Summary:After being dumped from door to door in the middle of the night and passed idly from relative to relative as if she were an unopened, unwanted Christmas present with no tag and no receipt, the only daughter of the late James and Lily Potter was eventually thrust upon a poorly funded and overpopulated orphanage. Surrounded by orphaned children who loathed her for being younger and staff who lived in fear of her ominous abilities, she resigned herself to a meaningless life of misery and regret; one small, irrelevant drop in an uncaring ocean of loneliness and isolation, waiting to be washed ashore and left to silently fade away.
Well, that was until she discovered that fate wasn't quite finished with her yet, as she received a rather strange letter one day.
"Is that...?"
She gasped with shock as she inspected the extravagant, flourished letters that swirled in beautiful loops across the front of the perfectly sealed envelope that she held within her small, delicate and suddenly trembling hands.
"... is that my name?"
Notes:This is an Alternate Universe story about the only daughter of James and Lily Potter, the 'Girl-Who-Lived', and her journey through life.
Plot-based story. Please heed the tags.
I have disabled comments. The majority of people are supportive in their comments, but I suffer from a lot of anxiety and depression and the negative, hurtful comments that I receive are quite devastating to my already fragile mental state.
It's not a perfect story, please don't have super high expectations.
Chapter 1: The Girl Who LivedChapter TextIt was a turbulent period in history when James and Lily Potter had their first and only child, and some might have argued that it was rather irresponsible to bring a child into a world that was being ravaged by war. Some would quietly claim that they should have waited until after the fall of the Dark Lord who was, at the time, doing his utmost to destroy every pillar and foundation of magical society in an attempt to plunge the entire world into chaos and anarchy. There were even a few whispered comments from their closest friends that the two were being quite selfish and that they should have thought of what would happen to the child if they were to be killed or incapacitated, given that they had repeatedly opposed the Dark Lord already and were currently sitting at both the number one and two spots on his list of eye-twitching annoyances. They never did quite find out which one of them was actually at number one in the end, however they debated about it frequently and James especially enjoyed creating a playful competition for the coveted (or for those who were sane; feared) spot at the top of the Dark Lord's kill list. They were Gryffindors after all; they didn't spend seven years in the 'House of the Courageous' at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry without learning a thing or two about reckless and brash behaviour. When they had learned of Lily's pregnancy however, the couple were forced to abandoned their guerrilla warfare tactics and bold battles with Death Eaters, focusing instead on keeping Lily, and their child, out of harms way. It was difficult for both of them to do, however James especially found his wand-hand itching whenever he read the ever-darkening news of the magical world. It took more than a few words of comfort and reassurance from his wife to keep him from charging off into the frontlines once again and it was merely the knowledge that he needed to protect his child, who was peacefully growing inside of his beloved wife, that caused him to keep his feet planted within their charming little cottage.
Despite what may have been said about the two young adults and their boldness (or perhaps recklessness), one thing that was never even remotely considered by any who knew the couple was the idea of their child growing up in an unloving or uncaring home. James and Lily had already begun to lavishly pile love and affection upon the future heir (or heiress) to the Potter line while still in the womb; before Lily was even six months into her pregnancy, the child had a spot reserved and paid for at Hogwarts and James had already excitedly begun preparing his quidditch lessons and training regime, while Lily would lovingly caress her growing belly with fondness and excitement. The magical world may have been in a state of civil war, and the Potters placed deep in hiding from it, however that didn't stop the couple from dreaming of the world they had been fighting for and eagerly planning exactly how their child was going to grow up when the Dark Lord was defeated.
Unfortunately the Dark Lord wasn't defeated before the birth of their child, as they had hoped, yet they were still in awe of the life that they had created regardless. They had realised prior to their child's birth that it would be a home delivery, conducted in secret away from the eyes and ears of the Dark Lord's spies, and they were protected by some of the most powerful charms that the magical world had ever seen, courtesy of Albus Dumbledore. Now that the Potters were in hiding to protect their child, the aging (though powerful) headmaster of Hogwarts was the only other living thing standing between the Dark Lord and his domination. Dumbledore was far more powerful in magical ability than the Dark Lord was and everyone knew it, yet it was also well known that he was getting older, slower and frailer. The Dark Lord had all the time in the world and he knew it, while Dumbledore was sitting squarely on a ticking clock that reminded him constantly of his own mortality. With a surprising sense of patience, the Dark Lord had managed to avoid Dumbledore entirely during the war and instead used his followers to strike at places of importance before retreating from the battle when a fatigued Dumbledore would arrive. The Dark Lord may not have been able to best Dumbledore in a duel, but with how he played the battlefield; he didn't have to. Where once James and Lily would show up to heroically save the day and best the Dark Lord's elite, now it was up to Dumbledore to be everywhere at once and he simply could not be. With one side having far superior numbers and complete control of the board, it was an inevitability that either through time or strategy, the Dark Lord would eventually win out in their little game for control of society. James knew this and he crumpled newspaper after newspaper in his hands; day after day, week after week.
On the eve of the 31st of July 1980, inside their cosy little cottage with a medi-witch who had been sworn to secrecy, Lily and James held their newborn daughter and cried tears of joy.
"You are the brightest star in this; the darkest of nights," Lily whispered through her fatigue to her daughter as she cradled the newborn child in her arms, "I love you so much."
James simply stared down at his daughter and felt a pure, unequivocal desire to protect this child from anything and anyone that would seek to harm her. He had never felt anything like it; he knew that he loved Lily and he knew that he loved his friends, but as he stared down into the small, delicate, beautiful face before him, he realised that he hadn't truly known what love actually was until now.
A year passed by before their eyes as their daughter rapidly grew, to their immense pride and joy. She advanced faster than they had expected; magical children tended to mature at a much faster rate than non-magical children however their daughter was something else entirely, even by magical standards. She was clearly intelligent and creative, even at her very young age, which caused no shortage of pride from James who puffed every time she demonstrated any kind of creative thinking.
On the 31st of October, the two were alerted that the protective wards on their cottage had finally failed as the Dark Lord comfortably strolled through the barrier, courtesy of a certain friend of theirs who had enabled his entrance. Neither James nor Lily knew why the Dark Lord had suddenly been able to walk right into their front yard, despite not having been able to find them for over a year, however they didn't exactly have time to question it.
"He's here!" James cried out to Lily from the front door as Lily scrambled to her feet in the living room, "take her and go! I'll hold him off!"
Lily turned and ran for the upstairs bedroom with fear pounding in her heart, stumbling slightly over the first few steps as she went. She reached the landing at the top of the stairs and burst into their daughters room, startling the girl who had been sleeping rather peacefully. The sounds of loud explosions and unsettling crackles in the air echoed up the stairs and brightly coloured flashes of light illuminated the entire house like terrifying bursts of lightning in a raging storm. The sound of the fighting didn't terrify Lily however, nor did the flashing lights. What terrified Lily was the sudden cessation of noise as the sounds and lights stopped almost as soon as they had begun.
"No…" she gasped out as she looked back to the bedroom door, knowing within her heart that James would have never stopped fighting, not while he still had a single breath in his body left. She knew what that meant, even as she denied it vehemently to herself.
The floorboards outside of the bedroom creaked slightly and Lily knew that she would not be able to make it out in time, not through the doors. She placed a hand on her daughters arm and closed her eyes, however she realised that there was an anti-apparation ward around the house, preventing her escape. The sound of footsteps behind her let her know that her time was up and she simply turned to her daughter in her crib, who seemed quite aware that something was not right. Lily smiled fondly at the unusually intelligent girl, even as a single tear spilled from her eyes.
"You've always been so smart," Lily whispered as she stroked her daughters cheek, gazing down into the emerald green eyes that were so similar to her own, "you are so clever. Now I need you to be brave too. I need you to be strong."
A noise behind her alerted Lily to the fact that she was no longer alone in the room and with one last squeeze of her daughters cheek, she stood to her full height, turning slowly to face her husband's killer.
"You will never win," she said simply to the cloaked figure that towered over her within the colourful and warm bedroom. The dark and imposing presence was starkly out of place within the childish and slightly silly environment that had little moving snitches painted on the wall and brightly coloured books in all directions. Lily took one last look around the place that she had so lovingly crafted with James over the last year; this room was the home of everything that they valued, and not a penny was stored within it.
"You will meet your end. If not by my hand, then by the hand of another," she said flatly.
"There is no end," the cloaked figure said coldly, "for I am legendary, and legends never die."
"You aren't a legend," Lily said with a humourless laugh as she stared into the bright scarlet eyes before her, "you are a ghost that is still walking among the living. You are already dead, you just don't know it. But you will."
