Welcome to the first chapter of another story. It will be an AU, and have a female Harry and even following the line of a possible another Boy-Who-Lived element as well. Whether it is the wrong one or not will be revealed over time. I quite like WBWL stories so long as they are written well. For those of you who follow another of my stories please know Daughter of Blood is not abandoned and an explanation will be at the end for long absence. For those that don't an explanation will also be present for the possibility of long gaps between updates. I hope you are able to enjoy the story and remain patient with me.
This story has been influenced by more than a few concepts, mythology, Brian Lumley's Necroscope series, WBWL stories. While it will contain some crossover elements it doesn't properly fall into a crossover story as I hopefully do something a little different. If you haven't read Brian Lumley's work please don't worry, everything will be explained over time.
Another story that has influenced this story is called Keogh by ChelleyBean - its Hermione centric and is the only other story I have come across that uses Brian Lumley's works.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter along with Warner Brothers owning what rights they own and Necroscope belongs to Brian Lumley. I am just using their playground.
Warnings:- Dark story, violent, horror and other scary things - mentions of child abuse, (though my story will not be filled with scene after scene with them) and nor will I go into explicit detail about things that were never hinted at within the books. Harry was neglected and abused and that does have a real impact on a person and something I am going to try and portray realistically in my story. Please know that if I am writing from a character's point of view and they are 'trying to justify their actions' that it is not my own opinion. Child Abuse in any form, whether physical, emotional, sexual, psychological or neglect is wrong. Abuse in any form is wrong.
Any mistakes are mine and mine alone.
Chapter 1:
Holly had tried to be normal, once.
Had tried to curb everything that made her unusual.
Had tried to fit in with how her family perceived the world.
Everything her aunt did she mimicked.
The way she acted, the way she held herself, the way she talked.
Everything!
She cooked breakfast every morning and ensured that nothing was burnt.
She tended to the garden, paying particular attention to the roses.
She worked hard, learnt quickly and tried to be the best she could be.
She was polite and quiet at all times.
Little girls should be seen and not heard, was often thrown in her direction when she asked any questions, quickly followed by don't ask questions.
Sometimes out the corner of her eye, though she saw her aunt's lips slyly turn upwards, not quite a smile, it was more than the usual grimace whenever she looked in her general direction. It was the slight twist of her lips that made Holly all the more determined to gain her aunt's approval.
Holly realised at the tender age of six, how stupid that was.
She was never going to gain her aunt's approval no matter what she did.
She was a freak, abomination, abnormal!
And her Aunt hated anything abnormal.
Holly didn't mean to be; she had tried and tried to control it. To push it down, ignore it, forget about it.
But it had been an impossible task.
It had been Dudley's fault. Dudley who never liked the idea of sharing...anything.
He had come swaggering over to her, already becoming one of the biggest boys in their year, a small group following behind him like laughing hyenas.
He'd snatched the card she had been neatly colouring on, a mother's day card, for her aunt. Miss Jones had said it was perfectly acceptable for her to do one; after all her aunt looked after her like a mum.
Dudley looked at it, with a sneer before ripping it up, proclaiming for all to hear "She's not your mum...she doesn't want you. Even your own mum didn't want you, little orphan nobody."
Anger had burned through Holly like she had never felt before. Her eyes stung, and she could feel the tears building.
She would not cry! Would not give him the satisfaction.
But Dudley was like a bloodhound for weaknesses in others; he smelled it and used it against them. Already he had begun to lord it over all in their year.
"Little Holly going to cry? Cry that she has no mummy and no daddy and that nobody wants her."
He laughed, and his hyenas laughed with him.
She hated, hated, hated!
Holly snapped. Like a flick of a switch, the burning anger lashed out.
In truth, she wasn't sure exactly what happened; just that it was something unusual, notordinary and freakish!
Almost as if something exploded out of her and the world blurred.
She was so focused on Dudley she was only vaguely aware of his screams and the screams of others around him.
Blinking she stared in surprise as the ripped up card that Dudley had been holding in his hands burst into flames. Flames that had quickly travelled to his school jumper before spreading even further up his arms.
Chaos quickly followed as teachers rushed to his aid, but even amidst all the drama, he was able to finger the blame on to her.
Aunt Petunia was silent next to her.
Holly wasn't sure which was worse.
The raging fury that had been her uncle or the silent seething that was her aunt.
Aunt Petunia hadn't even looked at her once since she had come rushing to her son's side at the school or the journey to the hospital or the drive home.
Uncle Vernon had screamed and yelled until he was purple in the face; had even threatened with the promise of beating her black and blue. But then he often threatened whenever Holly did something...odd.
It was only upon arriving home her aunt finally turned and spoke to her.
"Go and wait in the kitchen, I will deal with you in a moment!" Before promptly herding Dudley upstairs.
Inwardly Holly winced; her aunt's voice had been cold. Colder than the ice in the freezer, and she dared not disobey. Dudley shot her an evil grin around his mother's arms before they disappeared out of sight.
He wasn't even hurt!
But in true Dudley fashion, he faked and milked and basked in the attention.
But he should have been hurt, a small voice warned.
And wasn't that the biggest mystery of all.
One that had puzzled the doctors at the hospital, but the way her aunt's lips had thinned at the realisation, that while her baby boy's school jumper was singed black and burnt his arms remained unmarked, told Holly that her aunt most likely knew exactly what happened and she wasn't pleased.
Holly waited, dancing on the balls of her feet from one foot to the other. She knew she was going to be punished, knew she was going to be in trouble and she hated waiting for it.
"Dudley told me what happened," her aunt said sharply as she entered the kitchen.
"He started it...he took my card and rip -"
The slap surprised her.
Her cheek tingled and stung, and she stared wide-eyed at her aunt. Never, not once had they ever hit her before. She had learnt early on to dodge the frying pan that was swung her way, so that didn't count in her eyes. They had locked her in the cupboard without food for days at a time, they gave a list of chores that at times kept her busy for hours, duties she had often enjoyed doing with her aunt but never once had they raised a hand to her. Okay so maybe Uncle Vernon was a little rough at times when he was throwing her into the cupboard, but he had never left a mark.
