Dedicated to Calyx Schenecker

1994-2011

You're still here with us.

Hello, all! Thanks for venturing into my first Harry Potter fanfiction (believe it or not, I have some experience). If you're a reader from my other series/stories, no fear! I still plan on finishing those. It just might take a really...really long time.

This series, though, will hopefully be finished before July 15th, 2011. Each chapter, representing roughly a year, itself will be broken up into separate parts to better facilitate reading.

DISCLAIMER: If you met me, you would know that I, in no way, am capable of planning out anything as marvelously as the great J.K. Rowling has with Harry Potter. She, and Warner Bros., owns it. Although I do have Lupin's wand. And a pumpkin juice bottle.

Enjoy!

Clara was nervous. Amidst the hustle and bustle of the Muggle train station, she felt lost and, naturally, confused.

What she didn't expect was the weird looks some Muggles, at least the ones that bothered to look, gave her. Of course, how often does one see an Eurasian Eagle Owl in a cage stacked on top of a trunk and other odds and ends on a trolley?

As she made her way through the crowded lobby, Clara thought about the letter she had received from a previously-unknown uncle about a month back. It had been handwritten, as most letters were, but in a small and jagged script:

Clara,

Due to recent events, you will be staying with me and attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I shall be sending for your things once you are settled. A month from now, you will formally begin your wizarding education.

In the mean time, you will have to go to Diagon Alley yourself and obtain all necessary learning materials.

S. Snape

Clara's first reaction was to wonder who the hell this "S. Snape" person was and how he managed to find out about her parents' accident. Her second was to think He's loony.

She threw the letter away and shooed the small owl off her windowsill before going to bed.

The next day, she went to the funeral.

About a week later, on a whim, she decided to go on a stroll through the park. She was barely inside the gates when the lights went out. Not just the streetlamps or the ones in the park; every light within a two-block radius was gone.

Must be a power outage. Except non one's coming out of their house. Or screaming. Something's up.

Clara froze in place and tried to examine her surroundings. She was so intent in doing so that she failed to see the dark, hulking mass separate itself from the shadows.

"Clara Richards," the figure spoke in a rough, booming voice, "yer uncle wants to see yeh." He came closer, muttering loudly about being made to run errands.

She was rooted in place, thoroughly unable to move, and her brown eyes were open wide in fear.

"C'mon now. We haven' got all day now."

Clara craned her heard back as far as it would go and was barely able to see the man's face.

Before she fainted, she thought, What's with all the loons nowadays?

When she woke up, the man, who she learned to be Rubeus Hagrid, gave her a brief explanation of the wizarding world and Hogwarts. He mentioned something about "squibs" and how she had been mistaken for one until recently. She could tell it wasn't necessarily a good thing to be but instead of questioning him about it, she asked why people's minds had changed?

"Have yeh noticed anythin' odd recently? Things bein' put in one place one moment an' another the next? What about any animals followin' yeh?"

"Umm...I can't say that I have. But there was this one owl that came around the time I got the letter."

"Oh, tha' little thin'. Yer uncle sent him," Hagrid continued as if he didn't see her eyes and mouth pop open; for what, he didn't know. He pulled out a small pocket watch and glanced at its face. "And we need to get goin' if yer goin' to meet him on time."

"Alright...so how are we getting to wherever we're going?"

"Snape wants yeh to pick up yer school supplies from Diagon Alley before we head over to his place."

They'd had the conversation on the way to this Diagon Alley, but they stopped in front of a shady looking pub called The Leaky Cauldron. As Hagrid entered, wisps of purple smoke and raucous voices came through the door.

"Well, are yeh comin'?"

"Umm...yeah. Sure."

Joining Hagrid in the pub proper, she took a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the dimness. The Cauldron looked like any other pub...just a bit darker, really. She looked up to see Hagrid walking towards the brick wall at the back where it was less crowded.

"I thought we were going to Diagon Alley."

