Book one of two.
Post war.
Odette Elara Viotto can't help but feel foreign in the place she grew up in, and seems to believably lie that she is coping like others around her.
After one dark wizard perishes, another forges- reeking havoc within the...
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Odette Viotto-
First they ignore you. Then they ridicule you. And then they attack you and want to burn you. And then they build monuments to you.
- Nicholas Klein
The clock ticked in the dead silence of the room, the fire flickered orange sparks into the dusty room- illuminating the decaying dark walls and the torn curtains.
The wind blew as the door to the dark room opened, revealing a dark haired boy making his way inside from the snow storm outside.
"Apologies for my absence, the storm made it all the more difficult to make it here in time" the famous scar head boy spoke, taking off his snow covered coat as he approached a fine leather arm chair with a cloaked figure sat on it.
"Did anyone see you?" The cloaked figure questioned the Potter boy in a monotonous voice.
"Not one soul, my lord" Potter answered his master, moving to kneel in front of them.
"And what of Hogwarts?" The figure asked curiously.
"It's damaged, not enough for the school to remain closed but enough for it to distract the ministry whilst we pursue our main goal" Potter informed his master, toying with the hem of his sleeves anxiously.
"Is it still on every front page?" His master questioned.
"Every single front page of every single paper, my lord" Potter confirmed.
"Good".
The Potter boy rose from his kneeling position, walking around the dark room curiously.— He had been to this location countless times to meet his master, though it seemed after every meeting a little amount of light and life drained from the room- as though darkness was slowly consuming it and what little life and brightness remained within it.
