Chapter 1: Prologue
A/N 25/4/24: Hi there! This is the first story of the Ky Thornton series, a coming-of-age adventure that is based in the fourth year of Harry's time at Hogwarts. Two stories follow this – Gemini Queen, and Hallowed Life, and I am currently finishing the fourth and last story, Draconian Revelation. I was inspired to write Ky's story because I, like so many of us, wanted to explore avenues that couldn't logistically be achieved canonically – family dynamics, character growth for morally grey characters, first-love, first heartbreaks, a view of Hogwarts that is more diverse than a single House perspective, etc. I do hope you enjoy the different 'faces' I've created for familiar characters, as well as the original ones I've created for Ky's world
Disclaimer: I am just a mere visitor in the sublime world constructed by the brilliant mind that is J.K Rowling. Anything that rings a bell is hers.
Prologue
It was buzzing. A continuous, hum drum buzzing that pecked at my ears like pins to a voodoo doll. Speaking of which, I wish I had a voodoo doll of her. First thing I'd do is stitch its annoying perfect pink lips up. Pink lips that perfectly matched that atrocious pink two-piece suit that she currently adorned, a suit she would ardently point out was by some French designer whose name she could barely pronounce.
I rolled my grey eyes at the nonstop monologue, and I refrained from tugging on my long, dark mane in frustration. I instead shaded my face from the rays of sunlight that attacked the car window, currently in a vampiric mood; there is too much liveliness in this car – it needed to be sucked out.
I stopped pretending to listen to Nessie, catching a view of the lake we were currently driving passed. It was crystalline perfection and was surrounded by green landscapes that both distracted, and concurrently, aided in my effort at ignoring the blonde in the driver's seat.
Linus owes me big. Bigger than the latest iPad and Nintendo Wii U before release dates big. I can't believe he convinced me to spend the day with his insipid fiancé - my future sister-in-law, Scottish American, Agnes McQueen. Well, I say convinced, it was nothing more than pure, old-fashioned corruption, what with him greasing the wheels the way he did.
When he delivered the news of his pending nuptials, and I fought off the resultant vomit that begged to be emitted, he added that the infamous wedding would occur in Scotland. Silly old me imagined all these cool activities that him, Lenzo and myself could do! Hikes in the Highlands – subsequently bumping into their famous bovine inhabitants! Comedy nights in the city!
Yet I was reminded that the purpose of this trip was not for site seeing – 'we' had a wedding to plan. So, I, being the selfless creature that I am, put aside all my wanderlust and said all I really wanted to do was visit a castle! He knew of my obsession with haunted castles ever since we visited Belhurst Castle back in New York and I was fairly certain I had seen a ghost.
He had chalked it up to the overactive imagination of a ten-year-old – but considering all the other odd things we were privy to, I was surprised at his protestations and had been determined to prove him wrong, and surely they'd be a haunted castle in Scotland.
But no, we've been here a week and we've been doing nothing but push the neurons in my head into taking suicidal plunges in the hope of escaping the boredom. And by boredom, I mean nonstop wedding crap. I mean, I could go the rest of my life without having to hear the word taffeta again.
"Kyrianna, are you listening to me! Have you decided if you want the taffeta dress for the reception or the lace? Personally, I think the lace is a bit too mature but…. buzzzzzz" Oh my sweet irony, this is the last straw.
Just before I could blow the roof off this Bentley, the most mesmerizing view caught my eye and I straightened to attention. It was as if the God of British classic automobiles, in order to protect its own; sent me a vision that was nothing short of magical. It was a castle….no, it was The Castle. Its turrets and towers were set alight by the backdrop of the slowly setting sun, and just like that the buzzing stopped and my veins were set aflame with an indescribable need that welled up and blocked everything else except The Castle out.
It was as if it were a Siren, and I was a hopeless shipwreck; I needed to see that castle. I don't know if it was the need to get away from Nessie, or the need to just do one thing I wanted this vacation, or that weird feeling of déjà vu, but I just wanted to be there, in that castle. Two heart beats later there was nothing but an uncomfortable twist in my stomach, and Nessie's bloodcurdling scream.
Hope that was half-way decent
Kalina