Post by Dalit Whittemore S5 on Oct 9, 2006 5:32:22 GMT
Dalit walked down the main street of Hogsmeade. She passed shops of all shapes, sizes and colours. Some sold owls and some sold candy, others sold quills and school supplies, while pubs were there for the older wizards to enjoy a drink (or maybe two). As she kept walking, Dalit thought of home. She missed bossing around her house elf, who was so scared of her family that it was reduced to nervous shaking, but with all the things she missed, as sadistic as they may be, she knew she could never miss the way her mother controlled where she went. She was barely allowed out of her sight, and almost never allowed off of the Whittemore grounds.
Dalit turned off onto a long path, following it through trees and shrubs, until she came to the Shrieking Shack. She knew it was a place that most people tried to stay away from, unless they were there on a dare. If she was a muggle, she probably wouldn't give it another thought about it being haunted; they didn't believe in things like ghosts and magic...but if she was a muggle, she knew she wouldn't be able to live with herself. Who would be able to live knowing they were the dirt of the world? Luckily for them, most of them didn't know that they were highly disadvantaged, to put it in a nice way; they were like babies: completely oblivious to the fact that they can't do anything worth while.
Dalit sat under a weeping willow. It wasn't a big tree, but it was a decent size. Leaning against the trunk of the tree, she took a sketch pad out of a black bag that she had been carrying, along with a piece of charcoal. Looking at the Shrieking Shack, she was happy she could see it through the branches. She could see out, but no one could see in.
After drawing for a few moments, she stopped and held it up in front of her. She raised an eyebrow at the book in thought, glancing from the page to the actual shack. Not much of it was drawn, but she was happy with it so far. Putting it back in her lap, she continued to draw, until she heard a twig snap nearby. She stopped drawing and set both her sketch book and charcoal aside, and got up. Brushing off her dark violet dress, she moved around the trunk of the tree until the intruder came into view. She watched quietly, not knowing whether they knew anyone else was there. She didn't want anyone interrupting her.
Dalit turned off onto a long path, following it through trees and shrubs, until she came to the Shrieking Shack. She knew it was a place that most people tried to stay away from, unless they were there on a dare. If she was a muggle, she probably wouldn't give it another thought about it being haunted; they didn't believe in things like ghosts and magic...but if she was a muggle, she knew she wouldn't be able to live with herself. Who would be able to live knowing they were the dirt of the world? Luckily for them, most of them didn't know that they were highly disadvantaged, to put it in a nice way; they were like babies: completely oblivious to the fact that they can't do anything worth while.
Dalit sat under a weeping willow. It wasn't a big tree, but it was a decent size. Leaning against the trunk of the tree, she took a sketch pad out of a black bag that she had been carrying, along with a piece of charcoal. Looking at the Shrieking Shack, she was happy she could see it through the branches. She could see out, but no one could see in.
After drawing for a few moments, she stopped and held it up in front of her. She raised an eyebrow at the book in thought, glancing from the page to the actual shack. Not much of it was drawn, but she was happy with it so far. Putting it back in her lap, she continued to draw, until she heard a twig snap nearby. She stopped drawing and set both her sketch book and charcoal aside, and got up. Brushing off her dark violet dress, she moved around the trunk of the tree until the intruder came into view. She watched quietly, not knowing whether they knew anyone else was there. She didn't want anyone interrupting her.