Stories by BUGSHOT

On the outskirts of the small town of Godric's Hollow, an open playground was blanketed in pure white snow. Children and adults alike could be seen frolicking in the knee-deep snow, building snowmen and engaging in spirited snowball fights. Laughter echoed through the air, adding to the festive atmosphere of the brief winter season.

After the graveyard resurrection, Harry's consciousness stirs with a jolt, flooded by a torrent of memories not his own. Tom's experiences cascade into his mind like shards of a shattered mirror, each piece reflecting spells cast in darkness, battles waged with ruthless intent, and a hunger for dominion that pulses through his veins like a second heartbeat.

The battle may have been won for now, but the war against darkness continued to loom large. As Ares Bones, heir to the noble lineage of his family, I knew that my journey had only just begun—a journey fraught with peril and possibility, where each step would be a testament to the courage and resilience forged in the fires of adversity.

Harry Potter, as he was called, had initially drawn the attention of the neighborhood. Mothers would smile at him warmly as he trailed behind his aunt, Petunia, on rare outings to the shops. His small, fragile frame and timid demeanor tugged at their heartstrings, and they would often whisper among themselves about how brave he was to endure such a loss at such a young age.

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