Syrra’s green eyes watched, as a blonde-headed first year waved her wand aimlessly at the small badger. The badger squealed, it’s legs wobbled, and it fell over onto the stone floor of the Slytherin Common room.
The first year seemed to enjoy this, and laughed, watching the badger squeal, and be burnt as she cast another spell. The badger’s skin was burnt badly, and it lay on the floor, it’s eyes half closed.
The girl roared with laughter, and sat down on the chair, and said a simple sentence, which seemed to almost knock Syrra to the floor: “Feel free to cast any spells on the badger.”
Syrra’s eyes widened with horror, and an older boy, who sat opposite her, quickly spoke back to the girl in an unhappy tone, “You enjoy torturing a poor, defenceless animal?”
He said more, but Syrra’s mind was filled with the root of a word the boy spoke.
‘…Torture.’ A voice echoed in Syrra’s head, ‘The lady suffered from severe torture.’
At that moment, her eyes snapped open to their widest, and she stood up, glaring at the first year.
“I think I need to show you what that animal has just gone through.” The older boy said, trying to make his voice be heard.
“I’ll do it.” Syrra said standing up, drawing her wand out.
“Huh?” The older boy said turning to Syrra.
Syrra looked to the first year, and blinked as images flooded her mind…

It’s early morning. Syrra stands at her usual place, by the Hogwarts Rules, and sighs as two figures emerge from the Kitchen’s Corridor.
Syrra stands silent, and the first year runs towards her. Syrra, in utter surprise, side-steps to the right, the first year waves her wand, and an electric volt runs through the sign, scorching it’s sides, along with various other marks, inflicted by boredom-induced students. She blinks, staring as the girl runs away cackling with laughter…

“She tried to shock me… she needs to get her karma, and pay for her debt.” Syrra stood tall, and waved her wand at the her, fire racing through the tip of her wand and burning the immobile girl.
“Fire burns…” She said before flicking her wand once more, and static shocks of electricity fly at the girl, shocking her hair on end.
“Electric shocks…” Syrra smirked, referring to the half-dead badger on the floor. She waved her wand at the girl once more, and the girl’s legs began to wobble.
“I think she has paid for her crime.” Syrra spoke softly, and the girl fell over. She tried to get up, but her legs would not allow it and failed her.
Syrra sat down on the chair, crossing her legs. She watched as the older boy began to use numerous spells on the first year, that’s when it started once more.
‘Torture. Feels good, eh? Especially when you watch someone else on the floor. Their body can’t take it, and soon, they’ll die. Waste away.’ Syrra clenched her head, her long green nails digging into her scalp.
The voice stopped, allowing her to think.
“W-what…?” Her lips quivered gently, but the boy, or the girl, didn’t notice, engaged in their fight.
‘Don’t shut me out little girl. But… I see it in you. His karma…’ The voice faded away, however, it’s last two words left an imprint in her brain: His karma.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
//For some reason, it seems to censor the words: waved and flicked...
I have no idea why, so don't go thinking I've been putting naughty words in my rp.

Syrra sat in the Slytherin common room. A letter was in the fire, letting out screeches of “THIS IS THE MINISTRY! YOU HAVE 10 SECONDS TO LEAVE OR ELSE WE WILL SEND DEMENTORS!”
“Stupid kids.” Syrra muttered as the howler was reduced to ashes, no longer screaming it’s message.
Earlier, in the Entrance Hall, much confusion had gone on between several students. It lead to fighting. Punches, spells. Something Syrra would rather avoid, but she soon had become the target.
The Howler’s voice was that of the students from earlier. A crude attempt of scaring Syrra. She shook her head.

The next morning, Syrra stood high on a hill, overlooking the path to Oglavich. Next to her stood a girl. Her hair was white, and her skin was pasty. Standing next together, they looked like coffee and cream.
With a fan in one hand, and her wand in the other, Syrra pointed to a winding path outside the village.
“We head there.”
“Glumbumbles?” The girl asked, grinning.
Syrra nodded.

She stood on a rock, smiling. Together, Syrra and the girl called Verita were invincible. Nothing could get the better of them.
Snow twirled down from the sky, catching in Syrra’s black hair. She grinned at Verita, they had just finished off the lives of some Glumbumble faeries, with every strange creature they had come across, they had learned how to use spells to defend themselves. With every creature down, Syrra felt somehow, stronger, her mind becoming more confident, her spells becoming more complex.
She sighed, shaking her head, looking up to the sky with her emerald eyes, “I think we’ve done… more than enough. I feel… strange, like this is forbidden…”
“We did well.” Verita replied, scanning the forest to see if any other creatures dared to challenge them, or attempt to inflict any harm upon them.
Syrra did not like the situation. She had caused harm. That’s when it starts up. The guilt, the anger, the depression. Her mind would act up, be filled with the memories of the night. The night when she walked in to find the bodies of her mother and father on the floor.

