Preface

A/N: Hello! This is the first "chapter", but since it doesn't really have to do with the story line other than the background, so I'm calling it the Preface. A special thanks to my friend T for editing this for me, as well as R (nobaba) of hpluver394 for also editing. It really meant a lot that these two went through and worked with me on it :)

If you like the story, please be sure to favorite/review it :) I'd really appreciate it!

Disclaimer: I'm not writing about Hogwarts, or Harry, or any of the typical HP things, so please stick with it :) I hope y'all like it!

~J

It seemed like ages before the bus came on the oddly brisk summer day. The young, quiet girl was used to that, though; she knew the drill for the bus here. As she waited, she admired the stop and watched the familiar trees swaying with the wind, the common flowers on the ground that were, to Muggle passersby, weeds. She would eventually know their full potential, though; to her, these weeds would become complicated ingredients in a solution that could kill as easily as heal. But, not yet. Not for another few years.

Her gray eyes scanned the buildings, as she most likely wouldn't see them again for a month or so. However long this house was going to keep her. She wasn't sure; it always varied depending on the family. She didn't expect to stay for a while, at least; only a few months. Nowhere near as long as she ended up living there. Besides, not all families in the system could keep a young eight year old like herself for very long. Their excuses were all the same: "she's too energetic" or "we can't handle another family member right now". That word, handle, it was the most ridiculous word she'd ever heard. What was there to handle about her? She didn't take up much time or space... She wasn't super active and she trained herself not to need much attention from the families.

She snapped out of her thoughts when the bus skidded to a halt in front of her, the driver slamming on the breaks. "All aboard, kid," the recognizable voice announced out of his speaker that sat atop the bus. He was late, but that, too, was familiar, like everything about today - everything except the people she was about to meet.

"Oi, Brielle Hawkins." The faded, silverish body of a man stood roughly from the seat as the doors squealed and opened narrowly. His plump body solidified as he walked down the stairs and squeezed out the door, allowing him to seem rather normal. More so than he was, at least.

He exited the door and hit the ground hard, the bus shaking after he stepped down, then threw Brielle's single bag into the bottom of the bus. He held a hand out expectantly as she forked over the eight sickles and one knut that she was given to buy a ticket. The stern bus driver counted the money warily, as if it wasn't obviously the same amount she gave him about once a month, but he pulled a ticket out of his pocket and punched a small hole in the top anyways, right over the date. He handed the little green slip of paper to the girl, the color signaling that she was an unaccompanied minor, and they both boarded the automobile.

"Where to?" he asked gruffly as Brielle found a plush red couch close to the front. She saw that there were two other wizards already on the bus - one sleeping with an arm slung across his face, the other on the second of three levels eating a bagel and reading the paper. There was a picture on the front of the periodical of a young baby, which appeared in its mothers arms, and then was taken by the father. She guessed they were some sort of a famous couple that Brielle should've known but really didn't. Nonetheless, she would've paid anything to see her with her parents like that.

Brielle sighed and removed the other slip of paper - a white one - from her pocket with the new house's address on it. She slowly examined the delicate handwriting on it, and then realized she already knew what part of town it was located in. "I'm headed to Wexford," she explained. She twirled an old wand between her fingers, the one that she typically kept in her boot. Her mother had left it for her when she dropped Brielle at The Continental Orphanage for Witches and Wizards - or just Continental, to Brielle - but it had no use to her; the woman who ran Continental had tried to teach her a few spells with it, but the wand didn't respond well to the young witch. She reserved it as a keepsake anyways, as it was the only part of her past and real parents she had left, even though it didn't work correctly.

"Again?" he asked with a raised brow as he started the engine and locked down the gas pedal of the bus. It lurched forward and began to weave in and out of other cars on its own. "Second time in two months."

"I know, Roger," Brielle said with a tad bit of an annoyed tone as she sat back; sometimes, though, she couldn't tell the difference between an attitude and her own accent... Roger didn't seem to take offense, though, so it was alright.

She had been sent to another household in the area of Wexford at the beginning of the month, and now she was back, headed to the... Madrack... house... or whatever their last name was. She hoped she had a better experience here, as the other family had sent her back within two weeks because she "didn't wash the floors fast enough" and "forgot to make little Kylie's bed in the mornings". Of course they just used the same standard excuses as everyone else when they sent her back. Sometimes people seemed to think that this was a maid service rather than a foster-care system. Either way, she was surprised the Madracks picked her up so quickly after that; they signed up to take her less than a week after her return.

