A/N - Well, this is my first fanfiction. I suck at summaries so know that I'm surprised you're even on this page. I enjoy OC's but I know they're not everyone's cup of tea. I appreciate this is long for a prologue but I'm just setting everything up. I should be updating every week. I hope you enjoy and as this is my first I'd appreciate if you could rate, review or whatever? Thanks for just clicking on this x
Prologue-
She stands at the window, looking out wistfully as leaves of burnt orange, soft brown and faded maroon fall gracefully from the trees. She has always loved Autumn. She loves the cool breeze and the sound of leaves crunching under her feet. But these seem a distant memory to her, as she hasn't been outside in months. People come and go, dropping off food and basic necessities, barely stopping to chat before apparating away again. She feels like a prisoner in her own home. The worst of it is that she is imprisoned by those she loves for her own safety. And her unborn child. You see, Sierra Thomson is eight and a half months pregnant with her and her fiance Sirius' child.
She loves Sirius with all her heart, she really does, but his over-protectiveness is a cause of many an argument. Although he would not openly admit it, he sees her as vulnerable and defenseless. Against what?, you might ask. The uprising dark wizard named Lord Voldamort. He, along with his followers called Death Eaters, plan on dominating the wizarding world and exterminating all muggles - non-magical folk, that is - and witches and wizards with muggle blood in them. Sierra is a muggle herself, and is a big target for Lord Voldamort. Not just because she is a muggle and someone close to Sirius Black - a 'blood traitor' in Voldamorts eyes -, but because she is directly related to Voldamort himself.
You see, Voldamort himself is a half-blood, meaning his mother was a very powerful witch, but his dad a mere muggle. Sometime during Voldamorts childhood, his father abandoned him and his mother to start a new family with another muggle woman. They grew old and had a daughter who then went on to marry and bare a child. This child then gave birth to a beautiful daughter named Sierra Thomson. And so, Voldamorts passion for revenge and inflicting pain led him to track down his father and his new family. He went to their house and murdered his father and his new family in cold blood with one simple spell. The killing curse. Unfortunately for Voldamort, many aurors turned up and he had to flee without finishing the mission and his half-niece Sierra was rescued by auror Sirius Black.
From that moment on he was very protective of her and through his visits to 'check up on her', they fell madly in love. And so a couple of years later they moved in together and Sierra fell pregnant. Sirius still worked as an auror - a very dangerous job due to Voldamort and his Death Eaters - and often left Sierra for days on end alone and forbidden to leave the house.
And so we are, in Sierra and Sirius' house on the first of September at 12.08am where she is waiting for her fiance to return. She gazes wistfully out the window, wanting more than anything to run outside and jump on the crunchiest leave she can find. But a sharp kick from her unborn child brings her out of her daydream. She is about to make something for herself to eat when the sound of the door opening grabs her attention. Relieved that her husband is back safe and hopefully unharmed, she walks as fast as she can in her impregnated state to the door.
However, it is not her husband that she finds. Two threatening cloaked and masked figures stand wands at the ready in the door entrance. She knows who these people are. They are death eaters. They have broke through the wards put on the house. They are there to murder her. She cannot defend herself against them. She isn't a witch. All she can do now is try to die with some dignity and think that maybe it will be a good thing that her child won't have to grow up in this horrible and pain-inflicting world.
He looks down at her with pity, he's lost count of the rounds of crutiartis curses used on her, the amount of lacerations on her body and the amount of cackles Bellatrix has let out. Lying in the fetal position on the floor cradling her swollen abdomen, she is clearly dazed. She now has no idea what is going on around her, only that the worst pain she has ever felt is coursing through her body right now. The male has a reputation for his stoic demeanor and so is glad the mask conceals his sympathetic expression from Bellatrix. Although she is having so much fun it is doubtful she would notice if he wasn't wearing a mask. She suddenly turns around and looks at him.
"My mark is burning. We must finish her off and go," She says calmly. Too calmly. As if she hasn't just tortured someone to the brink of madness.
"Mine isn't. It must be a task for you. Go ahead. I'll finish her off myself." The male death eater replies coldly as always.
"Okay, Severus. But make it slow." She cackles one last time before leaving.
He waits until the crack of her apparating has passed before crouching to her side. It is clear he wants to save her, but he cannot. Bellatrix would be sure to find out if a body was not found and the young woman has been through so much tonight he doubts if she'd ever be sane again. It would be merciful to kill her. He slowly raises his wand, ready to say those words when she turns to him and whispers something barely audible. Barely.
