The Slytherin Ghost

Prologue: A Casted Shadow.

In the midst of February 12, 1990, a grave vast storm bellows its wrath onto the world below. Dampening it in pitch black darkness; with strong winds, sheets of ice, and thunderous forms of snow. The once fullest of trees laid bare like frozen skeletons of their former glories, even the never ceasing ever greens, their lively pine needle branches drooped heavily with the bear weight of the storm's aftermath.

A cloaked figure walked amongst the winter's sheer wrath, the winds slashed, sheered, and tore at all sides of the cloaked figure, yet he wasn't fazed by the screeching and howling of the storm. He seemed to hold on as he trudges onwards to his destination.

Gazing upwards through the hood that had never wavered off his head, he saw a small glimpse of a white, massive, marble, stone mansion. The slight grey of the marble steps, and the full on white of the enormous house made it appear that it had loomed out of the storm's beastly belly. The cloaked figure managed to climb through the buried steps of marble and knelt down at the base of the second to last step of stairs and placed a warm, and secured scrap of bundles. The figure lifts his hand to reveal a small face that of a baby boy, who was still snoozing peacefully till the cold of the mighty storm lull him awake and he started to cry, outstretching his small hands wanting back the safety of warmth, yet the figure ignored the infant's cries, he turns his back to the child and started to bang his fists onto the deep rich brown door.

He bangs his fists till they were raw and numb and bleeding, he then heard the knob turning and with moments to spare, he glanced down at the crying bundle. Kneeling down to the child once more he ties gently a name tag and, on the gleaming light, he saw the name 'Daniel' on it. Sighing heavily and as if the weight crashed down, he gave the child's forehead a kiss farewell then dashes off back into the storm head on, and fully against its rage.

Within the storm's belly once more, being slashed and sting by the winds and whirling snow he stood and watched back holding onto bated breath. Watching as a maid or whoever it was to find the crying bundle that he had left behind he smiled under the hood and with that he vanished.

almost as if he had.

Casted a shadow...