Dudley did, Dudley made sure to leave marks, but he didn't count.
"You set my baby boy on fire, and you dare to lay the blame on him!" Aunt Petunia screeched. It wasn't a scream, not really, but her voice had gone higher in pitch to the point it made Holly wince.
"I didn't, I was nowhere near him. I didn't even touch him," Holly defended, but she knew at that moment it fell on deaf ears.
"People saw you! They know it was you."
"It just happened, I don't know how I didn't mean to, it just happened, and like magic, the flames were there," she cried the tears that had threatened earlier slowly started to fall.
The second slap happened just as quickly as the first.
The noise radiated off the walls in the kitchen.
"There. Is. No. Such. Thing. As. Magic!" her aunt hissed at her, "I knew taking you in was a mistake, I should have known you would have been just as freakish as your mother!"
"I'm sorry," Holly sniffled, "I...I won't do it again...I...I promise. I w...ill try to be good," she hiccupped, as she gasped for breath.
"Too little too late, you awful, awful girl."
She sniffed once, twice, letting the tears fall silently down her cheeks. It stung even more, the side that had been slapped and she could feel it burning and throbbing, but she dared not make a sound. Her aunt always hated it when she made a fuss.
"I am not your mother. I will never be your mother. I am Dudley's mother and his alone. To think I would ever want a freak like you. You were left on our doorstep like the freak you are, and I refuse to allow such behaviour to continue," Her aunt, said quietly, too quietly, the deadly quiet that always carried more weight than the screaming and screeching.
Her aunt wanted her to hear this. Wanted her to get the message.
And it was at that moment, despite only being six, Holly realised the cold hard truth that was her reality. She was alone. So very alone. Her aunt would never love her. Her aunt would never want her.
She was a freak, abnormal.
She was never going to fit in with them, and she didn't know why.
Just that strange things happened to her, or she made strange things happen.
Holly hadn't meant to turn her reception teacher's hair blue; she hadn't meant to make all of Dudley's toys come to life and scare him silly. Nor had intended to cause the dustbins to come to life and attempt to eat Piers Polkiss, (though he survived unharmed she might add if not somewhat scarred by the experience). Bringing the dead bird back to life had been a complete accident, she didn't mean to do it in the kitchen.
And Holly hadn't meant to set Dudley on fire.
But she had.
As Holly sat locked in her cupboard understanding dawned. She would never be good enough for her aunt, never.
And it hurt.
Holly wanted her aunt to love her, wanted her aunt to accept her.
It was perhaps while the tears streamed down her face, Holly despite her young age was able to comprehend that life didn't care about what you wanted. You got what you got, and unless you were willing to change it, you had to accept it.
Holly didn't want to accept it. She wanted to change it.
If she was never going to be good enough for them, then she was going to make sure she was great enough to leave them behind.
To never need them again, for anything.
She was going to be the best she could be, and she would show them that they weren't good enough for her. She was going to be better than them all.
Holly vowed she was going to learn everything she could and she was going to be impressive.
And she was going to start right now.
Holly was going to see if she could make something strange happen on purpose.
She placed one of her small toy soldiers on the shelves above and sat on her thin mattress and stared and stared.
Holly didn't want to set the toy soldier on fire, but she wanted to see if she could move it. Thinking back over the incident earlier that day she replayed everything leading up to Dudley getting his arm on fire.
She had been angry at her cousin. Angry and upset.
Did that mean she had to be angry and upset to make things happen? Holly thought back over other such unexplained incidents. Everything had resulted because she had been reacting to something.
Fear!
Anger!
Hurt!
Her feelings were key.
She stared at the toy soldier again, and let everything she had been feeling all day pour out of her.
The fire inside of her flared to life as she poured her anger, hurt, hatred. It burned them away until a desire far stronger than she had ever felt in her life filled her.
Holly couldn't help but wonder about all the strange things that she had already done.
She couldn't help but dream and believe.
And then she felt it.
Almost like a moment of peace.
A hum underneath her pulse.
And slowly the toy soldier rose slowly from the shelf and moved towards her.
She did it.
Needless to say, she didn't sleep very well that night or any of the following nights after. Her desire having grown tenfold drove her on and on until she was practising every night. Like a switch had flicked in the dark a little girl dismissed her fear of being different and embraced that which she'd previously feared.
Holly smiled she would never again be the girl in the cupboard.
XXX
Petunia hated magic.
Hated with a capital H.
Hated because you can't have it.
It was wrong, it was unnatural, it was perverted - it perverted everything it touched. Flowers returning to life after they had fallen, dead, off their stalks. Humans flying through the air like their bones were as hollow as a hummingbird's. Things changing their shapes, people changing their hearts, changing who they were, who they loved...
As children, they had been inseparable until he had come and magic had taken Lily away. Every year, she had stood silent, a tight smile plastered on her face as she waved her sister off, hot jealousy bubbling inside of her.
Perfect Lily who lived a strange life far away from their parents, punctuated with reports filled with 'Outstanding's' and celebratory family dinners in the holidays. Princess Lily who could do no wrong while Petunia's own mistakes happened right under her parent's noses.
Her parents who sang her sister's praises whenever they could and admonished her for her own dreams, goals that hardly compared to Lily who waved her wand and created beautiful, magnificent things.
Petunia dreamed of creating beautiful things too, dreamed of fashion and designs and her own brand, and yet in spite of herself, every day, she rose early in hopes that her Hogwarts acceptance letter might fly through the mail slot.
But it never came.
And as each day passed, her resentment for Lily grew with a paralysing envy which burned inside of her no matter how much she tried to ignore it. Until it consumed everything.
She missed and hated her perfect sister.
She despised and desired to join her on her incredible adventure.
It hurt to breathe thinking about how much she wanted magic.
