Cypress Alley

Prologue - North's P.O.V.

The wind whistled in my ears as I stumbled over the cobblestone pathway pf Cypress Alley. Slivers of moonlight, fractured by the thorny branches, spilled onto the path before me in messy, haphazard tangles. I shivered, zipping my coat up as hefty, grey clouds marched into place above me. My cheeks were still sticky and hard with the tears the wind had blown dry, now, the only remnant of what had passed that night.

I shouldn't have come out to Cypress Alley at that time of night. Especially not on my own.

Cypress Alley, in case you were wondering, is not even remotely close to the beautiful one in Italy. Rather, it is a frightening cobblestone path littered with the fallen leaves and branches of the cypress trees encircling it. The trees form a tunnel above the path, and, I'll admit, it looks quite nice in the summer - particularly during the daytime. But in the winter is morphs into a massive, looming monster: its tentacles reaching out to strangle you. It was winter when I last visited Cypress Alley, unfortunately. Yet, at the time, it never once occurred to me that it would be the last time I walked that path - nor that the jagged branches would be the last sight I would see.

My teeth chattered as I pulled my hood over my head. I had returned from a visit to my best friend, Wendy, at her home. At first, I'd thought we were just going to hang out together. Until Veronica turned up. Veronica didn't really like me: at all. I generally tried to keep my distance, but she always seemed to find me, taking away everything I had.

Which is why I asked Wendy for the reason she'd invited Veronica. She told me that it was "her house" which meant she could "do whatever she wanted." Let's just say that drama broke out and I was kicked out of the house almost instantly. Usually, on occasions such as this, I'd call my dad to pick me up, but I was so upset that I decided I would walk the entire three-kilometres home.

By the time I'd reached Cypress Alley, it was already 10 pm. My tears were dry and I was colder than ever. I pulled out my wand - it was 10.75-inch vine wood with a unicorn hair core. "Lumos!" I declared, but nothing happened. Of course, nothing would. I'd only be able to do spells if we learnt how to at school. But somehow, Hogwarts had turned into a muggle school.

Unfortunately for me, that was the moment I heard it. A crinkle of leaves behind me. Startled, I whizzed around, holding my wand before me for defence, finding myself face-to-face with a hooded figure. Although, it was more like face-to-neck. I was pretty short myself, but this person was even shorter than I was. I judged that she was female, as she was wearing the same woman's jumper my mum used to like. Her whole outfit was black, with the exception of the zipper of her jumper, which was a pale pink. A worn-out messenger bag hung limply from her shoulders, which sagged like the cypress branches around us.

"Um hi...?" I said nervously.

The figure just stood there.

"Um, I'm not supposed to talk to strangers so I think I should go now," I said. The figure didn't reply, instead, silently pulling a small, shiny object from her bag.

It took me a moment to realise it was a knife.

"Whoa..." I shuddered, taking a tentative step back. "What're you gonna do with that?"

Once again, I didn't receive a reply. Not in words, at least. Without warning, the figure flung the knife in my direction. It missed me by mere millimetres, a small breeze whizzing past my left ear. I let out a small yelp and jumped to the side. The figure grunted and growled, pulling another knife out of their bag. How many did this person have?

I could've done any number of things to save myself. I could've climbed a tree, giving me the advantage of height. Or I could've even stayed and dodged the knives. Instead, I did the first (stupid) thing that came into my mind.

I turned around and ran.

It took mere seconds for the next knife to hit the side of my neck. In an instant, my legs gave way beneath me, my limbs reduced to a writhing mess on the ground. The figure stood over me, dusting off their hands, clearly pleased with their handiwork.

"Why...?" I croaked feebly. But my throat wouldn't allow me to finish. It constricted, slowly, at first, then entirely closed, as I exhaled one last time, a small cloud forming then receding over my limp corpse.