- prologue.

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In a world full of darkness,
hope seemed so bright,
amongst the countless stars
and the ferocious fights.

Tawny vapour gloomed, knowing the time had come. For the one they call "Lord", never had a son. The girl was pathetic just like her mother, a useless and weak child, born from his lover. The lover who died, in the fate of this girl, let her spirits haunt him and rash on her inner hell.

The dark side was looked upon,
not so much of thrill; but the dismal drooled over the sky they all share, a never ending still.

He was gone, the man himself.
-so they say.

But she knew more than to believe a prophet,
lies, allegations, Harry Potter, and more lies. It's they talked about now a days.

But there she was, a little girl in a big world, fighting off the leeches sucking onto her blood. As pure as can be, they all believed. But no one knows the truth behind her history, behind the curly hair and the bright burning eyes, may she be the devil in disguise.

So they might say, her time had come.

A pressure she felt, within the burning sun. No time had she prepare, for the return had begun. Power, murder and crime. She was born into a lifestyle, unworthy of her views, for not even she could take her eyes off his face. "The boy who lies." they'll say without a trace.

His beauty wasn't hidden,
Nor was his fight.
Yet little did she know,
He could take all her might.

A huff and a puff she dazed at the ground, hoping that one day she'll hear another sound. The manor which she stayed, had a gothic like feel. She searched and searched but nothing to her appeal.

Days were dark and nights were to,
if only she could catch a breath from the inevitable doom. They treat her like shit, yet there's no way she could stop it. He was controlled by a blinding glimpse of power.

Lucius Malfoy, you old hag.
Let the poor girl out.
The ground was sickly, cold and bleak,
But that was nothing compared to her stand alone cheek.

So without a thought, may she test.
For the dark Lord has come from rest.

Alora Astra Riddle, your time is now. To flee the birds and find your crown. Let the power behold you, never throw you down. For once he is alive, may he hold your gown.

The fight is on, for what you believe...
A little bit of salt, is all you shall need.

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