Oh, fantastic. Great. I'm managing one story( Hermione Granger and the Inter-House Project-Dramione, and yes, I just self-promoted myself shamelessly) just barely and now I want to start another. In which I have no idea where it's going-honestly.

This isn't exactly my first priority, and updates will come irregularly and possibly slow.

I don't own, and here goes nothing…

Chapter One- The Dursleys

1991

Severus reached the small locked tower, and the ancient magic surrounding it had an aura so strong that the Potions Master gripped his wand tightly. Albus was the only one who came up yearly to check on the list of enrolling students to Hogwarts each year, and not once had he invited other professors to take a quick glance with him. To suddenly, urgently call upon Severus and ask him to check the Book of Admittance was disturbing and odd.

Opening the large wooden door with one slender, pale hand, Severus cast his eyes across the room quickly. His eyes caught upon the two flickering candles lighted on opposite walls, and the wooden table in between. The book, bound in peeling black dragonhide, sat with its yellowed pages open, and the Quill of Acceptance in its inkpot, twitching.

Coming over to read the book, Severus read the list of students quickly, eyes narrowing at Potter's name. His eyes trailed downwards, until they fell upon a single name. Eyes widening, Severus took several steps forward and slammed his palms down on the desk.

This wasn't even possible. He had no relatives - they were all dead, weren't they? Then who was this...creature?

It is your choice, Severus. Albus's voice rang clear in his head, tinged with warning. Be careful.

Severus pulled his wand forward, contemplating. He now knew the purpose of Albus's spell. He snarled furiously; what choice was Albus referring to? There was't a choice. Murmuring the spell under his breath, Severus gave his wand several large waves, and the Book glowed. When it had finished glowing, one of the names were missing.

As Severus left to do the same spell on the Ministry's book of magical beings, he missed the angry jerk the Quill made in its inkpot.

But oh, the Quill was clever, and so was the Book. The next year, they waited for the headmaster to check upon the list of students, and when the headmaster left, the Book opened up and the Quill wrote down one last name.

1992

"Ready?" Mr. Mason asked me, his crisp suit giving off an intimidating impression. He offered his arm elegantly, the blazer folded neatly over it. I took it, giving him a smile.

"Yeah-is Mrs. Mason ready?"

Mr. Mason inclined his head and helped me slip on the pink blazer over the outfit I wore. "I must warn you-this is a very important deal for us. Please be on your best behavior."

I flashed him a toothy grin. "When have I not?"

"I know I will be able to count on you," Mr. Mason smiled, wrinkles around his eyes. "Come, Rowan."

Mrs. Mason looked extremely elegant. Her graying curls were lifted up to display the sparkling earrings, and she regarded me calmly with a once-over. I fidgeted, the skirt feeling uncomfortable. Well, this would take only about three hours, tops. I could deal with it.

Car rides with the Masons were always quiet. I didn't mind the late deal-making for their company; it was the least I could do for the Masons, seeing as they'd taken me in since the age of three. I was lucky I wasn't in the orphanage still.

"Where is this place?" I asked, my black hair tickling my face as the AC blew.

Mrs. Mason examined her manicured fingernails. "Privet Drive in Little Whinging. It's this house-" She pointed at a house to my right, identical to the other houses.

I got out of the car, my flats giving a soft clack. I hopped to the porch, looked back for confirmation, and rang the doorbell. Mr. and were right behind me, all dressed up and looking so regal I half-expected the person to answer the door to bow.

The door opened. There was a woman in a salmon-pink cocktail dress, as slim as a twig, and behind her was a pudgy boy in a bowtie. I raised my eyebrows slightly, but held my tongue. Don't be mean, I scolded myself. He looks like a nice person.

"Welcome," smiled sweetly. As soon as she finished speaking, the boy behind her stepped to the side as we came in.

"May I take your coats, Mr. and ? And of course, Rowan as well." He smiled at me, but I'd seen enough fake smiles to know this wasn't really genuine.

The Masons handed over their coats, flattered, but I kept mine on, a bit chilly.

"I'm terribly sorry, Mrs. and , but your house is quite a beauty, do you think I could have a look around?" I asked politely. This was the one thing I was allowed to go out of my way asking, but aside from that, I had been instructed to be quiet and polite. Mrs. Dursley beamed at me.

"Of course, of course, dear. Just-" A shadow of panic flitted across her face before she plastered on a smile. "-downstairs is better than upstairs. We're doing a bit of renovating upstairs, so any, ah, closed doors should be a little dangerous for a sweet like you."

I left the Masons and the Dursleys to discuss. Distantly, I heard explain that her husband was at the restroom and would be right there. I went upstairs to use the bathroom.

There was a noise as I came out. From the closed room. The voices downstairs faltered, and I remembered 's excitement at getting good drills for his building.

If it's that boy's ringtone or something, I'll just turn it off. The wailing sound stopped suddenly, just as I quietly crossed the room and opened the door.

I shut the door behind me and turned around. Standing next to the bed was a thin boy in an oversized T-shirt and a weird looking creature, shaking from tears.

