One: As We Close Our Eyes
You know that place between sleep and awake, that place where you can still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always love you. That's where I'll be waiting.
- Jeremy Sumpter, Peter Pan
June 23, 1991
(10 years later )
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
You make me happy when skies are grey.
You'll never know dear how much I love you.
Please don't take my sunshine away~"
There was giggles and a flash of red hair, as bright as a raging fire, as he watched a woman twirl with two children in her arms.
"Mum sin' pwetty!"
Choruses of "Pwetty! Pwetty!" followed and the woman laughed, her voice like a chorus of bells.
"Thank you my little precious children."
He looked up as the man holding him laughed. The man had a nice laugh, mischievous and full of life, and had hair as black and messy as his own, with glasses that seemed to be sliding down his nose. The man set him down on a mat by the couch with another child. Crawling towards the child- a girl- he took a lock of her hair and lied down beside her. They watched as the man joined the woman, took one of the children- a boy- into his arms, and danced with him.
"Of course your mother would sing pretty, she's a goddess."
The man tickled the boy in his arms, making him squeal, and the woman turned to the man. Kissing him on the lips she laughed- "Oh darling, always a charmer"- she walked towards them, the man behind her, and the remaining two children were put down on the mat, laying down and curling up beside him and the girl.
He became drowsy as he played with the girl's dark hair and as he looked into familiar green eyes he smiled. He heard as the woman and man sat at either side of the mat and he closed his eyes, content, as he felt the woman run her fingers through his hair. And when the man started to hum the woman resumed her singing.
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
You make me happy when skies are grey.
You'll never know dear how much I love you.
Please don't take my sunshine away~"
Slowly they all fell asleep with her voice, but through the blurry haze of his subconscious he heard the woman start to hum along with the man. And he felt her lean in, as her humming grew softer, and heard her give each one of them a kiss.
"Sweet dreams my adorable little Cami,"
Knock. Knock.
"My darling Jon,"
"Get up boy!"
"My beautiful Rose,"
Knock!
"And my precious Harry."
"Up, UP!"
"Daddy loves you."
"Get up you lazy boy!"
"Mummy loves you."
KNOCK!
. . .
Harry Potter woke up with a start. The details of the dream already slipping away.
"Are you up yet?!"
He looked towards the door of his small room as he quickly shot out of his bed.
"Yes Aunt Petunia."
He quickly shuffled towards the door as he straightened the bird's nest on his head. Opening it he looked up into the horse-like face of his aunt. Her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed as she looked down on him, sniffing disdainfully when she had sight of him.
"Very well hurry up boy, I don't have all day. Come down into the kitchen and make breakfast. Don't you dare burn anything do you understand me? It's Dudley's big day and I won't have you ruin it."
He followed after her into the hall, "Yes Aunt Petunia."
She turned around and glared at him, as if she didn't believe him and was trying to scare him into submission, before lifting her chin and scrunching her nose as if he was a dirty piece of trash that she wished to get rid of.
She turned around abruptly and went down the stairs "Go wash up!" She screeched back at him, "You have five minutes!"
He quickly sprinted into his room and grabbed his clothes, which he had put out the day before, and ran into the restroom to take his shower. After a quick three minute shower- he learned from a young age to never take too long, he'd waste water and people like him didn't deserve to use that much water- he dressed and brushed his teeth. Looking into the mirror he tried to tame his hair, but like always it would never stay still. He sighed, exasperated and distracted, the dream- what he could remember of it- still replaying inside his head.
Every night he had one of two types of dreams. Either he dreamed of the flash of green light, a maniacal laughter, and a blood chilling scream, or he had the other dreams- the more frequent ones- where he dreamed of laughter and warmth, and of the family he never had. He wondered sometimes, after he had those dreams, how it would have felt like to grow up in a warm home and feel loved everyday of his life. With a mother that would sing him to sleep and a father that would play with him all day. And siblings, how much he wanted siblings. So that everyday they could play together, and fight together, or annoy each other, and ignore each other. Siblings that would be with him- right next to him- through every accomplishment, every failure.
He wondered sometimes if these dreams were really memories, if what he dreamed actually happened once. He didn't know much of his parents- he didn't even have pictures- and he knew even less if he had had any siblings, his aunt never told him anything. She actually forbid the mention of his parents in her house. When he was younger he had made the mistake of asking her about them. She had slapped him and hissed out at him, "Don't ask questions, ever." That was the main rule in the Dursley household, if you wanted a peaceful life, and Harry had learned it quickly. He also learned almost as quickly to never believe a word his aunt said, when he was younger she had told him that his parents were good-for-nothing drunks that had gotten themselves killed in a car crash and had dumped him on them. He knew it was a lie though, deep in his heart.