"We are. This is the most direct way." He pulled out a pink umbrella and tapped some bricks.

"What are you...?" A 'door' swung from the wall, accompanied by falling debris and that grating sound one gets when rubbing two pieces of unglazed pottery together. Strangely, most of the pub's patrons seemed not to notice and the ones that did quickly returned to their conversations or drinks.

Hagrid chuckled and allowed her to go through the crude doorway first. "Welcome to Diagon Alley." He led her down the crowded market street past shopfronts showcasing moving pictures and heavily chained books and didn't stop until they reached a far less elaborate one; the only items on display were three slim and sleek sticks, resting in padded boxes. The shop, if the faded gold paint of the overhang was any indication, was called Ollivander's.

Hagrid gestured for her to go inside. "Head strain' down tha' isle. Yeh'll find Ollivander at the end if he's in; he'll help yeh find yer wand."

"Aren't you coming with me?"

"It's a bit o' a squeeze. Yeh won' have anythin' to worry about as long as yeh don' touch anythin' yer not supposed to. Just go straight to the desk."

As she walked into the shop, Clara understood what he meant by having to squeeze. Even so, she decided that she liked the "wizarding world," or, at the very least, this wand shop. It's like a library, but with less space. Or maybe a shoe store with all the boxes. Out of curiosity and in blatant disregard to Hagrid's instructions, she opened one cobalt box out of the literal hundreds before her. The dark wand looked sinister with its gnarled wood and crooked profile. Not liking the aura it gave out, she tried another.

After closing the box, she placed it in the space that it had previously occupied but found that she was unable to do so. Hold on...there's something here...

Clara tried again, pushing harder to force the unseen object out of the way, and screamed when the shelf collapsed to lean on its neighbor.

Hagrid peered in and, in his booming voice, exclaimed, "What've yeh done now?"

"N-nothing, Hagrid!"

"Hagrid, I assure you it's quite all right. Stranger things have happened." Clara gasped in surprise as an amused-looking bespectacled man of average height and older age appeared from one of the many recesses in the shop.

"M-mr. Ollivander! I'm so sorry. I just wanted to look around a bit and then it wouldn't go in and I tried and..." Her voice cracked here.

"Not to worry. Fortunately, this is a mistake that can be easily rectified." With a smile, the wand-maker flicked his wand, sending the boxes and shelves back to their proper places.

"Now then, let's see what you've got there."

As he led her towards a cluttered desk at the back of the store, Clara, confused, looked at her hand and saw that she was holding a faded black box.

"Umm...Mr. Ollivander...I was just browsing. I didn't choose this one; I don't even remember grabbing it."

"Exactly," he said sagely, walking around the desk before taking the box from her to examine its contents. "The right wand will eventually find its wizard. In your case, witch. It's up to us to listen to it. You'll find that such occurrences aren't too uncommon here."

Smiling softly, Ollivander carefully withdrew the wand from where it was nestled within. "Ah! I'd almost forgotten about this one. I think it suits you."

Curious, Clara carefully took the proffered wand. It radically differed from the wand she saw before; this one was pale, sleek and just a tad bit shorter. As she held it, the wand warmed up and gently pulsed rhythmically.

"Yes," Ollivander mumbled, "it suits you well."

"Umm...Mr. Ollivander? I was wondering...what kind of wand is it?"

As if coming out of a trance, the wand-maker answered chipperly, "Willow. Ten and three-quarters inches. Very sturdy overall so it doesn't do exceptionally well in any particular area, I'm afraid."

Taking back the wand, he gently replaced it within its box and handed it back to her, along with a care kit.

"Shouldn't I pay?"

"The matter's already been settled. Send my regards to your uncle." Escorting her out of the shop, Ollivander shook her hand then turned to Hagrid. "Farewell, Hagrid!"

After his salutation, Hagrid led Clara down the Alley and into the shops where she'd have to buy her robes, an owl, and other magical materials. Later, before taking her to meet her "new" uncle, Hagrid asked her if she'd liked her first trip into the wizarding world, to which she replied, "Very much so."