She could remember the day her niece arrived, even now, that cold November morning, wrapped in a blanket, left on the doorstep with a note attached to her. The mother in her had been outraged at such a thing, the uncaring way the whole situation had happened. Albus Dumbledore hadn't even bothered to knock on the front door to tell her to her face the bad news. Instead, a note had been left to explain everything. As if a letter was a satisfactory way to discover that your sister was as good as dead. A part of her had died that day, the tiny little bit that still loved, beneath the envy and hatred, her sister and hoped one day they would be able to reconcile.
Despite what she told herself, Petunia never hated Holly Potter in the beginning. When the chubby baby with dark tufts of hair and scar on her forehead landed on her doorstep, she desperately wanted to hate her. She knew, in ten years, no matter what she did, Dumbledore and magic would steal her away in the same way he had taken her sister. But as she looked into the large green eyes that watched everything with pure enjoyment and a smile and giggle that was contagious, she couldn't help but love her. The last remaining link of Lily.
She remembers though, remembers the first time it became glaringly evident that Holly was her mother's daughter.
Petunia remembers because it was the day she stopped loving her, and even now years later she didn't care how that made her appear.
They had been playing together; Holly and Dudley, sharing giggles and games but entirely separate. Their faces lighting up with glee. Holly had cocked her head to one side, the way Lily had often done, scrunched up her face tightly with a look of pure concentration, or as much attention a two and half-year-old could perhaps muster. Then almost with a click, the toys before them had sprung to life, moving on their own accord and freely, surrounding both Holly and Dudley. Memories bubbled inside of her and Petunia's heart had lurched. How could she have thought she would be any different? The pure joy and laughter that crossed her nieces face followed by the startled cry of fear from her son.
Petunia acted instinctively, grabbing Holly by the arms and giving her a shake until she too was crying, but the toys had fallen down unmoving as they were supposed to be.
Despite her guilt, she didn't regret it. Maybe it made her a bad person, but she had long since stopped caring. She locked her in the cupboard under the stairs and soothed her own son's cries, drowning out the wail of her niece with comforting words and promises of ice cream as she carried Dudley to the kitchen.
As the years passed though the more she looked at Holly, the more she saw Lily. Saw big, curious green eyes which burned you a little when you looked at them too long - dark pits of fire and passion, but soft and warm, welcoming also. Secretly she had been pleased that the girl had tried to do all in her capability of being like her.
A silent victory over her sister, look your daughter is looking up to me, not you. She hates anything unnatural and freakish.
Of course, the incidents had still happened, despite how they punished her, they had all been harmless, but this one had been different. Very different.
Fear had gripped her the moment she had gotten off the telephone from the school, afraid for her baby boy.
It had taken her every ounce of control not to wring her niece's neck as they drove to the hospital, a tearful Dudley whimpering in pain; barely able to look at his cousin alas she set him on fire again. She hadn't dared look at the girl throughout the entire examination, relief filling her when it was soon realised that despite how badly burnt his clothes were, her baby was unharmed, unscarred, unmarked.
But it could have been, she could have hurt him, killed him.
Magic was dangerous. Her niece was dangerous. She had been too lenient with her, too soft something Petunia knew she couldn't afford to do any longer.
She hadn't meant to slap her; it had caught her completely by surprise almost as much as it had caught Holly. Instantly guilt gnawed at her, she had never physically hit either of them before, and it wasn't something she was going to start now. She didn't believe in it, but as she stood there, she felt her anger bubble, as the girl dared blame Dudley for her freakish attack. Her hand had risen without her knowledge.
The second slap, she had meant, her fury unleashing itself and attacking with ferocity at the one who dared hurt her only child, regardless of whether that person was a child herself. Her words had struck more blows, invisible but just as painful just as she intended them to. She wanted the girl to hurt, just like she had hurt all those years ago when magic had stolen her sister.
She locked her in the cupboard for weeks, feeding her on a diet of leftovers.
When her anger died, and she finally let the girl out, she realised her mistake. The girl had changed. Her green eyes still burned when she looked at you, but instead of the warmth, a coldness filled them. An iciness that promised death. Gone was the obedient girl who did everything she could for crumbs of praise which had come few and far between. Gone was the girl that tried to be normal. Instead, she was something else.
Cold, distant, unfeeling, uncaring.
Somebody who embraced her differences and no matter how many times the incidences happened and punishment followed the magic refused to be tamed. Declined to be put back in a cage.
Petunia couldn't help but be afraid.
She couldn't help regret her mistake, but it was too late now. She knew that she had pushed and pushed until she had pushed too far. In her desire to ensure her baby boy never felt the way she had when being left behind, that he wasn't good enough for magic, she had assured she showed him just how special he was. At the expense of another, another who had desperately wanted love and affection, but had only been shown disgust, anger and hate.
Petunia knew in that moment she had lost her niece forever, in five years Hogwarts would come calling, and her niece wouldn't look back, and she feared what would happen then.
XXX
The first thing one noticed about Privet Drive was how unremarkable the street actually was. Uniformed houses on either side of the road with neatly trimmed lawns and lush flower beds and shining brass door numbers.
Dull, ordinary, unremarkable.
Minerva shuddered at the thought as she walked up the street towards what the letter claimed was the right house. She was no stranger to the Muggle world, her position giving her plenty of opportunities to interact with the families of the muggle-born students. Minerva had lost count at the number of young witches and wizards she had introduced to magic over the years. But never in all her years had she been around somewhere where everything was of such a regiment design and that included the time where she actually visited Catterick Garrison.
The world was pale without the shine of magic that marked Hogwarts and Diagon Alley. There was an extra depth to the colours, hum to the sounds and buzz of life as magic pulsed within.
Perhaps she was too harsh, seeing the outside shell and not seeing beyond. But one thing Minerva was sure of was that it was incredibly hard to imagine a young witch living somewhere so unremarkable and being happy, free or relaxed.
But then she would reserve judgement for the time being until she actually met Holly Potter.
Minvera raised her hand to knock on the door, absently wondering just what she would find on the other side.
