Author's Notes: So here I am, starting a story I said I won't start until I finished B r o k e n P i e c e s, but I couldn't help myself. I was on bit of a Harry Potter high, which is odd because I haven't read the book or watched the movie past the fourth one. This, FYI, is something I hope you guys will keep in mind before blasting me about disregarding stuff I don't even know happened yet.

I've had notes about this story for years, so it's been a long time coming, haha. It will focus not on the Golden Trio, but on Ginny, Luna, and my OC character, Jessica, as well as other characters that weren't really touched heavily on in the series. I won't say definitively if Jessica is related to whom she shares a last name with—I'll like to keep you all guessing until I reveal it later.

This story will start from the second book, the Chamber of Secrets. And on that note, I'd just like to mention that I don't own the Harry Potter series or anything related to that. I just own my character Jessica, and my own thoughts.

Thank you, and I hope you all enjoy!

"As we send off the dead, let us also celebrate the life that they have left behind, on this month of Saints... for this life is the Key...the balance between being and oblivion... But this Key, like any other of its name, can be turned in either direction... While the Dark Lord and the one marked as his equal can only be vanquished by the other's hand...neither can do it without the Key..."

— the forgotten prophecy of a lost soul

CHAPTER ONE – First Meetings

"She has them, doesn't she?"

Piercing sapphire eyes looked over half-moon spectacles at the man that sat across from him in the dim room of small pub in which they had decided to meet. The muted lighting did nothing to help in terms of sight, where the dreary fog and night skies, made even darker by a steady rain that had rolled in, played a hand in reducing one's visibility all by itself. The elder man supposed the other male had chosen that spot specifically for that reason, but they were already in an obscure town to begin with—it made him wonder, for the nth time, just who this girl he was scheduled to recruit to Hogwarts was to demand such levels of security from a total stranger.

Though the Headmaster supposed it wasn't from a complete stranger. From what he had learned—or rather, what the younger male had been able to tell him—the child in question was dropped on his doorstep, barely looking a day old. It was rare action, but not uncommon, even towards the end of the First Wizarding War. Considering the severity of the situation, his friend had taken care of the baby as best he could, but eventually, due to the younger man's own delicate...condition, the infant was placed in an orphanage.

Yes, while the long-bearded elder conceded that there was a level of relation between the troubled man in front of him and the girl in question above the level of a stranger, he didn't foresee that the other would still concern himself with the child, nearly eleven years later, especially between all his missions that he had for the Order...

Especially when he had the son of his deceased friends to worry about.

As always, he didn't push for the reason why or demand the other for more information, but that didn't make the situation, or him for that matter, any less curious.

He did suppose the girl's surname 'Black' had a large, unspoken part on it all, though.

"She is a witch, Remus, if that is what you are asking," Albus Dumbledore replied, a small mischievous gleam accompanying the small smile that danced upon his lips as he watched his former student shift uncomfortably in his seat.

The werewolf cleared his throat loudly and twisted in his chair noisily in order to cover the five-letter word Dumbledore had uttered, but as it turned out his movements brought more attention than the word 'witch' did. When that realization settled into his brain, Remus eventually stilled, leaning forward over the small circular table to whisper alarmingly, "We're in a Muggle pub, sir!"

"In which there are four others with us, three of which are undoubtedly drunk," the headmaster retorted gently to placid the brunet male's fears, pausing to take a subtle glance around them before adding, "Make that all four, very soon."

After a quick look around himself, the former prefect sighed and ran a shaky hand through his short hair. "I'm sorry. I just—" he cut himself off from saying the rest of his thought aloud—I just sort of wished she were a Muggle. Not only to prove him wrong, but for her own safety... "Have you gone to see her yet?" Remus said instead.

Taking a sip of the forgotten, cold soup in front of him, Dumbledore swallowed before he spoke, keeping well to manners. "No; and I won't for a few more of days, after the owls send out the first letters. Did you want to come with...?" he trailed off, leaving the invitation hanging.

Lupin shook his head violently before resting them in the palms of both his hands, which he propped up on table beside his own untouched bowl of soup. "No, but...if...if she accepts..." he stressed, "Do you think it's possible that I could...could take her to Diagon Alley?" At the raising of his friend's eyebrows, he continued, "I mean, it's not like there's a pot of gold set aside for orphaned...kids of our world."

The silver-haired man frowned slightly at this. "There's not a pot of gold set aside for you, either, my friend." In fact, Remus looked to be all skin and bones. He wasn't sure how the other had been getting along since James' death. The grim line that set into the werewolf's jaw after his sentence didn't help ease his concerns, either. "How about this," he said after mulling over an idea in his head. "You can bring the child to Diagon Alley, but leave the cost of her supplies to me."

"But, sir—" Remus started, but stopped himself as Dumbledore raised a hand to silence him.

"Fortunately, she has been the only orphan in... quite some time. I think I can handle this small expense for a few years, especially since she seems rather important to you."