"What the-" I gasped. The thin boy twisted, and looked at me in shock and panic.

"Oh no," The boy murmured, rigid with shock. "This cannot be happening." He looked up at me, pleadingly. "Go away and forget about this."

My heart hammering, I took a deep breath. "What is that and who are you?"

The creature stared up at me, wide eyed. "You is not knowing who the famous Harry Potter is? He is defeating the Dark Lord! He is the one who is-"

"Dobby," the boy hissed frantically. "She's a muggle, she doesn't know about magic."

Magic. I froze. The word echoed through my ears, flowing through me, throbbing against my chest. Magic.

"Magic?" I said hesitantly, and the boy's head snapped up at me. "Like…levitating a book after being frustrated at not being able to reach it? Or…being so angry that the door slams and the windows slam down…?"

The boy didn't say anything. He stared at me, in disbelief. "How do you-how old are you?"

"Twelve," I replied uncertainly.

There was a moment of silence. Harry looked at me intently. "Who are you?"

I opened my mouth, but at that moment, the creature latched itself onto Harry's leg, eyes wide. "Harry Potter must listening to Dobby! Harry Potter must not return to Hogwarts!"

"What?" I asked blankly, at the same time Harry said the same word incredulously.

"But I have to," Harry stared at the creature. "You-you don't know what it's like here-I have to go back to school!"

"NO!" The creature-Dobby-shrieked. He stood, legs quavering. "Harry Potter must not go back! Harry Potter will be in mortal danger, danger from no decent wi-" Dobby froze, shaking with his big ears flopped over his head, and suddenly sprang up to beat himself with a nearby lamp.

I leaped forward to pull the lamp away from Dobby. The voices downstairs were silent as the Dobby smashed the lamp against his head loudly. I wrestled with the lamp for a moment, pulled it free, and leapt to my feet.

"I want to know what's going on," I snarled. "Now."

Downstairs, 's voice boomed, "Dudley must have left the telly on, that little tyke! Excuse me!" 's frantic voice began complimenting on her dress.

Footsteps were coming upstairs. Harry picked up Dobby, who was nursing his bruised head tenderly, and opened the closet. "Get in, quick, quick!" He shoved Dobby in and turned to me. "You too!"

I glared. "I want to know what the bloody hell is going on!"

"Please!" Harry begged, hopping back and forth between his feet. "I promise I'll explain, please, please-"

The footsteps were louder. I made a split-second choice and slid under the bed as Harry shut the closet door and pounced onto the bed.

The door opened. came in, angrily. I held my breath, trying to stay as still as possible.

"What - the - devil - are - you - doing?" All traces of hospitality was gone, and I heard the snarl so clearly seemed to be directly above the bed, face to face with Harry. I flattened myself more and saw two ugly, large feet staring back. "You've just ruined the punch line of my Japanese Golfer joke…"

I snorted before I could stop myself. There was silence.

"What was that?"

"N-nothing."

"If you've been hiding rats or pigs in here for your freakish stuff and I find out, you'll be sorry, boy! One more sound and you'll wish you'd never been born!" The feet turned and stomped back downstairs, closing the door behind him with a snap.

I slid out of my spot, brushing dust bunnies off of my dress. Shaking, Harry let Dobby out of the closet. He took a deep breath.

"See what it's like here? See why I have to go back to Hogwarts?" Harry hesitated. "It's the only place that I-well, I think I've got friends."

I would've felt bad for him, but I was so confused I couldn't bother to care. "What's Hogwarts?"

Dobby ducked his head, eyes peeking up, and slyly said, "Friends who don't even write to Harry Potter?"

For a moment, a flash of hurt skittered across Harry's face. He brushed a few messy strands of his black hair away, flushing as his glasses were knocked sideways. "Well—I mean—they're just busy…wait...how do you know that?"

I said, louder, "What's Hogwarts?"

Harry ignored me and frowned at Dobby. "Have you been stopping my letters?"

Dobby pulled out a thick wad of envelopes from his clothes. For the first time, I noticed he was wearing a pillowcase with holes in it for the arms and legs. "Harry Potter, sir, may have them if he is promising Dobby he is not going back to Hogwarts!"

"No," Harry said angrily, and made a jump for the letters. Dobby hopped out of his reach right in front of me.

Frustrated at being ignored, I snatched the letters from Dobby's hand, tucking it into my jacket. "I want to know what's going on."

"Give me my letters!" Harry hissed. "I want to read them, and I am going back to Hogwarts!"

Dobby shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, sir, Dobby is having no choice…" With that, he leapt over to the door, pulled it open, and sprinted downstairs.

Harry paled. His knees shook terribly, and he looked like he was about to throw up. I couldn't imagine what the Dursleys did to him, and what they would do if Dobby caused any havoc.

"C'mon," I went after Dobby, but Harry caught my wrist.

"Stay out of this," Harry said quietly.

I opened my mouth, affronted. "We had a deal!"

"I-" Harry ran a hand through his messy hair desperately. "Oh, fine!"

