warnings: graphic descriptions, blood, murder
word count: 1145

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Her hands were dranched in blood.

She looked up the shimmering lights of thousand stars upon her head, searching for the brightest ones to blink at her.

"P-please" pleaded a rusty voice beneath her dragonskin boot, a loud cough drawned her attention to the ground.

Under her foot rested a corpse with yet few breaths in his lungs, blood flowing from every inch of his body, particulary dense on his left forearm where the major part of the skin was peeled off so deeply she could see the bones.

The witch bent down, pressing her boot on his chest, hearing it crushing under the pressure.

"Give me a reason." she hissed through gritted teeth, her wand pressing into his opened flesh.

The Death Eater cried out lout in what sounded to be an horrendous plead of a prey caught up in its hunter's claws.

"I- I c- changed, my family..."

Before he could finish a green flash swallowed him whole for a split second before leaving him cold dead on the stained grass.
Cesira Blyde kicked his mauled body away and wordlessly swished her wand, watching the corpse completely disintegrate leaving no trace behind.

Her chest was rising and falling quietly, as if mercilessly killing a man meant a soft blow of wind on her angelic face.

She never fought with that monster before, but the mark on his skin was enough for her to haunt him down like a bounty hunter for months before finally corner him in her trap and strike.

That was for her people.

She looked up again, the stars answered to the call one more time.

"You shall not be forgotten." she whispered, apparating away to show up in her own house hidden in a Muggle neighborhood she found shelter in not to draw attention to her business.

De facto, Cesira Blyde was not allowed to put to practice her duties as a member of the Order since she retired nine years ago.

After the glorious fall of the Dark Lord she too fell in a suffocating bite that ferociously squeezed out every single smile left on her lips, every soft laughter.

The first years of recovery caused her a tremendous pain indeed, grief maiming her young features and if possible worsening the wounds war had left on her scarred body.

She vowed to fight no more, thus she retired from everyone left who would have helped her heal from the horrors she had seen, albeit she never reached for the hands held out in those sorrowed days.

Then, pain turned into anger.

Anger into fury and fury into hunger.

She could not bear the mere thought of breathing the same air as the beasts who destroyed everything and everyone she ever loved, being alive while the murderers of her defuncts got to walk her very earth.

What was her purpose in being the only one left if not to make sure her dearests' sacrifices would never stay unavenged?

From that renewed vow, her days were painted with a bloodshed crimson haze.

She always masked herself during her hunts so as not to be recognized by any of her victims nor be persecuted by the Ministry of Magic. A ghost one might say, a ghost who can still breathe.

She quickly sucked away the blood stains on her silver white robes with the tip of her wand, ensuring that every hidden weapon was in its place.

The fairy-haired witch sighed and started pacing in her bare living room with hands resting behind her back, as she always used to do when having to endure a break from her hunting.
She never dared to sit down nor relax, for the people she loved would never be able to taste the pleasure of winding down again.

Truthfully, she was waiting for something.

Her latest triumph was a Death Eater unbeknownst to her however, according to some voices she eavesdropped the last time she engaged with a fellow wizard, one of them happened to be a teacher at Hogwarts.

Cesira knew who he was.

She remembered the wizard she was talking with being a young Hufflepuff boy ranting about how insufferable his Potion teacher acted around students.

When she heard the name, she had set eyes on one goal and one goal only.

Although, before she could have the honour to meet him again she knew how hard she had to train before being able to have the slightest chance to overpower him in a real, fatal duel.

Now she was sure there was enough blood on her wand to challenge her greatest enemy in a fair battle.

And after him, she would be sent to Azkaban inhabited by the most horrendous monsters she dreamed of killing once and for all.

Not even a Dementor's kiss could prevent her from her duty.

Even in Death she would have haunted their black souls.

Cesira didn't realize she was obsessively staring at her own reflection until she noticed two bright yellow eyes looking back at her.

She quickly drawed her wand from her waistband and stopped herself before killing a brown, baffled owl.

She scoffed. "Leave the letter and get back to your place stupid bird."

The animal left the letter hanging from his beak on her wanting hand, flying away as hurriedly as possible.

Cesira smirked cunningly when she saw the Hogwarts' coat of arms sparkling under her frozen stare.

Albus Dumbledore welcomed her as the new DADA professor for the incoming academic year, advising to present herself at least two weeks before September in order to get acquainted with the staff and plan her lessons.

She didn't allow her lips to curl up a second more then proceeded to pack her things, though most of them already packed in case she had to flee from attackers, assuring not to leave any useful tool behind.

The calendar marked exactly two weeks from the start of term, it was obvious that the Headmaster she served so loyally wanted her to come in an instant.

She closed her eyes and vanished from her Muggle house, forever.

In her stiffened heart she felt that was the last time she would have seen those plain walls.

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A grand stone castle towered over her in a distance, a fading summer haze hugging her body as she shifted annoyed, hating the warmth she got to feel on her skin.
A cruel reminder of her unjust existence.

She approached the gates where the old, crabby Finch waited for her entirely expected arrival.

"Old man." she murmured directing her chilling stare to the highest tower of Hogwarts.

Finch spat few rude words before shockingly shutting himself after one single glare from the witch, silently ordering him to open the gates.

She planted the first step into Hogwarts' grounds.

Let the hunt begin.