Roger, the bus driver, plopped down on the chair near her, next to the coffee table. Brielle watched the wheel of the bus twist and turn quickly and spastically, and she always wondered how Roger kept a job if all he had to do was set the Wizarding Positional System (WPS) to Wexford or wherever they were going and then hit autopilot. After that, he was turned and talking to the girl in no time. But, as it only took 15 minutes to reach the new address, they didn't get to chat as much as she would have liked. Although Roger appeared rough on the outside, he was a sweet soul. Literally, soul. Oh yes, Roger was a ghost.

Yet another reason Brielle pondered whether his job was true or not.

He always calmed her nerves before a new home, probably because he knew about all of the families she was staying with. "The Madracks, huh?" he asked as he picked his teeth with a ghostly toothpick he stored in his jacket pocket. "Yeah, I know 'em."

That's how the conversation always started. He made her feel like the family was a mess by his tone of voice, but then gave her the good stuff on them. Though this time, he seemed to have more good things than he did about the other families. "Joseph and Larissa. Nice couple, really, they are. Shame, it is, Larissa's always working...and a Muggle. She'd be an excellent witch, that one, if you asked me." For as much of a shame as it was, Brielle didn't mind when the mother worked a lot. She had always taken to fathers, or any male figure, more than wives or sisters. They were the easiest to relate to; no nails, no hair, no drama. Men mostly enjoyed food and sports - particularly Quidditch, which Brielle adored.

"Oh, and Evan," he added with a bit of a perkier tone to his voice, which was a nice change from his typical grumbling, "Man oh man, Evan. He graduated from Aboriginal, in the Western Europe division, you know. He's a real professor there now, he is. Potions. Youngest professor in the school, I do believe."

Brielle raised an eyebrow. A workaholic Muggle mother and a wizarding father and son? Perfect setup.

Soon after Roger mentioned a few more facts about each family member, the bus rolled to a halt in front of an average sized, rustic looking house. It was wider than it was high and built of green siding with some parts that were wood paneling. The foundation of the house was light and dark brown stones stacked ruggedly against each other. The large silver knocker stood out substantially on the dark mahogany door and was placed at the top, which was going to be an issue for the short child. She stared in awe at the garden in front, the flowers all beautifully chosen and placed. It was actually rather on the small size, which she liked; if the house was small, it meant that the family wasn't invested in money, and typically weren't obnoxious and stuck-up.

"Now scram, kid," Roger hustled Brielle out of the bus and grabbed her luggage, giving her the same send off as always. With an insulting tone but a tiny smile on his face, the grumpy old ghost bit the toothpick and handed her the bag she packed at Continental of her few belongings. He attempted to give her a nudge on the shoulder but, as always, his hand went right through her. She wondered how he could carry luggage without it falling, but still not be able to touch a person. She shrugged off the question as the bus pulled away, Roger wishing her good luck from the megaphone as she walked up to the door slowly.

She stuck the older wand into her boot again as she dropped her bag on the ground, having to stand on her tiptoes to reach the knocker and use two hands for balance. Once she finally reached it, she knocked as loudly as possible with the awkward positioning.

A second later, a young man with black curly hair over his forehead answered the door. He had shocking gray eyes, much like Brielle's. His, however, were more light and brilliant, while the girl's were duller and darker. Plus, hers hid behind thick-framed glasses. She was surprised his eyes somewhat matched hers, since gray wasn't exactly a common color. He was rather tall and fit. His face appeared more mature than she assumed he actually was from his stature, which confused Brielle; she couldn't decide if this was the father or son, or neither. She assumed it wasn't the father, since his son had already graduated college and this man was not old enough to have a son that age; his face was mature, not old.

"Hello," the boy greeted her with a small, awkward smile and got onto one knee. Brielle was rather short for her age, which was odd because she was told her parents were both quite tall, like this new person was. "You must be Brielle. I'm Evan." The man stuck a large hand out for her to shake, which she did warily.

"Yes, I'm Brielle...Hawkins..." she added her last name slowly but didn't know why. It wasn't like she was going to be referred to by her last name for the short time she lived as a Madrack. They were just a foster home, anyways. They didn't adopt her. They probably wouldn't, either.

"Well, Brielle Hawkins," Evan said, keeping the kind but stiff smile on his face. This showed the deep dimples inlaid in his cheeks. She was surprised they were so deep considering his smile was so humble, "Come on in, I'll show you around."

Evan took the young, bespectacled girl on a tour of the house, starting on the first floor. The home was much larger on the inside than it appeared when she had stood out front, which was a little upsetting. She'd hoped they'd be a little less... Well, she didn't want them to be this rich. But maybe it wasn't money; there was definitely some major magic going on inside the house. Small appearance, bigger actuality. Some of this stuff could be the result of magic, right?

