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Harry Potter Fanfic

The Face of Evil

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When Emma Thorn is sorted into Hufflepuff, she meets the secretive Rob, the rebellious Seb and Cal, and the aggressive Robin. But this is only the beginning of her first year at Hogwarts, and she quickly discovers that there is more to the school than it first seems.

Soon, she finds herself involved in a strange plot that is somehow linked to her dead father who she has never met. But as she sets out to investigate the mystery further, she is putting herself in more and more danger...

PrologueEdit

The two men walked casually down the street, dressed in muggle attire. One was wearing a perfectly fitting hoodie with a pair of jeans, the other a dark coat, zipped up and covering his mouth.

The man in the hoodie was the most intimidating and obviously the leader. He was walking slightly ahead of the man in the coat, and slowed as he reached a terraced house near the bottom of the street. The lights were off and there was no noise inside.

"Something's not right," he muttered. He tried to sound calm, but the man in the coat had worked with him before, and could hear the panic in his voice.

Though the man in the coat was surprised that his partner could still feel fear after the things that he had seen, he dismissed the man's fears. He said "The Dark Lord would punish us if we fail now."

Neither of the men believed in the pure blood supremacy that Lord Voldermort wanted. The man in the coat was a muggle born, but Voldermort's supporters payed them more than the Ministry could ever offer them, so they joined his side. The winning side.

The man in the coat walked up to the door and performed the unlocking charm. The door swang open and he walked in, followed by his partner. The pair of them lit their wands and clambered up the stairs.

The target was asleep in his bed. The two men were surprised that the light from the wands did not wake him up, but then they saw that they were not looking at their target, but at something else. It was fatter and shorter than the person they had been expecting to see.

They both moved forwards, their wands illuminating the thing's face. The man in the coat jumped backwards slightly as he realised that they were looking at a pig. He realised that the man in the hoodie had been right, that they had been tricked, and turned. They ran down the stairs together, slamming open the front door, sprinting outside...

...and realising with horror that the streetlamps had been turned off and they were running blind into the night...

...and there was a flash of green. There had been no warning, no shout, but from in front of them, a killing curse came flying out towards them. Even if there had been a countercurse, some spell that could have saved them from the avada kedavra curse, they wouldn't have had time to cast it. The curse hit the man in the hoodie in the middle of his chest, and he stumbled backwards...

...and then the man in the coat was turning backwards, disappearing into thin air. A figure emerged from the darkness, the man who had killed the man in the hoodie. The killer was from the Minsitry of Magic, though he was not really an auror. He had been given permission to kill without warning. He was more of an assassin.

The assassin peered at the man in the hoodie. His partner had escaped, but the assassin had killed his target. He smiled, another job well done, and turned.

And froze in fear. The man in the coat had not escaped, he had disapparated to a few metres behind the assassin. While the assassin had been examining his dead target, the man in the coat had crept up right behind him and pointed his wand at the assassin's throat.

Normally, the man in the coat would have just used a killing curse and then left. However, the assassin had murdered his partner. He wanted to make him suffer. He spat the word "Sectumsempra!" and watched in pleasure as the assassin's throat was torn apart.

The assassin tried to scream but couldn't. His arms splayed outwards, his wand slipping from his dead hands. His legs buckled and he hit the floor. The man in the coat waited, smiling, watching, as the life of his enemy slipped away.

The assassin's last few moments were spent in agony. His mouth dropped open, his eyes stopped seeing. His hands clenched for a few moments, then stopped working altogether. He tried to draw breath but just spluttered. He stopped moving. His blood stained the ground crimson red.

Chapter One: Eleven Years LaterEdit

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