The cloaked figure responded only with two words and upon completion of those words, Lily Potter lay crumpled in front of her daughters crib. She let out one final breath as the world was stripped of one the greatest witches that it would ever hold, and one of the greatest mothers that it would never know. She departed the world to find her husband in the great beyond, leaving behind a confused girl who simply stood in her crib, holding onto the small side rails to support her wobbly legs.
The cloaked figured peered down at the child in the crib who stared back with wide, innocent eyes.
"Nothing personal," he said quietly to the girl, "but only I can live forever."
Without hesitation, he cast the same spell that had just ended both her mother and father, pointing his long, black wand down at the child without mercy. Without compassion. Without regret. The girl raised a confused hand in his direction, opening her palm out to him at the very last moment. Was it a sign of surrender? Defiance? Perhaps even forgiveness? The Dark Lord did not know.
What he did know was that it was the last thing he saw before he was ripped from his body in the most painful experience of his life. He screamed and thrashed wildly as pure agony terrorised his every nerve and every sensation. It was as though hot knives were piercing his body while his skin burned from the fire of a dozen suns. He could feel his very mind being destroyed as his body crumpled and he was ejected like a virus or a plague; expelled as mere unneeded waste to be disposed of. He no longer knew where he was, nor if he was even alive or dead, as he was cast away from his former body and sent screaming out into the night. He fled in no particular direction, not even knowing how he was traveling or where he would go, simply knowing that he needed to be anywhere that this girl was not.
He had been a legend mere moments ago, yet in one fell swoop, he was now nothing but a ghost.
The child simply stared at the strange occurrences that were happening in front of her eyes. She did not know what was going on; she had been contentedly asleep and having a rather pleasant dream about strange, flying, winged balls that needed catching when all of a sudden she had been rudely awoken and now, two people lay on the ground outside of her crib, unmoving.
To add to her confusion, another man that she did not know entered her room a moment later; a man with long, black hair and a large, sharp nose. He looked rather funny to her, however there wasn't anything overly amusing about the way he fell to his knees as he observed the scene and sobbed tears of raw pain and anguish. The man, weeping openly, crawled forward and cradled Lily's body as sorrow and regret poured forth from his very soul. She could almost see the energy pouring out from him and she reached out towards him with her palm open, but once again, she was denied as the man ignored her completely. At the sound of a loud crack from outside the cottage, the man suddenly got to his feet and wrapped himself in a strange cloak, disappearing from view entirely.
How bizarre.
While her tiny mind was struggling to comprehend what was happening, another person entered her room shortly after the first man had disappeared. This man also had long, black hair and this man was also crying openly as he entered, however he did not cradle Lily's body as the first one had, nor did he pour the same kind of energy out into the room. He simply cried over the scene for a moment until the child found herself being abruptly lifted from her crib by this strange man and she began to cry; he was unfamiliar, he stank of smoke and he had a strange beard. It was all too much for her but she could do little more than loudly complain about what was happening in the only way that she knew how. A strange rumbling that came from outside only served to confuse and overload her senses even further.
Her cries were ignored and she was swiftly taken outside, however she became aware of a very large man who was blocking their path through the front yard of the cottage. Broken pieces of glass and wood lined the formerly beautiful garden as the front half of the cottage had been blown outwards during the violent struggle between James and the Dark Lord, however the large man simply trampled all over it without concern, knowing that the state of the garden-bed was not his priority right now.
"Sirius," he said gruffly, "I'm here on Dumbledore's orders. Gotta take the girl back to 'im."
"Hagrid," the man who was carrying her spoke at last, "she… she has no-one else… I'm her godfather… I promised them I would look after her…"
"You gotta trust Dumbledore," Hagrid said softly, "he knows what to do with her. What do you know about lookin' after a kid? Think about what's best for her."
The man who was carrying her, Sirius, laughed at that, and he turned the girl around in his hands to look at her for a moment.
"I'll see you soon kiddo," Sirius said with a teary laugh, "I just gotta do something important first and then I'll be back. Promise."
He reluctantly handed her over to the large man, who wrapped her in a rather fluffy blanket. It was quite warm and cosy, and the very fatigued girl found herself slowly drifting off to sleep, her right palm held open loosely with a deep, star-shaped scar displayed in the middle.
***********************
Albus Dumbledore truly believed that he was making the right decision when he left the girl on the doorstep of the Dursley residence later that evening. After spotting the very distinctive scar on the child's hand and understanding what it meant, Dumbledore knew without a shadow of doubt that he could never again rely on the Fidelius charm to protect her. He had been reluctant to delve into any form of dark magic in the protection of the Potters and he knew now that it had cost Lily and James their lives. He knew far more about magic than most and he knew that if he had of cast the blood wards that James and Lily had both asked him about, it would have protected them against anything, even the Dark Lord Voldemort. Blood magic was dark and dangerous however, it was widely known, and rather than risk such magic he had reassured them that the Fidelius charm would protect them and keep them safe instead. He had put all of his faith entirely in the good nature of humanity, using loyalty and love as the strongest line of defense against the darkness by tying the Potters fate to that of their close friend, Peter Pettigrew. He had of course been planning on doing so with Sirius Black as the Secret Keeper, however Sirius raised a rather excellent point that he would be a clear and obvious target, while many did not even know that Pettigrew had been one of their closest friends at all.
He shook his head at his own foolishness as he reached down and painlessly drew a drop of blood from the sleeping child with his wand. He levitated the drop of blood through the air and placed it on the front door; sealing it in with a powerful curse that would ensure her safety, so long as she called that place home. It was entirely dark magic at its core, however as he mourned the passing of Lily and James within his mind, he realised that he must be willing to do whatever was necessarily to protect this child from any further harm. He had failed to protect her parents and he owed it to her to ensure that she, at least, got to grow up and experience a world without Voldemort, just as her parents wanted. She would grow up in an ordinary home with her non-magical relatives; she would live a normal, peaceful life until the time came for her to attend Hogwarts and when the time came, he would honour her parents reservations of her place within the hallowed castle walls.
He rang the doorbell and disappeared from sight, hovering only for long enough to see that the child was safely taken indoors.
"Do you think this is wise?" Professor McGonagall asked the headmaster, "these people are awful. I've been keeping an eye on them."
"She is family," he said confidently, "and besides… she is well protected within those walls; even from them. She will never have any harm befall her while in their care and they will do their utmost for her, I assure you."
He was completely and utterly right; the girl was well looked after for the entirety of the time that she was with the Dursley family. They fed her, changed her, wrapped her in new blankets and gently patted her on the back, even as they drove out of town and left her with Vernon's cousin, who was a highly successful businessman and had controlling interests in several major companies. Naturally, the man was exceeding wealthy and highly-organised so the child was clearly better off in his care than their own, when they only had Vernon's meagre salary to look after two adults and two children with. To the Dursleys, it was objectively the right thing to do by the girl.
It seemed that Dumbledore was right in the end and that the Dursleys did everything in their power to give the girl a better life. Such was the twisted nature of dark magic and Dumbledore simply continued with his own life for the next ten years, blissfully unaware that James and Lily's daughter was not, in fact, at number four, privet drive.
Unsurprisingly Vernon's very wealthy cousin, who had more money than he knew what to do with, had very little interest in looking after a child that was not his own. After discovering the child at the gates of his estate, he had one of his staff escort the child to the house of his sister in law, as he knew that she had miscarried last month. Unfortunately, the woman struggled to think of any way that he could have been more insensitive and so she took the baby to the first orphanage she could find, before returning home to angrily shout down the telephone at the man about the thoughtless and unwanted act.
So it was that the beloved daughter of the Potters was found on the doorstep of a run-down old orphanage on the outskirts of London. She was found by the Matron; an old, world-weary widow, who simply pursed her lips at having had yet another child dumped upon them. Did people not know the nightmare that was involved in attempting to leave a child like this? There was paperwork, legal proceedings, medical costs… as if she didn't have enough trouble and children on her hands already.
The orphanage was one of the last of a dying breed; as legal conditions began to tighten, more and more orphanages were being shut down in place of 'foster parenting' or 'care homes'. The Matron, Beatrice, was entirely on board with the program and was more than happy to give the children into the state's care for rehousing, however, for all of the 'lip service' that the government gave about their dedication to putting children into loving foster homes, they were rather slow at actually taking the children off her hands or giving them anywhere else to go. It was all well and good to determine that children should be with their own loving carers by law, yet most people still wanted their own flesh and blood, not to adopt some stranger's child and in order to house children in the ideal situation, money was required. A lot of money; a lot more money than people were actually willing to part with, even though they supported the 'idea'.
