Avada

Its September, and Harley, Rowen and Hudson are starting another term at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which is usually an exciting time: there are new spells to learn, Quiddich matches to have and many, many rolls of parchment to fill. But not all is as its seems, as events over the summer are still fresh in the minds of all of the pupils, and there something in the air that seems deeply unsettled and out of the ordinary. Will the school year unfurl with normality, or will the gathering air of darkness once again plunge the school and its pupils into danger?




*loosely based harry potter fan fiction, picture not mine*
*all characters are gender-swapped and different things happen in this story which i have created*
*all cred to JKRowling for her original ideas, this is purely fan fiction*

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1. An Lamentable Foreshadowing

It was a warm, autumn evening. White wisps of cloud slowly rolled through the sky and a faint smell of honeysuckle and oak trees hung in the air. Michael McGonagall sat in a huge, leather chair in the transfiguration room, flicking through a yellowing parchment of last terms of examination grades by achieved by his pupils, sighing as he sipped a strong Gillywater mixed with gin. It had been a long summer, and he was looking forward to the electric buzz and the energy of the pupils arrival tomorrow evening. He was however, not only seriously worried about Rowen Weasley's straight D grade examination marks, but also of the happenings that had occurred over the summer holidays. Situations like this made his head throb a dull continuous pace, right at the temples of his skull. 

At a recent world cup Quiddich game, the arrival of two quite unannounced wild Ukrainian Ironbelly dragons proceeded to cause a scene of upmost chaos and havoc within in the vicinity below their steel framework. Their wide eyes burnt blood red as they tore apart both the surroundings, and the innocence out of many a previously unscathed young heart. 

Michael leaned back, running his hands through his grey hair, tossing his reading glasses aside. Events such as these, he thought, always stung as a reminder of how quickly something as pure as joy can morph into such unfathomable horror. The school was meant to not only provide education, but additionally stand as a sanctuary for all of its pupils, however something still felt deeply wrong in his heart. There hadn't been dragon attacks for years, let alone at a public Quiddich match and especially not at the responsibility of the Iron Belly, just as bloodthirsty as it was rare. They hadn't been sighted in the wild since 1799, and the only one that Michael was aware of residing in England was the one safely held at Gringotts. The mystery puzzled deeply and had sent a shockwave through the whole Wizarding community, especially to those who had lost loved ones. 

The peace that hung in the silence of his office was abruptly shattered, as Ragnar Hooch, broom flying instructor, burst into the room, robes filthy, torn and darkened with patches of dark red blood. Michael shot up immediately, papers erupting from desk, flying violently across the room in all directions. Ragnar was quite obviously short of breath, and reached for the table to stop himself falling backwards.

"Ragnar, what on earth has happened?!" Michael hurried towards the man, who was cradling his right arm. 

"Quintapeds running.....lose....across the ..... school...grounds... from the ...forest" Ragnar managed after several long breaths.

 "Tried to ....blind it......it seemed to.....work.....but still....out there". 

Michaels blood turned ice cold and his pulse quickened sharply. He had certainly not ever seen such a beast outside of a school textbook. 

"Good grief. This is impossible. How on earth did they get here of all places?" 

"I have no idea, but I've never seen such seemingly blind rage as I saw in their behaviour, and consequently need to be killed before anybody else arrives. But I'm afraid I won't be of much use, one of the bloody things completely teared at my wrist." Ragnar cursed. "Ruined some of my best quaffels whilst it was at it too." 

"Don't worry. Rena Lupin is here up in one of the towers. Stay here and I'll find her immediately. It will be of the utmost importance to have an advantage in numbers." Said Michael, whilst unhooking his scarf from a peg on the back of the office door before looping it tightly around Ragnar's arm, in an effort to cease the bleeding. "And be sure to keep the pressure on that in the meantime." he added. 

Ragnar's eyes, which were coloured varying shades of green whilst broken frequently with shards of gold, shone wide, reflecting the pale sunlight that had just started to dip away below the horizon. 

"Be careful, Michael. The things are hostile and I'm pretty sure they're somewhere deep in the Hufflepuff Quiddich stands by now, if not further away down by the lake" Ragnar said. 

"Im always careful, Ragnar." He grabbed his wand from his cloak pocket and thrust the glass of Gillyweed gin into the mans hands. "Get this down you, and notify Dumbledore and the Ministry as soon as you can." 

A thick, dark twist of fear began to wind through Michaels insides, knotting and pulling at the strings of his heart. It throbbed with a furious energy; it had a tendency to do this in the situations which most abashed him. 

He nodded at Rangar, painted on a stone face leaked from fear, and lept up the staircase from his office and down the many corridors to Rena's tower, heart beating, wand firmly held, racking his brain trying to think of any method powerful enough to destroy a unknown five legged beast as efficiently as possible. 

 

 

 

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