He knew that his parents had to have been great, something deep inside him told him that they were. But sometimes, especially after these dreams, he wished he had someone who could tell him everything about his family. Looking into the mirror now he starred at his unkempt black hair and bright green eyes- that seemed to be hidden behind his big black-rimmed glasses- his small nose and narrow chin. He starred at his pale skin- even after all his time out in the sun from his daily chores- and high cheekbones. You could say he looked aristocratic, he knew that many of the woman and girls in the neighborhood said that he looked handsome, and that he would grow even more so.
He always wondered who he actually looked like (even though he leaned towards the neighbors belief that he took after his father since he hardly saw any similarities between himself and his Aunt. And not to disregard his mum, but Aunt Petunia hardly looked like Aristocrat material and she was related to his mum, so they had to look somewhat similar). Although, he always wondered, if those dreams actually were real, if that's how his parents had looked. Did he really have his father's hair? And if he did then what would he have from his mother? (and he always wondered how she was related to Aunt Petunia, he didn't remember details much but he did remember her vibrant hair and he knew, deep down, that she was beautiful). But after these dreams what he did the most was fantasize.
He fantasized about sisters with his mother's red hair, and brothers with his eyes and his father's laugh. He wished and dreamed- and when he was smaller he'd cry himself to sleep- on a family with his smile, and his eyes, and his knobbly knees. A dream that always seemed to fill him with so much warmth, that sometimes he felt like he could explode. But other times- when he had one of his harsher punishments, or was ridiculed constantly- he felt like that warmth was the only thing that kept him going. It was depressing, if he actually stopped to think about it, he received most of his warmth and love through a family that was just part of his imagination.
"BOY! Come down here! I said five minutes!"
Because the one he had been stuck with was anything but loving to him.
Running out of the bathroom and into his room, to throw his pajamas into the hanger and put on his shoes. He sprinted down the steps to the kitchen.
"Coming Aunt Petunia!"
Stopping just before he entered- his Aunt would kill him if she caught him running in her house- he walked quickly to the stove, passing his aunt who was seated in the kitchen table and wrapping up some last minute presents. He ignored her sneer and the glare she was boring into the back of his head as he set out the pans and brought out the food. He put the bacon and eggs to fry before starting the pancake mix. He worked diligently and quietly as his Aunt left the kitchen. He started toasting the bread as his cousin bound down the steps with neat, clean, clothing and his blond hair gelled back. He shuffled towards his seat as he rubbed his eyes- pale blue, like his mother's- and sat down with a muffled yawn.
Mumbling to Harry a sleepy 'Good morning' his cousin rested his cheek on the palm of his hand and stared at the presents around the table as Harry continued with breakfast. Bringing the plate of bacon and eggs to the table Harry gave Dudley a smile and a "Happy birthday" as he turned to finish the pancakes. Reflecting on it Harry realized that there was only one person in this family who was something other than horrible to him, and if Harry was honest with himself the only person who he actually considered family in this house was his cousin Dudley.
Sure Dudley resembled his Uncle a lot, he had his blond hair and his body structure- Dudley was overweight for his age, but nothing like his uncle. Harry liked to think that it was his influence that helped Dudley cut back on sweets and fats, and he could be downright mean and intimidating if he wanted to, but Dudley was also kind and considerate- in his own way- of Harry. He didn't see him as a 'burden to the house that should be kicked out' like his parents did, he saw Harry for what he actually was, family. He played Harry's personal bully in front of his parents but when they were alone Dudley was his cousin and his friend.
Sure it hadn't always been that way. When they were smaller Dudley had been a right nightmare, believing his parents words and following their example on how to treat Harry. It wasn't probably until they were four and Harry had received the second bedroom as his permanent sleeping place- he used to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs until a child service worker started coming almost monthly to the house, he was actually glad about that. He still remembered the darkness of the cupboard that used to be his room, the hunger pains, the chores, and the too-big-they-swallowed-him-up second hand clothes- that they got any close to learning about each other instead of believing what their aunt and uncle said.