She had heard it all before; people supported adoption in theory because it made them feel superior as human beings, but they just 'didn't want to adopt themselves'. The children were obviously damaged from abuse, or had bad genetics because their parents were clearly meth-heads, or didn't have the right hair colour that they wanted, or the right skin colour, or eyes, or body proportions…
Beatrice could do little more than scoff whenever people spouted propaganda at her about modernising foster homes. She had almost two dozen children within her care of all ages and for the three that had been adopted in the last two years, she had gained six more. Seven now, including this one. She couldn't even lie to the older children anymore and was rather brutally honest about the fact that if they were over the age of ten, they were probably not going to be adopted anymore and had best start thinking about what they were going to do when they turned eighteen. It was a horrible fate, and she was all too aware of the children's plight, but there was little more she could do than give them a roof and whatever she could afford to give them with their measly donations and grants (that were themselves at risk of disappearing in favour of these elusive 'care homes' that were spoken of, yet never actually seen).
On the positive side, a very young child tended to be a lot easier to unload onto new parents so she had that going for her, even if it meant that it had just reduced the chances of adoption for every other child in the building. An unfortunate truth, but, a young child offered the promise of potential; you didn't yet know whether it would be tall, or pretty, or funny. A young child offered the dazzling promise of all of those things that prospective parents desired, while an older child had already removed the charming ideal of potential by existing as they were. How dare they.
Her thoughts were interrupted and she did a double-take; were her eyes mistaken or was the child, who was formerly on the top step, now down at the bottom? How did it get there?
She shook her head, she must have been mistaken. The stress was clearly getting to her.
"Let's see, do you even have a name?" she wondered aloud as she moved down to pick up the child who was surprisingly sleeping quite peacefully in her bundle of blankets, despite the chilly morning air. Her exposed (and rather cute) little nose was even warm to the touch, which was rather odd.
"Of course, no note, no money… always the same…"
With no other choice, Beatrice simply sighed and took the child back inside with her, along with the newspaper that she had actually gone out to collect in the first place. She laughed as she realised that the postman would have seen the child and casually ignored it.
What a charming world they lived in.
"What are you chuckling about, Beatrice?" A young woman asked with a slight smile as she mopped the floors in the entrance hall of the old building. She had beautiful auburn hair and a warm nature about her, even as she sloshed away with a very old mop and some water that didn't look any cleaner than the floors she was attempting to improve. The only charming thing about the floor was the smile of the woman who was mopping it.
"Oh, nothing dear, don't trouble yourself with the thoughts of this old woman," Beatrice said with a wave of her hand. The young woman, Sarah, was a new addition to her team and had started volunteering just last week at the orphanage. Beatrice was not in a position to turn any help down, although she clearly pointed out to the young woman that she was unable to pay her and would probably never be able to do so. It hadn't troubled her at all however as she had simply said that she wished to help the children. Beatrice occasionally got 'good samaritans' like her coming through, however none stuck around for more than a few months at best; once they realised that the work they were doing hardly ever led to actual positive outcomes they tended to move on to something that felt more rewarding, like community firefighting or putting band-aides on people at festivals.
"Here, take this," Beatrice said airily, "I think it needs changing."
Sarah's eyes widened as she realised that Beatrice was holding out a bundle of blankets that looked suspiciously like-
"Is, is that a-"
"A headache is what it is," Beatrice huffed, "we'll need to report this immediately. The police can do a check to see which births occurred that match her age and who knows, they may get lucky and find something that stands out."
"And if they don't?" Sarah asked, shocked at what she was seeing.
"Then we have another mouth to feed it seems," Beatrice said, rather annoyed at the thought.
Unfortunately for Beatrice, it turned out that James and Lily Potter's daughter was not easily found in the muggle databases and, with no name or knowledge of who she was, the police were rather baffled about what to do with the child now.
"I'm not really sure what we do here," one of the officers admitted to the other quietly, though Beatrice's hearing was a lot sharper than people gave her credit for, "don't we have to fill out a form-eight for this? Take protective custody of the child?"
"Can't consider it a missing child if no-one has reported it," the other officer countered, "and what are we going to put on the form? It doesn't have a name and we have zero details about it. We could file it as child abuse, but we have no-one to charge. These cases can take years to get sorted in the courts," he added with a small sigh, "especially for one with no identification."
"I have a solution," Beatrice said, interrupting the two, "how about I just take the child back, find an appropriate carer and have her adopted with some creative paperwork. I bet I can get this girl to a family within a few weeks, given her age. All I need you to do is to create a file that gives her a date of birth and an ID of some kind, so that I can use it as a reference to fudge through adoption forms later. No-one is going to look closely into something like this, don't worry. No-one ever does."
The offices looked at each other for a moment.
"Or," Beatrice said pointedly, "you can send this child down the legal rabbit-hole of which she will never come out of by attempting to submit a report of having found an unidentified child, and effectively ruin her chances as she will probably be several years old by the time your department has finished chasing its own tail and the courts have had their back and forth. What's it going to be for this little one? Adoption? Or state-ownership?"
Fifteen minutes later, Beatrice strolled from the police station with a child that now had a very vague file on record of her birth. She had been given a randomly selected name and a randomly selected date of birth by the two officers for the file and only Beatrice knew it for the paperwork; however she elected not to share it and in the end, she took that secret with her to her grave.
"Why not give her a name?" Sarah asked when Beatrice explained that the child was to stay with them in the hopes of adoption, and that she was to remain nameless for now.
"This little one will be in and out of here, given her age," Beatrice explained, "it's a benefit not having a name; prospective parents will be far more drawn to the idea of giving her their own name. It makes her feel more like their own child. Trust me, it's very effective. People do it with puppies all the time."
"Yeah but this is a little girl…" Sarah said slowly.
"... that we are trying to get adopted out," Beatrice finished, "whatever works."
Sarah had to begrudgingly agree that in a twisted way it did make sense, but she felt rather bad for simply called her 'the child' or 'the girl'. Despite electing to avoid giving her a name just yet, Sarah couldn't help but grow attached to the young girl anyway. She was remarkably quiet, incredibly easy to entertain and had the most beautiful emerald green eyes that Sarah had ever seen. Her black hair was surprisingly long and thick for such a young child and it almost seemed unnatural, yet it was quite charming in its own way. Sarah knew that it was a terrible idea to grow overly fond of the young girl but, she simply couldn't help it. The girl was an absolute delight to be around.
As time went on, both Sarah and Beatrice began to notice that there was more unusual things about the girl than just her luscious hair or excellent behaviour. Beatrice had been holding the girl in the lobby one afternoon, who had been completely empty handed, when she looked down once again to see that the girl was suddenly holding a toy car. Beatrice had no idea where she had gotten the car in the first place since they didn't have choking-hazard toys in the building as a flat-rule. Besides, unless the girl had extendable-arms, there was no way she could have reached the floor or desk to pick it up. It was slightly unsettling but she did her best to brush it off. Sarah had her own odd experiences with the girl as she noticed the flowers in every room becoming more lively and visibly brightening whenever she walked past them with the girl in her arms. They sometimes even changed their position entirely, which was incredibly disturbing. It wasn't that unusual for plants to change in order to follow the source of sunlight or to avoid certain temperatures, however it was very unusual in the orphange since all of the plants were fake and shouldn't have been doing anything at all, in any capacity, ever.
Beatrice continued to grow more and more concerned about the child's behaviour and odd occurrences over time, however she didn't think that she had anything to fear as the girl was quiet and rather friendly, with beautiful eyes and an infectious smile. It didn't take long until there were soon several prospective parents that were interested in adopting her, to Beatrice's immense relief. Unexpectedly, Beatrice found herself being in the unusual position of having to narrow down her choices of prospects, although the couples were only interested in the bubbling young girl and didn't even bother to look at any of the older children at all.
Everything went smoothly with a few couples that she picked out; background checks were cleared, proper forms were filed (with some creative problem-solving when it came to the girl's details) and everyone absolutely adored the quiet, young and friendly girl…
…right up until they had their 'meetings' with her.
In order to finalise any adoption, it was required that the prospect parents had several 'meetings' with the child, in order to get to know them better and to ensure that both were a good fit for each other. They were supervised by Beatrice and were usually harmless bond-building exercises like playing with blocks together, or reading a book together. It was an important process for the older children who were capable of forming their own opinions, however for a girl this young it was more of a formality than anything else.