The door opened almost at once. The girl was a scrawny little thing. You're too unkind, Minerva corrected herself; she was small for her age, too small, if she was going, to be honest.
Minerva found her voice had deserted her. She could only stare. She looked like James, with that unruly blackhair that seemed to kink itself into natural waves at a longer length, but it was her eyes that made her heart jump into her throat. Her eyes were exactly the shade of Lily's as Minerva had last seen them. They looked older though. Older than a child should have.
"Can I help you?"
She wasn't rude. But her voice held a note of indifference to it, stating she didn't really care one way or the other and she was only asking because that was what one was supposed to do.
Minerva couldn't help but wonder what kind of life the girl had had. Old anger and doubts made her voice probably sharper than it should have been, deep down she knew it wasn't the girl's fault. Merlin knew she had received the short end of the stick when push came to shove in the whole affair. Everything had worked out so unfairly. But then life was prone to do that, no matter how loudly one cursed at the injustice of such things.
"My name is Professor McGonagall, Deputy Head Mistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As your family are already aware of our world, you probably know all about magic, but as you have been raised in a Muggle family, I thought it best for me to come and introduce myself and offer aid in reaching the Wizarding world."
The girl stared at her blankly. Her face void of any emotion, giving nothing away. It was a look that it seemed she had perfected to a fine art.
Or not.
Then her lips twitched into a grin that for a split moment she was taken back to James when he had just pulled a prank, or found something funny or was playing Quidditch. She noted though the grin didn't quite reach her eyes, the coldness was still there burning away accusingly at her.
It was unnerving.
"Oh, they are going to love you," the girl stated, and despite the grin, there was nothing humorous about her statement. Just a declaration that made Minerva frown. As much as she looked like her father, with her mother's eyes James hadn't had the wary cold gaze; neither had Lily come to think about it. Or the pale skin.
Minerva swallowed the lump that was forming in her throat. Her instincts of dealing with children kicking in, something was wrong here. She just couldn't quite place her finger on it.
"I suppose your aunt and uncle explained everything to you?" Minerva voiced it as a question, not expecting the answer really.
The girl snorted, "Explained what exactly."
It wasn't a question more a statement. As Holly - and she must be Holly, although so unlike how she had ever imagined a child of Lily and James to ever be - turned and stared back into the house with a look that could only be described as unsurprised.
Minerva stared at the girl; both her mother and father would have been outraged at such a thought, but Holly, seemed as disinterested in the fact that they were keeping something from her as much as she was unsurprised in the piece of information that they were keeping something from her.
Minerva raised her wand just as a large man charged in from another room. Minerva warned herself to be careful; she didn't want to give him a heart attack.
But then the man roared at Holly, "Who is this?" his gaze went to Minerva's robes before he straightened up and yelled, "FREAK!"
She winced inwardly, pushed down the urge to curse him into oblivion or change him into the walrus he already looked like and waved her wand at an ugly patterned vase standing on a shelf instead.
The vase shimmered and warped and struggled for a moment visibly vibrating before shifting, rippling and swirling until a black raven was perched on the shelf, feathers ruffling as wings stretched out. The man shut up quicker than Minerva thought possible, and she couldn't help but smile. She found that a bit of unexpected magic was almost always efficient at doing that.
She glanced down at Holly, who was watching with amusement. Minerva frowned, that was hardly the response she had been expecting. Yes, the girl didn't look frightened, which is what she was half expecting due to her apparent total ignorance about things that should have been her rightful heritage.
But amusement was not it. Though the closer Minerva looked the more she could see it wasn't just amusement. It was realisation dawning in those green eyes. Something clicking into place and glee was beginning to shine through brightly.
It was the first warming emotion she had seen cross those emerald green eyes since she had knocked on the door.
"Now, as I was explaining to your niece, I am Professor Minerva McGonagall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I have come to give Holly her acceptance letter and take her to Diagon Alley, considering her unusual circumstances. Apparently, I must explain magic to her, the war and who her parents really are."
"She will not be going," a woman stated. Minerva turned to see an incredibly thin woman, with a long neck standing behind the man. She had known Lily had a sister, but no resemblance was visible between the two women.
"We swore when we took her in we'd put a stop to that rubbish, that freaky... aberration," The woman continued.
Minerva found that her voice had failed her once again. But rather than shock causing her silence, anger silently flared to life inside of her. How dare the vile woman...
She dared a glance at Holly.
The girl's face had smoothed over to disinterest again, though there was a hardness in those green eyes that was like ice. Minerva could almost feel the cold and magic radiating from her.
"You knew!" the girl stated, her tone was calm. Too calm under the circumstances if truth be told.
Lily's sister flinched visibly at the statement. Before she turned to face her niece, "Knew," the woman sniped, "How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got her letter just like that and disappeared off to that - that school - and came home every holiday with her pockets full of frog-spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was - a freak!"
The woman only paused for air, before swiftly carrying on with venom lacing every word. She was intending to hurt, knew precisely where to land the blows as if she had been preparing for this for the last ten years.
Minerva waved her wand, silently casting the Silencing charm. The woman opened her mouth multiple times, but no sound came out. A look of fear twisted her face as panic flickered in her eyes. She could see her almost beginning to silently gasp for air as she attempted to make some form of sound.
"I think we have heard quite enough from you," she said firmly, throwing her a look she had used over the years with students incapable of behaving if she is going to act like a child, I will treat her like one.
"I will be taking your niece to buy her school things now, she will not be returning until this evening where I will be accompanying her."
She looked at Holly, who turned her green eyes to meet her own. She could see the anger swirling behind them, along with amusement and joy.
The girl gave a small smile, and Minerva could perhaps find it in herself to forgive herself for stooping to their level as she returned it with one of her own.
XXX
Holly's head was spinning.
When she had awoken early that morning, she had not anticipated her day going from ordinary to extraordinary quicker than...waving a wand.
She had long since come to accept she was unusual. That she wasn't like the Dursleys and that was something she was more than grateful.
