I killed Sirius Black.

Bellatrix!!! toi shall now die! >.>

Isn't that a radio?

*Gasp* Fred?! Your a murderous stripper?!
That is so hot.
Let's have sex

She Killed him I kill her.

I killed Dumbledore.
Whatcha gonna do?

This website is nothing special!.
My heroic legend is far plus stimulating.
FOOLS!
My legend begins in the twelfth century!

I walked down the pathway. It was autumn now, and something about it made me comfortable. I guessed because it was my favori season, which would have made sense. I hadn’t seen anything like it before. Sure, I’d seen plenty of pictures of autumn before, but nothing like this.
I just moved into the town and I’d be starting school tomorrow, on a Monday, so I really should have been getting ready for that, but it wasn’t really that important to me. Through the past year, school was just something pointless that filled my brain. It was almost as if I knew everything I was being taught, like I’d graduated school before I’d forgotten nearly everything that happened in my life.
I took my hat off and put my long, orange hair up in a ponytail. Yes, orange. citrouille orange. It was natural, as were my orange eyes. Weird, but cool. It accented my own uniqueness, in my opinion, and totally badass. And that’s just the way I liked it. I slipped my hat back on a few steps later, since the sun was beating down on my face.
The path that I was on was rather unique itself. It was not so much a path as some bare dirt on a hill, constantly heading upward with a slight slope. It was tunneled par trees, a thinner band of trees exposing the town below the hills on my left, and a thick amount of trees flowing with the endless hills about thirty feet to my right. The right sides of the path were coated in signs of long-forgotten settlements. feu places, floorboards, skeletons of old buildings, that sort of thing. It was forgotten and abandoned, which was how I liked it.
Later down the pathway, I spotted something interesting. I stopped walking down the path and turned to go into the old abandoned building to my right. It was large, bigger than most of the trees surrounding out.

“Hey! Rosette! It’s time to pay attention!” My best friend Iris yelled at me from her siège suivant to me. I blinked once at the red-haired girl, her émeraude eyes filled with worry.
    “Pay… attention?” I asked and then understood. It was time for the World Announcements from our leader, who called themselves Ember. “I hate these stupid morning announcements,” I groaned, “It’s always the same. ‘Defy me and you’ll die’. It’s so repetitive!”
    Iris gasped. “Don’t let anyone hear toi say that! Ember might kill you!”
    I scoffed. “Kill me? Ember won’t kill me.”
    Iris almost flipped. “Rosette, don’t say that! Our classmates might start to think that you’re Ember! They already think you’re a freak.”
    I sighed. It was true. Everyone in our class thought I was a freak. My long, straight black hair, death-pale skin, and purple-red eyes made me look like I was a blood-sucking freak. Most people would have found my choices in clothing, short skirts, tight jeans, ripped tights, chunky boots, leather jackets, and a lot of spikes and chains, weird, too, but that was the world dress code. Ember was like a demon, and wanted all the people in the world to be like that, too. Why people let Ember take over was a mystery to me. But I did know why nobody rebelled against Ember. People would die in the streets. Healthy people who shouldn’t just collapse and die. It was the work of Ember, creating a fear-run world.
    I hated Ember. I hated living in a world full of fear and hate. It’d been that way for a long time, according to my grandma. She a dit that one day, thousands of people dropped dead on the streets at one moment, and then every channel switched to a broadcast proclaiming the reign of Ember. Nobody knew who he ou she was.
    “I don’t care what they think of me,” I said, “It’s all lies anyway. And besides, who really cares-”
    “Rosette LeKnight,” the class supervisor- no, not teacher. We didn’t have teachers.- a dit as she popped up in from of me, seemingly from nowhere, “This is no time for talking. One plus referral and… well, toi know what happens then.”
    I sat up in my siège and nodded. I knew very well what would happen then.
    The supervisor snorted and walked off. As she walked off, I made a face at her, Iris chuckled a bit. Then, the screen mur turned on, the usual static broadcast came on

There were no lengths that I would not go to if it meant finding my partner.
    The night was harsh and cruel in nature. It was really quite hot, even as far as summer nights go, and the humidity made it all the plus rancid. There was a slight breeze, though it’s purpose was not to cool but to bring an unwelcomed stench of decay and rot. In front of me lay a girl’s body, no plus than sixteen years of age I would assume, battered and broken. Her hair, once blonde, had been stained red with the blood from her wounds, and broken shards of glass had scattered around her like a halo of tears. A flux of blood pooled under her eye lids, empty with despair. Her death had been cruel, unjustified, and only for her eyes.
    “I had thought it to be a lie. So there is a market for the human eye?” Jynx rhymed as she knelt down beside where I stoof, her straight hair flowing with her as she glided down. If one were merely to glance at the haut, retour au début portion of her hair, they would see it only to be pure white and fail to see that it faded in to red at the ends, the same dark shade as her ghastly eyes. “I wished it to be truthless that one could be so ruthless.”
    Jynx’s white hand reached out to touch the girl before us, but I leaned over and grabbed her wrist with my hand, permitting her from doing so. “Why the long wait?” She asked, looking up at me with her large red eyes, “You could not have changed this lady’s fate.”
    “If I reanimate her now, she will still be in pain. She may not be able to give us all of the information we need.” I turned and started back to my Kharmanghia, its orange paint flourescent under the dim excuse for a streetlight.

