place. He was pummeling his fists into the other dark figure, who was fighting back ferociously.

John tried to call out for help but found that he could no longer speak. As he was struggling for breath, he watched as the snake slowly lowered its head level with his. It opened its mouth, exposing its long, poisonous fangs...and struck.