The moment she had accepted her differences, embraced the strange and odd things that happened around her and made the toy soldier move in her cupboard five years ago was the moment Holly's life had changed.
It had set her on a path to learn what was actually causing the odd occurrences.
And she had learnt.
It had taken time, but she had soon learnt how to Push, Pull and see with it. She could see the swirls of colours and hidden power everywhere she looked. Connecting her and everything else.
And then there were the cold spots.
Feelings in the back of her mind that made her shiver and the hair on her arms stand to attention.
Holly could almost swear she could hear voices though they sounded far too distant her to really make out. As if she was missing something without really realising what she was missing.
Holly had never been able to find out what it was she did or understand where it came from.
Until now.
Magic though explained everything.
Explained what she could so. Explained why she was different.
It didn't seem possible, and yet Professor McGonagall had turned a vase into a bird and had managed to silence her aunt half-way through her rant. Something Holly hadn't thought possible before, something she wasn't capable of doing.
The fact they had known was of little surprise to her. In fact, it explained why they disliked her so much. Why they were afraid.
She didn't fit into their ordinary view of the world or the neat and boring box they tried to shoehorn her into.
Holly had come to the conclusion she much preferred it that way.
She observed Professor McGonagall silently behind the rim of her goblet? As she sipped her pumpkin juice. She wasn't sure she liked it, but it was her first official taste of the magical world so Holly was determined she would enjoy it regardless of whether she would ever have it again.
Professor McGonagall was dressed in a dark forest green robe, her black hair tied neatly up in a bun. She had a stern face, but her eyes held warmth in them she rarely saw in adults. At least directed at her.
Holly also got the impression she was not a person she wanted to cross.
"I am certain you have questions," Professor McGonagall said softly. Despite the noise of the pub, Holly could still hear her clearly.
Too many, she silently agreed.
"Why can't I do magic like you can? I can do some things, but I can't turn a vase into a raven."
A small smile crept across the woman's lips. "Because you don't have a wand or the right training. Everything needs to be taught, magic is an innate ability Miss Potter, but it is one that must be honed, nourished and allowed to grow. Hogwarts gives you that training that skill to perform magic like I did, and more besides."
"But why don't you tell me what you can do?" Professor McGonagall continued, her gaze firmly fixed on Holly.
"I turned my teacher's hair blue, and I can make toys move. And I brought dustbins to life, they tried to eat one of the boys from school though," Holly admitted, choosing to mention the incidents that happened before she started learning. "How long? How long will it be able to take me to do what you did?"
"One might say all your life, you can learn something new every day, but officially your time at Hogwarts last seven years unless you are held back a year. Certain professions require more training certainly, but a standard education is seven years."
"Seven years and I will be able to turn vases into animals?" Holly quizzed, as she took another sip of her juice.
"That altogether depends on you Miss Potter; Transfiguration is a complex art and one not easily mastered. If you work at it then yes, you will be able to turn vases into animals. But like all things you must work at it," she paused, holding her gaze firmly, "though I should warn you that magic is not to be performed in front of muggles. There are strict laws we must abide by, your aunt and uncle are...an unusual case as they already knew about magic."
Holly tilted her head slightly, before nodding once. She could understand that at least. It was logical.
"You mentioned my parents, a war. What happened?" she asked, absently gnawing at her bottom lip, before stopping herself.
Professor McGonagall sighed softly, her eyes looking at her with an emotion that wasn't quite pity or sadness, but more an understanding.
"There was a war that began when your parents were still young and in school," Professor McGonagall said at last. "There was a Dark Lord - a wizard who practised the dark arts - who wanted to rule our world. He gathered to him those who believed in his ideals, his vision, and his dream. They felt they were superior to all other wizards and witches. According to him, muggles or muggle-borns -"
"What are they?" Holly asked, without thinking.
Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow at her, but didn't berate her for interrupting; instead, she patiently answered the question, "Witches or wizards who have non-magical parents."
"Like my mum?"
"Yes like your mum. Some wizards and witches feel that those who come from a muggle family are unworthy of magic. Those who are less than pure than those who come from a magical family with ancestors going as far back as they wish to claim. It was them who made up a large percentage of this Dark Lord's followers."
"Why?"
"That is a question many have tried to answer, one I believe goes back to the time where we were openly prosecuted by muggles, feared and hated. Or one might say it goes back to a time where we were ruled."
"Ruled?"
Professor McGonagall smiled at her, "Indeed, ancient Egypt, Ancient Greece and so forth, to be magical was to be King; perhaps many wish to go back to those times. Ruling those they believe weak and ignorant."
"Why did the Dark Lord try to rule us?"
"Do any of us truly know what lies within another's heart? What drives them? We certainly can speculate, but we may never know or understand."
Holly frowned.
She understood what drove her aunt, uncle and cousin. Greed, envy, pride and a desire to be better than anyone else.
"What was his name?"
Professor McGonagall hesitated a little shivering slightly, that had Holly not be paying close enough attention she would have missed entirely, before quietly answering, "Lord Voldemort. Though please be aware his name is rarely said. People too afraid to even think it."
"But that's stupid."
"And yet it is the way it has always been. They were dark times; very dark times and people have come to fear to speak the name almost as much as they fear the one who it belongs to."
Professor McGonagall continued, "So You-Know-Who amassed many followers together. He promised to get rid of Muggleborns, and he promised those who followed him; power, wealth and the world. That was enough for many to turn to him. Others followed out of fear."
Holly tilted her head again ever so slightly before asking her next question, "Is he still around?"
Professor McGonagall shook her head, and her face took on a bit of awe. "He was defeated when you were one. Nobody really knows what happened that night, I doubt we ever will," she started, "He attacked your family home on Halloween night, along with three of his followers. The Longbottom's were there also with their son. Both your parents and the Longbottom's had been fighting against You-Know-Who since they left school. It is said he hated both your families as a result of this."
Holly frowned, "Why who are the Longbottom's? What happened? Why were they there?"
