HEDWIG

CHAPTER THREE

THE NECROMANCER

Later that night
Cotswolds, England

It had been a long day and Cecelia felt unusually exhausted. She stared at her tired eyes in the bathroom mirror and sighed. She may look like she did when she was twenty, but she was starting to feel much older than her fifty-six years.

Her amber eyes were empty of their usual light and her auburn hair was bunched up at the back of her head, out of the way. She did, however, notice a few graying strands of hair forming along her bangs.

"I guess old age is catching up to me, after all," she muttered, looking away from her reflection. As she passed through the living room and into the kitchen, absently, she waved her wand towards the fireplace where two pieces of firewood ignited within the grate. Cecelia pulled her robes closer around her shoulders, trying to chase away a chill. In the kitchen, she placed a tea kettle full of water on the burner and leaned against the counter in thought.

For it only being September, it was quite a cold night. Cecelia lingered in the kitchen a moment, before walking back into the living room to poke around the pieces of wood, hoping to tempt it to burn faster.

She then retreated to the small couch and curled up in a blanket. She couldn't help but think about Harry. Today was the first time, in nearly twenty years, since she actually looked into the eyes of her godson. It was foolish to have been caught, she knew, but it made living this lonely life a little bit more bearable.

All she wanted to know was that they were safe and that their children were safe. Well, why wouldn't they be in this day and age? The war had long since been over and Harry was the most revered auror in his department. No criminal would dare stand against him.

She was proud of that. He used everything Dumbledore had taught him for good and to help keep peace in their world; a world, unfortunately, she could never be a part of.

When the tea kettle whistled, Cecelia jumped in fright. Then, feeling silly, she stood up and walked back into the kitchen. She seemed a lot more on edge today than usual. She turned the burner off and lifted the tea kettle, but the moment she did so - she froze.

The tea kettle clanked to the floor as it slipped through her fingers. Boiling water spilled onto the floor and pooled around her feet, sending a horrible pain up through her legs. She didn't notice, as there was someone waiting outside to come in.

A horrible chill spread across her skin and she began to shiver uncontrollably. Slowly, Cecelia turned her head and peered fearfully over her shoulder. Lurking outside her kitchen window was Death.

That only meant one thing...

The back door into the kitchen slowly opened and a hooded figure stepped through it, gliding along the wooden floor. He never spoke to Cecelia, merely came to her when death must be undone. Always animals - to keep the balance, but something was telling her tonight would be different. She couldn't explain how she knew it. She just did. And no matter how many times he came to her in the past, his presence always left her weak and powerless to stop what inevitably would happen.

Fog slinked through the door and inside the kitchen, cooling the place on her feet where the boiling water blistered painfully. Death closed the distance between them. She remained still as he rose a skeletal hand and touched her forehead.

The world tilted and she fell into the abyss.

-

Images of this woman's past life flooded into Cecelia's conscious mind and permeated everything around her. Memory after memory bombarded her relentlessly, leaving her breathless and tired. Then they slowed and the images became distinct. Slytherin colors. Darkness. Lord Voldemort...