Syrra had claimed to have seen death several times, including in a strange Care of Magical Creatures lesson, where she went on and on telling most of the students about what Thestrals ‘apparently’ looked like. She then proceeded to stroke mid-air claiming one to be there.
However, Syrra had not seen death. She had only walked in the room, to view empty vessels, no longer containing a soul.

The death haunted her, the screams could have come to her any second, but, her mind remained silent. No screaming, no voices of the police, no nothing.
“Let’s get back… it’s getting dark.” Syrra added, and the two walked back to the village.

Syrra sat slumped on the chair, holding a glass of red wine lazily in her hand. A cold wind blew past the Hog’s Head, and the moon hung over the sky, only showing a crescent in it’s waning state.
“Sooo… What’s been happening around here?” Syrra said slurring her words, her mind hazed by the drinks on the table.
“Nothing much, been kind of boring, really.” A male across the table from her known as Bart Kelm spoke. He too, was slowly giving in to the alcohol.
“Right, m‘kay…” Syrra spoke in a way she had never spoken in before. Being drunk never came into mind when she mentioned the Hog’s Head, the only thing that concerned her, was having a good night out.

The next thing she knew, she was on the floor, her brain banging against her skull. She had a bad headache, and she couldn’t get up. Whenever she attempted to push herself up off the ground, she was met with a searing pain.
“Help me…” She whispered, her crimson lipstick spread across the side of her mouth.
Syrra's sight was blurred. She couldn't see properly. She tried to push herself up once last time.
'HIS KARMA!' It was like a scream, and it sent her back to the floor, her hand over her head.
"P-please help me..." She whispered, staring up into the dirty Hog's Head Ceiling.

Syrra sat at the desk, her hair tied back with the usual green bobble, and her lips covered in a thick green lipstick. She sat on the flimsy wooden chair, in black leather. This was her new look, which she liked to call her 'Hardcore' or 'Bad Girl' look. She'd become accustomed to this look.
A couple of papers for various Homework assignments lay on the desk, along with a black feather quill, that probably belonged to a raven or a crow.
"Hmmm... I give up." She threw the feather backwards, obviously wanting it to hit someone. The quill landed with a clatter on the wooden floor.
"Pick your quill up young lady! I do not wish for ink to be splattered across the floor!" The angry voice of Madam Pince echoed through the quiet library, cutting through the hanging silence.
Syrra reluctantly obeyed, jumping up and picking the quill up. The quill end was dry; no ink had reached the floor.
She sat back on the chair, looking out the window to the grounds beneath the castle. Several winged animals flew around in the air, students chasing after them.
She folded up one of the paper into a bird.
"Perfect." She smiled to herself, and tapped the bird's wing lightly with the tip of her wand.
The paper bird sprung to life, it's wings softly beating against Syrra's hand.
"Fly little bird." She pushed the window open, letting go of the paper bird. It spiralled down, reaching the students height.
She reached for the window, to close it before Madam Pince told her off for another time.
That’s when it started.
‘Hey, Syrra.’
“Shut up.” Syrra clamped her hands over her ears, the other students staring at her.
‘His Karma. It’s coming.’
“SHUT THE HELL UP!” She screamed, as Madam Pince’s angry tone silenced the voice.
“That’s enough young lady! Get out!”
Syrra slowly released her ears, tears almost welling up in her eyes. She pulled the papers together, and slowly exited, tucking the chair in after her.
Once more, the voice had come through; who was speaking? What was he telling her?
She’d never know.

Syrra slammed the Library door behind her, hoping to leave Madam Pince in an angry mood. Her mood swung around, suddenly fixing her attention to another item.
“I’m fed up of this. I’m fed up!” She stomped her foot on the floor, as two first years fled through the library door.
“I’m going to find out, even if it kills me.” She nodded, and began to walk down the stairs.
The only way of finding out, was to skip school. She was good at that.
“And I know exactly where to start.”

