Sisters Of The Dead

The three black sisters are hooded and dark. They will go at any length to destroy the good. The only question is, how long will it be until the good meet their end?

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The Black Sisters

Chapter 1

It was a cold, crisp night, just right for having a mass breakout from Azkaban. It was planned most carefully, to every detail. Under the shadow of the oak tree, a woman stode in black, barely lifting her hood. The lake near them made a soft gushing noise but the woman made no sign of movement but stood stone still. The huge oak tree was planted hundreds of years ago but was standing with pride, though the branches were clinging on for dear life. Suddenly, with a faint pop a slim silhouette appeared several feet near the first woman. The woman made no notice of the sudden new-comer but continued to stare forward. The second woman made several elegant steps and stood near, in the same dull position. Several minutes ticked in silence until the first lady spoke.

“She is late.” She said, an icy voice of hers declared. The second woman nodded in agreement and was about to speak until a pop came again and the third woman stumbled out behind the oak tree and faced the two women. 

“My apologies, I was capturing a filthy mudblood in the prison that we are yet to make. She is in my house now, no way to escape.” The third woman said, full of satisfaction. 

“No matter,” Came the first voice. 

“Are we not waiting for some others?” Asked the third woman, lifting her hood and revealing the dirtiest curls and yellow teeth. The two other women shook their heads and all disappeared at the same time. Time for action.


The tallest of the three, the first woman apperated straight behind some bushes, a bit behind the Dementors from Azkaban. Positioning herself to get a clear view of Azkaban she looked at it with utter disgust. So this is where my mother and relatives sat, she thought angrily. Meanwhile, the second woman apparated from the other side, where more Dementors were placed. She walked slowly, reaching out her withered hand…

“My friends,”She said gazing under the Dementor's hood. The closest were suspicious but got over it, and started to speak to her, in a strange, strangled language that she understood. 

“My friends,” She repeated, “I have work to do in this filthy place. I am destroying it. Keep away from it, and we shall give you more happiness with toture. I am breaking it. You will not alarm the security or anyone else for the matter. Two women are involved, do not attack.” One of the Dementors bowed and the rest echoed and a few squeals of triumph echoed in the misty air. With that, she disappeared. And the third woman, gazed at the prison, her eyes narrowing with dislike. Soon, a patronus soared near her, and vanished in a puff of smoke. Cackling madly, she stepped towards the stone steps, where Dementors let her pass. And, putting a Dissolution Charm, she was the same as the wall. 


The doors creaked and cried in protest, as if they knew that intruders were about. But Lilith Batesrat stayed hidden by a protective spell. Batesrat walked silently through the door, almost walking straight into the fiery guards of Azkaban. He black shoes made the soft clicking noise as she creeped up behind the innocent, half-asleep guard. Pulling her wand out, she made the single candle flicker, gradually making it thinner…it had gone out. The whole room was full of the black color of death.


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