Storyteller~F.W.

Storyteller~F.W.

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, Jun 10, 2020
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Fanfic
Wizarding World: Harry Potter
"The final fight. It was what they had all been waiting for. To them it was a great battle. To the others, however, it looked as if it was children playing in a playground. Finally, the hero faced the villain, for the final time, now it was down to those two. Only one can win this war." "Miss. Conner. I believe it is past curfew. Go back to your dorm before I take house points." A professor said. She nodded and ran back to the common room. "I wondered when you would get here." Fred said, she screamed slightly and turned red. "What are you doing here? You aren't supposed to be here. Go back to Gryffindor." She said and sat next to him. "Well if I was in Gryffindor right now. I wouldn't be able to do this." He said and before either of them knew it. His lips were on hers. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Fred Weasley and Alvia Conner, best friends since their first year at Hogwarts. Although, Alvia has never been a normal child, being at Hogwarts has made her feel normal, well more so. She is still strange. (No Luna is surprisingly normal compared to Alvia) She woke up at Platform 9 3/4 on September 1st 1989, a trunk, owl, letter and money in her pocket. She can't remember how she go there, who her parents are (more so how they look), or where she lives. She does know that she's a witch. She also knows that she has to go to Hogwarts. Will she find out who she is? Find out in Storyteller!
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Death had always walked beside her, a shadow stitched to her soul. She fought. She won. But what was left to claim? The castle around her - the only home she had ever known - was crumbling into ruin. Stone shattered under fire. Bodies carpeted the ground, faces she would never forget, lives she had failed to save. Victory meant nothing when it was built on a graveyard. She was alone. And worse, she was alive. She had died before. Had died and returned, as if cursed to never know peace, cursed to be the master of death, forever hunted by the thing that should have claimed her. Death It was her shadow, her lover, and her tormentor. It whispered to her in the silence, tugged at her with every breath she drew, a cat playing with its prey, savoring the chase. She tried to undo it - to tear a hole in time, to claw back 46 hours, to steal even one life from the jaws of death. But time does not bargain with the broken. It is a vengeful thing, wild and cold. It seized her, flung her not back 46 hours but 46 years, into a past dripping with shadows and secrets. The castle stood whole then - but the rot was already there, festering beneath the stone. And Death, patient and cruel, was already waiting for her in the cracks of the world, ready to finish what it had begun. Smiling at her from the darkness. Death wearing the face of Tom Riddle *Mature themes* Enemy's to lovers *Tom Riddle*

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