Title: Magical destiny (The tale of the girl who lived)
Date: 27 November, 2004
Written by: ChaosMagicianGirl
Translation by: ChaosMagicianGirl
Dedicated to: Iris Kolk
Original story: "Iris" (The Dutch version of this story and the original one)
Disclaimer:
The fantastic anime series of Yu-Gi-Oh belongs to Kazuki Takahashi. The books of Harry Potter belong to JK. Rowling. I do not intend to claim that the characters or anything else I use in my story are mine! It is © and belongs to the people, I mentioned above. I'm only borrowing the characters and so on, to have some fun writing about them. This story is also dedicated to a very special someone, who is very dear to me!
A/N:
Well, here it is, Iris, your first birthday present!
Once again, congratulations! I hope you like the story, girlie! Cause I'm writing it especially for you, because you are one of my closest friends and I love you very much!
To the readers of Fanfictionnet:
Even though this story is originally written by me for my friend's birthday, I still hope you guys will like it! Reviews are much appreciated, even if you decide to flame me, go ahead!
'….' thoughts of a person
"……" spoken lines
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Chapter one: "Beautifully Chaotic"
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It's early in the morning. The birds are singing a sweet, soothing morning lullaby in a three, in the front garden of a certain family.
A soft gust of wind lets the branches of the three sway up and down for a few moments, before it continues on its way again.
The sun is slowly coming up from behind the horizon. The sky around it consists of warm, beautiful colours. It's hard to give the many different colours a known colour stamp.
A lonely lamppost is miserably trying to keep the street lighted, but failing in its task to do so. It flickers for a few moments, before its light dies out, never to return again.
All the other lampposts follow its lead, but only, because the dawn of day is slowly approaching.
The only task that lies with the humans, is to deliver the defect lamppost a new source of light. So that it may bask the street in its glorious rays of light once again.
The wind continues its way towards its destination, the top floor of a certain house; in other words, the attic.
The slightly open window on that floor is pushed open further by little to no force of the wind.
That it is a cold morning in November is noticeable, since the cold of the winter is carried into the room by the wind.
The room is a small one, dirty, neglected, and all the stuff standing in it is covered by thick layers of dust. To be more precise, it looked like it hadn't been cleaned in years, and even that could be called an understatement.
Cardboard boxes were established against the wall, and were sealed off with thick tape. That way, the content of the boxes was hidden quite well. A sort of invisible sign, that the content; memories of this family, were secrets that they didn't want to be uncovered. Especially not by a certain member of the family.
The floor on which the boxes rested, was worn-out, and in some places had even become mouldy. The only other furniture in the miserable room were a bed, and an old trunk with a rusty lock on it.
Belongings that were very precious for a certain owner were kept in it. A few of those possessions are a diary and a notebook in which song lyrics and poems were written down.
That said person was tossing and turning in their bed at the moment.
Her thin nightgown was dripping wet with her sweat, and was clinging uncomfortably against her body. She was being pestered with a nightmare. The same one that had come to visit her dreams, already two nights in a row.
A sudden scream of fear brought her back to the real world, where she opened her eyes, bathing in her own sweat.
For a few moments she stares right into the wall in front of her. In her emerald green eyes you can see the fear reflected, showing how terrified and distraught the dream had left her. Her entire body is trembling uncontrollably. She can feel the hard pounding of her heart drumming in her ears. It felt like, at any moment now, it would bounce out of her chest, the pace it was currently going at.
It took her a few minutes, to come to herself a bit again.
When she could finally think straight again, or at least as much as she would be able to at the moment, she wiped away a few sweaty strands of hair, that were stuck on her forehead.
Following the action of her hand, a unique quality of her is exposed. Namely, a scar, shaped in the form of lightning.
She let out a long, breathy sigh, while she picked up her glasses from her night stand. After she had put on her glasses, the blurry sight her eyes were witnessing, gradually got sharper and more clear, than before.
She turned her head to the right, to take a peek at her alarm clock. When she noticed it read 6 AM, she cursed softy.
She put her pillow over her head, and muttered softly into it, so that her " neighbours", sleeping in the room directly under her wouldn't be awakened.
' Oh, man! Six A.M? You have got to be kidding me?' her muffled voice came from beneath the pillow.
She was fairly certain, that because she had overslept, she could get her famous " wake-up call" any moment now.
Every morning it was the same story. She would sleep through the annoying beeping of her alarm clock. She would get her wake-up call; aka as her uncle Vernon storming into her room, screaming her name like an insane banshee, and telling her to get up.
She chuckled a bit at that last thought. Even though, she had lived years in this house, she would NEVER become a morning person. She shuddered at the thought of her perky aunt Petunia. How she could always be so annoyingly cheerful in the morning was beyond her, WAY beyond her.
Correction, she was only annoyingly cheerful when the both of them didn't happen to occupy the same room. Because, once she entered the kitchen every morning, the sic kingly sweet smile plastered on her aunt's face, would vanish from her face immediately. Only to be replaced by such a sour face, one could suggest, she had managed to somehow swallow an entire lemon in one bite.
Trying to stifle an upcoming yawn, her thoughts roamed back to the dream she had. She was still a bit shaken-up by it, and her thoughts were still in disarray. It could be called "beautifully chaotic", the way her thoughts were jumbled, mixed up, or turned up-side down. It depended on how you looked at it.
'It was the same dream again. The one that has been haunting my dreams for the last few days. I hear a man laugh in an insane and grotesque voice. It gives me the creeps. Is sounds so inhuman, so full of hate. I could taste the stench of lingering death it carried on the tip of my tongue. And every time I hear the voice of a woman, begging for someone's life to be spared, to be granted mercy by that, that man. As she continues to beg, pray, he laughs, the tone of his it suggesting he loves the torture he is inflicting upon her, them. After that, I hear an agonizing scream erupt from the throat of the woman. The last sentence she utters, before she uses up the last straw of her vital energy is to call out my name. Who are they? Why does she call my name? Who is she? Why does this dream come back to haunt me, night after night?'
She shook her head, clearing her head of her previous thoughts. She didn't want to think about it anymore. It was just too terrible for words. Every time she heard that voice echo in her mind, her heart would skip a beat, and she was filled with such fear that she was rooted to the spot.
The beginning of the dream was always the same. She was alone, total darkness surrounding her, and it was eerie quiet around her. Then, when she screamed for help, to see if anybody was there and could hear her, her voice would only echo against invisible walls and be reflected right back at her. And then…then came the voices…Those terrible voices.
Iris Potter……..
She took another peek at her alarm clock, and noticed another 15 minutes had passed.
'Hmm, I think uncle Vernon slept in late. That would be the first time then. And that explains why he hasn't come storming into my room yet, to give me that "wake-up call".'
She was having a mental laughing fit when she pictured in her mind her uncle Vernon, carrying his fat, chubby body , his round face tomato red from anger, come storming into her room. He was already late for work, that was a certain fact. She could be a good girl and go and wake him up. But she decided not to participate in that course of action.
Now, laughing out loud, she threw her covers of off her and jumped out of bed.
Becoming aware of the state she was in; soaking in her own sweat, she cringed mentally.
"Ew! I so have to take a shower!"
And as if on cue, her uncle's angry voice bellowed out at her, originating from the room one floor below her.
" IRIS POTTER!"
" Uh-oh, I guess he's awake….."
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A/N:
Muwhahahahaha! Yup, I made a cliffhanger out of it. Which means that you'll guys have to wait for me to go type up the next chapter;).
But, fellow readers, I will be back! (insert insane laugh right here)
So, be kind, and leave a review on your way out. Who knows? It might make me update faster….
CMG, signing out!