The younger male sputtered at the comment, but didn't, or couldn't, refute the statement. Smiling as his friend resigned himself to stare at a corner of the room as if it was the most interesting thing since sliced bread, Dumbledore clapped his hands together lightly. "Well, since that's settled, I'll be sure that you won't have any assignments for a while so you're free. Now, let us eat! I fear the soup might freeze solid soon if we don't."

xoxoxoxox

It had been some time since he had gone out to recruit students to attend Hogwarts. While representatives of the school were still sent for Muggle-born children, it was usually a teacher or another faculty member—Dumbledore didn't think he drafted anyone after he became headmaster.

But this was a special case, for the child lived in an orphanage—and he would never forget how the last child he had enlisted from an orphanage had ended up like. It wasn't as if he was already assuming the girl would achieve the same end, he would never do that to an innocent child, but it remained in the forefront of his mind as he climbed the steps to the porch of the Abbott House, an orphanage situated in Swansea. For instance, he had been unable to stop himself from making an internal comment on how much more of a bright, cheerful day it was today compared to the sombre rain of that meeting, but he was sure to draw an end to the comparisons there.

The front was wide open, though the screen door was shut—to let in the summer breeze or a means to welcome him in, the silver-haired male was unsure, but he kept outside for the time being. Perhaps it was partly due to the fact that he could see into the large family room from where he stood. A number of kids had gathered around a little strawberry-blonde haired girl, who was performing various magic tricks as a source of entertainment, and while it probably looked quite amateur to regular non-magic people, he could tell the child had an extra something that made what she did especially real.

"Ah, Mr. Dumbledore, is that you?" A woman's voice broke his train of thought, and sapphire eyes moved to land upon a brunette woman in her late-thirties. She wore a long moss-green apron over a plain, chestnut brown 3/4-sleeved dress that reached her calves, and the black rubber shoes that she wore were soundless as she walked, unlike the creak of the screen door as she opened it and allowed it to shut noisily behind her.

"I had the door opened for you," she continued, unknowingly answering his previous unspoken question. Though her voice sounded steady, her hands nervously wrung the dingy dishtowel in her hand. Perhaps she had thought the man would've blown the door up if it weren't already ajar for him to enter through. It seemed she was still a little flustered over the letter in the post she had received—honestly, who wrote to parentless children to say an orphan was accepted into some prestigious school she never heard of that they certainly couldn't afford?

"I apologize, Ms. Worrall," Professor Dumbledore said, bowing his head slightly towards the matron. "I seem to have gotten side-tracked by the children. Is that...?"

Ms. Worrall followed his line of sight to the kids inside, and assumed the one he was referring to was the girl who currently had her back towards them, with her hand inside a magician's hat about to undoubtedly attempt to pull some sort of animal out of it. "Jessica Laurel Black, yes," she replied in a clipped tone, clearly getting a bit defensive. Dumbledore assumed the woman had no children of her own and was, as such, especially protective of the children in her care, or she had a particular fondness for the girl, for she couldn't help adding, more amazed than exasperated, "She always has her hand or nose into something, that child."

"Not unlike her father," the headmaster mused aloud for the benefit of the matron in his presence, though alone he reminisced back when Jessica's father and his three friends were always getting to mischief—trouble was never far behind with those four.

The brunette woman's demeanour changed at the deliberate slip the silver-haired elder made, and when she spoke next it was more polite. "Is that what this is about? You knew her parents? Are you here to adopt her? Because this talk of attending this Hogwarts school seemed to come out of thin air."

Dumbledore's spirits dampened slightly as the topic caused his memories to fast forward from the innocence of their childhood to the harsh reality of the present. "I'm afraid the matters of her parentage is...complicated, at best," he explained freely, for the folded paper in one of the pockets of his white cloak, which he wore atop his equally light-coloured Muggle business suit, despite the pleasant weather, would ensure the conversation they were having would be tampered with, if not forgotten, by the matron. He had come prepared this time, which was equally good, for he supposed conjuring a paper out of thin air would be a little less savvy than it would if a desk were around for him to proclaim its origins.

Besides, even he wasn't a hundred percent sure of the girl's family. Though Remus had said the girl's surname was Black, he could give no other details, and the suspected father in question was serving his sentence in Azkaban, and he wondered the validity, if any, of the answers he would get from an inmate of that prison, especially after so many years. If only he was aware of her existence earlier...but alas.

And though the thought of adopting, or at least fostering, the child had crossed his mind, he eventually concluded that the attention that would bring to the girl, be it from any of her remaining distant relatives or from the Dark Lord himself, outweighed any advantages of taking her in. After all, one such distance relative was also doing time in Azkaban, and her deceased uncle had once served Voldemort, even if it was a family her father was removed from, he noted sadly. That wouldn't stop those, still angered from her father's betrayal on the Potters, from using her for retribution for her father's crimes—or perhaps, stop the Dark Lord's followers from coercing her into thinking and performing dark deeds like the rest of her family had done. A nearly eleven-year-old girl did not need that sort of thing hanging over her head—she was, however unfortunate, much safer living in the orphanage.