Walking down the dark street struck apprehension into Clara's heart; there was still probably four hours of daylight left yet this one street, Spinner's End, seemed to be in the one pocket to which all the dreary weather in all of England flocked and gathered, creating a perpetually overcast sky with swirling thunderheads. Of course, it could have something to do with the old mill that loomed imperiously across the brown river from the rows of brick houses.

"Hagrid, are you sure he lives here?" Clara hid slightly behind his imposing figure as if to use him as a shield to ward off any lurking dangers.

""Fer the umpteenth time, I'm sure as sure tha' yer uncle lives here." As he said that, Hagrid turned from the sidewalk onto the concrete walkway leading up to a slightly worn door and knocked; his hands' booming thuds shook leftover raindrops from their perches on the eaves and they splattered on the shoulders of his wool coat.

Guess this is the place. "I forgot to ask. What's he like?"

Hagrid grunted, as if more than mildly displeased. "He's a Potions teacher at Hogwarts, so he's a bit brainy. Other than tha', yeh'll have to find out yerself."

Silence. The gentle click of the deadbolt sliding out of place. The door opened to reveal a fair (actually, he leaned more towards the sicklier side of the scale), tall man, who would've seemed taller if not in the remote vicinity of Hagrid, with long, slick black hair. After wandering towards her briefly, he stared at her escort; his voice was soft and slow as he stated, "Hagrid. How nice of you to wake my aunt Sally from her grave. I shall tell her you called. She will be glad to know."

"Alright, enough o' tha'. Where do yeh want her things?"

Her uncle opened the door wider and stood aside, allowing Hagrid, laden with everything except her new owl (she really had to think of a name for him. Bradford, maybe?) and wand, and herself to come inside. With Hagrid in the admittedly smallish house, it was too tight of a space to pretend to help them arrange her things in a room she had yet to see.

"Is there...is there anywhere I can sit?" Looking at Sn—her uncle was unnerving as he took in her appearance.

He delayed speaking to her until after he directed Hagrid ahead of them to the stairs. Taking in her appearance, he spoke once more in his smooth voice. "The sitting room is towards your right. You are welcome to occupy your time with the books on every shelf except the ones whose subjects are utterly unfamiliar to you."

He continued to stare her, the eye contact unnerving, until she made a move in the correct direction.

Right before she turned down the hall into the sitting room, Clara looked back and saw a swish of black cloth disappear above the top step. How does he move like that?

Looking into the room, she immediately knew that she'd like at least this area. All the available space on the walls were covered with leather spines with faded gilded writing. Setting Bradford's cage down in front of a worn and sagging sofa, she browsed the cracked spines on the shelves. One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi... Defensive Magical Theory... Theories of Transubstantial Transfiguration... Asiatic Anti-Venoms...

She hadn't spent a proper amount of time absorbing the book titles when she heard a vaguely disinterested voice behind her.

"Perhaps you will have more luck with another section."

Turning around revealed Snape's walking to the armchair opposite the sofa. "Uh, thanks. I'll just—"

"Sit." His request left no room for other options and he exuded the aura of one who was used to being in control and obeyed immediately. So she sat on the sofa, forcing her to face her uncle's boring gaze as he absentmindedly rubbed his lips.

As much as she loved books, Clara wished for something else to occupy the cozy sitting room's walls, just to give her an excuse to look away and break the tense silence that continued to grow between them.

Apparently finished with his appraisal of her, he finally spoke softly. "Your room is set up, if you wish to look."

She stopped playing with her hands. "Really? When did Hagrid leave?"

"A while ago."

"O...kay." With nothing else to do, she stood, grabbing the cage's handle, and went to the archway that led to the main hall. "Where am I going?"

