I’ve decided to post a new story, because I’m getting a little bored with The Lost Princess. I haven’t stopped working on it though, and there should be an update soon. I was reading over my sotires, and I’ve realized that they may seem a tiny bit dark, but I promise they have happy endings (nervous smile.) I hope you enjoy!
(Obiously, anything from the Harry Potter books belongs to J.K.Rowling, etc.)
“I won’t! Not again, not after what happened last time!”
My father growls at me, deep and reverberating, it echoes off the walls. I see that he’s getting that crazed look in his eye, and you should never argue with him then as it might be the last thing you’ll ever do.
He grabs me by my arm tightly and says, “Anna, you’re going whether you like it or not. The Dark Lord’s work is not yet all undone. We still have people in the Ministry under the Imperius Curse. We still have a following of Death Eaters, and they are looking for a new leader, and it will be me. Fenrir Grayback shall take hold of the Wizarding world.
He then thrust me aside and quickly loped off. I feel so alone. Just over a year ago, I actually had a friend here, someone who wasn’t blood thirsty and power crazed like everyone else here. His name was Remus Lupin, but he had to leave after a few months because my father heard he was part of the Order of the Phoenix. Remus was teaching me more complicated magic before he left. One of my father’s greatest embarrassments was that I was a halfling. My father had wanted to mate with a nice, werewolf girl, because he thought it would make me stronger as a witch and a werewolf. My mother was a witch who had left me on my father’s doorstep seventeen years ago, and I never knew her. I often wonder what my life would be like if she had kept me.
Suddenly, I feel myself connecting with the wall. I glared up at Vince my father’s second –in-command, who had pushed me.
“Stop daydreaming, princess. We’ve got people to lure in and turn,” he shouted maliciously.
My stomach started to flip; my father is insane. He’s now trying to build up his own personal army of wizards turned werewolves, and he uses me occasionally to help him. He’d often have a group of big werewolves placed by a dark alley. It went the same way every time. They would drag me into the alley kicking and screaming when they saw someone, and usually that person would try to investigate. Then, all the werewolves would jump my savior and turn him into a monster, just like me, just like all us werewolves.
I’m now standing beside the entrance to an alleyway. The full moon should be out soon.
“It’s alright. I’ve drunk my potion. I won’t hurt anyone. I’m not like my father.” This is my silent mantra.
I’m startled out of my thoughts suddenly by a loud growl. They’re changing. This is the worst part for me: watching the fur sprouting out their backs, their nails growing long and curved, their faces losing their humanity. If only, I thought, we could turn into an actual, proper wolf. That wouldn’t be too bad. I see a form creeping up on me slowly, cautiously. Wait, they couldn’t have turned on me this time. I am a werewolf too.
“Shh! Don’t move, I’m not going to hurt you.”
I turn my head, and I’m looking at a round faced boy with big, soft looking brown eyes and silky brown hair. He gives me a smile that’s meant to reassure me, but only makes me even more upset. He’s too kind and gentle for this life. I send up a silent prayer.
“Please God, let this one get away.”
The wolves have caught sight of him now. But suddenly it’s black, dark as night. A hand grasps mine and pulls me out of the dark cloud.
“That’s one of Fred’s and George’s best inventions yet, Instant Peruvian Darkness Powder!” he shouts at me while running out of the alley and keeping a firm grip on my hand.
The boy looks a little sad now I think. Perhaps something happened to those boys he mentioned. It’s likely enough considering what’s been happening these past months. Things have been getting much better though since the Dark Lord’s fall. I only hope my father does not succeed. The boy is slowing down now I notice.
“Hey, where do you live? Is there somewhere I can take you? I can’t apparate yet, but I have friends who can. They could take you home.”
“I don’t have a home,” I said unthinkingly, but truthfully. The boy looked at me thoughtfully. After a long pause he said, “My name’s Neville, Neville Longbottom actually. You could come live with me, I mean, that is, you know, I’d have to ask my Gran.” He had by now turned an adorable shade of pink.
I was so tempted by his offer. I could say goodbye to this horrible, daily scheming. But would this put Neville and his family in danger?