"I am not here to adopt her, either," Dumbledore eventually continued, "though I am completely serious, however, about her acceptance into Hogwarts. It is her birthright." He would deal with any issues that may arise about her relations should the child choose to attend the school.

That, however, sent Mr. Worrall back on high alert. "Her birthright? Mr. Dumbledore, I'm afraid I don't understand—" The matron was cut off by a piece of folded paper being presented to her, and cocoa eyes moved from it to the man who gave it to her.

"I believe this will explain everything," the high-class wizard said, and instead of watching the woman unfold the blank paper and observe the change in her eyes, a sign that the spell was working, he began inspecting the outside of the house. He walked the length of the wrap-around porch and admired the view of the water that he could see from where he stood—he suspected it looked ever better from the backyard.

Soon enough, Ms. Worrall was approaching him, refolding the paper back to return to him. "I do believe this does put everything in order," she agreed coolly, looking a tad transfixed. "Let's talk more inside—I imagine you might want to take a look at Jessica's room."

"That does sound like a wonderful idea." Pocketing the paper, Dumbledore followed the matron through the screen door and into the orphanage, removing his cloak as they crossed the threshold. Bypassing the room where most of the children were gathered, the two of them made their way upstairs.

The house was larger than it looked on the outside, having had an extra wing added at the back of the building, and was three stories tall. It was in this wing, on the uppermost level at the end of the hall, where Jessica's room was. True to her middle name, it was painted a peeling laurel green, and the old desk in the corner was littered with various used magic trick books, as well as false flowers stuffed in a plastic wand and articles of the like.

"Ever since we took the kids to the circus when Jessica was around six, she was hooked on all that magician stuff," she brunette woman explained as she watched him pause for a lengthy amount of time at her desk. "She's rather good at it, I suppose, and most of the other children seem to enjoy watching her."

"Most?"

"Well, you know children. If they all got along, it would make my life easier, so, naturally, that never happens," Ms. Worrall explained, and Dumbledore couldn't help but chuckle slightly at her sense of humour—it wasn't much different from his own.

A slight frown soon overtook his smile, though. "There hasn't been any incidents, has there?"

"I wouldn't call them incidents, but she gets into trouble most because of all those pranks of hers." The matron crossed her arms in thought as she leaned against the open doorway. "Miss Black has an...interesting way of looking at things. She likes to follow the beat of her own drum, and doesn't stop associating with someone just because someone tells her to. She's kind to everyone she meets, but for those who happen to try her patience, she flat out ignores them—at least until after she somehow puts dye in their shampoo or tricks them into sitting on one of those blow off cushions—which just drives them more mad. Very interesting girl," Ms. Worrell repeated.

"She was dropped off here, is that correct?" Dumbledore asked as they made their way back down the hall, wondering if he could learn something new apart from what Remus had told him.

"Oh, yes, quite unfortunate. Maybe only a month or two old—I suspect the parents found it harder than they imagined and just shipped the poor thing off. Curious thing is she would've been adopted by now, but every time a family comes to look at her she gives them this stare and the next thing I know she's doing everything to make them uninterested in her. It's like she saw something in them she didn't quite like...I don't know what she's waiting for. Many other children were adopted in her steed, though."

The headmaster was silent for a moment as they reached the first floor landing before saying, "I think I'd like to speak with her now."

"Of course, right this way." Leading the way to the loud family room, she stopped just a few feet in. "Miss Black, you have a visitor."

Jessica looked up, and in that second her concentration was broken—whatever trick she was in the middle of exploded in her face, and after an array of screams from the children caught by surprise, a roar of laughter followed at the sight of the strawberry blonde girl's ashen face and frizzled hair.

Fighting down her own laugh, Ms. Worrall clapped her hands together. "All right children, off to lunch now. Miss Black, you'll be outside with Mr. Dumbledore here." With that, she left the two of them alone.

"How do you do, Jessica?" the wizard asked.

Jessica coughed harshly, using a hand to wave away the smoke that was coming from the magician's hat in front of her. "F-fine," she managed to say, After it dissipated, she gave a long look past the older man before finally fixing her gaze on him. "Right, then, this way," she said eventually when she realized she was left to her own devices. She led the way outside to a small round white table with two equally white steel patio chairs. As the headmaster suspected, the view of the Bristol Channel was even more astounding from back here.

"Is there somewhere else you wish to be?" Dumbledore asked her when he caught her looking past him and towards the house once again—it must've been the fifth time since the two of them had met.

The ten-year-old girl froze at being caught, and light gray eyes—or were they green?—locked with his piercing sapphire ones. After a long pause, in which she studied him sternly and deemed him to have passed her silent test, she said, "It's just—it's not like we're busting at the seams with food here, you know?" she explained slowly, knowing she was treading on water revealing what she did. "Sneaking into that kitchen after is a lot of work."

