Harry Potter - Reborn

Chapter 1

The dark mist swirled around outside. A small girl was tucked in her room scared, but unlike the rest of the children, silent. She could hear wailing and crying of other orphans in the orphanage, or older children trying to sooth them back to sleep. Of course, it didn't work. The lightning struck hard but the little baby lay quiet. She was terrified. Almost scared to death. But it seemed that the 14 day old child was no less quiet than the dead of night, as if nothing was living. She couldn't controll it. The noise was to much the crying and wailing wouldn't stop. She just couldn't take it anymore.

"Everyone move out! Come on quickly now! Is that everyone? Good."
The hoses were up in the air and the fire extinguishers were blasting away with their foam.
"So. Mrs. Verney, can you tell us everything that happened. How did the fire start? How are you going to pay for the repairs? Where are you sending the children?"
Mrs Verney, trembling with shock spoke, stuttering in places and fumbling over her words but managed to get through the interview explaining that she had no idea how the fire had started or spread. She ignored any money related questions.
"The children will just have to get adopted... As much as it breaks my heart- it's the way it must be." Tears trailed down her forlorn face.

But that however, was enough for the little fire baby, she fell asleep knowing that she could finally get out of the cold, dreadful orphanage.

⚪ ⚫ ⚪ ⚫ ⚪ ⚫ ⚪ ⚫

It was a dark cold night and the mist hung over the isolated village like it was a blanket thrown over a baby.
The winter air spiked and pricked any living thing, it frosted onto surviving plants, letting them have no choice but to die of the spiteful cold.
Suddenly an eruption of flames burst from the sky; hot ashes fell from the bitter sky and landed on the bird table, all collected as one. Magic beyond measure was to be performed, like an ancient ritual held for a new important life.
What was yet to come was not, and I repeat not, expected.
A single drop of blood would be enough to create a spirit that could destroy the planet. But defiantly not a whole spillage of pure blood. That mixed with fresh phoenix ashes could created something far worse than Death himself.
That was why he was hungry, thirsty for more. Muggles, Witches, Wizards. Anything that he could kill or could torture.
He was desperate. Too desperate; he disappeared. Gone. In one flick of a wand. He left the world (as far as we know) with a single, vulnerable baby crying in the moonlit night.