Harry had hated Dudley, believing him to be a miniature Uncle Vernon and Dudley believed him to be a worthless freak. But it was probably Harry's nightmares that brought them together. When he was younger it was harder for him to stop his screams and when Dudley realized that he dreamed about what could possibly be his parents' deaths he was horrified- after all Dudley's parents were his life and he couldn't imagine what it would feel like to not have them, or dream about when they died- and in a confusing turn of events Dudley had tried to make him feel better. And somehow, slowly and awkwardly at first, they bonded, like only children could. So every night since that night, whenever Harry had nightmares, Dudley would lead him back to his room and they would play games, watch shows on Dudley's T.V, and as they got older and started to see each other as cousins, friends even, Dudley would give Harry all of his books and educational games.
Dudley thought they were boring but he knew how much Harry liked them, he would also give Harry some of his other brand new games during his birthday and Christmas, as the presents that Harry never got. He was still sometimes rude and spoiled, and liked to throw a temper when he didn't get what he wanted, and when he really wanted something he liked to boss people around. But he was loads better then what he used to be, and he protected Harry as much as he could from his aunt Aunt, Uncle, and the other bullies in the neighborhood- many of which were Dudley's 'friends'. When Harry asked him once why he would go against what his parents would have wanted, which was to make Harry miserable, Dudley had shrugged.
"You're too small and weak to take care of yourself so someone else has to" he responded, "besides you're family. That's got to count for something right?"
Harry hadn't been able to stop smiling the whole day after that, nor any time that he remembered it. It was the first time Dudley had actually called him family after all.
In fact as he put the plate of pancakes on the table he realized he had started smiling again. Dudley looked at him suspiciously, his eyes darting between Harry and the pancakes.
"What's got you so happy?" he asked as Harry turned to take out the toast and cut up Aunt Petunia's fruit.
Harry looked at him over his shoulder with a quirk of his lips that was- if anyone who knew and had been there would have surely stated- similar to that of his father's.
"Nothing, I'm just happy for you," Harry responded, "It's your big day after all. You're eleven now, Dudleykins."
"Don't call me that," Dudley grumbled as they heard Uncle Vernon come down the stairs.
Harry snickered as Uncle Vernon came into the kitchen, followed by Aunt Petunia. Uncle Vernon glared at him before giving Dudley a pat on the back as Aunt Petunia showered Dudley in kisses. They sat down at the table as Harry served the last of the breakfast. Taking his piece of toast, his small portion of eggs, and his piece of bacon, Harry sat between Dudley and Aunt Petunia. Ignoring the adults as they fawned over Dudley.
"Have you seen your presents yet Dudley?" Aunt Petunia cooed, "You got thirty-six this year."
"Thirty-six?" Dudley asked as he looked up from his breakfast, "That's good, thanks mum."
His voice wasn't one of anger or disappointment but it wasn't excited either. It was casual actually, almost uncaring, (and it was, Dudley didn't care much of the size of his presents. Didn't care if they were more than last year or not, not anymore at least) and it got Aunt Petunia nervous, fretful. She cared, she wanted to spoil her boy, have him show excitement and anticipation, and if he wasn't excited about the pile he had she became nervous because she made herself believe that he was unsatisfied and that was a no-no for Aunt Petunia. She wanted her boy to be the happiest boy on earth (and if it got the little urchin she was stuck with jealous and unhappy all the better in her eyes) and so she always tried her hardest to make him "happy".
"Yes, yes, your welcome Dudleykins," she wrung her hands and bit her lip as she turned to stare fearfully at her husband, who just shrugged his shoulders, before having her eyes roam the present pile, "Oh look! I forgot Aunt Marge's present. Silly me," Aunt Petunia replied, flustered.
"Thirty-seven then," Dudley replied, "Okay that's almost as much as last year right? Thanks," he said nodding absentmindedly, distracted by the food on his plate.
Harry thought Aunt Petunia was going to have a heart attack, "And! We'll buy you two more while we're out, how's that Popkin? Two more presents," she exclaimed.
Dudley turned to her in confusion, "That would be-"
"Thirty-nine sweetums."
"Alright," Dudley said slowly, looking closely at Aunt Petunia, "Thirty-nine, one more than last year, all right then," he smiled before shooting Harry a confused look, but Harry just shrugged and tried to hide his snickers.
Uncle Vernon chuckled, "Little tyke wants to get his money's worth, 'Atta boy, Dudley!" he ruffled Dudley's hair as said boy turned his confused look towards him.