Lunch, Dumbledore thought. The girl was missing a meal by talking with him. Well, she certainly did look rather thin, even if he took into consideration how large the clothes she was wearing. She was probably eyeballing him to make sure he wasn't some sort of government worker, for her admission would've endangered the only home she knew. No matter how nice or well-treated the kids may have been, an orphanage was still an orphanage, with its own limitations. It didn't, by any means, replace growing up with loving parents or a loving foster family.

"Why don't you gather me some rocks, Jessica."

Said girl looked at the headmaster as if he was mad, but did as she was told, and when seven rocks of various sizes were placed scattered across the surface of the table, she sat back down again.

"Now, don't you wonder why I'm here?" Albus said when the girl had settled.

Jessica opened her mouth to say that no, she didn't, but closed it when she realized that was the hunger talking. She then looked intently at him, a look that Dumbledore suspected was the look she gave prospective families. She saw him surrounded by tons of kids—a school?—and his life seemed heavily intertwined with one particular boy with an oddly shaped scar on his head. He's a good man... As her thought trailed off, she sighed and slumped her shoulders. It appeared he might have passed whatever other test she had just put him through, but... "You're not here to adopt me," she said.

"No," he agreed with a sombre smile, "But I am here to take you some place...if you wish it." He stuck a hand into another pocket of his and pulled out a thick envelope made of yellowish parchment. It was heavy in her hands when she took it from him, and light eyes—they were definitely green, perhaps she got them from her mother—widened at the address that was written in emerald-green ink.

Ms J. Black

The room at the end of the wing

Third floor

The Abbott House

88 Thistleboon Drive

Swansea

"I'm the headmaster at a school called Hogwarts," the silver-haired man explained as he watched Jessica turn the envelope in her hands and lightly drew her hands across the seal that closed it shut. "A very special school for people like us."

"Us?" Jessica asked, but instead of answering verbally Headmaster Dumbledore instead pulled out a long thin stick, with several round notches at different intervals along its length, from the folds of cloth in his cloak. A wand. The elder man then pointed it at the rocks upon the table, and with a swish and flick of his wrist, the large stones were soon transformed into seven plates of food. Still as wide-eyed as she was when she first laid eyes on the wand, Jessica managed to let out a, "That was bloody brilliant," when it was all over. "You have to teach me how to do a trick like that," she added, sticking an index finger into the icing of a plate of cupcakes before putting it in her mouth to lick it clean.

Dumbledore smiled at the girl's antics, unconsciously noting which cupcake she poked as to not take it by mistake for dessert. "It's not a trick, Jessica. It's real magic," he corrected her. "You have unconsciously been using some while performing these 'tricks' you do for the other kids here. If you attend Hogwarts, you'll learn more complex spells than that, as well as how to control it—the use of magic outside of school is prohibited." Blue eyes stared intently at the pre-teen over his half-moon glasses, who gulped at the underlying warning. "Also, after what I heard from Ms. Worrall, I should warn you that if you get caught pulling pranks you would serve detention as you would anywhere else."

Jessica blinked up at him then, and though she did not say anything, Dumbledore could almost see the wheels turning in her head—I just won't get caught, then. He had the strong inkling that if Jessica and a certain pair of Weasley twins ever crossed paths the staff might be working overtime trying to keep a watch on them.

"What do you think, Jessica?" the wizard prompted her when the child continued to remain silent.

With her head down, Jessica's hair shadowed her face as she opened the letter and read through the pages, and felt her heart jump as she passed by words like Merlin, dragon hide, broomstick—even though first years weren't allowed to have one. She blinked back tears, though, and her cheeks puffed out as she held her breath to keep them from spilling over. What did she think? To be one of the few people allowed to be a part of such a fantastical secret world?

"It all sounds very wonderful," the under-aged witch started, her head still down and her voice sounded a bit unsteady, "But...I don't think I can go..."

The headmaster frowned slightly at Jessica's answer. That wasn't what he was expecting at all—she looked unable to sit still in her chair just a few minutes earlier. "This isn't about what Ms. Worrall would say, is it? She's already given her permission for you to go."

Something flashed through Jessica's eyes, as if that aspect hadn't even occurred to her—honestly, she would've found a way to go even if she wasn't allowed to attend Hogwarts. "That's great, but that wasn't..." She lifted her head up, but as her gaze found Mr Dumbledore's she moved her eyes up until she was staring at the clear blue sky. Oh, this was ridiculous! she thought, trying to psyche herself out. It wasn't as if it would be uncommon for an orphan to be dirt poor, so why couldn't she just say it? After blinking her eyes furiously for a couple of seconds, she worked the nerve to lock eyes once more with the elderly man across from her.

"I don't...the money..." was all she was able to eloquently get out, however.

Despite that, Dumbledore understood the gist of what the ten-year-old was trying to say. "Ah, of course. That matter has also been taken care of. In fact, someone is scheduled to accompany you to London to shop for your supplies, should you choose to accept."

"London?" Jessica all but screeched—the country's capital was about as thrilling to her as the actual magic stuff was. "Okay, I'm definitely in! Where do I sign?"