"Your mother became friendly with Alice Longbottom once they left school. Alice was a little older but both of them fell pregnant at the same time, and I do believe you were born only a day apart from each other. They named their son Neville. You were all celebrating Halloween together when You-Know-Who attacked. The exact happenings of what happened in your home. I can't answer, but I do know that Frank and Alice Longbottom's lives ended that night. You-Know-Who attempted to kill both Neville and you, but something happened, and he failed. You both survived, and You-Know-Who vanished."
"I think I remember a green flash of light," Holly whispered, "It's been haunting my dreams for as long as I could remember, but it never made any sense."
"The Killing Curse. Unsurvivable, until that night."
"Why that night?" Holly asked with a frown.
"Neville was marked, different from your own as it was said to be caused unquestionably as a result of dark magic. It is speculated that Neville Longbottom survived the Killing Curse. Of course, nobody knows for certain, but it was enough for the public to jump on the hope that You-Know-Who was defeated and it marked Neville as the Boy-Who-Lived. Surviving something that until that point, had never been survived before."
Holly blinked it sound almost impossible, but then she supposed anything was possible with magic. But it did not explain what had happened to her own parents, or why she had a lightning bolt scar either.
"You said the Longbottom's died that night Professor, but what happened to my parents?"
Professor McGonagall stared at her, "Miss Potter your parents are still alive.
Holly was uncertain what to expect when she had asked to see her parents. If truth be told, she was uncertain how she should feel about that particular revelation either.
Numb she supposed was the only word she could possibly use to describe herself. The true profundities of her emotions covered up under a layer of deadness and ice that was impenetrable and impervious.
Holly had long since learnt to control her emotions, suppressing those that would lead to trouble, and using those that she needed to wield her gift as a weapon and a shield. She had learnt not to show what she was feeling on the inside on the outside for others to use and her only protection had been a mask of indifference.
One she had firmly fixed into place as she watched Professor McGonagall argue with some wizards and witches in pale green and yellow robes.
St Mungo's had not been what she was expecting either, but then she wasn't entirely sure what she had been expecting.
Eventually, though they were escorted into Janus Thickey ward.
Lily Potter was sitting on the bed looking at the ceiling.
Her mother seemed untroubled by their presence, or even aware that they were in fact there.
She just sat silently, head tilted ever so slightly, almost as if she was listening to something only she could hear. Her lips curved ever so slightly upwards into what you could perceive as a smile.
Holly chose to see it as a smile. It made her mother look peaceful, happy and content even as she sat there. Completely unaware of what was going on around her.
It made her shift on her feet uncomfortably. Once upon a time she had dreamt of her parents. Imagined every detail of them. While she had known they were dead, or at least dead according to her aunt, she had still done it. In her dreams, her father had been a fireman, a hero that rescued people from the burning flames that engulfed them. He had been kind, caring and loved both her and her mother dearly. Her mother had been a doctor, saving people's lives on a daily basis. It was how they had met.
Nowhere in her dreams had she dreamt they would be stuck in a hospital lost in their own minds, alive, if not well.
"Lily" Professor McGonagall's voice was very gentle. "I've brought Holly to see you. Your daughter," She touched Holly's shoulder.
Not that she needed a push.
Holly walked forward and felt almost as if she was dreaming.
Her mum looked up at her. Her emerald green eyes were wide and glazed. The same eyes that she had. She hadn't known that. For a moment she looked as if she was looking straight through her. She had dark red hair.
One hand reached shakily and touched her cheek.
"Pretty," her mum whispered, "So bright, like starlight. For all to see. They whisper, whisper about you. Bright light, they call to you, but you don't hear, so they weep and weep. The girl with the death coloured eyes does not hear them."
Holly frowned, "What does that mean?"
"You must understand Miss Potter; she was tortured until her mind broke. Very little of what she says makes any sort of sense, even perhaps to herself. The fact she is even talking is something of an achievement, mostly she is silent," The Healer answered, speaking up for the first time since they had entered the room.
Holly nodded once but pushed aside any other questions as her father walked in. She looked like him, the same black messy hair, he wore glasses too. He shook her hand but said nothing to her. Only paced, up and down, whispering to something or someone. Nothing made very much sense though she did catch the odd word here and there.
Her chest ached, looking at him, looking at both of them. Seeing them for the first time, touching them for the first time. Or at least the first time that she could remember.
"What happened to them?" she asked as they left her parents and the ward behind. Perhaps it was a question she should have asked before she had seen them, but Holly had been too caught on the idea of seeing them that she forgot to ask for the details. Now she wanted to know everything.
"Your parent's were a rather remarkable witch and wizard. Some would say among the brightest and most powerful of their generation. I have already told you that they were also firmly against You-Know-Who and his followers. Defying them whenever they could. From the moment they graduated Hogwarts they both dedicated themselves to the cause of fighting him. I know that they battled him three times personally and survived an accomplishment that not many witches or wizards have been able to achieve."
"But what happened?"
"The night You-Know-Who attacked your home, he brought followers with him. It is possible the move was a calculated blow against his enemies, taking out some of the strongest families that stood against him, but while he attacked, they also attacked. Much of that night, is a mystery. You must understand that Holly. Stating who cast what spell on who is impossible to answer, all I can say is during the fight that night, your parents ended up being tortured."
Professor McGonagall wrinkled her nose in disgust, "A particularly dark spell known as the Cruciatus curse was used. It is a particularly painful curse with its only known purpose to inflict great pain on another. Your parents...well you have seen the result of yourself that such a spell can cause."
"Is there no cure?"
The Professor sighed, sadly, "The human mind is a complex structure. Some believe that it is the most complex structure in the universe. I know a great many people have tried over the years to understand more about it, but as of yet, there is no cure. Not in a magical or muggle sense."
"But surely there was the protection of some kind?"
"Alas there was, but they were betrayed by one they trusted. There is a powerful charm that that involves someone promising to keep a secret. As long as that person is faithful the secret can't be wrestled from them even under torture."