Aunt Petunia smiled and clapped, as if happy that she got to spoil her son rotten into a brat of a boy. Harry tried not to roll his eyes at her as everyone resumed eating.
Just as Aunt Petunia finished her fruit the phone rang, "I'll get it," she said, leaving her seat.
Harry finished eating when she came back, her expression sour.
"Bad news Vernon," she said as she stopped by the doorway, "Old Mrs. Figg just called, she broke her leg and can't take him today," she spat, jerking her head towards Harry.
Harry turned to stare at Dudley who gave him a conspiratorial wink. Harry just shook his head. Every year the Dursleys took Dudley and one friend to an amusement park, theater, or popular burger joint for his birthday. When Harry was younger he would be left behind with Mrs. Figg, the old lady down the street who had twenty cats and whose house smelled like cabbage.
But ever since his seventh birthday Dudley had tried to make excuse or made things happen to Mrs. Figg so Harry could go too. Sometimes he failed and resorted to bringing Harry something from wherever they went but most of the time he got Harry to come along too. Not that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon liked it- or knew.
"What? Well what about your friend? What's her name...Yvonne?"
"On vacation."
"How about Marge?"
"Don't be silly Vernon she hates the boy!"
"Well, what if we leave him here?"
"NO!" Dudley cried out before composing himself when his parents turned to him in surprise, "Uhh...what if he does something to my presents?"
"Don't you worry Dudleykins he won't do anything," Aunt Petunia cooed, she turned back to Uncle Vernon, "and let him destroy the house?"
Harry always found it funny that they talked about him like he wasn't there or he couldn't understand.
"Well..." Uncle Vernon replied, trying to think of a solution.
"We could take him..." Aunt Petunia responded, her face scrunching up and her eyes narrowed at him. As if it was his fault this was happening, which it wasn't it was Dudley's, "...and we could leave him in the car."
"That car is brand new, he's not ruining it!"
Aunt Petunia huffed, "Well I suppose he'll have to go then," she walked towards Dudley and wrapped her arms around him, "I'm so sorry sweetums, but I'll make sure he doesn't ruin your big day alright?" she cooed.
Dudley winked at Harry under her arm before responding in a glum voice, "It's alright mum."
"Oh, you're such a good boy Dudders!" She gave him a big kiss on the cheek, "Mommy loves you. I'm going to finish getting ready alright? Your nice friend will be here any minute. Vernon, honey, you should change your shoes we'll be doing a lot of walking."
Uncle Vernon grunted in acknowledgment and glared at him before following Aunt Petunia up the stairs. Harry turned to Dudley, a smile tugging at the edge of his lips.
"What did you do?" he asked.
Dudley shrugged, trying to look innocent, which was ruined by the big grin on his face "Mrs. Figg might have accidentally tripped over one of her million cats," he said shoving the plate of pancakes and bacon towards Harry.
Harry laughed as he piled as much as he could on his plate before his relatives came back down the steps.
"Thanks Dudley," he said, finishing the food and taking the plates to the sink.
"I do my best."
They moved towards the living room as they heard the doorbell ring.
"Oh they're here!" Aunt Petunia cried as she came running down the steps.
She greeted Mrs. Polkins as Pierce Polkins, Dudley's best friend, walked inside and started to talk to Dudley. Harry stood by the door, just watching, until Mrs. Polkins noticed him. She smiled as she came towards him.
"Good morning Harry."
Harry smiled up at her, "Good morning Mrs. Polkins. How are you today?" he asked politely. He noticed his Aunt's face go sour as she stood behind Mrs. Polkins. Harry hid a smirk.
Ever since the child service worker came when he was four his Aunt realized that how she was treating him could get her in trouble. She also realized that giving Harry a bad image towards the rest of the neighborhood gave her family a bad image. After all, if she continued to spout that he was a liar, cheat, and thief, what would it say about her ability to raise a child? Harry had been with her since he was one after all, if he learned any of that it would be in her house, with her family. And if she kept giving him Dudley's old clothes what would it say about their financial status?
So she gave Harry the smaller bedroom, to stop the inquiring of the service worker of where he slept, fed him all three meals, though in portions smaller then he should have at his age, and dressed him in second hand clothes that could fit him and weren't threadbare, to stop the inquiring of the neighbors. She still gave him chores and stuffed him in the cupboard or let Uncle Vernon give him a few beatings- which were rare but not nonexistent- if he did something really bad, but mostly Harry was left alone.