"There's no need for anything official like that," the silver-haired male replied with a chuckle. "I'll see you in few weeks, then."

Jessica bobbed her head up and down frantically in excitement, and not long after her stomach growled hungrily, shifting their attention to lunch, the two of them chatting happily well into the afternoon.

xoxoxoxox

Just as Professor Dumbledore had said, someone had come to the orphanage around mid-August to take Jessica to London to go school supply shopping. She had raced down the steps to meet the person, who apparently didn't dare move from his spot not even a foot from door in the front lobby. Wanting to make a wonderful best impression, the ten-year-old had combed her strawberry-blonde hair ten times throughout the morning, checking that the worn out red and grey plaid headband was neatly in place. She had also made sure to wear the best articles of clothing that she had, remembering what the headmaster had worn during their first meeting. They consisted of a navy blue, white dotted dress, frayed and made of a thin material, but the only one that didn't have a tear in it; a pair of white stockings she had borrowed from a girl a year older than her named Alice; and the only pair of dress shoes she had, black with broken buckles that were glued together.

When she laid eyes on her escort, though, Jessica wasn't sure what she had been so worried about—the man's own clothes looked shabby and patched, perhaps worn to make her feel a little more comfortable, and the hat he was wearing obscured a lot of his face. She had to bend down slightly and peak underneath it to see him, though he quickly turned away when he caught her.

"It's a...pleasure to meet you, Miss Black," the mysterious man greeted reluctantly, as if he wasn't sure how he felt about their meeting at all. "You may call me...Mr. Moony," he introduced himself after a slight pause, as if he had forgotten, or made up, his own name. "We best be off if we're to make it back by nightfall."

As soon as the door had shut behind them, Jessica all but jumped around Mr. Moony excitedly, bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet in circles around him as he walked steadily forward undeterred. "So, how're we getting to London? On a boomstick? Oh, oh, or maybe on the back of a dragon! Or—"

"Or on the train, like normal folk," Mr. Moony interrupted, pulling open the door to a cab the girl didn't notice was idling on the street in front of the orphanage. "No one rides on dragons, anyhow," he found himself adding, as if he felt sorry for not living up to her outlandish thoughts.

"R-right, of course," Jessica agreed matter-of-factly. "J-just testing," she mumbled, her face going red, and she missed the small smile the man had as she ducked into the cab. Luckily for him, Jessica was rather complacent on the three-hour train ride to the nation's capital, staying wide-eyed with her face practically pressed against the glass of their window seat as if to not miss a thing, staring at everything in awe.

When they finally arrived, Jessica's head may have been craned too long in one direction, as she didn't realize they had taken a detour into yet another train station until she noticed the distant chime of the locomotive's whistle — light gray-green eyes were barely able to catch the sign that read King's Cross Station. "Is it still a ways farther?" Jessica asked as she jogged slightly to catch up to the long-legged man.

"No, I just wanted to show you something quickly—there might not be anyone to show you the way in September, and the platform is quite tricky to navigate unless you know how," Mr. Moony explained, holding a hand out behind Jessica's back so that she wouldn't get lost in the throng of people that they were fighting through.

"I don't understand," the ten-year-old said as she pulled out her letter. "It says nine and three quarters. It shouldn't be that hard to...find," she whispered the last word as the two of them stopped, right in between the wall that read 10 on one side and 9 on the other. There was no such platform as 9 3/4. "What?" she breathed out, gaping at the absence of the platform.

Had he been a couple of decades younger, Remus might have been unable to hold back an, "I told you so," but since he did happen to be an adult, he instead said, "The pathway is the barrier dividing platforms nine and ten. Just walk through it and you'll reach it."

Jessica tilted her head, still looking lost. "'Walk though'..." she repeated, sounding doubtful. The wall looked pretty solid to her. Remembering the phrase 'looks can be deceiving', she stuck out her hand to touch the brick as she started saying, "Is there some kind of magical word I'm supposed to—" The strawberry-blonde girl cut herself off as she hand went through the wall, and she stared wide-eyed at her handless arm.

Before she could attract any unwanted attention, the werewolf put a hand on the girl's shoulder and pulled her backward. "No, no magic password necessary," he answered her unfinished question. With their business at the station done, he led the first year back out outside, where they continued walking until they stopped in front of a tiny run-down-looking pub.

"Er...it's a little early to be drinking, isn't it, sir?" Jessica asked as she looked up at Mr. Moony, watching as the other pedestrians walked by them, and the tavern, perhaps too in a hurry to notice the building. "Though I might fancy one, I'm feeling a little parched..."

"No one will be drinking!" Remus said quickly as he went to pull the door open for her. "The entrance to the shopping alley is here," he explained as he ushered her forward, and he made sure to keep his head down as the two of them quickly passed through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard.

