Heart of Shadows

Heart of Shadow

The wind whipped across the lake with the furry of a hurricane. By the lakes edge one looking out their window would maybe see a flickering silver light. Then they would blink and see nothing, and think, "No ones out there, not in this weather." But there was. The hooded figure walked along the lake shore, holding their wand out in their hand, silver light spilling out onto the ground, looking for something. At last they came to it. It was small and sparkly. And then the figure looked at me, but I saw no face, only shadows.

* * *

Harry woke up in his bed with a start. The dream, so vivid and... and what? What was the word he sought? "It doesn't matter," Harry muttered. But the dream mattered. Harry knew that. He had had thrice in a row. The dream was always so detailed. It seemed to get longer each night. Who, or what, was the thing that was searching in his dream. And what was the thing looking for. Harry wondered and wondered, but soon he fell into a dream of twilight, with no dreams, but no consciousness.

* * *

The stars were especially bright that night, and any muggle would think it global warming, or star dust, but it was really the wizard world's version of the fourth of July. All over the world, wizards were setting off light-enhancement spells, causing the stars to brighten significantly. This holiday was the fall of the dark lord. The day he went into hiding and was never heard from again. Or so the wizarding world thinks. The last time he was heard from was not as long ago as most wizards and witches might think.

Today was a day of celebration, but for the man sitting in his desk; it was only a day of remembrances; a day to remember that he's still out there. Waiting, waiting for the perfect moment to strike and catch the world off guard. And what better way than to come back on the day of his departure, when no one would expect such a bold attack. What would he do, kill the Minister of Magic, set his house on fire, or would he just burn down the MOM headquarters?

Well, that might be what he'll try to do, but Dumbledore didn't think so. No, he would come back not with a bang, but with a whisper. Yes, he would announce himself with the suicide of a high official, and really it would be the Imperious Curse at work. Or he would leave his sign somewhere, not something bold, but he would leave it somewhere where it would be seen. Or he would steal something important, like he tried to steal the Sorcerer's Stone five years ago. That would be how would come back. He would come back like a whisper.

But little did Albus know, Voldermort had already started to whisper, and in the ear of a young adult named Harry Potter.

* * *

The sunlight was unable to pierce through the clouds that morning, and it looked like a storm was coming. Hagrid could smell it in the air. There was a storm coming, any weather component person could see that. But only a wise man, a wizard man could smell that it was unnatural. It was a magic storm, and big one at that. Trouble was coming there way, and Hagrid could smell it in the air.

The only thing Hagrid couldn't tell was whether it was fatal. He knew it was a lot of trouble, and that it was dangerous, but he didn't know if it was fatal. As he walked into his cabin, he thought he heard something. He turned around to see nothing. When he walked in and closed the door, Fang looked up with a questioning face. Hagrid said to him, "I don't know what it was, but for a second, I thought I heard a voice; a whispering voice."