When he was smaller Harry had used his free time to go to the library but as he grew older he did chores around the neighborhood for some change, he didn't get an allowance after all, and little by little he started to become the favorite of the adults around the neighborhood. They called him a 'polite, smart, young man' and a 'sweet little boy'. They dotted on him whenever they could, giving him cookies or lemonade or brownies as he mowed their lawns or painted their fences. Harry realized a long time ago that his status as an orphan appealed to their parental instincts as well.
He had some friends in the children around the neighborhood but they weren't close friends. His looks and nice personality had the other children always wanting to play with him (different from how it used to be in his childhood) and Harry used that to the fullest, especially against the bullies, when Dudley couldn't protect him, who wouldn't want to go against someone so popular among their own peers and adored by the adults. Because the adults adored him and Harry always used that to his advantage.
Aunt Petunia hated it, of course, she acted like she was proud of him and bragged to all that would listen that it was her influence that had made Harry the boy he was today, but she always fumed inside of herself. She didn't fool Harry, he knew she wished she could have the whole neighborhood against him, make his life miserable all ways possible, but most of all she was probably angered that it wasn't her Dudley who received praise from the neighbors. She always grew angry when he received favor from the neighbors. She hid it but whenever she saw it her face always became pinched, like right now, as she stood behind Mrs. Polkins who beamed down at him.
"I'm very well, thank you for asking Harry. I hear you're going to the zoo, are you excited?"
Harry gave her his best shy smile, he ducked his head and scuffed his shoe against the floor, "Yes, I'm very excited it's my first time, I've always been sick before," he answered, he learned a long time ago how to play the adults affections to his advantage.
"Well you're going to enjoy it I'm sure." Mrs. Polkins paused as she shuffled through her purse, "It'll be your birthday soon right Harry?" she asked.
"Yes ma'am, July 31st."
"Yes well, we won't be here at that time so I wanted to give you an early birthday present," she said, handing him 10 pounds.
Harry stared at the money, "Wow, thanks Mrs. Polkins!"
Mrs. Polkins just laughed and ruffled his hair, "Enjoy yourself alright Harry?" She started towards the door, "Goodbye Petunia thank you for taking Pierce. Bye sweetie have fun!" and she was out the door.
Aunt Petunia waved her out as she stood by the doorway, "Goodbye Jane! Thank you for letting Pierce come!" she waved until Mrs. Polkins disappeared down the street, her hand stiff and her smile strained.
Once Mrs. Polkins was gone she turned back to Harry, snarling at him and the pound in his hand. Harry quickly stuffed the pounds into the pocket of his jeans and tilted his chin forward, his face blank in silent defiance. His aunt's snarl seemed to grow wider. He glanced quickly to the side, where Dudley and Pierce stood talking, and she followed his gaze. She glanced back at him and her snarl turned into tightly pressed lips and fluttering nostrils.
He gave her a small smile, she understood what he was trying to say- she so much as touched his money and he'd make a racket. And if there was one thing Pierce was good at it was not being able to keep his mouth shut. Mrs. Polkins would know by tomorrow if Aunt Petunia had tried to grab his birthday money.
Aunt Petunia fumed silently before stomping over to him. Grabbing the scruff of his shirt she pulled him out the door and towards the car.
"You behave yourself you hear me boy? One little step out of line and you'll be in that cupboard until Christmas!" She spat at him before letting go of his shirt and going around to her side of the car, Uncle Vernon and the boys coming out the door.
Harry just slid into the car beside Dudley, unconcerned of the threat. Sharing a smile with his cousin he settled back into the seat and stared out the window. For some reason he felt that today would be the start of something special. He could feel it in his bones, taste it in the air, it seemed like his heart was beating in anticipation of what was to come. Harry didn't know what it was but he couldn't wait for it, he just knew it would be something amazing, he could feel it.
He wouldn't know until weeks later how right he was. It would be amazing, and heart-stopping, and earth-shattering.
His dream was just about to come true.
June 30, 1991
Rose hated St. Mary Children's Home. She hated it with a passion. It was stifling, and boring, and strict, and everything had to be done a certain way at a certain time and - ugh! - sometimes, when she was tired of all the rules and the mindlessness of everyday life, Rose wished the earth could swallow her whole.
"Rose, come on, it's breakfast we're supposed to be down at the Eating Hall by now!"