They had a parlor, two bathrooms, a powder room - which apparently is different than a bathroom - a very large kitchen, plus a bedroom that he identified as his own. "Technically, it's the guest room," he explained as he opened the door to a made bed but a messy desk filled with papers, "but I still live here some nights during the school year, usually when we're on holiday breaks, so I took hold of it again. I'm a Potions professor, by the way." She wanted to say that she already knew that, but it may seem a little creepy to already know.

He then showed Brielle the backyard, which contained "plenty of room to fly", in Evan's words. They apparently had two brooms; one that they kept in a glass case and only used in school for flying and training - which was the family broom from generations before Evan - and another that he couldn't reveal the location of. He said that Joseph and Larissa weren't big fans of flying, but they kept a single broom that had never been used somewhere in the house. He didn't know where... or so he claimed.

"You know," he whispered to Brielle as she admired the family broom, "as long as our parents aren't home, I'll show you how to fly." The handle had a sleek, gray finish with a neat black design on it, something she admired the work of. Simple, yet mesmerizing. The bottom whiskers of the broom were black with small strands of silver and brown mixed in. The end of the handle once had something written on it, and Brielle could just make out the letters - which were probably black at some point, based on the slight stain on the wood. It read Glover 200. Brielle looked up at Evan with a beaming smile on her face, not fully realizing that he'd said our parents. All she could think about was this broom. The other houses hadn't typically kept one, and, even when they did, she wasn't permitted to fly it.

"Really?" She asked anxiously, looking back at their reflection in the clean glass casing. She was a bit wary of him, though he seemed older-brother-y and genuine in everything he said or did, as if he never did anything without some sort of true purpose.

"Of course," Evan responded and stood back upright. He ruffled his hair a bit. "Before any of that, though, let's get you settled into your room."

Brielle followed the young man up the stairs. He had taken her bag, though she had said she could handle a few steps. There turned out to be more than she'd thought, so she was rather glad she'd let him carry it. "Ma and Dad usually stay at work until five or six at night," he said as they reached the top of the staircase, "So you'll be home with me most days, if I'm not at school. If I am, you may be alone... The neighbors have a Muggle son your age, nice boy really. He may be around." Evan showed her down the hall, pointing out Joseph and Larissa's bedroom at the top of the staircase and the bathroom that Brielle would have to herself that was just a few steps away from her room. She stepped through the door of her new bedroom and stared in awe.

"No," she gawked with a huge smile plastered on her face. Brielle couldn't believe it, even though she was standing in the doorway of it. Her own room, all to herself. She looked around, and the walls were painted a light blue. It was a perfect shade to go with the plain black and white sheets on the bed. Two plush pillows rested against the headboard, and in front of them was a small cat stuffed animal.

Next to the bed, there was a leatherback journal on a nightstand with a matching leather tie and a nice pen on top, plus a lamp to add to the lights on the ceiling. She assumed it was for the purpose of late night writing, the lamp for late night anything, really. Brielle turned to the closet, where two articles of clothing were already hung neatly on their own, without hangers or anything. She pointed to the two robes sitting side by side as Evan flicked his wand at Brielle's bag and closed his eyes, making the clothes fly out and put themselves away. She smiled at the fact that he closed his eyes to avoid seeing anything...personal...despite her only being eight. Some clothes hung themselves up as others folded into the chest of drawers that she noticed was a physical part of the closet. She didn't have much, but it was enough to make the closet seem somewhat full.

"What are those?" she asked, still pointing at the robes. "I'm only eight, and not family...I shouldn't have school robes, right?"

"Right," Evan responded and rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, "Not yet, at least." He took one robe down, which had the Muggle symbol for theatre printed on the inside. It was a deep burgundy color around the picture, with the crest acting as a nice white and yellow accent to the robe. He slung it around his shoulders, and Brielle was no longer looking at a tall, curly haired man, but a small, nimble girl with dark auburn hair and glasses. She jumped back as the other Brielle smirked and laughed a little.

"It's a shape shifting robe," Evan explained in a little, Irish voice. Did she truly sound like that? "Just think of who you want to become as you put it on." He removed the large robe and handed it to Brielle, returning to his original form. She shut her eyes and thought of the first person that came to mind.

Brielle covered her head and shoulders with the robe and opened one eye. She looked down, but her hands were the same pale color as before and she could still feel her loose braid tickling the back of her neck.