Her fist hit the door three times. No answer. Syrra cursed placing her hand on the door, her fingers spread out, showing her black nails.
"Dammnit." She pulled her hand away, and turned around, leaning back on the door's old wooden frame.
The moon hung low over Knockturn Alley, making a hazy glow through the small street. Dark clouds began to sweep through the air, making it dark. Slowly rain dripped down from the sky, pattering against houses and down on to the cobbled road.
The small drizzle suddenly became a storm, rain now violently crashing down. Several flashes of thunder lit up Knockturn for a few seconds, and then resumed into it's darkened downpour.
Syrra stood up straight and began to run; she had never liked the thunder, and refused to come out of her house when there was a storm.
Her face showed no emotion, apart from determination. She was always good at hiding her emotions in public. Even though there was no person in sight, she had to make sure. As it was Knockturn Alley.
No shops were open, even Starknuts with it's guaranteed night time shifts.
Syrra retreated to the corner, her hands over her ears. She was alone. She'd have to stay here until the storm was over. There was no one to send an owl for help, there was no one to take her hand and say 'It's okay.' and that stupid monkey had buggered off on her. She was helpless.

Syrra lay curled up in the corner of Knockturn alley. The sun began to rise, setting off a strange dark glow amongst the buildings. Slowly, she began to stir, her eyelids flickering open. As she sat up, she noticed a pale outstretched hand, covered in scars. She was about to let out a scream, when she saw the hooded face of the heavily robed man.
“Good morning, Syrra. I see you are missing school.” A heavy voice said, in something just louder than a whisper.
Syrra nodded, took his hand, and was pulled to her feet.
“Looking to be robbed in your sleep?”
Syrra shook her head, and sighed, “No, I’m very sorry. I came to find you, and-…”
“And there was a storm?”
Syrra nodded, sadly.
“Don’t worry. But you should’ve found me; the back door is usually open.” He frowned at her, and began to walk off.
Syrra followed him, once again bewildered by his knowledge. How did he know about her phobia?
The old wooden door she had knocked at the day before stood in front of her. He pushed it open with one swift movement of his hand, and it swung open. He stepped in, and she followed.
The shop always had a strange inviting atmosphere, maybe it was the candles on the walls, or the lit incense which smoked away in a corner.
“Sit down, Syrra.” He said in a demanding tone.
She did so immediately, sitting at the black framed chair behind a table of the same sort.
Several cards lay on the table, along with a sparkling topaz crystal ball.
“Now, tell me. What is it that you want?” He leaned forward, putting both his hands down on the table.
“Don’t you know why, this time?” Syrra smirked, leaning back on the chair.
“I may know about your past and future, but I do not know about your present state.” The man frowned, and a piercing look shot out from under his hood. He was not a man to be tampered with.
“Voices. They come to me.” She sighed, looking down her lap, covered in mud from the street.
“Voices, hrm? Do they speak of…? His Karma?”
Syrra froze. It was as if someone had shot an icy arrow trough her skull.

Syrra's green eyes flickered open. The room was dimly lit by a small candle lying on the table next to her. She was in a bed. Sweat was dripping off her face, and her heart was beating fast.
"Mmmmm..." She groaned, sitting up. Putting a hand to her head, she realised she had a fever. A few potions lay on the table.
The last thing she remembered was talking with the Shopkeeper. Syrra swung her feet out of bed, and stood up. As she looked down, she saw she was wearing the clothes she came in.
"Tactful old git." She murmured. She wished he'd at least used a spell to change her clothes. She'd have to do it herself.
Syrra looked around. No wand.
She pulled a drawer on the table out. There it lay, Mahoghany, 14 1/2 inches, Unicorn Hair.
Reaching inside, she grabbed it. As she waved the wand, and before saying anything, it flew out of her hand, landing on the wooden floor.
"..."
Syrra picked it up again. She'd try something simple this time. Maybe it was overloaded somehow?
"Lu-mos!" She said, coughing in the middle.
A small light emerged at the end. It didn't help illuminate the room in any way.
"Lumos!" She said, waving the wand and waiting for a reaction.
Nothing happened.
"God Damnit!" She threw her wand onto the floor, and on impact with the wooden floorboards, several blue sparks emerged, which flashed and then disappeared.

The door to downstairs slowly creaked open. She pulled back the curtains, and stared at the Shopkeeper.
His eyes met hers and he made a sound somewhat resembling a growl.
"What did I tell you!? I said to not use that door!!!" His hands slowly curled into fists.
"... Well, it's very early..." Syrra said, she had just looked out the window.
"...And that makes everything A-Okay?"
"No one's here to buy anything, so, it doesn't matter if I came down here."
"... If you dare use that door again, I shall have the dementors down upon you in minutes!"
"... Sure you will." Syrra shaked her head, and walked to the counter, hopping over it. When her feet touched the floor, she burst out into a coughing fit.
"You're ill. Go back upstairs." The Shopkeeper said, shaking his head. "-And use the other door."

