Disclaimer: I do not own "Harry Potter." It belongs to the brilliant J.K. Rowling. I wish I owned Sirius Black though.

A/N: This is my first HP fic and I figured I'd begin in the Marauder Era.

The cold wind stung Roani's face as she made her way up the steep path to the castle. The weather on this bloody island was terrible, and made her ache for home. One day it was raining, the next it was snowing. It was as if Mt. Olympus lay somewhere hidden in the clouds, and the gods could not keep peace with each other for more than a day. The thought brought a smile to her face, remembering the many stories her mum used to tell her of the Greek Gods before she was ushered off to bed. Mum. The word made her heart clench. Merlin she missed her.

It all began four months ago. Mum had begun to take more and more overtime at work, leaving Roani to care for herself for the most part. It was the same story every time she came home. I'm sorry dear, there's just a lot on my plate. You understand don't you? Of course Roani understood. She had learned the word "understand" when she was six years old and her father had walked out. She learned the actual definition of the word three months later when he was killed on some assignment for work. It had just become a household regularity, something Roani could never get rid of and always dealt with. So the trend continued. And then things began to go downhill. The more mum worked, the more bruises she came home with. Roani hit her with question after question to no avail. Finally the truth came out as she hid in the laundry shoot while her mother argued with a co-worker in the kitchen.

"I don't understand why you're doing this Aeryn! For Merlin's sake you have an eleven year old daughter at home. Haven't you thought what this is doing to Roani?"

"I know damn well what affect this has on my daughter thank you. But I can only hope that she will understand why I had to do this. What I was fighting for."

"I don't see how that's possible when you won't even tell her."

"I won't have my daughter worrying about me. She's been through enough. All she need know is that I am working very hard right now."

"And possibly getting yourself killed."

"Ssh! Don't talk like that."

"It's the truth and you know it. This assignment is dangerous and you taking it is just as bad as when her father left her."

"Her father was not thinking of his daughter when he took that assignment. Roani is all I think about."

And so she took the assignment. Roani never told her mother she had overheard the conversation. She just tried her best to drop hints; of how much she loved her, of how she didn't want to lose her, how losing one parent was hard enough. But still Aeryn worked, and one day after an assignment that had had her mum gone for a week, the doorbell rang. It was Aeryn's co-worker, and Roani did not need words to know her mother had been killed.

So off to Britain she went, leaving her beloved Ireland to stay with an old woman named Annora, as her mother had instructed in her will. From there she was meant to start school at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy, accompanied by no acquaintances except for the grief that had consumed her for so long. Now here she was, two months late into the school year.

Roani shook away her nostalgia and focused on the task ahead. As much as she did not want to admit it, she was frightened. Frightened that the kids would not accept her fiery red hair, obscure green eyes, and thick accent. Frightened of being completely lost in this foreign land. Frightened most of all of being alone for the rest of her life. When she looked up however, all her fear was lost to astonishment. The stone castle was enormous, towering over her like a mountain. The great oak doors that were the entrance were not small either, but large enough to fit a giant. As she ambled in the Entrance Hall she realized what a sight she must be. Her hair was sticking to the sides of her pale face, seeing as her cloak was not much protection against the storm that had brewed during her journey up the hill. The bottom of her cloak was covered in sludge as she was not paying attention to wear she was going, and her trunk was completely plastered with the stuff. Not to mention she was dripping dirty water all over the floor. She didn't care much because the minute she had stepped through the doors a certain warmth filled her down to her bones. A sense of comfort seeped through all the misery she was feeling, a comfort she had not known for months now. This was home.

So it begins...