"I don't think it - " she began, but her voice came out a little deeper with an American accent. She gave a smile and glared at the full body mirror but did not see herself staring back. Instead, there was a boy about her normal height with light, sandy hair, his eyes a deep blue and freckles scattered on his face. She smiled at the reflection of her best friend from Continental, Connor. She felt a pang of jealousy and hurt in her stomach, knowing that she'd probably never see his face again, as he was formally adopted a long time ago. It was possible that she'd see him once more, yet not for a long time, not until they went to school. Not until she herself was adopted and allowed the use of an owl. She knew he lived in Ireland still, so he probably wasn't far from here. Her best chance was school, though; maybe they'd both eventually be sent to the same place for an education, that would be phenomenal. Though he was a year older than she, Connor would be there while she was. Maybe they'd even be in the same house. It was unlikely, but possible. He couldn't have gone far from here...

Brielle unwrapped herself and handed the robe back to Evan, throwing the thoughts aside. He hung it up without question of who the boy was, probably from the upset look she had plastered on her face, then took the other down. It was the same size as the former robe, but that's where the similarities stopped. It was a cloak rather than a robe, and the pattern on it was quite different. It was a silvery gray color with a navy blue shield on the front, as one would find with a suit of armor. Evan draped it around Brielle's shoulders, and she looked to the mirror. The cloak shimmered and disappeared, but other than that, nothing happened appearance-wise.

"Now," he said and drew his wand. Brielle's hand went instinctively to her boot, though the wand was ineffective. "Whoa," Evan shouted with his hands up as she pulled the wand and pointed it at him, a stern expression covering her face, "I'm just showing you what the cloak does." The girl slowly lowered her wand to her side, and then stuffed it into her boot once more. He let out the breath he'd been holding, and flicked his wrist quickly. "Stupefy!" he commanded, and a shot of light came surging at Brielle. She held her arms in front of her face in fear, but she felt nothing other than a slight buzzing sensation around her body, where the cloak laid. After the light and the buzz was gone, she lowered her arms to a smiling Evan.

"See?" he asked and grabbed the cloak from her shoulders, hanging it back up in the closet. The smile stayed on his face as he spoke, "It's a protective cloak, so you don't get hurt in a duel. It's illegal in a formal duel, of course, but at school, students use them all the time for lessons, if they have one to use."

"Where exactly do you teach?" Brielle questioned as she took her remaining possessions out of her bag. She wondered why she'd been given a bag this large if she had only a few things that were her own. She removed a picture of her with Connor when they were kids that showed him slinging his arm around her shoulder and her smiling with two lost front teeth, then them looking at each other and him taking his arm down. She could remember the exact moment they took that picture... She also took out a book that one of the girls at Continental had given her before she left as well as a blanket, which she assumed she wouldn't need since the comforter on the bed appeared rather cozy.

"Oh, pardon, I haven't told you," Evan said with a strained tone, hidden by a triumphant smile. He seemed rather fond and proud of his job but also looked like he didn't want to brag about it, "I teach Potions at the Aboriginal School of Indigenous Magic, my alma mater. Soon to be your school, too, in three short years."

Brielle almost dropped her alarm clock. "Wait, I'm going to school... With you?"

"Is...that a problem?" he asked slowly as his brow furrowed. He sat on a chair by the desk that Brielle hadn't noticed was there until now.

"No, it's just..." she could have trailed off about how she might actually stay here for three years. But she decided not to bore him with that and cut straight to the chase: to send her to school, the family first had to adopt her. "You're going to adopt me?"

"Well, of course!" Evan beamed with joy as his worried expression became a larger smile than it had been all morning, "Why wouldn't we?"

She explained how every family that has housed her for the past three years was temporary, and she expected this house to be the same way. "Blimey, who would 'return' you?" he questioned in a genuinely confused state, "You've been a delight...so far, at least." He gave a small laugh as Brielle launched into a story of one of her former foster homes, one that strung her along for five months or so saying they'd adopt her and then just flipped her like a pancake.

"Well, that's a bit pank, don't you think?" he cursed as he ran a hand through his curly hair and suggested they have lunch, "I promise, we won't be like that. We also won't make you do chores, any more than I used to do, anyways." As they walked down the stairs, they remained silent. Brielle checked the wall clock and saw that the time was 1:30 in the afternoon; she'd been here for three hours already and she loved the house as well as Evan; she just hoped that Larissa and Joseph were the same way.

"Oh," said Evan after a slight buzzing sound. He looked down at his wrist, where a watch was strapped. Or, at least, what seemed to be a watch. He touched the glass a few times and looked up at the young girl across from him. "Well, Ma won't be home until late tonight. Dad's coming at 10:00, as well... So I guess it's just us for the day." He glanced over at the broom in the casing by the backyard, then back at Brielle. "You want to fly for a bit?"

Oh, yeah. Brielle knew she was going to love it here.