'Walled' being the keyword—it didn't look like it led to anywhere but a rat food buffet. Jessica opened her mouth the point out that they were at a dead end, and suggest they should ask some of the patrons they passed inside the pub, but before anything came out the man had pulled out a wand and was tapping it against the brick. The block quivered, and soon enough the entire wall was shifting so that it was big enough that perhaps even a giant could walk through it without having to bend over.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Mr. Moony introduced as they walked forward, "Our wizard-only shopping area right in the middle of London."

If Jessica's eyes had bulged any bigger, they probably would've fallen right out of her head. She wished she had eyes at the back of her head...and maybe on her hands and knees, too, to take in everything. She turned behind her as she heard the bricks reconfigure themselves back into a wall, and she couldn't help but stick her hand out again to touch it. Solid, she thought, before rushing forward to catch up with the wizard she was supposed to stick with.

"Where would you like to start first?" Mr. Moony asked her.

"Oh!" Pulled from the sight of other kids her age running around the sidewalk, Jessica reached into her pocket for the letter, but she fumbled it and it fluttered to the ground. Squatting down to retrieve it, her eyes once again fell upon the state of the man's clothes and loafers, and she felt something tug at her heart as she stood up. "Are any of these things able to be bought second-hand?" the ten-year-old asked as she handed the list to the taller of the two of them.

Remus raised an eyebrow at the inquiry. "Well, yes, but...the school is covering the cost, so you don't have to worry about any of that."

"I know. That doesn't mean I have to buy the most expensive things just because I'm using someone else's money, right?" Light coloured eyes looked up at him. "Maybe...if it's all right...you can keep what's left over? I don't think they pay you enough for babysitting bratty ten-year-olds."

The Marauder lifted his hat high enough for her to see the touched and shocked look that spread across his scar-ridden face. She gasped when she was hit with the odd sense of familiarity, but the connection faded when he tilted the hat back down. "You've yet to hit the level of 'brat' yet," he said with a touch of amusement. "And you don't have to do that." As he thought of it, though, Dumbledore had given him an amount of gold that he felt was far too much, especially when he firmly stated that he didn't want the change back. Did the headmaster know that Jessica would do what she did, which would in turn cast away some of his reservations towards his (ex-?) friend's daughter?

"Well, I want to! Let's start with the stuff we can't buy used."

So after stopping at Slug and Jiggers Apothecary for some ingredients she'd need in Potions class, as well as Potage's Cauldron Shop, Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment, and Scribbulus Writing Instruments, they made their way to Ollivanders Wand Shop. Mr. Moony sat down in one of the seats at the front of the story, bogged down by bags, leaving Jessica to venture the short distance forward alone.

"Hullo?" she called out, searching the cluttered desk for some sort of bell to ring—it looked like someone was just there buying his or her wand. Very suddenly, though, someone with white hair and eyes the colour of a full moon popped up from beneath the counter.

"Good day," the older man greeted before peering down at her for a closer look. "There's something familiar about you..." he said, more to himself than to Jessica. Remus shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but neither male said anything more. "Right, here for a wand, are you?" he asked, placing a measuring tape on her right arm after gesturing for her to hold it out, but he soon moved to the back of the shop to grab an armful of boxes before the girl could respond. Jessica was a little too preoccupied watching the animated tape measure to notice.

"Cedar and unicorn tail hair, eleven inches," Mr. Ollivander told her as he placed the wand in her hand.

Jessica looked back at him blankly, holding the wand out awkwardly. "Er..." she finally said after a few silent moments, unsure of what she was supposed to do.

"Well, swing it around," the shop owner prompted, but no sooner had the first year moved to do just that he plucked it from her fingers and turned to give her another one. "Cypress and phoenix feather, nine and a half inches, surprisingly springy."

A few of the boxes from the shelves atop the door rattled; she had thought that was a good sign, but the slightly expectant look in Mr. Ollivander's eyes disappeared. "We're getting close, but not quite there...it's a shame, I was so looking forward to meeting a match for a cypress wand...though I guess that's good luck for you, eh?"

"Y-yeah," Jessica agreed reluctantly, twisting around to glance at Mr. Moony, who just shrugged—it appeared he didn't have the foggiest idea what the other man meant, either.

"Try this one, blackthorn and dragon heartstring, ten and three quarter inches. Now, wave it around—no, no," he muttered when boxes from the left shot out and missed hitting him by mere inches. "We're on the right path, but still not there... It seems like I'm getting a difficult student every year now..." Missing the girl's loud gulp, not realizing she misunderstood him for he was rather excited about it, he climbed up a ladder hidden around the right corner and came rushing back.

As soon as she touched it, it felt like a fresh wind blew up from within her, the wood warm to the touch, and the whole shop shook as if in the middle of an earthquake.

"Ebony and dragon heartstring, reasonably supple, fourteen and one quarter inches... I think the numerology and power outweigh the height rule," he said with a small chuckle. 'Unification through power and conviction'," Mr. Ollivander recited the symbolic meaning to the length of Jessica's wand. "Your wand definitely does look much deeper than face value."

Jessica was still turning the wand in her hand even after they left the wand shop and were making their way to Flourish and Blotts, though the loud crowd inside the bookshop quickly broke her concentration on it.