Syrra held her wand in her hand which was shaking. What an ignorant jerk! She scowled, and kneeled down.
In front of her, was a small patch of enchanted blue roses. The crystal-like petals reflected the moon onto her tanned skin.
She raised her wand to an unsuspecting butterfly, happily feeding on the rose's nectar.
"Fidelius."
The butterfly's bright blue wings snapped open, and Syrra leaned down to it. She began to whisper. The butterfly remained still until Syrra moved her head back, and it's wings snapped shut. The butterfly began to glow a shiny silver. Syrra raised her wand once more.
"Flagrante!"
The butterfly shuddered, as it was cursed.
Now Syrra relaxed. Her secret was kept in a butterfly; a frail and fragile creature which had a life expectancy of two weeks. And if anyone tried to touch her secret host, their flesh would burn on contact. A little curse she'd learned. There was a way to lift it, but even she didn't know how.
The butterfly flapped it's wings and began to fly up to the moon, it had obviously had enough of being cast upon.

A black head-scarf was wrapped tightly around Syrra's head. She wore a traditional black mourning dress.
A grave was in front of her, with one name carved neatly into the stone:
~Bart Kelm~
A bunch of Roses was balanced on the stone, flowers already littering the grave. Although, these roses shone in the moonlight. They had love hearts carefully etched into the blood red petals.
Syrra, placed her hands on the soil, and knelt down, resting her body close to the earth where a coffin was laid. She kissed the earth softly, and stood up, the stiletto heels sinking into the earth.

"Beneath these jasmine flowers
Amidst these cypress trees
I give you now my heart
And all it's mysteries

Now take the hourglass
And turn it on its head
For when the sands are still
'Tis then you'll find me dead..."

Salty drops of water curled off her chin, and landed onto the earth. Her voice was strange amongst the silence of the Cemetary.
For many days she'd sat here, crying. Only to seek shelter in the Cathedral, and steal from the monks. She'd watch the services go on, and return at night, to mourn.
Syrra had not thought once about Hogwarts. She had not thought at all about her friends, or family. The only thing that existed in her mind, was the person buried beneath the earth, right beside her feet.

Slowly, Syrra unwrapped her black headscarf, and threw it on the bed. She unlaced the black corset on her dress, and she exhaled with relief.
Syrra stood gazing into the mirror wearing a piece of silk around her shoulders, falling down to her feet. She was exactly the same, but she felt as though she had changed. Acquired knowledge, perhaps? Nothing new physically, but it was as if she had descended down, into some dark underworld, only to emerge, unharmed. She threw the black headscarf and dress into a bin, and moved to a small placard on the wall.
Her fingers traced the image carefully, and she bowed.
"Ereshkigal. I am awakened."
Those words did nothing, and meant one thing to her. She was alive.

There it was. In her hand.
A shining Galleon lay on the palm of Syrra's hand.
The last one.
She placed it on the shop desk covered with a light blue silk. The shop keeper took it, and gave her a small red pouch. Syrra nodded and turned on her high-heel, walking out of the shop.
She could always get some more money at Gringotts... Although, her parents never used Gringotts.
She could ask her 'guardian' for money... Although, last time she did that, he laughed at her and told her to get a job.
She sighed. That was the last of her money. All the last of her parents money, anyhow.
She'd have to 'borrow' money from first years until then. But, what if... what if she never got any more money? What if-
No. She'd obviously get some money from somewhere. It was impossible for someone like her to have no money... Right?

"Expecto Patronum!" Syrra shouted loudly, waving her wand rapidly.
Nothing.
"Expecto Pat-ronium!" Syrra stuttered, waving her wand again.
A few silvery sparks slithered out the wand.
"Almost..."
She shut her green eyes and concentrated on a place... Saudi. The sand blowing over the dunes, the towering domes of the city casting pale shadows on the barren land, the harsh winds blowing through her hair.
That was it...
...that feeling...
...she could feel it.
"Expecto Patronum!"
There it was. The silver smoke whispering it's way out of her wand, filling the air with it's medley of joy. The happiness, that feeling, the feeling she longed for. And then the smoke manifested in it's form: A raccoon. It's striped tail swishing in front of her face, it's snout sniffing the shingly floor.
And as it turned to face her-
Poof. Gone. It went.
Just like that.
"..."