He favored remaining seated instead of actually directing her towards her room. The room itself was small, as was the bed and desk, and dark. Freeing one hand of the cage, she searched along the wall for a light switch and, finding none, resigned herself to lighting a candle she found in the drawer. Bradford's cage was placed on the corner of the desk, out of danger of falling from any rough bumps.

Someone, either Hagrid or her uncle (I wonder what I should call him... "Uncle Snape" and "Uncle Severus" are just too weird.), had placed her newly acquired robes and capes as well as some of her... Muggle clothes in the closet. Blushing deeply, Clara checked a small wardrobe's drawers and found her own, folded, neatly inside. Color-wise, she had no complaints: the walls were painted black, the curtains a deep green, as well as her bed sheets.

Staying upstairs for a while longer than necessary, she relieved herself and returned to the sitting room to see that her uncle was reading a book. Someone had also placed two plates of toad-in-the-hole and a glass each of a dull orange juice, in front of her seat, and a dark purple liquid on a small table that seemed unlikely to be able to stand with any weight on it, much less a full meal.

"I trust you find the room suitable?"

"Yeah. It's great. Just . . ." She didn't know how to tell him.

"Well?"

"Is there any electricity here? I mean, I'm not trying to say that you're poor or anything, i-"

He raised a hand to stop her speech. "You will find that witches and wizards have no need for the modern...Muggle conveniences you have grown used to." He paused, raising an eyebrow at her after she opened her mouth to speak. "Yes?"

"Nothing."

"That means wherever you go within the wizarding community, no one will have a television, or a computer. You will be fine with that, will you not?"

Struck speechless, she watched as what looked like a small satisfied smirk spread his lips a bit and his black eyes glinted.

Right then, Clara determined that she would hate this man.

As if realizing the backwards step he'd made in terms of their ongoing relationship, Snape coughed and traced his mouth slowly. "Let's eat, shall we?"

He placed the book aside briefly to appear polite but when it became apparent that neither was in a talking mood, he opened it again. As far as she could tell, he didn't make it further than a few paragraphs before he set it aside again.

"Did you make this?"

"In a way, yes."

More awkward silence passed.

"I suppose you want to know how we're related."

"No, I always thought I was a lesser known dictator's clone." She looked up from what remained of her food, unable to eat more, and saw what she thought was him questioning her sanity. "Kidding, kidding. Of course I want to know definitely. I mean, there's not a lot of possibilities." She paused before asking, "So what's in this glass?"

"Pumpkin juice."

"Alright, then." Setting her dish on the table, she picked up the glass. "No word on the connection between us?"

"Your mother and I were siblings."

"Then how come she never mentioned you?" After bringing the rim to her lips, Clara took a sip of the juice. "This tastes like Christmas!" Glancing at him, she saw his eyebrow twitch slightly. "Sorry. What were you going to say?"

"Our parents divorced when she was fairly young. I doubt she remembered our mother." He dropped of here, stroking his lips as his eyes became slightly unfocused.

Recognizing that this was a sensitive topic, Clara let it rest for later.

Somewhere further inside the house, a clock's bells pealed out the hour.

This seemed to bring Snape back from wherever he went to the present place. "It's late. If we are to continue this conversation, would you mind postponing the rest until tomorrow?"

She knew a dismissal when she heard one. "Yeah. What time do you usually wake up?"

"You may sleep late for the next week or so."

Thanks, she thought curtly, didn't know I needed permission to sleep. Standing, she grabbed her plate and glass, prepared to wash them, only to be denied.

As she dressed in a periwinkle pajama set and let her hair free from a tie, Clara thought about how she could possibly form a cordial relationship with this man.

Hope you enjoyed reading! Please excuse any errors in grammar or spelling. Actually, don't; leave a review and tell me what I did wrong or just to say whether or not you liked it. Thanks for reading!

EDIT: I made a small change to Ollivander's description of Clara's wand, and a friend noted that about halfway through, I switched from Clara to Carla. Sorry if any of my early readers were confused! I'm on the lookout for that now.