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Another Chance At Life

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Alright, I know I should be updating all of my other stories, I know, but I adopted this little thing from Makayami Ookami, who is just great, btw. I'm doing another mass update this weekend to celebrate the 4th of July

Prologue The Puppeteer

The man jerked at the sound of that wicked laughter, sweat rolling down his face and back. What had he gotten himself into? He was going to die. The darkness was oppressive around him. Mundungus's eyes rolled in their sockets frantically as he tried to see his pursuer in the dark. He'd gotten in way over his head this time. That deranged laughter would be the last thing he ever heard. Something fell down in the shadows of the warehouse with a soft thunk. It didn't sound like flesh but when the thing stood up, it had the unmistakable silhouette of a woman. He swallowed his fear thickly.

"M-Ma'am? Are you lost?" His voice quivered.

She gave him no answer but instead, turned around. What he saw as she walked towards him made the man cringe. It wasn't a woman at all. It was a life sized doll. It walked towards him jerkily and a long blade, a freaking machete, gleamed in her wooden hand. A soft whispering came from the marionette and Mundungus could only tell what it was when she got close enough that the lace of her bed gown brushed his pants leg.

'Kill them. Kill them all. All of them. All. Everyone. Kill them for Master. Kill them for the Puppeteer.'

He flinched back in fear and revulsion. What was that? A shadow leapt down from the rafters, shining webs of magic flowing from him to the doll. He was no more than a child it seemed, small and thin but his hair reached his waist in a black, gleaming wave and emerald eyes smiled out of the dark. He was wearing black. Black wife beater, black leather pants and black combat boots. A machete as long as the kid's arm was strapped to his back.

"Mundungus Fletcher, you are charged with high treason before the Dark Lord. You are sentenced to immediate death. Your sentence shall be carried out by my beauty here, Cassandra. Gorgeous isn't she?" He purred, wrapping an arm around the mannequin's waist, "I made her myself. You will be a doll too soon. Once I steal your soul. But don't worry, you might even like it. Cassie did."

His eyes widened. S-soul? What he'd heard was some girl's soul? What a terrible existence, to be stuck, forever conscious, in a body you had no control over. That someone else used for their every whim. With a moment too quick to see, the puppet slashed the machete over his throat while her master chanted softly. A bag was open at his side, a moaning coming from it's depths. Mundungus could feel his essence draining out of him and then, suddenly, he was watching his body fall to the ground in a pool of its own blood. He was being sucked into the bag, into the dark, and the only thing he could do was scream. The last thing he saw before joining the other souls in the darkness was the lightning bolt shaped scar on the child's forehead.