"Someone willingly betrayed them."
"Yes."
Holly stayed quiet her mind racing with everything she had learnt. She couldn't wrap her head around half the things she had learned, but there were a few things that stood out in her mind clearer than crystal.
"Who...," she licked her lips, "who was responsible?"
"The ones in the attack, Bellatrix Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange, Rabastan Lestrange and Barty Crouch Jr. The friend who betrayed them was called Sirius Black."
The names burned in her mind and anger stirred deep inside her. She could almost feel her whole body shake with fury. A furious wind whipped around inside of her. Outside though she insured her face was smooth of the inner turmoil. Ensuring her mask of indifference was firmly in place as her mind started to race with ideas.
"What happened to them?"
"The Lestranges and Crouch were arrested at the scene, there wasn't much left of your house after the backlash of magic and You-Know-Who's disappearance. They were disorientated and unable to escape. The Aurors that turned up were quickly able to round them up, but of course, Alice and Frank were dead, Lily and James were incapable of answering any questions, and there were two one-year-olds in considerable distress. It was a mess."
"It is speculated you got your own scar that night as well."
Involuntarily her hand rose to touch her forehead, her fingers tracing the long lightning bolt scar. Her aunt had spat at her 'that she received it during the car crash' when she had dared to question it, along with claiming it to be ugly.
It was ugly. Holly couldn't deny that, but she had accepted it as part of who she was, now though Holly wished she could get rid of it. Hide it away. Sear it off her skin if such a thing was possible.
"What about Black?" the words dripped with heated anger that surprised her.
"He was confronted by another friend of your parents, Peter Pettigrew for his crime. There was a duel and Peter was killed, along with thirteen muggles. Sirius was eventually apprehended and is also imprisoned."
Holly stopped listening, her emotions twisting and turning and the numbness that had hidden them deep inside of her cracked, allowing them to pour forth.
She hated, hated, hated!
Imprisoned they may be, but that wasn't good enough. They needed to pay. They had to pay.
Holly wasn't sure what to make of Goblins, or Gringotts or the idea she had mounds and mounds of gold coins buried beneath London's streets.
Okay maybe buried was the wrong term, but either way, they were deep below the streets.
Already her mind was racing at the endless possibilities of just what she would be able to do with that money. It was perhaps why she was caught slightly off guard by a Goblin stepping in front of her. A mistake on her part as she was usually better aware of when someone was approaching her very little.
Holly stared at the Goblin.
The Goblin stared back.
She knew she was being rude and yet she couldn't help it. She had never seen anything like him before.
Neither of them made any move to speak first, and Holly was more than aware of Professor McGonagall's curious gaze on them. Without saying a word, the goblin shoved something into her hand before leading them out of her vault and back into the cart that had carried them there in the first place.
Holly looked down in surprise.
It was a letter.
A thick letter, with her name neatly written on the front envelope.
Had it been inside the vault and I hadn't noticed. Where did it come from? Who sent it?
They were questions though that would have to wait as Professor McGonagall stepped into the cart and both teacher and goblin looked at her expectantly. Shoving it into her pockets, Holly scurried after them.
XXX
It was with somewhat a sad acceptance that Minerva McGonagall had come to the conclusion that Holly Potter would not be going to Gryffindor.
Her eyes had lit with a burning light in them as she had taken in every sight and sound she could of Diagon Alley.
The girl had practically inhaled the Alley if such a thing was possible. From the moment they had stepped out of Gringotts with a bag full of coins it took all of her will to rein her in.
Her excitement; reminding Minerva that despite her appearances Holly Potter was still an eleven-year-old child...deep inside.
It was perhaps the most childish behaviour she had seen from the girl, so far. They had barely entered Flourish and Blotts before the girl shot off with an impertinent curiosity she had come to recognise as being a core part of Ravenclaws. Not that the other houses were not curious, far from it, but Ravenclaws had to understand everything, right down to the nitty-gritty details that most people would not even consider as being important.
She watched in some amusement as the girl manoeuvred her way through the shelves, pulling books at random and adding them to her growing pile. In this instant, she reminded her so much of Lily it almost hurt.
Minerva approved undoubtedly of some of the books she chose, every one of them educational in some way, whether to help in school or give her more insight into the Wizarding World than she had the time to give her. She listened to suggestions and smiled her appreciation until she felt satisfied she had enough to keep her going.
After the bookshop, the girl must have slipped away from her several times before she found her to pull her back on track. Several trinkets, toys and old books were bought in that meantime.
It was this that gave Minerva the impression that Holly Potter could very well find a home in the Slytherin House as quickly as she could in the Ravenclaw. Determined, and focused she pushed forward chasing her goals, regardless of the obstacles that stood in her way. This instance Minerva found that she, herself, was, in fact, the barrier as she once again pulled Holly away from a shop that Holly had no need to be in for school supplies as she purchased a few more trinkets.
"I want to learn. I want to understand." Holly answered in a somewhat simple way when Minerva actually asked her what it was she intended to do with everything she was purchasing.
A small voice in the back of her mind told her she was too soft, she hardly ever let muggle-borns have this much freedom the first time they entered Diagon Alley, but the way Holly's face lit up instantly made Minerva realise she would happily spend all day here if she had to. She doubted the girl had ever really had the chance to ever indeed be free and in her own element.
A little fun and freedom never hurt anyone.
She watched as the girl listened in silent fascination as the apothecary shopkeeper explained the difference between certain ingredients and when they would best to be used.
A smile graced her own lips as she fired questions at the craftsman who designed the many magical trunks before purchasing her own, and Minerva found herself all but laughing out loud as Holly Potter ran circles around various peddlers attempting to sell her things.
Eventually, it came to the last item on her list...a wand.
Ollivander did his usual spiel when it came to matching a wand to a witch or wizard. The tape measure acting on its own accord while he muttered about the wand choosing the wizard.
And so began the process of actually trying the wands.
She lost count at how many Holly held in her hand only for it to be snatched seconds later. Some produced sparkles; others destroyed something in its path.