Unfortunately, the formalities all turned rather sour as there were many strange things that happened at each 'meeting'. As soon as the child got excited or began to play, bizarre occurrences would happen; blocks would float in the air, lights would flicker on or off and crayons would start to draw on the walls of their own accord. It was an utterly terrifying experience for both Beatrice and the prospective parents, only made worse by gleeful cackles of laughter coming from the young child as she happily played with her toys.
"She's cursed!" the final couple yelled at Beatrice as they hurried for the door, "she's evil!"
"No, she's just…"
Beatrice didn't even have the heart to disagree anymore, as she wasn't sure that she actually did.
After she had exhausted all of the best applicants, Beatrice was forced to accept some of the more 'questionable' parents who had come seeking the girl. Even those prospects quickly fled however, and it didn't take long before the girl had developed something of a nasty reputation for herself. The other children did little to aid the girl; they would eagerly spread the rumours to anyone they met or would casually let slip that the girl had been through a dozen prospects already, and that she clearly had something wrong with her that was stopping her adoption.
Beatrice was forced to reluctantly come up with a more permanent home for the child as it became clear that no-one was interested in adopting the 'demon-child' as she was starting to be known as. It was admittedly rather scary for Beatrice to be under the same roof; she had lived her life by the word of God and found herself being torn between a desire to help the charming and misunderstood child and a desire to dump the demonic child on another orphanages door in fear of retribution from above. The child had never actually harmed anyone and had only ever looked at Beatrice with a fond or playful expressions, which only served to confuse her more. 'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live' was a little harder to enforce when faced with an apparently demonic, yet very friendly and rather cute, orphaned child. Against her better judgement, she prayed for forgiveness and squeezed an old, decrepit crib into one of the bedrooms that housed another younger girl. The girl wasn't particularly happy about it, but, what else was Beatrice to do?
And so the only daughter and sole heiress to the line of Potter began her strange journey in the orphanage where she would spend the next ten years learning about life, and how she hated it. As the young child lay in her cold crib by a dusty and broken window, she stared up into the sky and saw a shooting star dart past, winking to her slightly as it bid her farewell, good luck and goodnight, before fading into the dark and falling to earth, with none aside from the drowsy child in the crib being aware that it had even fallen at all.
Chapter 2: The Ghost Among the LivingChapter TextBeatrice often came across as a very stern matron on the outside and many of the children at the orphanage feared her, despite the fact that she kept them fed and clothed when no-one else would. She found it very unfair, however it was only natural behaviour for the children to fear her whenever she shouted at them in anger or when she cried in frustration; they didn't understand what she was going through in order to simply keep the lights on and food on the tables, what meagre food that it was. They were children at the end of the day, and Beatrice had never been particularly adept at expressing her feelings with other adults, let alone communicating complicated sentiments to young minds. Still, she believed that she was adequately expressing her affection for the children by ensuring that they continued to have a home to live in, especially as time passed and Sarah, like all of the others, eventually moved on to other things. Beatrice didn't begrudge her; Sarah had apologetically explained that she had been offered a lucrative position in Paris and would be departing shortly, but Beatrice had waved her off entirely, telling her to go and make something of herself somewhere else. With no others volunteering their time or energy, Beatrice was forced to make do on her own and her stress level increased dramatically with the doubled work load and the new problems that she was facing.
Aside from the essentials that were required in order to survive, there was one other precious commodity that was in short supply and high demand; space. Something that, unfortunately, the new resident 'demon-child' required a lot of.
The girl was only small, of course, and occupied very little space directly. She could have easily fit into any of the bedrooms that were available at the orphanage, or bunked with any number of people, were it not for the unfortunate fact that she had a slight problem; whenever she shared a room with another child, her strange powers began to affect them in many ways and it made sharing a room almost impossible. It had been smooth sailing for a few days as the girl simply spent her time quietly laying in her crib, staring up at the sky through the broken window of the run-down room she shared with another girl, who was seven years old. The older girl had even commented to Beatrice how eerily quiet the new girl was, which was a relief as Beatrice had worried that the young child would disturb the older girl regularly.
The good times didn't last however and after tossing and turning for an hour, the seven year old suddenly awoke and positively screamed the orphanage down in fear at the things she was seeing. Naturally Beatrice arrived in her oversized nightgown and hushed the child to sleep, reassuring her that it was just a nightmare, yet when the same thing occurred three times over the next hour, she realised that this wasn't a simple nightmare at all. Beatrice was quick to figure out that it must have been the presence of the child and so she tried several things; she tried creating a wall between the two with hanging sheets cast down the middle of the room, she tried soothing both girls before bed, she tried providing a night light and more. Nothing seemed to settle either girl however and night after night, screams would shake the foundations as terrifying and traumatic images were sent rocketing through the older girl's brain, courtesy of the completely unaware 'demon-child' she shared a room with. The older girl was soon babbling about green lights, explosions and hooded monsters, and she had become too afraid to even go to sleep at all.
By the time her third birthday rolled around (not that anyone knew it was) Beatrice had long since given up on the idea of combining the child with others and had given her a room all to herself. While it sounded nice at first, it did absolutely no favours for the child when it came to the bitterness the other children had begun to feel. A new arrival at an orphanage was never popular, especially one that was younger than the existing residents. The children were smart enough to know that the youngest child among them was the most likely to be adopted first, yet when the new arrival was also given special treatment, purely because she had an unnatural ability to torment the others who attempted to sleep in the same room as her, bitterness soon gave way to anger and eventually, outright hatred. Beatrice knew what the other children were thinking and saying about the new arrival, however she could do nothing about it and even she had to admit herself that the other children did have valid points; it was rather unfair on them no matter which way you looked at it.
Beatrice had tried, Lord knows she tried, to get get the girl adopted quickly. It was the best solution for everyone (the girl included) to get her out of there as soon as possible. Yet, she was growing at an unusual pace and she had already started to look much older than she was. She was rapidly progressing beyond the age that was highly popular and was starting to become harder and harder to find potential parents for, even when Beatrice had lowered her (already low) standards. Worse still, the girl had not only begun to talk, but had taken to forming disturbingly well constructed sentences that sounded rather disconcerting when spoken by a small child. It was admittedly adorable at first when the small child asked something like, 'could you tell me the time, please?' yet it hadn't taken long to progress into more complicated comments or questions that were simply unsettling. When she had asked two prospective parents, 'do you know why I am here?' it had proven too much for them and they had bolted for the door, never to return. Of course, there was also the fact that she had asked the question while the lights flickered, children's books swirled in the air around her head and two blocks clapped loudly against each other in the corner; it did make for an understandably upsetting experience.
The girl had reached four years old when she had her first experience with the ire of the other children. She had been planning to enjoy her wholesome breakfast of a piece of stale bread and a slightly soft apple (the standard fare at the orphanage) when a much older boy had taken the apple straight out of her hands. He was quite imposing as he was rather stocky and had short orange hair, with freckles that lined the bridge of his nose and an ugly expression upon his face.
"I wanted to eat that," she said with a frown, not understanding why he had taken it. It was her apple, why had he taken it? He already had an apple, lodged firmly in his other hand.
"Yeah well I wanted a good nights sleep but I'm forced to share with THREE other boys now," he said aggressively as he bit down onto her apple, "if you didn't occupy the entire top floor with your weirdness, we would all have space to ourselves."
"I don't have a whole top floor," she said in confusion, "I have one room."
"The nightmares are spreading," the boy said angrily, "and now they are moving everyone down to the lower floors to be safe. We are all living on top of each other because of you. Maybe it would be best for you to go and kill yourself. I bet that will stop the nightmares."
The boy finished off her apple in front of her, before throwing the core squarely in her very shocked and rather distraught face. With tears in her eyes, she had tried to ask Beatrice for another apple, yet Beatrice, in growing frustration, snapped at the girl and told her not to be greedy.
"Don't you have enough?" Beatrice sighed exasperatedly, "how much more do you want from us? You already have half of this place to yourself now!"
The girl felt tremendously guilty and didn't ask for more food again, even as the large boy continued to take her apple every day.
With only a bit of bread and the occasional few bites of fruit per day, the girl would have likely starved to death at some point in time, or at least become a complete mess from malnutrition, however she managed to pull off an astonishing feat that even she didn't understand at all. She had been lying in her bed, having long since outgrown the crib, and clutching at her stomach as pain gnawed at her insides. Her body was screaming for sustenance yet she did not dare and go and ask for more food. She simply tried to ignore the pain and go to sleep, yet as she rolled over in bed, she suddenly found herself falling in the air. Panicked, she quickly held her hands out and she landed painfully onto a solid tiled floor, although thankfully the drop hadn't been from a particular high height.
