AvadaK
October 16th, 2003, 7:30 pm
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything created by J.K. Rowling. That's characters, places, and everything else.
(Just a quick note: I'm going to write seven of these)
Chapter One: Blood Red
Nearly twenty years had passed over Number 4, Privet Drive since Harry Potter had left it. Now, the cupboard under the stairs was being occupied by a ten-year-old girl with short, blonde hair and a thin, spiny, red scar similiar to a predator's footprint. This young girl's name was Luna Potter.
Suddenly, there was thundering on the stairs. Dust, spiders and pieces of plaster collapsed onto her face. Spitting it out, she got dressed, then went into the kitchen to see her only living relation after her parents had drowned off a riverboat, or so she had been told --- Uncle Dudley.
"You are LATE," he spat out as she entered.
"Sorry," she muttered meekly.
"WHAT WAS THAT?" he bellowed.
"I said, Sorry," she said, a bit louder.
"Good. Now eat your cornflake."
Most people would have said, "CornFLAKE?", but Luna knew what he meant. One cornflake for breakfast, a margarine sandwich with some milk for lunch, and a few drops of tea that sometimes had alcohol mixed into it for supper.
Then, the door exploded.
"Oh no...THEY'VE come..."
"They?"
But then a blood-red sheet of sealed paper fluttered in. For a second, Luna thought she had seen an owl, but then she knew that her eyes must have been playing tricks on her.
The piece of paper turned out to be an envelope. It was stamped with a wax seal --- surely nobody used those any more? --- and was adressed:
Mr Dudley Dursley
Number 4, Privet Drive
The Kitchen
Standing on the table
True to its word, Uncle Dudley had jumped onto the table in horror. Specific, she thought, before she saw her Uncle carefully opening the letter...
An explosion of sound filled the room.
"Keep your promise, Dudley."
Then a huge explosion, and only flames showed where it had been.
"We're taking a train to London, don't argue."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
And when they got off --- well, her uncle pushed her off, into a small tavern. A silence fell when she staggered in.
"Luna Potter," said the barman. "Here at last."
"Beg pardon?" she asked.
And then people were swarming around her, desperate to get a good look.
(Just a quick note: I'm going to write seven of these)
Chapter One: Blood Red
Nearly twenty years had passed over Number 4, Privet Drive since Harry Potter had left it. Now, the cupboard under the stairs was being occupied by a ten-year-old girl with short, blonde hair and a thin, spiny, red scar similiar to a predator's footprint. This young girl's name was Luna Potter.
Suddenly, there was thundering on the stairs. Dust, spiders and pieces of plaster collapsed onto her face. Spitting it out, she got dressed, then went into the kitchen to see her only living relation after her parents had drowned off a riverboat, or so she had been told --- Uncle Dudley.
"You are LATE," he spat out as she entered.
"Sorry," she muttered meekly.
"WHAT WAS THAT?" he bellowed.
"I said, Sorry," she said, a bit louder.
"Good. Now eat your cornflake."
Most people would have said, "CornFLAKE?", but Luna knew what he meant. One cornflake for breakfast, a margarine sandwich with some milk for lunch, and a few drops of tea that sometimes had alcohol mixed into it for supper.
Then, the door exploded.
"Oh no...THEY'VE come..."
"They?"
But then a blood-red sheet of sealed paper fluttered in. For a second, Luna thought she had seen an owl, but then she knew that her eyes must have been playing tricks on her.
The piece of paper turned out to be an envelope. It was stamped with a wax seal --- surely nobody used those any more? --- and was adressed:
Mr Dudley Dursley
Number 4, Privet Drive
The Kitchen
Standing on the table
True to its word, Uncle Dudley had jumped onto the table in horror. Specific, she thought, before she saw her Uncle carefully opening the letter...
An explosion of sound filled the room.
"Keep your promise, Dudley."
Then a huge explosion, and only flames showed where it had been.
"We're taking a train to London, don't argue."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
And when they got off --- well, her uncle pushed her off, into a small tavern. A silence fell when she staggered in.
"Luna Potter," said the barman. "Here at last."
"Beg pardon?" she asked.
And then people were swarming around her, desperate to get a good look.