von PotterPrincess
Prologue
It was dark that night. And quiet. Even more dark and more quiet then usual. And the small Town Ottery St. Catchpole seemed left alone in the world. No sound, no sign of life. Nothing indicating that barely one hour was gone since the streets were filled with life. The houses filled with laughter, children playing, parents laughing, people living.
From afar you couldn't see the horrors of this particular night. You couldn't see the dead bodies in the kitchen right next to the remaining food the families had for supper. Even from near they seemed oddly peaceful. Like sleeping. The boddies unharmed, no blood, nothing that indicated murdure. But it was impossible for a whole town to die in one night. It was impossible if you tried to explain it with logic, with natural deaths.
But it wasn't impossible with magic.
The person who brought all this terror to the town was standing on a hill next to the town. Not to far, still near enough to see that there once been a town. Even in the dark night, even with all the lights in the town turned off.
A creepy smile started to spread on dark red lips. Like blood. The blood of all the dead people in the dead town.
„Morsmordre.“, the words seemed out of place. As if they didn't belong here. In a world without sound, a world where even animals disappeared. A world in which hundreds of people just died. A cruel world.
But then again those words where cruel words. Not spoken for over twenty five years. Not since the second war. Not since the battle at Hogwarts. Not since the Dark Lord died.
And yet here they were. A tall figure in a dark cloak with lips like blood spoke them. Said them out loud like a promise. A promise to the world, and it said: The Dark Lord is back. The Dark Lord killed those people. The Dark Lord is about to kill you all!
Green light emerged from the tip of a wand, spreading across the meadow beyond the hill where the person was standing, finding its way up into the night sky. Glowing poisonous about the town, the Dark Mark. A glittering green skull with a snake protruding from its mouth.
Even the figure shivered with the sight of it in the dark and cold night.
The Dark Mark was a symbol of fear, a symbol for death, a symbol for chaos.
And even though the person casting it left her old life behind her a long time ago, she still remembered how scared she had been as a child. Now she wasn't scared any more, not really. She was anticipating, waiting for the moment to come and rise. For the moment to rule!
Wenn Du Lob, Anmerkungen, Kritik etc. über dieses Kapitel loswerden möchtest, kannst Du einen Kommentar verfassen.