"What's going on in here?" Mr. Moony asked, voicing her unspoken question. Jessica suggested they ask the grinning man that stood at the start of the long line that snaked around the store (which oddly consisted mainly of females), but she was flabbergasted when she learned it was only a photograph (which apparently moved in the wizarding world). "Gilderoy Lockhart," he read from the poster. "Why does it feel like I've seen that name somewhere before?"

"Because you have," Jessica said as she matched the name with the author of the textbooks in her Hogwarts letter. "He wrote like seven of the books I need for school."

"Curious..." the werewolf said thoughtfully, wondering how one class could need seven books. "Well, you don't need yours autographed, eh?" he asked before continuing when Jessica shook her head. "Perfect. Let's get all the used textbooks we can and get out of this circus."

So they did just that, and were soon slowly making their way down the street to the second-hand robe shop, bogged down by the weight of all their purchases thus far. Remus stopped suddenly at the entrance, though, causing Jessica to bump into him from her walking place behind him.

"Ow!" the strawberry-blonde girl groaned as she lifted her free hand to rub her forehead, watching Mr. Moony shuffle to the side of the store where there were no windows. "What's wrong?" she asked him when he motioned for her to give him the bags she was holding.

"I...perhaps it's best you go inside yourself this time," the brunette male said before digging into his pocket and handing her a bunch of Galleon, Sickles and Knuts. "I'll be waiting out here for you, all right?"

Jessica furrowed her eyebrows and peeked into the store, where she could see two red-headed females inside—probably mother and daughter. Perhaps Mr. Moony felt awkward being the only male inside the shop. But it doesn't look like there's undressing involved... "Okay," she said, not wanting the other to feel embarrassed. As short as her attention span was, considering how everything was so new to her, Jessica's thoughts were soon revolved around the money she was given as she entered the robe shop, tilting her head in wonder if it was really gold. No one really used pure gold anymore, did they?

"Here for Hogwarts?" the woman inside asked as she stepped around the redheaded girl she was working on. "Just step up on the stool next to us here, dear, I'll be done in a second."

The girl that was being fitted glanced at Jessica as she stepped up, and a look of slight anxiety crossed her face before she smiled shyly—she was probably worried someone saw her in a second-hand shop, but since Jessica was there for the same thing, she seemed to relax.

"Hi," Jessica greeted with a stronger smile than the girl gave her. "Are you going to Hogwarts, too?"

"Yeah, my first year," the eleven-year-old redheaded girl responded.

"Mine, too! I'm a little nervous," Jessica admitted for the first time, feeling it was okay to do so to a fellow first year. "I didn't know about any of this stuff until a few weeks ago."

"'Didn't know'? Are your parents Muggles, then?"

"Muggles?"

"Non-magical people, dear," the older redheaded woman explained from behind them, sitting on one of the waiting chairs, trying to be polite about indirectly eavesdropping on their conversation by helping with the terms she didn't know.

"Oh...I don't know. I've never met my parents. I don't believe they're alive anymore," Jessica answered, shifting uncomfortably on the stool.

The girl that stood beside her looked sad at the revelation, but the mother sounded worried when she said, "Oh, you poor thing. You're not doing all this on your own, are you?"

"Oh, no, Mr. Moony is helping me but..." Jessica glanced outside where the only visible part of said man was the end of his coat that peeked from the corner of the window. "I think he's a little shy, being the only male in a store full of women."

The older woman returned her gaze to Jessica after trying and failing to get a good look of the person that was supposed to be accompanying her. "Well, if you ever need any help while at Hogwarts, I'm sure my daughter will be happy to assist you. I'm Mrs. Weasley, and this is..."

"Ginny," the girl introduced herself, her face, including her ears, going pink at the thought that her mother trying to help her to make friends.

"Jessica," the ten-year-old girl replied with her own name, and she held out her hand for the other to shake, which she did.

"Done!" the woman who was doing Ginny's fitting said, pulling the robe off the redheaded girl and folding it up with the others that they had previously fitting before handing the bag to the mother.

"All right, off to Flourish and Blotts now," Mrs. Weasley said after she paid. "It was very nice meeting you, dear. Perhaps we'll see you at King's Cross!"

"It was a pleasure to meet you, too, Mrs. Weasley!" Jessica said as the older woman walked out, and she called out to Ginny as she moved past her. "Ah, Ginny! That bookshop is a nightmare! Be careful," she advised, remembering the insane line up to meet the blonde author.

Ginny smiled softly and then nodded. "Thanks, I will. See you later, Jessica."

With that, Jessica was left alone to be fitted for her robes and winter cloak, and when she left the shop some minutes later with bags full of her required uniform, she found Mr. Moony hidden around the corner, apparently having moved at some point.

"Right, so I guess we're just about set then," Remus said as they turned the corner onto the path that led towards the Leaky Cauldron. "All we have left is your pet."

