J

James Potter

There were once two friends, travelling along a lonely, winding road at twilight. They stared at the stars, twinkling in the distant black like vanishing diamonds, and they waited, as patiently as eleven year olds could, for the moon in all its majesty. They weren't far outside of Godric's Hollow, but far away enough to get up to something without the likes of Bathilda Bagshot watching, documenting. They heard the cry of a wolf and a boy, shrill and cold in the distance; their faces met, white with fear. But it was soon wiped to a smile; adventure and danger had found them at last. "I think it came from the trees over there look," said S