With confusion, she looked around to see that she was no longer in her own bedroom and was… well, she didn't quite know where. There was something strangely familiar about the place but she didn't know why it would be. Her attention was stolen before she could think too much about it by the tall glass displays around her that held all manner of bread and cakes in them, and she was overwhelmed by the sudden wafting smell of freshly baked goods in the air. It was heavenly and her mouth began to water at the scent, while her stomach grumbled loudly. So loudly in fact, that a strange man appeared from around the corner, startling her.
"What the-!"
The large man, who had a big belly and a strange white hat on his head, peered down in confusion at the child who was currently standing within his closed and locked bakery.
"How-how did you get in? We're closed right now," he said slowly, "you'll… you'll have to come back when we open. Where are your parents? Are you lost?"
"I don't have any parents," the girl replied, "I am from the orphanage."
"Oh, that place…" he muttered grimly, "nasty business that. A shame for the kids there, well… for you, I guess. But how did you get in?"
"I guess I was hungry," she said quietly, "I didn't mean to come here. Honest."
His expression softened as her stomach grumbled very audibly in front of him.
"You don't get much food over there?" he asked her. She simply shook her head in response.
"No and my food gets taken away all the time too."
"That's rough… Well, look, I can't just give everything away to every kid who comes sneaking in here," he began, "but… here, you can at least have this."
He handed her a large loaf of bread and a few small cakes, to her great surprise.
"Now, you best be off," he said as he shuffled her towards the door with her arms full of her new treats, "you know your own way back?"
"Oh… I'm sure I can find it," she replied with a shrug, currently rather distracted by the strange scent of the freshly baked loaf of bread. It was like nothing she had ever experienced; now that she had it up close she could feel it was warm within her hands and it almost smelled… sweet. It was the most comforting thing she had ever held and it almost moved her to tears. She felt a strange urge to hug the loaf but she resisted, knowing that baker would probably think she was crazy.
"Well, it's not too far, you just follow this road straight down and turn left at Rosemary. It's the first one, you can't miss it."
The baker unlocked the door and shuffled her out with a slightly sad expression. To run a business within a fast-paced and cut-throat city one had to be firm and strict in their dealings, yet it wasn't every day that someone had to turn out a young child in the middle of the night. She didn't seem phased at all however, which was perhaps the most upsetting thing about the whole ordeal. He knew that the city had its share of vagrant children and she wasn't the first to come begging for scraps (although she was the first to somehow get around his alarm). He simply sighed and tried not to think too much about her as he busied himself back in his work. Life was a cruel mistress in this city and it always had been; London was the city of trampled dreams and calloused fingers. You worked yourself to the bone for a pittance or you perished. The city didn't discriminate when it came to which dreams it crushed in that regard, and it had always been like that. London may be 'open' but many of the doors within it remained firmly 'closed'.
The girl, blissfully unaware of the cultural and economical struggles of the city, took a few steps down the road in the direction of the orphanage, however after a moment she looked around and, when she saw that no-one was watching, she absurdly hugged the loaf tightly in her arms, pulling the loaf up against her cheek. It was unbelievably warm and cosy; she wondered if this is what it felt like to hug another person. After taking a moment to recover herself, she continued to wander down the road and curiously looked around as she went; she hadn't seen much of the outside world beyond the borders of the orphanage and the park that they visited sometimes (though it had been Sarah who had taken them and she was now, sadly, gone). She was so lost in the world that she almost walked straight past the street that she was meant to be turning down. She quickly spun on the spot to turn back and-
She blinked repeatedly as she realised that she was standing in her bedroom once again.
'That's neat,' she thought to herself as she sat down on her bed. She felt a bit strange, but she couldn't really tell whether her dizziness and nausea were from what she had just done or whether it was from the gnawing hunger that she felt in her stomach. Wasting no more time, she simply shrugged and began to pull apart the loaf of bread. She excitedly giggled for the first time in memory as she watched the super soft and spongy bread pull apart in awe. It was light, fluffy and reminded her of the clouds she would often watch float by from her window. She had never thought of the clouds as being bread before, yet now, she couldn't help but wonder if she could go up and eat them too.
'Maybe I can make myself appear up there too,' she thought to herself happily, 'I would have enough food to last forever.'
Unlike the clouds, her loaf of bread and single serve cakes (that she enjoyed, but found painfully sweet) hadn't lasted forever and she had eventually made her way through the loaf over the next few days. She found herself lying in bed once again with the all-too familiar sense of gnawing hunger scratching at her insides. Unfortunately, unlike her blissful ignorance that she previously held, all she could think of now was the soft, pliable bread of that baker who had kindly given it to her. It was an irony of sorts; the act of kindness had only given her a renewed sense of longing and desire, now that she knew just what she was missing out on.
She resisted for several more nights, until she eventually caved in and once again, found herself desperately twisting on the spot within her bedroom. Thankfully, it worked and she appeared right in the middle of the bakery to her delight. She was prepared this time however, and she immediately ran to the side and hid behind a silver trolley that perfectly obscured her small frame.
"Hm? Someone there?" The baker asked as he rounded a corner to inspect the area, but she stayed quiet and simply waited with bated breath. Eventually, the baker shrugged and returned to the rear, leaving her alone with all of the bread she could ever need. She began to grab the loaves; she took one, two, three, four even-!
She stopped with a frown. It didn't feel right to take so many and she remembered the baker's kind face when he had given her the first loaf while admitting that he probably shouldn't. With a soft sigh, she put three of the loaves back on the rack where they belong and after a moment of internal debate, decided that she really didn't need a full loaf if she was being honest with herself. She pulled the loaf in half and put half back on the shelf with the others, thinking that she was doing the right thing.
Satisfied, she spun on the spot and disappeared, returning once again to her bedroom with a happy smile at having mastered the useful little trick, and she began to carefully ration out her bread for the following few days, knowing that she needed to be disciplined with how much she was eating.
***********************
The girl blinked and before she knew it, three years had passed since her first trip to that small bakery on the outskirts of London.
She had settled into a comfortable rhythm over time; she had learned that the bakery was closed on Sundays and that the baker was only there in the evenings, while a woman ran the shop-front during the day. She had taken to using those precious Sundays to 'twist' (as she called it) into the bakery and take a very limited amount of food that, with careful planning, would sustain her through the week. She kept her plunder carefully hidden in her room, but thankfully no-one particularly wanted to step foot into her room and the other children only ever seemed to accost her in the dining area during meal times. The top floor of the orphanage had developed something of a taboo over the years, although now that the floor was empty, none of the other children were experiencing any unusual nightmares.
It hadn't escaped Beatrice's notice that the girl was somehow managing to survive off a ludicrously small amount of food. Beatrice was no fool; she had seen the other children taking the girl's food and had seen them throw things at her or call her unspeakable names when they thought no-one was watching. She took it as yet another sign that the girl was simply unnatural in every way; the girl was certainly skinny but she didn't appear to be starving and Beatrice could only assume that it was because of her demonic traits she clearly possessed. Several years ago Beatrice may have felt pity for her situation, yet now she was starting to feel a rising anger towards the girl and just how poorly the girl had integrated into the orphanage.
Beatrice had grown more and more stressed over the years and quite simply, she was getting older. She was tired; she was tired of fighting with children, she was tired of dealing with complicated paperwork and she was tired of dealing with unnatural occurrences happening around her. She was growing tired of the nameless girl who, despite having started to grow up and become quite pretty, was at the same time growing less cute or innocent with every passing day. Beatrice had given up on the idea of the girl being adopted entirely and didn't even bother doing any viewings any more, since they all ended the same way, no matter what she did.
In her bitterness, Beatrice had started to blame the girl for more than just the lack of adoption, even if the girl didn't do anything else intentionally. Whenever the power went out, she would assume that it was because of the girl or whenever a child had a nightmare at all, it was clearly her influence spreading. Thankfully the girl didn't do anything specific to antagonise the other children or even defend herself against them in any way. She would quietly hand over her food after eating what she could and head back to her room. Any time that she wasn't eating, or using the grimy shared bathroom, she spent in her room reading whatever books she could get her hands on. She had started with simple children's books; picture books that linked words to images or visually explained what a word was. Beatrice didn't mind her taking those books as she was the youngest and the other children didn't use them anyway. The children were technically all home-schooled, although their 'education' was mostly Beatrice teaching them the basics of English and maths and then letting them figure out the rest on their own. None of the other children had any interest in learning regardless, so Beatrice didn't waste her precious time on forcing it down their throats. Unlike the others however, their newest addition to the troop was rather interested in learning and she was rapidly advanced beyond the learning material that was made available to her. Beatrice had even caught the girl snooping around the books in the entrance hall; old novels and short stories that were far too advanced for her years. The books were mostly there to make the place look distinguished, not to actually encourage any form of linguistic flexibility among the children. Still, Beatrice didn't mind if she wanted to flick through adult books that she wouldn't understand; whatever kept her in her room, kept her quiet and kept her out of their way.
