16 Shadow

Traveling through Hertfordshire county, if you are on the B651, you may feel a slight chilling cold near the village of Chapelfoot. For indeed, a triangle of dense trees there is purportedly to contain one of the most haunted ruins in the U.K.

Every once in a while, photos pop up on social media of young people posing next to the fallen arches of Minsden Chapel. But even the bravest only visit during the day time; at night, even the occasional fox veers away from the threatening forces that surround it.

"Stupid influencers," a voice growled as a hastily-packed car careened down the field to find safety on the A1(M) motorway. "My Leo should just destroy these stupid muggles. Lumos!"

A flash of flame danced on the tip of a dark grey wand. The face behind it was then illuminated, but perhaps it would have been better not to. A thick, twisting scar ran from the right temple across the nose, ending with a starburst-shaped scar on the left cheek.

Although both eyes were undamaged, the madness contained within those dark orbs would cause the strongest person to shudder. Thick ropes of brown hair were knotted into a rude ponytail.

Freya Poynder was a descendant of the locality, dating back to the early 13th Century. But centuries of inbreeding between certain wizard houses had reduced the once-proud family line to just two individuals. She stumped along a section of intact wall until she reached an area of discolored brickwork.

Muttering a phrase, she tapped out a rhythm with her wand. A moment later, the bricks rearranged themselves into a small arched opening.

Once through, the flame shot away from the wand and zipped across several sconces in the room. The space brightened until the entire interior was visible. It was a remarkably clean and tidy area, consisting of a small kitchen, fireplace, table with two chairs, and a brown tufted couch.

The witch pulled several bags out of her robe and placed them on the counter top, before walking over to a door and rapping on it.

"Oy, wake up! Time for breakfast."

Once she heard noises through the door, she set up the breakfast things on the table, including a delicate Royal Doulton teapot in the Grantham pattern, steam rising from its delicate spout.

A short time later, the door opened, and a thin figure emerged. It was a young man with hawkish features and white hair. He yawned widely before sitting down at the table.

"Good morning, Leo dear. Did you rest well?"

He applied himself to eating and didn't say anything. Once the plate was empty, he stood up.

"I slept fine. I'm heading to school now." He shouldered a dark backpack and headed towards the archway.

She beamed, the scar moving snakelike across her countenance. "Study well, my dearest!"

He turned, gave her a tiny smile, and disapparated.

***

Leo arrived outside the gates of Hogwarts, but did not immediately join the throngs of chattering, robed students. It was a smaller group than the school normally had, but this was the final exam day for those who went to summer school.

Although the Sorting Hat had placed him in Ravenclaw, he never felt like he belonged there. Instead, he hung out with his Slytherin friends, putting him in a unique category where he was ignored by his own House, and did nothing to advance their points.

Headmaster McGonagall was in charge of the school. But after succeeding other famous wizards in the position over the years, she was rarely seen outside the main offices. Rumors were flying that a new Headmaster will be chosen soon; top of the list was the ultra-famous Harry Potter.

Whomever succeeds her, or whenever it happens, Leo had no intention of changing his behavior. He was convinced that he was the first mistake the Sorting Hat made in its many centuries of work.