Jessica nodded absentmindedly until she realized just what Mr. Moony had said. "Wait, what?"

"Well, you're allowed to bring one. And some of them practically feed themselves. I thought it'd be good for you to have a companion while you're..."

"In the Muggle world?" Jessica finished, laughing at the older man's raised eyebrows. "I've learned a few things," she half-joked, half-clarified.

The werewolf looked slightly alarmed, as if she might've learned something she shouldn't have. "Yes, well...yes. Do you have any preference on what kind of pet you'd like?"

The ten-year-old frowned, knowing getting one wouldn't be cheap, but as she looked up at his side-profile, she had a feeling he'd get her one whether she admitted she really wanted one or not—he wouldn't like her to miss out on anything on his account. So instead, she decided to focus on his question. "Hmm...maybe a cat. They're more normal than an owl. And I feel like I've grown up with one...though we never had one at the orphanage."

Remus found it curious as well, considering Jessica's father's Animagus and his own wolf tendencies. Perhaps it was something she got from her mother, like the majority of her physical attributes—she certainly got her mischievousness from her father, though. He really had to ask Dumbledore to research more into the woman Sirius had relations with...she was most likely a Death Eater that was still at large, which was dangerous for a number of reasons.

Wanting to steer his thoughts in a more positive direction, dark eyes looked down at the child that walked by his side. "While some cats are 'normal', as you say, others are crossbred with a magical species," the Marauder started as they entered Magical Menagerie, figuring he'd teach her something since she seemed eager. They slowly made their way through the cramped shop, looking into each cage as they passed, stopping at one that housed a large silver-spotted feline within its bars. "This one, for example, is half-Kneazle, a very intelligent creature."

Jessica moved her gaze and attention from Mr. Moony to the half-cat she stood in front of, glancing at the tiny information card beforehand. "Hey girl," she cooed, leaving her hands upon her knees as she squatted down slightly to be on the same eye level as the silver-spotted feline. She didn't dare prod and wiggle her fingers between the bars—Jessica knew she'd hate if someone did that to her if she was in the pet's place.

The cat gave the strawberry-blonde girl a lazy look, probably all too used to having people stick their faces in front of her, but then the feline's gaze came back around and stayed on her, causing Jessica to smile brightly. "You're probably bored right out of your mind in here, eh? I bet they don't even allow you out very often. But I can set you free, if you want. There's a huge world out there for you to explore."

Gracefully and with purpose, the cat rose to its feet and approached her, purring as she stuck a paw out from between the bars. Grinning widely at the show of acceptance, Jessica raised a bent finger and gently rubbed her knuckle against the padded foot for a few moments before craning her neck up to stare at Mr. Moony, who nodded approvingly at the silent message the look was sending.

"So, what will you name her?" Remus asked some time later as they made their way to the train station that would lead them back to the orphanage, him carrying the trunk filled with their purchases and Jessica holding her newfound friend.

"Mallie, short for 'malediction'," the first year answered, rubbing Mallie's head when the cat meowed at her name. "She won`t be the one who`s cursed, though—anyone who messes with her will feel her wrath."

"Or anyone who messes with you, too," Mr. Moony added. "They can be quite protective. But it's interesting that you know that word."

"There's not exactly a lot of reading material back at the House."

Remus could tell Jessica was trying to act nonchalant about her situation, but he could spot the blush that made her cheeks rosy—he couldn't tell if she was embarrassed that she was referring to a religious book, her lack of wealth, or both, though. "Well, I think we solved that," he said with a small smile, motioning to the trunk he was lugging around.

Jessica nodded silently but enthusiastically, her smile slowly fading away as a thought that had come to her earlier returned to the forefront. Light-coloured eyes stole a few glances up at the taller man before she figured she might as well ask. "Mr. Moony...you don't happen to know who my parents were, do you? If they were magical people or Muggles?"

The man stopped so suddenly that Jessica ended up farther ahead and had to turn back to look at him. She figured the grim expression she caught beneath his hat was him trying to figure out a way to let her down easy. Remus, however, was wrestling with his thoughts, wondering if she should know, what she should know, if he ever really did know his friend at all.

"I'm sorry, Jessica. I didn't know your parents." I don't know him. Not after what he did. Not anymore.

The head adorned with strawberry-blonde hair nodded, expecting that answer yet still feeling disappointment from the small sliver of hope she couldn't help but feel. "It's all right. Forget I asked," she said, forcing a smile, and after a long moment of Mr. Moony looking unsure, they continued to the train.

While Remus was trapped in his mind, wondering where everything went wrong, Jessica focused her mind onto her newly discovered life where, on September first, she'd be on a train much like the one she was on now, heading towards something new and exciting.

The future, unlike her past, was something she could change.

Author's Notes: I really didn't mean to make this first chapter so long. I did, however, name this chapter First Meetings, and as such I wanted to include all of Jessica's important first meetings in this chapter—i.e. Dumbledore, Remus, Ginny, and Mallie.

I hope you all enjoyed it and stay tuned for the next chapter!