Author's Note: All Harry Potter based characters belong to J. K. Rowling. But I own all the original characters.

Chapter One

Dark Feelings

Dumbledore stood before the students and the rest of the staff of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and began to speak. His voice had a sort of grave. But then everyone was in deep, deep shock as to what happened.

"As you know," he spoke, "There has been a grave accident within this school. How it happened, no-one seems to know, but I hope that this is a one time incident that will never happen again."

All the students knew whom and what he was talking about. Earlier that day, a group of girls were heard screaming when they walked into a bathroom and found one another girl on the floor, with her head pooled with blood and it was believed that her eyes were gouged out.

How it happened? Nobody knew. Why it happened? It was anyone's guess. Who did it? That was the biggest mystery of them all. What student would want to go about killing a student?

"As caution for the time being," Dumbledore continued on, "I want all students to be in pairs or in groups. Now, please go to your dormitories and no-one is to leave until tomorrow morning."

The students began to rise from their seats and slowly began to leave the Great Hall. All were muttering to themselves, keeping to their friends. But it was obvious on what they were talking about.

"But why would anyone want to kill a third-year Hufflepuff girl?" Ron asked to his friends.

"No idea," said Hermione, Harry shook his head to confirm that he didn't have a clue either.

"This is as bad as what happened with the basilisk," Harry muttered.

"Perhaps worse than that," said Hermione. "No-one died, unless you can count You-Know-Who."

"That man has more lives than a cat," said Harry, "though I wouldn't actually officially call him a man."

The trio walked the corridors towards the Gryffindor Tower. All seemed to be quiet now. But it was a very disturbing silence; it was as though there was a presence. It wasn't that of Peeves the Poltergeist, for even though he was a royal pain in the backside to all students, his energy wasn't that of the one people seem to be feeling now.

This felt dark, unsettled and as though this killing was just the beginning of something extremely horrifying. The students could feel it, so could the staff.

"Who could it have been, Albus?" McGonagall asked her voice was weaved with worry and a small hint of fear.

"I don't know, Minerva," Dumbledore replied, with an expression that was of the same worry. "I honestly don't."

"If these killings were to continue, Headmaster …?" Snape spoke up, in spite the knowledge of being clearly disliked by all students, but his own Slytherin house, his voice was of a mere turn of concern.

"Let us hope it doesn't come to that, Severus," said Dumbledore. "We don't want the students afraid of this school."

"Interesting to say such things, when we've had the Dark Lord intruding the walls a few years ago," said Snape, raising his eyebrows at the Headmaster's choice of words. "Not to mention the knowledge that we had a basilisk in the school, and Black breaking in when it was believed that he was a mass murderer at the time. Not to mention the fact that Moody was an impostor last year."

"I am very aware of that, Severus," said the elderly wizard quietly. "But each time the students were never actually killed. This time we have a death on our hands and it won't be long before the parents would be pulling their children out."

"Aren't there any clues to whom did this killing?" McGonagall asked.

"Honestly, Minerva," said Dumbledore. "I clearly just don't know."

The Headmaster sighed; he wished he had a clear understanding to all of this.

"I think it best if we all just turned in for the night," he finally said.

Snape and McGonagall didn't object, they both turned and left the Headmaster's office. Both were just as baffled about this as everyone else. The feel of unsettled darkness washed over them as they walked the hallways.

McGonagall's skin received goose bumps, while Snape had this sick feeling in his gut. Both felt icy, cold running down their spins and what's even more unsettling was the fact that they didn't have a single clue as to what could be causing this.

"Good night, Severus," said McGonagall, when they reached a t-junction.

"See you in the morning then," Snape said, nodding.

McGonagall walked down the right, while Snape went to the left. McGonagall continued to look and she didn't know why she did, just she did, she looked to her left to see her reflection in a small mirror. She almost jumped, but she saw there was no point, it was just her reflection.

She shook her head a little, muttering to herself, telling herself to keep it together. Since when does ones reflection harm people? She continued on down to the hallway until she got to a portrait of a playful bunch of tabby kittens.

"Elizabeth," she said.

The portrait pushed on back slightly and lifted up into the ceiling, revealing a passageway. McGonagall walked inside it and the portrait lowered as torches lit up the way. The passage wasn't long; she reached a doorway and entered her quarters.

McGonagall very much liked her quarters. It was a small, it was simple, but then, she didn't need much at all. To her right as she entered, there was the living area. Standing in front of the cosy looking fireplace was a red couch with matching armchairs, they were lined with gold fringes around the bottom and arms and the cushions that sat upon the couch were also gold. In between was a light wood coloured coffee table and on each side of the couch were matching tall tables with lamps on each one and framed photos on the one closest to her.

There was a sudden meow coming from passed the living area and McGonagall walked along passed the living area and the three doors, the first being her office away from the office, the second was her bedroom and the last was none other than the bathroom. She reached the small, yet simple corner kitchen and dining room that lied at the back of the unit. Sitting on one of the dining room chairs was her cat.

McGonagall smiled and walked over to the feline with smooth grey fur and beautiful eyes of amber-green. McGonagall patted the cat.

"I suppose I better feed you now, shouldn't I, Xavier?"

The cat just purred at the gentle pats he was getting from his owner. McGonagall walked over to the kitchen and opened the cupboard up top and pulled out a small can of tuna, she knew Xavier too well to know he just won't resist it. McGonagall placed the fish onto Xavier's cat dish and the cat hurried over, he sniffed the meal he was given and took a little bit to test it out. Once his taste spuds had confirmed it was tuna, he began to home into it.

McGonagall left her cat to get herself ready for bed. It had been a frightful and disturbing day and all she wanted was to rest. Once she was in her night dress and her grey hair was out of its bun, she went to check on Xavier. He was still eating his food.

She smiled and sighed a little. Her eye caught sight of the photos upon the table by the couch. She walked over to them and picked up the one she always picks up whenever she goes near them.

It was a picture of her when she was much, much younger. Her hair the colour of coffee brown and she didn't have glasses. She was sitting on a bench sort of thing, but it wasn't her younger self she was looking at. No, it was the little girl wrapped within her arms she was looking at. The little girl had the same coffee brown hair and she was wearing a very pretty violet coloured set of robes, which blended nicely against the emerald green robes of the much younger McGonagall.

McGonagall placed a finger upon the girl, who was smiling from ear to ear and enjoying this hug she was in. On the bottom of the golden frame was an engraving; Minerva and Elizabeth McGonagall 5 November 1956. How she remembered that day so well.

Suddenly something made her jerk her head to the right. She saw a sudden movement of a shadow on the wall. McGonagall looked over and saw that Xavier had moved from the bench. Sighing with utter relief, she had to laugh at herself.

"It was just Xavier," she muttered out loud to herself.

She placed the photo down and went to her bedroom. She slipped into the warmth of her thick covers. Xavier jumped up and walked over to his owner, with deep purrs. McGonagall smiled as her cat curled up beside her. She patted him for as long as she was still awake. But soon, she was in a deep, deep sleep.