We ran downstairs, as quietly as we could. Harry jumped the last six steps, landing catlike on the ground. I stared at my loud flats regretfully and tried to keep the clacks of my shoes quiet as I rushed downstairs.

I found Harry in the kitchen, and he was breathing in short gasps. I looked up to see Dobby, crouched on top of a cupboard, fingers raised...levitating a pudding cake.

Magic.

"Please, no," Harry begged, his voice a croak. "They'll kill me."

"Dobby," I whispered from the doorway. "Put the cake down."

Dobby gave Harry a tragic look. "Harry Potter must promise not to go back…"

"Dobby...please…I can't…"

"Then it is for your own good, sir," Dobby snapped his fingers, and he disappeared. The cake dropped from the ceiling. Harry yelped and dove for the cake, trying in vain to catch it, but only ended up getting cake splattered all over himself.

I lifted my arms on instinct to cover myself as pudding attacked me on the arms and hair. There were screams from the living room, and shot into the kitchen, eyes fastening on Harry.

Dread flooded through me as I realized—Harry had played the game right into a trap. With his hand covered in gooey icing, and his entire body dripping with violet frosting, it looked like he had deliberately…

And then turned to me: Me, arms still out as if I'd tried to protect the cake from Harry. Me, the innocent bystander, who had seen the obviously disturbed little boy reaching for the cake and tried to help.

"It's just our nephew, very disturbed—we keep him upstairs…" And the whole thing was glossed over by , who smiled and chuckled nervously.

looked horrified at the thought of me being that close to Harry. "Come, Rowan…"

"I'll stay and help clean up," I offered shakily. stepped in, digging out some ice cream for the Masons and me (after she handed me a towel to clean myself up), trying to calm everything by flattering the Masons about how well behaved I was.

As soon as the Masons were ushered back, turned to Harry menacingly, forgetting I was there. "You're in for it now, boy..." And then he slipped back into the living room, joking.

Harry held the mop and bucket he'd been handed, hands shaking so hard I thought he would drop them.

Stepping forward, I took the mop from him and handed him my bowl of untouched ice cream. "Here."

Harry protested, "No-it's-"

"I'm not going to have you faint-you look half dead. Eat," I pushed him into a chair and began to mop.

It was a very messy clean up; I smeared cake frosting all over the floor three times before i managed to wipe it all off. And all the while Harry sat uncomfortably, chewing the ice cream hungrily, looking embarrassed.

"It's not what you think," he mumbled as he finished his ice cream. "They don't starve me, or—stuff like that."

"Sure looked like it," I retorted, watching him grab a rag and start cleaning the cupboards. "I want the explanation I was promised, or I'm going to make you eat the entire tub of ice cream."

Harry washed off the rag. "You're a witch; I mean that in a good way. It means you're a female who can do magic. But what I don't understand is why you weren't accepted into Hogwarts." I opened my mouth, and he added, "Hogwarts is a magic school."

"Oh." I closed my mouth, frowning. "I...you do magic there?"

Harry nodded. "With my wand."

"How do you know I'm a witch?"

"Have you ever made things happen, when you really wanted it to happen?" Harry looked at me, and I couldn't hide my shock.

When I was five or so, I'd been petting a garden snake I'd found in the schoolyard. One of the kids had called me a freak, and I'd wished on everyone that laughed that something horrible happened to them. The next day, five kids were absent from the flu, two tripped and got skinned knees, and three got in trouble. And the worst thing was that I had the sickening feeling every time something bad happened to them, that it was my fault. It wasn't guilt from the wish...I just knew.

Before I could say anything, there was a shriek. Harry and I ran to the doorway of the living room in time to see a large owl swoop away, out the window, dropping an envelope on Mr. Mason. His wife was screaming and pointing at the bird.

When I was little, I'd found a nest of pigeons upstairs in the attic, and I'd brought upstairs to see it. That was the first time I'd realized that was terrified of all birds, small or big. had call the exterminators and remove the birds. After that, I'd learned to react quickly whenever there was a bird nearby; swatting away seagulls at the beach, notifying clients of her bird fears before saw the pet canary…

I leapt forward and caught the envelope in my hands, staring at the envelope's crest. Ministry of Magic.

"Is this a joke?" demanded, as stuttered apologies. Harry was frozen in the doorway, his mop still poised on the floor, on top of a half-scrubbed cake smudge. "Come, Rowan, we're done here." He helped his shaking wife up, murmuring soothing suggestions of taking her out for dinner.

I frowned. Harry…"But I-"

"Come," said, a little sharper. I cast a look behind me, at Harry, who shook his head slightly. His lips curved upwards as he tried for a smile. Go, his emerald eyes beckoned. I'll be fine.

And then I looked at the Dursleys-Mr. Dursley was still stuttering, but his eyes promised painful death for Harry. Harry's smile at me faltered, more than a little nervous. He clung at the mop, mopping the ground silently.

I crossed the room, my flats thumping against the carpet. spluttered and pleaded with the Masons, as I reached Harry.

"Your-the letter." I handed it to him, and, my voice a whisper, added quietly, "I'll be back. I promise."

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