"Kill me. I beg you to kill me. Just save my baby."
Her voice is hoarse and quiet but he obeys. How can he not? He knows what he has done tonight. Severus Snape is aware that this is Sirius Black's, a sworn enemy of himself, child. A man of the order. But even so, this child is too innocent to die tonight. So he cuts the child out it's dead mothers stomach. It is a girl, and as he severs the umbilical cord, it doesn't even cry. It just looks at him with eyes as blue as its mothers, but with a raging storm in them, just like her fathers.
He cannot face leaving it here for Black to find. It could die between now and the time he returns. So he wraps it in a throw from the near-by couch and walks outside to conjure the dark mark above the house and set fire to the building. He knows her remains will be found by Black, but no one will know that the child escaped. The cloaked man side-apparates to the nearest orphanage. Before he apparates away, he summons a quill and piece of parchment and begins to write. Severus Snape is aware that it is selfish of him - her parents probably have a beautiful name picked out already for their child, but no name could be more beautiful than hers. Even so, he knows he has to leave a connection to her parents. Placing the bundle in the doorway, somewhat sheltered from the cold air and sight, he tucks the note into a fold in the throw and steps back to apparate away. One last look leaves him with a tragically beautiful image embedded in his mind.
The small child looks on at him in wonder. Her porcelain skin has smears of blood on it and tufts of honey blonde curls stick out in every direction. But what is most startling, is the pair of stormy sapphire irises that gazes on at the man as if seeing right into his very soul. And written on the note that sits in her make-do shawl is 'Lily Sierra Neena Black'
The orphanage is all she's ever known. They tease her, call her names, leave her out of their games, even hit her sometimes, but she doesn't want to leave - even if they bully her for the strange things that happen around her. She is scared, and they make no effort to console her. She is being handed over like some kind of merchandise, and she has no say in it. They all sign the forms. Everyone but her, that is. There is no space where she can scrawl 'Lily Sierra Neena Black' in her messy six year old handwriting. Of course, if she had that choice she wouldn't sign it at all. She is going to live with some man she doesn't even know. They tell her that she is lucky that he is 'taking her on'. The tiny six-year-old doesn't feel lucky at all.
She hauls her small trunk down the stairs of the orphanage. It isn't heavy, she has hardly anything to put in it, but she's so small it is a feat for her and no one offers to help. Lily knows it is her last time on these stairs as she descends. She feels disappointed that there is no one to say goodbye to. She has no friends here at the orphanage. Although, Lily does have one friend at her school. A boy called Harry. They are both 'outcasts' in the school, called 'freaks' and excluded from games but they don't mind. They have each other for company. He can relate to all the mysterious things that happen around her. She only wishes she could say goodbye and thank him.
She has a horrible feeling as she climbs into his car. Somewhere inside of her, Lily knows she should run and get as far as she can from this man, but she doesn't. She stays put as he locks the doors and begins to drive to her 'new home'.
Another slap. Another kick. Another beating. More shouting. More names. More abuse. She is used to it by now. Lily has the same dream every night. She is in his car and the door is still unlocked. If she just leans over and tugs on the handle it would open and she could escape what was ahead of her. Freedom is so close and inside she longs for it. But every time, just as she touches the handle it would lock and her hopes of freedom would ebb further and further away from her with every beating. His name is John, and she often wonders how he is allowed to 'look after' a child. There was nothing she regretted more than not running away while that door was unlocked and she had the chance. Now, because of that decision, she is subjected to the same routine every day.
Pull her aching body off the ground where she had been beaten until she passed out. Make breakfast for him and eat whatever will go unnoticed from the refrigerator. Dress in the same tattered clothes that cover the bruises. Go to a different school where she doesn't even have Harry to talk to. Get teased by her nasty peers. Go home and hope John is still passed out on the couch from his binge drinking. Make dinner for him. Eat his leftovers. Get beaten again. It's a cycle she goes through everyday while trying to hide from the world outside what is going on behind the closed doors.
John has told her over and over again if she tells anyone they won't care and he'll just kill her. She believes him because it's probably true.
