Bruna Britti's Page

That's a Fan Fic story about magic, love and hope. :) If you wanna read more, just go to FF.net. 

The world was no longer the same since someone uttered the word "Witch". There is no date or record of when or where they have had said this for the first time, though rumors that have spread were, truly, as different as possible

Among them stood out since the simples until the most absurd. Sometimes crueler, others exaggerated. All them with some truth. The year was 1103, and London was terrified. These "devil worshipers", as it had been called by the "normals", they were causing panic to the point of friends no longer recognize each other. Neighbors wary glances begun, and men and women found themselves stuck in their own fear. Someone had said that was the "darkness time".

This picture became worse. The fear has growing. Terror has become quite to the point of not only people look strange to each other, but also they began to chase themselves. Differently of race, age or sex, at any time, anyone could be accused of being "in cahoots with the devil." Many died as witches, others with as really one, but all with the same common fate: The bonfire. It was a fact that even innocent people do not have escaped this sad fate.

However, the reality of chaos has taken alarming proportions in the evening, when Philip, the same whose man gave permission to game against the wizards - and had done this with a smile on your face - He saw with his own eyes it would be the night of his death. Yes, a man always knew when it was on the brink of an abyss.

The fire was growing in many places of the city, the picture could not be less than a horror movie. Peasants had shouted, but there was no where to hide. Nobody knew, but that night was destined to make history... or perhaps they knew, as well as King Phillip.

He was on the throne, with apparent calmness of an ordinary night. But who really knew him, well knew what was going through his mind. Could he to pretend to be calm when so visible were his attitudes? He was scared. Very scared. By raising his arm to wipe the sweat from his brow it was impossible do not to see that his hands were trembling. Around the king everybody looked away as a sign of compassion.

- Lord! - the advisor ran and almost tripped over his own legs when emerged in the great hall. There were present the strongest warriors whose Phillipe has gathered at the last moment . It was true that many had abandoned their king in that war, and - now mercenaries - had joined in the group who marched against Phillipe.

The man avoided looking at each of the faces, knowing well that it would shatter his heart, seeing defeat written over those faces. By more than braves they were, at the bottom felt and knew they had lost the war. Therefore the advisor walked until stop in front of the throne, kneeling, as a sign of respect for the man who had followed and admired by all these years with pride.

- Stand up - the king said, the advisor was surprised to feel his voice oddly safe - I believe there is no more time for such formalities.

He nodded.

- Lord, I'm not bringing you good news. - he knew that Phillipe would hate it if he would were not directly to the point. With regret, he gave him the bomb he was carrying in his hands. - They invaded the west side, your majesty. They are ... are ... entering the fortress.

The murmur was inevitable, and Phillipe has not showed a sign by the comment. It was almost as if the counselor had told him a banal story.

- Which one? - Phillipe asked with a slight arch of his eyebrow. But he feared already know the answer when the counselor did not answer. There was a scorching silence, where the deep sigh of Phillipe echoed in the hall. He closed his eyes.

- Louis - murmured with bitterness.

Any layman knew of the fight between the brothers, and that without a shadow of doubt was being the perfect opportunity for Louis to snatch of anyway at once to the throne. What he dosen't ever imagined, however, was that Louis preferred to join to the wizards, rather than try into an agreement with him.

Outside, the noise deafening attracted the attention of everyone, and for a moment, just for a moment he forgot the pain of betrayal for concentrate on the bigger problem he had in his hands. Cries of terror echoed and were getting closer, the sound of blade against blade they made the king to think if they were using sword just for fun, for he knew these were much powerful with wands in their hands instead sword.

- Oh, damn! - One of them shouted, and several faces have turned towards door. The strong sounds on the gate were like a funeral sound of battle that soon would happen between the mens agains witches.

Phillipe almost laughed. Almost. The world falling at his feet, but the stupor prevented him of thinking clearly. Month ago, then perhaps he would have conducted the situation differently. Remorse? Guilt? Any of these feelings was strong in his mind. A month ago, and would have thought carefully before waging a war with the wizards.

He felt strong fingers tighten his shoulders. Marcus, a very tall man with black hair and one of the most loyal men, spoke with pleading voice.

- Lord, I beg you to reconsider my request! Please!

- No! I will not leave this castle! - The king shouted. His anger, suddenly overwhelmed by the thought of running away like a cornered rabbit. He stood up, surprising everyone, with long strides toward the door.

Marcus looked at him, incredulously, shaking his head with pity.

- Sorry, I can not afford it! - he have announced. Then Marcus turned to give orders to the guards - Take the king go until the passage behind the tapestry in his room. Force him if necessary!

But nobody moved along, and the laughter of the king echoed through the hall.

- You are very loyal sir, but you seem to have forgotten that the witches took the secret passageways? The hidden door behind the dungeon? Do you think they no longer expect in the end of this passage you refers to? No Marcus, - said, - Even if it was my will, the witches have already taken everything, and my brother helps . I'm already a dead man - he added.

At this moment the gates opened with a deafening roar. Everything happened too fast. Men were thrown into the air like puppets, while witches were appearing with wands into fists, shouting spells, casting themselves with swords on battle of life and death with these "muggles" humans. Within seconds the room had become a war scenario

Philippe II didn't hid himself, he came forward with his sword and fought hard, not knowing that the fate has had to set apart him the worst of the life. Casting a sidelong look at, he saw the man of darkness, who all feared. His name was Voldemort. At his side was Marcus, dead.

There was a protracted struggle. In the end, he had lost and accepted defeat.