"Difficult customer I see, well I have yet to be defeated, Miss Potter, and today won't be the day I will be. I will find a match for you...mark my words," Ollivander muttered half to himself, half to the girl.
He produced more and more wands until a match was found.
Minerva could almost feel it in the air. Like everything stood to attention the moment Holly Potter's hand grasped the handle. The air almost sang with...magic. The wand itself seemed to emanate a bright luminous light that lit the entire shop up. She almost had to shield her eyes.
"Oh bravo!" Ollivander clapped, "I do believe we have found you a match. An interesting match and an unexpected one. I had thought it would go to another, but the wand chooses the witch or wizard. Holly - wand 11" nice and supple, with a core of a phoenix. I do believe Miss Potter we will be expecting many great things from you, many great things."
Minerva frowned slightly but pushed the thoughts from her mind before taking hold of Holly and ushering her out of the shop. Ollivander was cryptic at the best of times, but even for him, that was cryptic.
XXX
The Dursleys were afraid of her now.
She could see it in their eyes whenever any of them dared to meet her gaze. Of course, they had been afraid of her before; their behaviour towards her was how they coped with that fear. Lashing out and hoping she would shrivel under their weight.
Holly found now she cared even less for them than she had in the years she had been unaware that what she was doing was in fact magic.
They held no meaning, no significance, or importance.
It had been a slip of the tongue indeed on her part, she hadn't meant to mention her room under the cupboard, but when she had moved towards it to store her new things Professor McGonagall had exploded.
She had been right on one account; she was not a person she wanted to cross...ever.
Words were exchanged, some incredibly vicious on both parties side until finally she found herself packing her things up and taking them to Dudley's second room. Dudley had cried but found himself for the first time in his life, ignored.
Professor McGonagall had stayed only long enough after that to change the room to suit more her tastes and place more wards on the door stopping all but her from entering. It was why she now found herself lying on a slightly bigger single bed, with walls painted green and the night sky on her ceiling. She loved every inch of it.
Her books lay scattered across the bed, open on random pages that caught her interest, ink and parchment neatly stored on her bedside cabinet as she slowly began practising writing with the blasted thing.
It was only now as she looked up at the ceiling that she remembered the goblin and the envelope he had stuck in her hand.
Pulling it out of her pocket she carefully examined it. Her name was written neatly on the front, the y's curving with a feminine touch.
She frowned.
Who could have written to her?
She took a deep breath.
Open the letter.
With trembling hands, she carefully opened the letter pulled out the parchment and unfolded it.
My dearest Holly...
She ran one hand over the elegantly written words not wanting to blink lest everything disappear.
Tears ran freely down her cheeks as she made herself more comfortable to read the letter.
Her mother had written this.
Her mother!
Even through the tears, a small smile crept across her lips; she finally had a piece of her mother, words that had been meant for her. And while they hadn't explained anything at all they had undeniably given her something she had never had before.
The knowledge that her mother and father had loved her had really and truly loved her.
She turned to the final piece of parchment and frowned.
There was a set of complex looking equations.
Holly had enjoyed maths to some degree while she had been primary school. It had been logical something she could really sink her teeth into, but she was sure she had never seen anything like this before. From what she could see they hadn't be solved.
Did her mother expect her to understand it?
Or did she expect her to find a way to understand it?
It was a puzzle, a puzzle left by her mother and Holly did love puzzles.
She looked at them again, but nothing made any sense to her, nor did she have a eureka moment.
She wasn't sure exactly how long she just looked at the page in front of her, absorbing them in her mind and attempting to put them in some order that didn't seem so scrambled or random. It was like some part of her deep down recognised them, but it was just out of reach.
Sighing in frustration, she put down the equations and reread her mother's letter again hoping for some sort of clue.
She found none. It was something she was going to have to work on. Mentally she added it to the list that was already forming in her mind.
Holly couldn't deny that she had goals. Goals that had come to light as the day rolled on.
It had started out as two, but now it would include a third.
One she was going to solve her mother's puzzle.
Two, she was going to make those responsible for causing so much pain to her family pay.
Three, she was going to cure her parents.
It would take time, Holly was a realist. She knew nothing about magic, she would need to learn. Time and study.
She would take the time. She would study everything, learn everything. She would become the best she could be. Better than anyone. No avenue would be unturned. She would understand, and she would succeed.
It was a silent promise she made to herself and one she knew she would keep.
Many things seem impossible only so long as one does not attempt them.
She would attempt what others dared not, and she would succeed where others failed.
Holly nodded in determination, flipped herself over to lie on her stomach and picked up the first book and began to read.
XXX
2018 hasn't been my year. I won't bore with the details but what started out as something minor in the sense of me thinking I had a few sickness bugs at the beginning of the year resulted in me being diagnosed with a rare neurological disorder by the end of April. Between the symptoms of the condition and the medication finding the time to write has been an impossible task though Daughter of the Blood and the characters I am using in my AU world of Harry Potter has never left me. I am slowly starting to find a balance between everything and starting to get back to normal, though there are good weeks and bad weeks and I have been working on the next chapter for Daughter of the Blood - though I have fallen into a few glitches with having such a long time away from the story. The next chapter isn't ready, in fact it has had me wanting to tear my hair out and at one point restart everything until I came to the conclusion that it was just that chapter I was struggling with and not my story and overall plan, I just need to find the character's voices inside my head again and get things more sorted, I am almost there. It will be completed as soon as I am able to do so and I can only apologise for the long wait in-between everything and I hope that those who have enjoyed the story and still enjoy the story will continue to do so. I can't thank you enough for your patience. If nothing I have learnt this year you never know what is around the corner.
While my brain is struggling with the next chapter it has also decided to add another story to the mix as well, an idea that hasn't left me for a good few months and no matter how much I have tried to ignore it, I ended up writing the first couple of chapters.
Again I can't promise when updates will be or how regularly they will be but please know that Daughter of the Blood and this story will be completed eventually.