The fragile peace (if you could call the bullying, starvation and isolation 'peaceful') eventually came crashing down upon a very ordinary Tuesday morning. The older ginger boy who had been a thorn in her side for a long time, Lewis, came along to once again take the 'demon-child's' food (though he had taken to calling her some far more unpleasant names than that lately). She didn't care at all and simply handed him her fruit without complaint, as per usual.
"Nah I don't want that," he said with a grin, "I want whatever you got hidden away."
Her heart began to thump loudly at his words; how had he known?
"I don't have anything hidden away," she said with an outward appearance of calm and quiet, "you take everything I have."
"Bullshit," the boy said flatly, "old Batty Beatrice even said the other day that she don't know how you ain't starved yet. I got to thinking, you must have a stash of some good shit, right? I bet its in your room, isn't it?"
"No!" she replied, a little too quickly.
"Knew it," he smirked and with a brief look over at Beatrice, who was sitting on the other side of the dining area and tiredly reading a newspaper, he began to run off in the directions of the stairs. With fear in her heart, the girl began to race after him, crying out "wait!" as she went.
"No running inside, I've told you all this!" Beatrice yelled out in anger, but her complaints fell upon deaf ears.
Lewis had much longer legs and far wider strides so he was able to reach the bedroom faster that the girl ever could have, however she wasn't actually as far behind as he would expected her to be. He burst into her room and immediately began to rummage around; tossing her pillow from her bed and lifting up the mattress before throwing open the wardrobe doors and tossing aside the grey, rotten clothing, which was all the girl had ever worn. She thought for a moment that her hiding may have been enough, however her heart sank as he emerged triumphantly with her remaining portion of bread.
"So this is what you were hiding… this ain't the cheap shit they give us," he said curiously as he took a bite directly from the loaf, "… not bad."
She watched him sit down on her bed and eat his way through her loaf of bread, and she felt strangely violated. It was as though he had not only taken her food, he had taken the only thing that she owned for herself, the only thing that gave her any kind of hope or purpose. It wasn't really about the bread; he was taking her secret. He was taking her little slice of the world that was just purely for her, and chomping straight through it with every rough bite.
"Why?" she asked him with growing anger, "why must you take everything of mine? Why can't you leave me be?"
"Because you're an evil witch," he mumbled through his mouthful of bread, "and as I've always said, you should leave whatever you've got here an' go kill yourself. Best for everyone, really."
Tears began to form in her eyes as she watched the boy enjoy the last morsels of her bread. Was it really so wrong for her to just want to have something for herself? The boy clearly didn't appreciate the delicate flavour or the soft texture of the beautiful hand-made bread, he simply chowed it down as if it were nothing and continued to rummage through, finding a few old cakes at the bottom of the wardrobe and almost squealing in delight as he ate them whole. She wasn't as upset about the cakes, but, they were still her cakes. She had only taken a few over the years as she found them to be too sweet, but, she still likely to occasionally nibble on the edges.
"I… I don't think it's fair," she said in a shaky voice, "I don't think it's right."
He turned around and laughed in her face, and she winced slightly as crumbs came flying out of his mouth.
"What are you going to do about it?" he laughed, "nothing, that's what."
He pushed her roughly and sent her sprawling out onto the ground. She was shocked; he had thrown things at her before but he had never actually directly hurt her like that before. She slowly rose to her feet, yet before she could even comprehend what had happened to her, he had one again pushed her and sent her back down to the ground.
"Pathetic," he laughed.
She tried to get up again, and once more, she found herself back on the ground where she had started.
"Stop it!" she cried out with tears in her eyes, "you're being so mean!"
"Like I said, what are you going to do about it?" he laughed.
She paused; she didn't know what to do about it. What could she do about it? He was so much larger than her and she couldn't even get to her feet. The knowledge made her angry; it simply wasn't fair. He wasn't fair. None of this was fair!
She glared at him from the ground, however he simply snickered at her expression.
That was, until his laughter slowly began to fade and was suddenly replaced by sounds of horror as his hands sprung to his throat and he started to gasp loudly for air. She was quite shocked, and rather intrigued, as she stood up slowly and watched him spluttering before her. He was starting to turn a different colour in his face and it was rather fascinating.
"Right, what the hell is going on here-" Beatrice began as she finally reached the room on the top floor with an exhausted huff. The stairs seemed to get steeper and steeper every day for Beatrice.
Her eyes landed on the choking boy and she gasped with her hand over her mouth.
"What are you doing?" she hissed vehemently to the young girl, "let him go this instant!"
"I'm not doing anything!" the girl cried out indignantly, "I don't know what's wrong with him!"
Lewis' eyes began to roll back into his head and at this point Beatrice, in a panic, turned and smacked the small girl hard across the face. The force of the hit left her seeing stars and she fell down once again, too shell-shocked by the blow to even comprehend what was happening. It seemed to be effective however as Lewis immediately drew in several loud, rasping breaths in an attempt to fill his lungs with as much oxygen as he could drag into his screaming body.
"She's-she's-crazy-" he panted out between breaths, "tried-to-kill-me-"
"I didn't!" she replied as she got to her feet, "I didn't!"
"You," Beatrice said in a low, dangerous voice, "you're coming with me. I've had enough of this."
Beatrice grabbed her by the hair and painfully dragged her across the room, to the satisfaction of Lewis as he watched on, still panting heavily. She was dragged all the way to the stairs and roughly escorted, in front of the growing crowd of children who had come to watch, down into the cellar that was below the orphanage. It was originally a storage space for valuable commodities, although the orphanage hadn't possessed anything valuable enough to store down there in some time. The 'security systems' were still in place however, which turned out to be a set of iron bars and an open gate. There was a small flight of stairs prior to the gate, which Beatrice roughly tossed the girl down, sending her rolling painfully into the barred off area. Once she was in, Beatrice slammed the gate shut and, for good measure, sealed the padlock while the children behind her cheered and jeered at the sight.
"Enjoy your new room," Beatrice said bitterly, "maybe now we'll both have some peace around here."
She turned and took the stairs back up before closing the outer cellar door, leaving the confused girl in complete darkness.
***********************
It was dark, cold and rather filthy in the cellar that she now called her room. Her eyes adjusted to the lack of light over time and she discovered that there were a few things within the cellar that she could use. A few old straw sacks became a makeshift bed and there was a sink to the side that had running water she could use to drink or clean herself with (though she didn't know if drinking it was the best idea since it tasted a little… metallic). There were large drains in the corner and she could remove the cover do her business, as unpleasant as that was. She got used to it over time however, since she had little other choice. She was grateful for the large sink, since the source of running water had become the lynchpin of her entire life both for drinking and for cleanliness. She even had company now; though it came in the form of a few mice that curiously watched her disturb their habitat with suspicious eyes.
She had never truly appreciate the finer things about her old bedroom before, but she certainly had begun to miss it now. It had a bed in it, for one thing, even if it was hard and very damaged. Here, she simply slept on the painful stone floor and her assortment of worn, old, straw bedding did little to relieve the pressure. She had none of her books in here, although she didn't have the light to read them anyway and if she really wanted to, she could practically remember those books word-for-word by this point. She did find a light switch and even a power socket during her exploration, however unsurprisingly the light didn't work and she doubted that the power socket did either, not that she even had anything to put in there anyway.
At least she was no longer having her food taken from her and since it was quite cold in the cellar it even seemed to be keeping for longer than it used to. She would cover her eyes every morning when Beatrice would arrive at the top of the stairs and throw some scraps of food down to the bottom in anger. She didn't care about that at first since she had her access to the bakery of course and for the first night she simply threw the scraps of food down one of the industrial sized drains in the corner.
She visited the bakery once again while it was closed to take her usual serving from the shelves, however she was met with an unexpected sight and sound when she arrived this time. The baker was not there, however there was the slightly uncomfortable sound of sharp nails scratching on glass and she looked over to see that there was a large black dog sniffing around the door and attempting to push it open.
