Little Hangleton

Anya was counting down the days till she would be able to leave for Zarian's. She was happy to be home with her father but she still wanted to see him. Meanwhile the owner of the shack was still bugging her, who were they, why did they live the way they did? She wanted to find out but something kept her from asking her father, she somehow knew she wouldn't get the answers she wanted, especially if the man was a nutters like Jones had said. Just two more days, and she would be leaving to see him, they would be spending one whole week with him, and she couldn't wait.

Two days, maybe that was enough time to do some digging in the village, she would use the excuse of shopping, and her father shouldn't ask too many questions if she said that despite the fact she never really went shopping under her own free will.

Putting on her scarf and coat she walked out the front door, there was still snow everywhere and not much sun could be seen through the clouds but it wasn't unbearable, and she would be able to walk along the snow-free foot paths to the village.

As she neared the village she saw many of the local kids playing in the snow, the lake had iced over and many people were ice-skating and having snow ball fights. It was a beautiful scene like you would see on a postcard or box of chocolates.

Little Hangleton was an old village, the houses and shops were all old fashioned, and had a lot of character, the kind that some families had been living in for generations. Someone new to the village was unheard of and they would find themselves swept into village life very quickly.

The post office was run by a kind old woman named Mrs. Walker; she knew everything about everyone so Anya knew that it would be the place to go to get information. The bell above the door alerted the woman to her presence.

"Miss Riddle? Is that you dear?" she asked peering through her glasses.

"Yes Mrs Walker, it's been a while since I was here I know." Anya replied she had not been into the village since she was a child, and she was always accompanied by her father.

"My how you have grown, why it makes me feel quite old and you look so much like you're…" she cut of looking down.

There was a tense silence in the end, once again someone had nearly mentioned her mother, but they always seemed to cut off Anya often wondered why that was.

"So what can I do for you today my dear, or is this just a social call before you go back to school."

"A bit of both, I haven't been to the village for a while. Nothing changes does it?" Anya asked with a laugh before sobering up "but I would also like to ask you about something, I figured you were the best person to come to, you know lots about the village." Well she had at least learnt something from her brother when it came to charming people.

"Well, I do my dear, what is it that you are looking for?" she replied, a faint blush in her cheeks.

"It's about the old shack on the old road, I wondered if you could tell me who lives there?"

Mrs Walker changed, she seemed flustered "We don't really talk about those…people…they're not welcome in this village" she had lowered her voice, and glanced around to make sure they were not being overheard.

"Why not" Anya had also lowered her voice, but could not keep her curiosity from bubbling over.

"Well…the…man…who lives there, well he isn't a nice person, some things have happened that don't make a lot of sense…he's mad my dear, and as for his father…well he was, eccentric to say the least…he's dead now so we believe. The boy still lives there though and he's never seen in the village…no one even really knows the place exists…why do you ask?" She was looking at Anya with a piercing gaze.

"No reason…I just saw the shack as I was coming home from school with Jones, I couldn't imagine who would live in a place like that." She paused "So is he the only one who lives there, and his father before that?"

Now Mrs Walker looked totally flustered "Well…before that there was someone…no I shouldn't say anything, it's not my place Anya…you should ask your father."

"But…!, why who was it?"

"No, it's not my business, ask your father, he should be the one to tell you about that family. Il thank you not to ask me"

Anya was annoyed, so close and now she was denied, thankfully she had left her wand at home or she may have cursed the woman much as she would have regretted it later.

She settled for glaring at the counter.

"So, is there anything else I can help you with dear?"

"No…thank you…id better be getting back, my father will be worried"

"Yes, I imagine he will, well it was nice to see you Anya, don't be a stranger this is your home too you know…but maybe you shouldn't do so much digging into the past, sometimes things can be painful to remember…" Anya looked at the woman before her, she was filled with nothing more than concern for her. She smiled and nodded, she knew she wouldn't stop looking to the past for the answers she needed, look at what she had found out from it so far. If she hadn't dug around she wouldn't know of her heritage, or of the power she held.

Anya was going to go straight home but something seemed to tell her to walk past the shack again, maybe if she saw a bit more she might be able to see why people avoided the place.

The way was clearer than she imagined it would be, more people must have been using it to access the village. The gap in the trees was still as untidy as the last time she saw the place, and the candle was burning in the window yet again.

As she was about to walk into the garden she suddenly had a thought, she was unarmed and alone, this was the local mad man who knew what he was capable of…

She would come back, when she had her wand and knew more about this man, and that "someone" who ever they were, she would get her answers but in the mean time she would be happy and content to spend the week with Zarian.

There were time, the man would surly not be going anywhere. She continued her walk home not even glancing back. A pair of eyes followed her up the hill, familiar eyes that would one day see her again.