Until one day, about a fortnight after her unnoticed and un-celebrated 9th birthday while walking from school she wonders why she doesn't just run away. Just because she missed her chance in the car doesn't mean that another chance won't arise. Lily wonders why it hadn't occurred to her years ago - It seemed so simple. She realizes, this is her chance. She is walking home from school alone as usual. It isn't like anyone would miss her. Only John would notice her disappearance in a few hours and what could he do? She thinks about it. If he found her he'd surely kill her. Or maybe just beat her within an inch of her life. It wouldn't matter - now she had an image of freedom in her mind, she would rather die than return to that hell. The young girl decides to do it before she can talk herself out of it.
The room is dark and an air of misery chokes the very small group inside. They can feel his presence although they cannot see him under the black shroud that covers the small figure. They have their doubts, but do not dare to express them to anyone. For if they did, they would surely be killed for disloyalty. And you do not show disloyalty to Lord Voldamort. Even if his body could hardly be called so, even if he could not lift a wand to kill you, one word and many would jump at the chance to do it for him in hopes of earning his respect. A short man stands next to the figure and leans down to his height. The room is deadly silent and all that can be heard is the soft sound of many bodies breathing at once until even that stops when a hushed, whispering sound emits from the figure to the man next to him. No one else can decipher the hushed sound except that man. Obviously a very trusted death eater. He opens his mouth to speak and it is clear he is the spokes person for Voldemort himself.
"The Dark Lord, as you know, has returned in his very weakened state. He has a plan however to get into Hogwarts unnoticed the year Harry Potter will attend his first." The figure emits a hissing sound at the name 'Harry Potter' and the man stops his speech to allow this.
"I cannot fully divulge the plan with you, but I can say that to carry this out and bring our Lord back to full immortal power, he needs more strength. He has had a dream, which leads him to the source of this strength. I'm sure you all remember many years ago, a girl named Sierra Thomson escaped an attack on her family. She became pregnant, but it was thought that her unborn child died with her when we finally caught up with her. A recent dream the Dark Lord has had tells us that the child is very much alive. She is crucial in our plan. The same blood that courses through her veins also flows through our Lord. It is she we need to fulfill this task... She is crucial"
I have no clue where I am. I look around frantically, searching for a signpost or something that will give away my location. Why, I don't know. It won't make much difference considering I wouldn't even recognize the location, never-mind navigate myself to somewhere safe and as sheltered as possible. I decide what I really need is to calm down. So I sit down in the small field I find myself in and do something that usually helps me calm down. I close my eyes, take deep breaths and begin to inwardly state everything I know is true and definite.
- My name is Lily Sierra Neena Black. I am 10years old. I grew up in an orphanage. My parents died in a car crash when I was a very young child. I now live with an abusive man called John. I ran away. I'm lost somewhere."
I open my eyes and begin to think rationally again. Even if I'm left wandering around until daylight tomorrow, it's got to be better than living with that horrible man. This thought seems to motivate me, so I stand up and look around at my surroundings. I'm in a rectangular grassy field which is surrounded by tall trees on three sides. On the other is a small road, filled with pot holes and dead rodents. That was the way I came. I am tempted to retrace my steps back to a habitable town or housing estate but refrain. I can't go back, because that would mean being closer to John and I can't risk that. I need to be as far away from him as possible.
It is cold and a harsh wind stings at my exposed skin, especially my face and hands. So far, I have lucked out and it has remained dry for me to travel in. However I am not a lucky person, and any luck I do attain never seems to last long. As such, the grey sky clouds over completely with dark, threatening clouds and the first raindrops start to hit my body. I should find shelter, I'm aware, but the surrounding woods look threatening. I have never really minded the rain. In fact I think it's rather amazing. I love the pitter-patter it makes on the roof at night and I love how I can relate to it in a weird sense. Most people tend to hate the rain, but accept it's presence and put up with it - much like I felt at the orphanage.
I continue standing in the field and let the rain soak me through. It feels exhilarating until the rumble of thunder makes me snap out of it. I'm not scared as such of storms, I just really dislike them. It's the noise of the thunder I think. I suddenly feel exposed in the field and make a frantic dash for the woods.
I stumble in the growth which is rather scarce of much vegetation at first, but I can see it becomes dense very quickly. I continue to run into the woods, until I trip over a large, protruding tree root and fall to the ground painfully. I use my arms to lessen the impact of my fall, but a sickening crunch tells me all I have done is damage a bone in my limb. I am not unaccustomed to pain, however the pain seems to be lifting suddenly as if draining from my body. I roll over carefully, and I am looking straight above at the overhanging mass of leaves and branches. From the edge of my vision, black seems to seep in until it completely it consumes me. The last thing to run through my head is the realization that it is in fact blood dripping from my forehead.