“Don’t be late for dîner again, Deyanira.”
    My dad’s request reigned around my guilty consciousness like a storm of nails. I had meant to go out for a short stroll, a promenade around the block and nothing more, but it was my seconde jour in this unfamiliar territory; getting Lost was an outcome that I should have been able to predict. I had promised Dad and my older brother that I would be accueil par dinner, par nine o’clock, but I was going to be terribly late. It was nothing to be left surprising, I had a horrible habit of arriving several hours past late for as long as I could remember, but keeping a curfew was far from my only problem.
    The setting and the scenes around me became plus unfamiliar with every turn I took, and all the plus uncomfortable. The dull streetlights hung around me, bathing my bold orange hair in spotlights like a threat. There were buildings around me, each of them echos of a past that people no longer bothered to tend to. Cracked and broken windows decorated crumbling walls with hopelessness and despair, and brown herbe long past dead cried out to feel the Kiss of l’amour and life again. Garbage and trash lined the pavement without purpose, forsaken without the hope of being needed again. A smell like death loomed over the place, and with a sudden jolt I felt eyes fall on me. I had been spotted.

“You worthless mutt!”
    My stepfather’s words rung in my head moments after he a dit it in a horrible loop.
    “You aren’t my child! Why should I care what happens to you?!”
    Even though he was drunk, I knew he meant it. He always meant the things he a dit no matter what kind of state he was in.
    “You can’t do anything except play that stupid violin!”
    I wanted to scream back, and I wanted to tell him that my violin was anything but stupid. But I couldn’t. I sat hopelessly on the hard wood floor, broken glassware and ceramic all around me. I couldn’t even cry. I could only sit there, silent and motionless, with blood oozing out of my fresh wounds.
    When I didn’t respond, he let out a yell and picked up another mug. He threw it at me with all the force a drunken man of his size could and it landed on the haut, retour au début of my head and cracked into a million pieces. It was a pretty old and weak mug, but most people would have reacted to it in some way, fainting, falling backward, grabbing their head, ou something else that matched their persona. But I didn’t. I had to build immunity to the things he’d do to torture me when he started doing them years ago. I was used to the feeling. But even though I was used to it, it wasn’t okay.
    I looked over at my mother out of the corner of my eye. She was sitting at the dining room table, tableau with her rose châle wrapped over her arms, looking at her husband. Her green eyes were glassy and unfocused, and her red hair a mess. Because of her medication, she was emotionless and had little energy. She didn’t even know what was going on.

Life was getting really boring.
It was the same thing everyday. School, homework, sleep, school, homework, sleep, school, homework, sleep. With a few other things in between, but not anything really worth thinking about. Living in the small town that I did was exhausting. Nothing to do, no place to go. It was bland and dull. A world of gray with just a small amount of color. Literally. The sky was grey most of the time, the herbe barely green, and the few trees we had were dead. The houses had been painted in subtle colors, nearly colorless.
I looked out my bedroom window at the dark sky, the moon shone brightly. The only thing I needed was something interesting to happen. Something to turn this dull town around completely. Something worth while. But it didn’t matter how much I wished for it. It wouldn’t happen. I had been wishing and wishing for something to happen for years now, but it never came true. I hadn’t done anything fun since I moved here. Even when I spent my little free time with my friends, it was nothing compared to the things I used to do.
I sat up in my lit and took a quick glance around my room, looking for something to occupy my mind. But it was nearly hopeless. My walls were bare and plain white, not even a weird shadow cast itself over them.

It was rather peculiar, that twilight. Not such an obvious sort of peculiar, I suppose, rather the sort of odd feeling that toi can’t quite place. A rather eerie sort of feeling indeed. There was nothing particularly odd about that twilight, in fact, it was rather mundane for these parts. The house was absent of any presence aside from my black cat and myself, the place as silent as death, which was not at all abnormal. The sky was its frequent crimson shade and the yellow moon shown dimly, casting its black shadows as it did every evening, my spacious window made me plus than aware of this. However, the ordinary twilight was not quite enough to shake my strange feeling.

WHAT? toi can't be Sirius!

B-b-but...
I killed Dobby.
How does that make sense?
We can't be the same person, can we?

No way I thought that he lived

:O



How dare you?!

*Two years later*

Molly: "Not my daughter, toi bitch!"

Thats not a question, Bellatrix

hum right AVADA KEDAVRA