Heedless ↔ Harry Potter

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The blonde fixed her hair, making sure the messy ponytail didn't seem too messy. Once she was certain that her hair could pass off as a fashion statement, she fished out her make-up bag from her backpack.

Her beaten backpack was her only companion most days. She pressed the make-up first to her black eye, wincing as she covered the swollen flesh. Within minutes it seemed just slightly darker than any other person's eyes-- like she's just lost some sleep. She applied the make-up to the rest of her face, before placing a dark red lip gloss to cover her split lip even more.

Looking at herself again, ignoring how she once more could not see her freckles- the one thing she liked in her pale face- she decided that was as good as it gets.

Charlie fixed her flannel, pulling down at her white t-shirt so her cleavage would show a bit, and deciding it would good as it gets. Her beaten Blundstone boots barely looked the original yellowish color they were and changed color to almost brown at that point.  Her jeans were ripped and dirty as well.

"Ghoul's gore. Worst kind of gore," she muttered to herself, leaving the public bathroom. She swiftly walked towards her black 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle SS 424. The front seat was covered with a wide fleece blanket to keep the leather from the gore she was almost always covered in.

"I'm home," she whispered to the car, her biggest pride and joy. She slipped into the cassette tape the first cassette she found, and soon Bob Seger blasted through the car as she started driving away.

Charlie never really had anywhere to be at, she just traveled from place to place, seeing all of the United Kingdom and saving people in the meanwhile.

See, there weren't a lot of hunters in the United Kingdom: Animal Hunters-- sure. Many. But Monsters? There were less than twenty throughout the whole country.

Charlie Woods was proud to be one of those twenty.

Her parents were killed off when she was about three years old, by some crazy witch. She was picked up by the man who shot her a moment later, and he's taken off with her.

This man was Alan Walker, who taught her anything a girl never wanted to know. By the time she was seven, she's beaten up every bully in her school. By the time she was eleven, she went to her first hunt. By the time she was thirteen, she had blood on her hands.

At the age of twenty-two, she was proudly the most reliable hunter in the UK. As proof, you could see the way she kept getting letters almost every day. Now, thirty, she was just as lonely and cold as ever, but tired.

So tired from the way she lived.

She was envious of the other people in the magical community, like wizards. 

There were many wizards in the country, so the few hunters learned a lot from them-- they often adapted the ways of wizards to their favor. Like owls- wizards used them for mail, and the hunters did too.

Charlie sighed as she looked at the moon from the car's window.

Lonely is the night.

Just as ever.