I woke up in a new kind of hell. One that made Johns presence seem fifty times more preferable in comparison. The cloaked people would come in to the dark cell, clad in their horrific masks and whisper mysterious words maliciously that I did not recognize. They would wave these stick-like objects and the worse pain imaginable would course through my small body. Food and water was scarce, and so it did not take long for ribs and bones to protrude from my already skinny body. It was always cold in the draughty cell, and the presence of the cloaked beings only seemed to chill the air even more so.
The pain they inflicted on me is indescribable. the blood in my veins seemed to boil, and all I could feel was pain. I forgot everything but my suffering body and the pain attacking it - until the pain totally consumed my body and that was all that existed. There was nothing but pain and it was more intense than anything - like a fire raging inside every cell of my being.
There was no windows, no clocks - nothing to convey time, day or date. I slept whenever I was not being tortured or consuming the rare and simple victuals provided. Hope and energy seemed like a distant memory of something I once possessed. I couldn't bare to think about things that made me happy, such as Harry or nature because they were locked inside my head and I feared that if I let them out in this dark cell then they would be forever tainted. I do not know how long I had been imprisoned for, when I awoke to a man in the cell with me. I was naturally frightened of the stranger, but curious as he was the first unmasked human I had seen in what felt donkeys years. As he appeared to be asleep, I ventured out of the corner I was resting in and went closer to investigate. I examined the man with my eyes. He looked around forty years old, with dark hair in which grey was beginning to pepper. His face seemed kind - graced with laughter lines - , yet there was a seriousness about his face that suggested he had endured a lot. However, he was covered in scrapes, grazes, scratches and cuts with dried blood seeping from these wounds. As I got closer to assess his injuries, his eyes opened suddenly and I could feel my heart jump with fright. I backed up quickly into the far corner. He sat up, and came to his senses before he spotted me.
"Don't be scared. I won't hurt you, kid," He tried to soothe in his hoarse voice and continued after no reply from myself, "My name's Joseph, but you can call me Joe, that's what all my friends do. What's your name, kid?"
I tried to keep my voice steady to no avail, "are they your friends? In the cloaks and masks?"
"No, they're most certainly not, kid. They're bad people, and I can see that they've hurt you. I may not have a wand or a sword but I'll promise you now, kid, that I'll do whatever I can to protect you from now on."
I was startled at the first sign of kindness I'd witnessed in so long, and felt as if this man deserved my trust already. "What's a wand?" I asked him brightly, giving him a sign that he had my trust and thanks. He explained to me all about magic, the things he had done with magic and told wonderful stories that filled me up with a little more hope than Id ever had in my time there. i didn't ask about the cloaked people, because I didn't want to ruin the sense of hope and feeling of not being alone that he'd brought. Despite the wonderful and hope-filling tales, I was beginning to feel tired. Joe could see, and took me under his arm to give me protection and warmth. Just before we both drifted to sleep, I whispered to him, "Lily."
"Mmm?" he murmured back, confused in his tired state.
"My name. It's Lily Sierra Neena Black."
"Nice name. Bit of a mouthful, though. I think I'll stick to kid, kid."
The cackle still rang in my ears. How could they have done such a thing? I kneeled over him, my only friend in this hell who had died in his endeavor to protect me, and sobbed as his warm, sticky blood pooled around us. It gave the dark, dingy room a metallic aroma and as fresh and warm as the blood was, the cell became even colder and eerier. His company had shown me hope and kindness and now he was gone, I had never felt such loneliness. Through my heart-wrenching cries, I did not hear the commotion above. I did not notice anything until a heavy door opened and the first strong light I had seen in god-knows-how-long flooded in. Usually I would have cowered away in the corner as always, but I didn't. Not only could I not bring myself to leave him, but I didn't care anymore. I wasn't scared of anything. No pain could compare to loosing a friend and death would have been welcomed.
It took my eyes some time to adjust to the new light, but I saw a dark silhouette appear at the doorway. It moved forward and transformed into the formation of an old man. He had a long, blue silk robe on with intricate detailing and embellishments in gold. He had a long, snowy white beard and carried in his right hand a stick-like thi... - no, a wand. The most captivating thing about this man was not his strange appearance which to most would seem weird, - but his eyes. They sparkled wonderfully behind his half-moon spectacles. He looked rather old, yet seemed very wise.
