SUCH A BOY | SIRIUS BLACK

Sharp and screeching noises were audible everywhere, creating a shrilling pain in her skull. Deep, crimson blood was scattered all over the grey marble floor and on the once-pearl walls. The chairs and seats in the middle of the room were messed up; some broken, others diminished in a way that there was only a pile of black ash remaining. The dark chalkboard in the front of the area had deep claw marks graffitied onto it.

The whole place was basically a catastrophe.

There was only a few bodies in the classroom, but none were breathing other than her. Some were slumped on the shelfs, whilst others were just taking up the the floor.

Stifling a gasp, the girl walked over to a boy in the far left-corner of the room. Her steps were slow, like she was anticipating for something to happen. Her walk strides became quicker as recognition of the person came to mind.

″Robbie?″ she gurgled.

Dropping to the floor, she felt like a bucket filled with ice had been dropped onto her ruffled-up hair. She felt like she could barely breathe, as she clutched her chest.

″Oh god, oh god,″ she murmured.

Her pale and clammy hands slid to the lifeless boys ones, as she tried to feel his pulse.

″No, no, no, no,″ she barely whispered. ″This can’t be happening. Robbie! Answer me!″

As if someone was answering her prayers, someone answered her.

Not by voice, but by through the boys hands.

And it was digging into her wrists veins.

The girls deep hazel eyes almost popped out of her skull as the dead boy opposite her was suddenly attacking her. He had red spreading around his iris, and his skin was a ghastly green colour. A knife suddenly emerged from out of his robes pocket, like an invisible hand was holding it. It’s movement rate was getting faster and faster until it plunged into something.

There was suddenly no more noise coming from the girl.

Her chest rate had quickened, and she couldn’t speak a single word. Blood was surrounding all over her clothes, but the most vibrant red area was right on her heart.

Black clouded her vision as it engulfed her up.

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Bolting upright from her bed, heavy puffs filled the bright blue room. Sweat dripped all over her oily neck, and she let out a breath of relief. It had been only a dream.

But it was still true.

Robbie was dead.

She sighed. Some things would stay the way they were.

Forever.

Slowly making her way out of bed and putting on slippers, she came to an sudden halt when she was facing the mirror.

Dark bags were underneath her lashes. Her eyes were strained, and red cracks were visible from the cries when she was having her dream.

More like nightmare.

She scooped up her short brown birds nest into a messy ponytail, and poured water on her ghost-like face.

Nope, she still looked the same.

Deciding that there was no point in trying to cover herself up since nothing would help at the moment being, she slowly made her way downstairs.

The ground floor was eerily quiet and dark as she tiptoed to the kitchen. There was already someone sitting at the table, with a newspaper covering their face.

″Hello uncle,″ said the girl politely.

The man put down his newspaper and beckoned her to sit down next to him.

When she sat down on the stool to his right, she realised that he was giving her a questioning look.

″What?″ she asked.

″You look terrible. What on earth happened?″

She shrugged. ″Just a bad dream.″

He sighed, and rubbed his eyes with both of his hands after putting down his black-rimmed glasses on the see-through table.

″Doesn’t a bad dream mean nightmare?″

″Yeah, well it doesn’t matter anymore.″

He groaned.

″Bridget, i’m concerned for your well-being. After those terrible incidents in your old school, I need to be alert as possible from now on. I wasn’t aware how dangerous things were, and i’m dearly hoping things won’t be like that in this new environment.″

She faintly smiled. ″I’m glad that you care for me, but don’t worry. It was a dream. Nothing more. Nothing less.″

He returned the same smile, as he picked up the newspaper he left lying on the smooth surface he was leaning on.

″The Daily Prophet is quite an interesting newspaper company,″ he remarked. ″Not as good as our one in Bulgaria.″

Bridget grinned. ″No one beats Bulgaria at the newspaper and Quidditch!″

″My, my, that reminds me of something,″ said Bridgets uncle. ″I have something for you.″

He grabbed a large box that was hiding beneath the table and handed it to her.

″Oh uncle!″ she exclaimed. ″You didn’t have to get me anything!″

″No my dearie, you deserve this. Besides, it would make me quite happy if you opened and used it.″

Bridget tore open the package with no hassle; she wasn’t the type of girl to spend an hour trying to delicately open a package. She gasped; her uncle had bought her one of the latest broomsticks!

″Oh thank you uncle, thank you!″ she exclaimed, as she wrapped her arms around his chest.

″It is nothing dearie, all you need to do is get into the Quidditch team at your new school and do me proud!″

Her smile faltered.

″Uncle....about school,″ she trailed off.

He beckoned her to continue.

″What if...what if I get into a house you don’t like?″

He put down his newspaper once more.

″Sweetheart, I do not care what house you go to. As long as it is your true house, then I am perfectly fine. You are who you are, and sometimes you can’t make your own decisions for some things, and neither can I. I won’t care if you get into Ravenclaw, my nerdy neice. I don’t care if you get into Hufflepuff you loyal slave! I don’t care if you get into Gryffindor, you boasting bat! And I don’t mind if you get in Slytherin you cunning person!″

She giggled; she did possess all those qualities.

″I feel sorry for whoever picks my house; they will probably have a hard time choosing.″

″Nonsense, my dear! One house out of all those four will stand out the most. Besides, who knows? If they can’t pick your house, then they’ll send you home by the train, and you will have to suffer my wrath!″

He began to tickle her, as she started to scream.

″Uncle! Stop!″

He obeyed her command. Tears were welling up in the corner of his electric blue eyes, and gave a sad smile. ″Your mother would be very proud of you.″

Bridget paused screaming and gave a sad smile too.

″I hope so.″

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Hey guys, this is my first fanfiction! What do you all think of it so far? I’d love to hear all of your opinions!