She was confused at the sight, however she couldn't help but notice that the dog was rather frail and she could see the dogs ribs sticking out against her skin. It reminded her of herself; whenever she would strip and clean herself she would run her hands over her gaunt sides and bony hips, wondering if that was what everyone felt like underneath their clothes. She hadn't noticed or cared in the slightest before, however as she continued to grow she had become more and more aware of the presence of her body and the many features that it had (or lacked). It hadn't escaped her notice that Beatrice was quite large around the stomach and had very large breasts that visibly hung on her chest, while she did not. She wondered about that; would she develop them when she was older? Would her stomach get larger and her legs get thicker? As she looked at the thin dog attempting to work out how to get in the door, she sighed and took pity on the poor creature. She took some of the bread and moved over to the door, seeing the dog pause for a moment as it realised that someone was actually inside.
"It's okay," she said kindly as approached the door and began to fiddle with the lock, "I'm not going to hurt you."
It took some maneuvering but eventually, she figured out how the little lock worked on the door and she was able to open it up. The dog backed up cautiously when she swung the door open, but she simply tossed the bread out to him and after a moment, he began to wolf it down eagerly.
"You're very cute," she said to the shaggy dog.
"Woof."
"Do you not have parents either?"
"Woof."
"I live at the orphanage. It's a place for children without parents."
"... woof."
"I don't get much food there so I have to come here and steal it. I feel bad about it but…"
"Woof…"
"It's okay though, because do you know what? I can teleport! That's how I get in here!"
"Woof?"
"Our little secret though!"
"Woof! Woof!"
She laughed at the dog as it happily panted and stared back at her. He tilted his head and looked at her curiously, which only caused her to chuckle even more. Perhaps it was her laugh that startled him; it had startled herself since she had almost forgotten how to laugh. In fact, she wasn't sure that she remembered laughing at all. She probably sounded ridiculous.
"I think-"
She began to speak once again, however she was cut off as a car arrived out the front of the bakery. She knew what cars were (in theory) but this one was quite strange; it had bright red and blue flashing lights on the top of it and two people in matching uniforms quickly got out of the car as soon as they pulled over.
"Stop right there! Police!"
The dog growled in their direction and raised its hackles at them, which told the girl everything she needed to know. She didn't wait around to see what they wanted; instead she turned and ran to the back of the bakery once again before turning on the spot and disappearing. She arrived safely back in the cellar in a panic, however as she slowly began to calm down she realised that she wouldn't be able return any time soon. More than anything else, she grew concerned about the dog; what if he needed help? She should have brought the dog with her or… something…
She hoped that he was okay; surely those people would have just shooed him away. Unless… what if he ended up like her, trapped in a cage somewhere? What if they killed him? It was a depressing thought and she regretted having it as soon as it entered her head, but somehow, she thought that was probably the most likely outcome and it festered like an infected wound, sending her into a downward spiral of negative thoughts and emotions. With the knowledge that she couldn't go to the bakery again, she instead focused on carefully rationing her own portion of scrap food throughout the day, and she simply did nothing more than pass the time, alone in the dark.
A few weeks after the alarm had been tripped, the baker wondered why his 'mystery thief', who had been humorously taking half a bread loaf every week for the past few years, hasn't shown up again. He had enjoyed coming in to find that half-torn loaf every Monday, because he knew it meant that the girl he had once caught within his shop was still doing okay. It was always the same; half a loaf of bread and occasionally, just occasionally, a caramel tart or apple pie. Now however, with his stock perfectly intact for several weeks, he wondered whether something had happened to her and his heart sank at the thought. He could only hope that she was no long coming because she no longer needed to steal, but somehow, even he doubted that.
He sadly broke a fresh loaf in two and left one half sitting out just in case, but she never did come back to take it.
***********************
"Oh, who is it?" the girl wondered loudly, as if there was any doubt as to who would be entering her cellar in the morning, as per every morning.
"It's me," Beatrice said tiredly, as if she hadn't answered the question a thousand times before, "here's your breakfast."
Beatrice no longer threw scraps on the ground as she used to, she instead handed a paper plate to the girl through the gate. A small mercy, but one that the girl rather appreciated.
"Thank you," she replied politely, "I read once that you should always be polite. It's a nice feeling, isn't it?"
"Sure," Beatrice said dismissively, knowing that the girl would chatter away about nonsense for hours given the chance, "anyway, I have a surprise for you."
"A surprise?" she asked suspiciously. She does not like surprises; by its very nature, a surprise is unexpected and unexpected is usually unpleasant.
"Here she is," Beatrice said as she stepped away from the gate.
The girl peered out at familiar face, who moved around Beatrice and peered back in.
"... Sarah?"
"Oh my god," Sarah exclaimed as she looked at the girl, "look at you, you've gotten so tall, and so pretty!"
"Oh. Thank you," the girl replied, "you look like you are doing well."
Sarah did look rather fabulous as she was dressed in rather fashionable business attire; a bright blue skirt and blazer with a white collared shirt and shiny black heels that clicked and clacked when she walked. Her hair was tied up in a neat bun and her cheeks had a rosy blush upon them.
"I didn't think that you would still be here," Sarah admitted, "I was in the neighbourhood and I thought, for old times sake, I would come by. What… are you doing down here?"
"This is my room," the girl replied lightly.
"It's uh…" Sarah began as she tried to peer around in the dark, "don't you need some light down here?"
"The lights don't work," the girl replied, "broken. But I don't mind it. I'm like an owl. Hoot. Hoot."
"Right…" Sarah said slowly.
"Well, you've said your hellos," Beatrice said briskly, "time you said your goodbyes."
"Wait-that's it?" the girl asked quickly, "but… but-"
"I'll come see you again," Sarah replied sadly with a knowing look towards Beatrice, "I'm only here for a one-day conference but I'll visit again before I go, if that's what you would like."
"I would love it."
Sarah smiled fondly before she turned around and was ushered out by Beatrice, who closed the cellar door and left the girl alone in the dark once more.
"That is inhumane," Sarah said immediately after they closed the door, "I can't believe you keep her down there."
"Well we both know she isn't human," Beatrice said with a frown.
"Don't pull that shit on me, Beatrice," Sarah said sharply, "she was certainly… odd, but it doesn't give you the right to be cruel."
"You wouldn't understand," Beatrice said with a shake of her head, "after you left things only got worse. Floating toys were the least of our problems! She almost killed Lewis! Almost killed him!"
"So you cage her like a dog?" Sarah asked incredulously, "instead of getting her the help she needs?"
"What would you have me do, Sarah?" Beatrice asked exasperatedly, "I've tried everything, even tried having her exorcised and she just looked confused."
"She clearly needs her own space and proper care," Sarah said pointedly.
"You… of all people, you show up after years and suddenly decide to play the defender of the downtrodden? Tell me; what have you done for these children since you left, hm? Campaigned for greater funding? Advocated for more adoptive parents? Hm?"
Sarah said nothing in response and simply stared at Beatrice with sad eyes.
"You left like everyone else and as always, I was the one who stayed and looked after them. You don't get to be high and mighty with me, I've done more for her than you ever did."
Sarah pursed her lips, but she said no more as she left.
She had to admit that there was truth in Beatrice's words; she had abandoned the children many years ago and she didn't really have a right to suddenly stick her nose in and criticise what was going on. Beatrice was right in her assumptions; Sarah had been so caught up in her work that she hadn't done anything good lately. She hadn't volunteered, she hadn't advocated for anything, she had simply gone to work, put in her overtime, went home and slept. Until she returned to London for this conference, she had hardly thought about the children at all.
As a small way to make amends, she did the only thing that she could think of doing.
"What's this?" the girl asked curiously as Sarah handed her a strange object the following afternoon.
"It's a lamp," Sarah pointed out, "I know it doesn't look like the ones you are used to but it works just the same. It's battery powered and has very long lasting batteries in it. If you need more later, I'm sure Beatrice can work something out."
Beatrice simply grunted, not offering anything in way of a committed response.
"Oh, that's really cool!"
The girl sounded happy, albeit still slightly confused. Sarah had to admit that the lamp was a bit out of the ordinary as it was shaped like a cube and had to be pressed in to be turned on or off, like a button, but Sarah though it was cute and fun and it seemed that the girl agreed.
"And here," Sarah pulled a stack of books from her large bag and handed them to the girl, "now I know that these are going to be too advanced for you right now, but I think if you keep practicing and working at it, then one day-"
"Books!" the girl exclaimed happily, "oh, I do love to read."
Sarah smiled fondly at her and placed her hand gently on the girl's shoulder.
"You take care of yourself," Sarah whispered quietly, "I'm sorry I can't do more but if Beatrice gives you any trouble… don't be afraid to use those powers of yours, you hear me?"
