  No One Mourns the WickedA figure, wearing a cloak as black as the night around it, almost drifted through the cemetery, retracing the path it had walked so often. At the end of it was a nameless headstone, but it knew who was burried there. When the figure reached the tombstone, they stopped and knelt in front of it. From underneath their cloak, it pulled out a single, battered lily and laid it on the grave. "I miss you, My Lord," they whispered. As if in response, the wind began to blow, pushing the hood of the cloak back, revealing a tear streaken face. All was silent then. The wind ceased, the owls hunting in the night stopped. Not a sound No One Mourns the Wicked
by ~GrasshopperGirl
Muggle Food"Honestly, Hermione. How can you eat this stuff?" a boy with ginger hair asked. "There is nothing wrong with what I eat," Hermione answered. "It's normal muggle food, Ron," the other boy, who had short brown hair and green eyes, said. He helped himself to his own bowl of the same food Hermione was eating. "It still looks disgusting," Ron mumbled, looking down at the bowl before him. "You usually have good cooking skills, Hermione." "I didn't cook," she stated. "Harry did." "That explains it," he muttered. "Hey!" Harry protested. "He didn't even cook, really," Hermione defended. "You just boil the cont Muggle Food
by ~GrasshopperGirl
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