The Weasley of Slytherin: The Philosopher's Stone

Chapter 2: Letter to Hogwarts

It was a beautiful day, the sun shining high in the sky, the soft cool wind of a spring day blowing through the air, gently carrying the voices of excited children with it.

It was the type of day I hate the most. I was walking back towards the orphanage, leaning heavily on my cane, scowling and glaring at smiling children as the ran past me.

I had lost my leg almost three years ago when I was fifteen. Some people were making fun of me, you know for being an orphan. So I fought them. They ended up snapping my leg, and well it had to be amputated, leaving me with this horrid wooden leg.

I watched as couples leisurely strolled down the streets, hands intertwined. I made sure to walk between as many of them as I could.

I glared at three teens, or as best as I could with only one eye. Long story, I lost my eye when I was fourteen. But I glared at them the best I could, probably the same age as me as they walked by laughing with each other.

The tallest boy was lanky, probably around the same height as me, perhaps a few inches shorter, and had shabby looking hand-me down clothes, only in slightly better condition than my own, with obnoxiously red hair, his face covered in freckles.

The other boy had messy jet black hair, that looked as though it had never been combed before, and a pair of round dorky looking glasses. I scowled at him the most, it was clear from his clothes and appearance that he had money, mummy and daddy probably bought him anything he ever wanted.

The third person with them was a girl, who looked rather annoying. She had bushy brown hair, large buck teeth. She had looked like one of those girls that always knew the answer, or more accurately, always had to know the answer.

I glared at them as they passed, although they paid me no attention. They were too busy laughing with each other.

I scowled as the sun came out from behind a cloud, of course the sun would come out now just to get in my eye.

I hated going back to the orphanage, too many people with too little space, no one bothered me at least, well the don't dare to now anyway. The younger ones were too scared of my appearance, while the older ones were too scared of what I would do to them.

I'll be out of there soon anyway, they only cared about us till we were eighteen, then they throw us out to fend for ourselves.

"It's only a street away now." I thought to myself as I limped off the curb heading into the road, pulling out an old silver pocket watch to check the time, the one thing my parents had left for me.

Suddenly there was a sudden impact, as I was thrown off of my feet, pain radiating around my body. I could feel the pavement underneath my face, along with what felt like a puddle of warm sticky liquid.

"You've met with a terrible fate haven't you?" An old, breathy voice said to me.

I opened my eye, surprised to see I was no longer walking across the road on that beautiful spring day, now I was standing in what seemed to be a dark void.

Faintly I could hear panicked voices, screams and something else.

"What?" I asked looking around for the owner of the voice.

"You've met with a terrible fate." The voice repeated as I was finally able to locate it. A small hunched man was standing a distance away from him, his head and face covered with a dark hood, his gnarled skeletal hands grasping at an old batter wooden staff.

"The hell are you doing here old man?" I asked him, walking towards him. My body felt light almost weightless as I seemed to glide through the air.

Suddenly there was a bright white light and I was thrown off of my feet.