"I… I hear you," the girl replied quietly.
After a moment of hesitation, Sarah leaned down and pulled the girl into a hug. It was the first time that she had been properly hugged before and it was an overwhelming sensation, to say the least. Sarah was much taller than she was, yet she still crouched down to match her height and she was very soft and warm. She smelled sweet, and kind, and it was a very pleasant experience, even if the girl was simply standing there, clutching her books to her chest while being hugged.
Sarah gave one final sad smile and departed, followed out by Beatrice who gave the girl an unreadable look before turning and closing the door.
Excited, the girl hurried back over to her makeshift bed and placed the cube down, slowly pressing it down until it clicked and lit up with a gentle glow. She giggled happily, and immediately began to work her way through the books that she had been given. Sarah wasn't kidding; the books were quite difficult for her and unlike anything she had read so far, but she endured. After all, it wasn't like she was doing anything else with her time.
'In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and…'
She spent the next year reading and re-reading the books that she had been given, over and over, until she could almost recite them from cover to cover. What she lacked in vocabulary she made up for with imagination, and she only needed to understand a few key words from the stories in order to add the rest in for herself. It was like a brand new adventure every time she read the same stories as her shifting imagination grew and adapted, adding in vibrant colours to the scenes or dramatically re-imagining the landscape. Each time she read through a story, she found a new word, or read the same sentence a different way, which completely changed her understanding of the story.
It was perhaps the most pleasant year of her life so far; which said everything that needed to be said about the state of her life.
***********************
The girl was mildly content as time went on. Perhaps not exactly 'happy', nor loved or welcomed, but she was alive and had something to occupy her time with. It was enough for her incredibly low standards of living that she possessed and she figured that she could simply continue living like this if she must. She had even learned a neat little trick when the batteries in her lamp had finally died; she knew there was no way that Beatrice would ever get her new batteries but, now that she had the books to read, she was inspired to try and ensure she had a source of light. She had first done it accidentally and shocked herself when she had woken up to find a tiny ball of light floating in the air. It had disappeared as soon as she realised that she was the cause, however she spent the next few months attempting to recreate it. She had reached the point where she could summon enough light to read by, though she did wonder just how big she could actually get her little floating orb of light.
Overall, things were going okay for the girl as she quietly read her books in the cellar by the light of her magic. That was, until Beatrice came down to the cellar one night with a strange look to her face and with a disgusting smell in the air.
"I should have known," she slurred slightly as she pulled open the gate, "black magic. No doubt."
"What do you mean?" the girl replied carefully, "are you okay, Madam Beatrice?"
"Oh go on, call me by what you all say," Beatrice said with a very loud laugh, "I know what you all call me. I know what you all say about me."
"I… I don't say anything about you," the girl said. Had Beatrice forgotten that she didn't talk to the other children and hadn't for a very long time? Who would she say anything to?
"Bullshit," Beatrice spat, "it's all your fault in the end, as it always is."
"What did I do?"
"They're stopping the grants," Beatrice said with a dry laugh, "they're 'phasing out' the orphanages and going to their 'care home' models. Bah! Good for the posters and the slogans and the voters, but not for the kids. You'll see. You'll all see. It will be the kids who suffer for it in the end while greasy politicians line their pockets and their privately owned construction companies build these 'care homes' while skimming off the top. It's a lie, all of it!"
The girl was on edge as she realised that something was not right with Beatrice. She was stumbling slightly, she was slurring her words and she was speaking much louder than she normally did.
"Madam Beatrice," she asked once again, "are… are you sure you're okay?"
"Twenty years!" Beatrice suddenly shouted out of nowhere, "twenty years dry. Not a sip. Not until now."
"I don't understand," the girl said carefully.
"I don't understand," Beatrice mocked in a sing-song voice, "of course you don't. All you do is hurt people, don't you? That's all you understand. How to murder people and terrorise people and-"
"I… don't do those things…"
"You know I used to think you were a demon; the devil in disguise."
Beatrice stumbled slightly, but she continued.
"Now I think you're just a stupid little girl who gives people nightmares and doesn't appreciate what I've done for you."
"I thought everyone would be happy," the girl said quietly, "I'm down here and out of the way, isn't that the best thing for everyone?"
"You are a god-forsaken curse," Beatrice said aggressively, though she laughed humourless and added, "just like me. Why have you forsaken me?"
The girl had no idea what Beatrice was talking about but she was growing concerned about her behaviour.
"Have I not suffered for my one moment of mercy?" Beatrice suddenly moaned out in despair, "she was but a babe, do you despise me for not being cold and cruel like yourself?"
The girl said nothing as she was completely and utterly baffled about what Beatrice was talking about.
"Is that what you want?" Beatrice slurred with a hiccup, "because if that's what you truly want, it is what I will do…"
Beatrice suddenly began to approach the alarmed girl, who rapidly retreated for the corner.
"Wait, what are you doing? No, stop!"
Beatriced reached forward and grabbed a handful of the girl's hair.
"Ow! Let go!"
"We will both repent together," Beatrice said with determination and the girl gagged on the overwhelming small of potent fumes coming from her breath, "yes, it is only fitting…"
"No!"
"I said NO!"
A strange shockwave burst forth from the small girl and Beatrice was sent flying across the room in pure shock. Beatrice was getting old and her body was not what it once was, so she cried out in pain when she landed harshly on the cold, stone floor. There was a strong possibility that something had broken, however through her anger and intoxication she somehow managed to get to her feet once again.
"You ungrateful little bitch!" Beatrice roared, "how dare you!"
Beatrice moved towards the girl once again, however as she backed away in fear a strange, ethereal barrier appeared between the two. Beatrice paused in horror.
"What is this black magic?" Beatrice cried out, "the work of the devil himself!"
She tried to kick the barrier and push her way through, yet it stood as strong as steel; unrelenting, unyielding.
With no way to pass the barrier, Beatrice inflated with rage and did the only other thing that she could think of doing; she took out her anger onto the girl's possessions.
"No!"
Beatrice grinned vindictively as she stomped violently on Sarah's lamp, crushing it under her feet and plunging the room into darkness.
"Take that!" Beatrice exclaimed victoriously, "and that! That's what you get you stupid whore! Question me in my own house!?"
The girl was shocked at the sight and tried to run forward, however the barrier was also blocking her own entry through it. It was completely impenetrable, despite the girl's best efforts to force her way through and all she could was watch on in horror. Beatrice soon realised that the girl was trapped by her own barrier and grinned as another idea came to her.
"You love your books, don't you?" she said as she picked up one of them, "well lets make sure you have some light to read, then!"
Beatrice pulled a lighter from her pocket and ignited the flame, slowly lowering the corner of the book down with taunting glee.
"Stop it…" the girl cried out, "stop it! I haven't done anything wrong! Anything! Why are you doing this?"
Beatrice ignited the book before her eyes and laughed as she dropped it down onto the stack. The girl would have rather been beaten than watch this; yet she couldn't move forward at all or take down the accursed barrier and had no choice but to stare at the sorrowful sight.
Satisfied at seeing the girl's horror and pain, Beatrice scoffed and finally departed, holding her sides as the pain of her fall started to make itself known to her.
The small fire that had started with the books did not extinguish itself and the girl realised with a growing sense of fear that there were other flammable things down in the cellar. Just about everything was made of wood and all it would take was for the fire to spread to the timber frames, and after that…
"Go away you stupid thing!" she shouted angrily as she pounded her tiny fist against the shimmering wall of light that blocked her path, "go away!"
The fire was growing and the air was starting to become filled with a thick smoke. It was, admittedly, slightly hypnotic to watch the smoke rise and form the gentle bands in the air, however she knew that she couldn't just sit there and watch it happen.
"Go away! Go away!" she shouted repeatedly, "GO AWAY!"
She hit the barrier with her open palm and the barrier suddenly burst forward. An intense gust of wind exploded outwards and the girl was sent flying back from the recoil. She looked up from the ground to see that the fire had been extinguished due to the sudden flood of air, and with relief she slumped back down again, exhausted. Eventually, she had no choice but to get up and start cleaning up the mess in her room, and that was practically all the girl did for the next two years; sit in the dark and occasionally clean it with nothing but elbow grease. Her books were gone, her lamp was destroyed and now she had nothing.
She spent a lot of time alone with her thoughts after that, while playing idly with her magic from time to time. Sometimes, she thought she could hear a strange voice telling her that she was nothing but a ghost that was still walking among the living.
"How fitting," she would mumble to herself quietly, "a ghost. Nothing but a ghost."