He walked towards the cell and looked down at the scene before him. Me, a small child kneeling over a dead man, crying woefully. When his sparkling eyes found his lifeless ones, his face became even more grievous. "Joe," he whispered sorrowfully. And my mind flashed back to when Joe told me his name was Joseph, and that only his friends called him Joe. I believed Joe was a good person, and so his friends must me too.
"It wasn't me, I swear. Well, it was my fault, really. He tried to protect me, and they said that he wasn't of any use to them anymore and then they just k-killed him. I'm so sorry. You called him Joe. He said friends called him Joe. I'm so sorry," I stuttered panickedly as a new wave of tears overwhelmed me. He flourished his wand and the cell door sprung open. He walked in, kneeled down next to me and looked at me straight in the eyes. "My name is Albus Dumbledore. Joe was my friend. He was a very good person, and I know for a fact that he would not risk his life to protect someone who was not an equally good person too. It was not your fault. You are not to be blamed. By anyone, let alone yourself. Do not apologize. This is not your fault. The people that did this ... they are very bad people. They do horrible things, and I thought that they had all been imprisoned years ago. But, it seems that there is a small few who still remain. They have hurt you and I have let them, so for that, I am sorry. Upstairs my men, - good men, that is - have caught them and sent them away. You are safe now," he comforted me. Albus held out his hand, beckoning for me to take it. I looked at his hand, and then back at Joe.
"He's dead, child. No-one can possibly hurt him now. It's time to leave."
I took his hand and tried to stand, but my knees gave under me and I landed on the cold stone painfully. I was embarrassed, but just as I was about to try again another voice entered the cell, followed by it's origin. "Have you got him, sir?" I was startled, but a look from Albus prevented my retreat. The man who had spoken fully entered the cell and saw Joe for himself. As a sorrowful look came across his face I examined him. He had fair hair, kind eyes and his skin was covered in faint scars. In the pocket of his shabby robes I could see a wand and the foil of an opened yet unfinished bar of chocolate. His eyes fell on me, and I heard Albus speak, "This child has been through a lot. Remus, if you would take her to St. Mungo's."
"Of course. And Sir, aurors believe this to be a group of low-level death eaters attempting to continue on the legacy of him. Probably captured Joe in a surprise attack hoping to get information on the Ministry. It's being ruled that the threat is no more," Remus informed before turning to me.
It would have been so embarrassing having to be carried out of that place in front of all they, what were they called? Aurors, that's it, had my thoughts not been utterly consumed by Joe's death.
The child lay sleeping in the sterile hospital sheets, tossing and turning in a nightmare heat as a nurse bustled around her, trying to reverse the severe damage done to the poor child. Outside the room, Remus Lupin and Albus Dumbledore were discussing the child's future.
"She finally divulged her name to me," he began, "Lily Sierra Neena Black. I know it's not possible, sir, but the name and even the resemblance. It's uncanny. I know it's their child, I know. How-"
Albus cut him off "I can see it too. It's impossible not to when it's staring you in the eyes. The fact that this very name has appeared on Hogwarts list for next term confirms it. She cannot know, however. She will go to a muggle orphanage until the time for her to join our world comes. Even then she will be oblivious to her heritage, is that clear, Remus?"
"She is to be discharged in the next 48hours. I'll wait with her. They say there is some sort of spell, curse, charm, jinx - they do not know what has been placed upon her or it's effects. It is but a few months away, I know I couldn't take care of her because of obvious reasons but perhaps she could stay at the Leaky Cauldron at least or even the Weasly's, Sir? She wouldn't have to know a thing about them."
"The child deserves a choice in this, Remus. Ask her, but no matter the answer, she must not know yet."
Remus stayed with her, soothing her when her nightmares came to their horrifying climax. He comforted her when she woke in a cold sweat. When the time for her discharge came, he had became rather fond of the child and was nervous for her answer. "Lily, where did you stay before? - before the bad people caught you?"
A nervous look flashed in her eyes before she composed herself, "I lived with a man named John, he took me from the orphanage when I was six. Why?"
Remus dodged her question with another, "Were you happy there, Lily?"
"Yes. Of course I was." Lily replied defensively. Remus, however, mistook this as a sign that she would want to return to this John as soon as possible - that she actually missed him. How could I have thought that I could just take her away like that? It's obvious that someone is dreadfully missing this child. I'll return her immediately.