Rose looked at her long black hair- that fell in loose curls down her back- and pale skin, big green eyes, high cheekbones, and small nose, as she straightened the tie on her school uniform. Checking to see that her appearance was satisfactory before leaving the room, she had a reputation to keep after all.
"I'm going, I'm going."
When she was satisfied she turned towards her roommate, Maddie, and walked up to her at the doorway, picking up her bag along the way. Stopping beside her Rose folded her arms and cocked her hip, jerking her head out to the hall.
"There, I'm done, weren't you in a hurry?"
Maddie just huffed and rolled her eyes as she stomped out of the room and into the hallway. Passing the other rooms where uniformed girls of all ages were rushing down the steps in a hurry, late to breakfast.
"I don't even know why I wait for you," Maddie muttered.
Rose just smiled as she followed after her into the pristine halls of the orphanage and down into the extensive dining hall. The room already filled as the last of the tardy children, like Rose and Maddie, hurriedly came down. Their relief palpable when they realized that the adults weren't there yet.
St. Mary's was a top of the notch Orphanage, one of those lucky ones with a rich sponsor. So the children all had the necessities they needed and some little extravagances. The matron of 'this wonderful institution', Mrs. Miller- a fifty something old hag that had nothing better to do then parade around like a Queen- ruled with an iron fist.
She stated that St. Mary's had to represent its sponsor so therefore they had to look the best to the rest of the world. The children all had enough food- not that it was good, the expensive, delicious, food was for the hag only- enough rooms to be in pairs- and still have some rooms extra- tuition paid to a good private school in the city- St. Mary's children had to prove that even as orphans they could become something in the world and a good education was given to them to start them up- and enough rules to drown them in their metaphorical chains. Mrs. Miller said that it was to teach them discipline and help them prepare for the real world, but Rose thought it was a bloody lie- who needed to bow to the stupid cow before every meal anyways?
Rose moved away from Maddie as they went to sit at separate tables, quickly settling into her seat with the last of the children to arrive just as Mrs. Miller, and the other adults who helped her run the orphanage, came in, the doors closing behind them. Rose tried not to scrunch her face as all of the children- including her- stood when Mrs. Miller came in, bowing to her as she stood at the table and sitting down after she did.
The one thing St. Mary was probably good for was teaching you how to use subtlety and manipulations to get whatever you wanted in life. The orphanage was a monarchy, with Mrs. Miller's Favorites at the top and ruling the whole thing. You needed to pick and choose the way you acted, what you said, and what you did, in front of certain people. Every child participated, one way or another.
It was needed of course, since some of the children in St. Mary's were heirs of corporations or Lordships, children who had no family left and were therefore placed here by the government to protect them from being used by enemies or opportunists. They, therefore, had to acquire the skills needed to assume control of their inheritances, St. Mary, therefore, became their stepping stone, their guide, and their playground.
In the orphanage's hierarchy some became one of the Favorites, railing the other kids behind them- offering them protection from the other favorites and Mrs. Miller- and creating a whole network of spies and followers who answered to their every beck and call.
Others became one of the Followers, using the Favorite's position to rise up the ranks, or for protection as they tried to live normally. Being a Follower was like being in a little group, or cult, with ranks and prestige within them that could allow you some free reign within the little group. And some were always trying to achieve the highest rank.
But most stayed out of the way, preferring to leave most of the heavy politicking, subtleties, and fights for high ranks to the the Followers who cared as they tried to live as normally as possible. Happy with whatever rank they possessed.
Others, of course, worked on their own.
It was the way of life in here, there was rules within the rules- written and unspoken- on who did what, and who controlled where, and how much power someone had, and who you had to be wary of and who to ignore. And if you didn't participate- didn't follow the rules- one way or another, you died in this place. Everyone learned eventually, from the kids who grew up here as babies or toddlers, to those who came in later, older. Everybody had a position and played the game to the best of their abilities.
Even Rose, she wasn't a Follower or a Favorite (although she used to be a Favorite, long ago, when she actually cared. She had been one of the best and even to this day the prestige she had accumulated followed her) but she did participate in the game when she wanted to, she was more of a free agent. The mercenary you hired to do your dirty work. She picked when she wanted to ally herself to someone and for what, and she had enough dirt on everyone in the orphanage to be left alone and the respect she had commanded in the old days hadn't diminished. Plus, she had her own rank in the little monarchy and in some ways it was better than being a Favorite. She was a neutral in Mrs. Miller's eyes but she was one of the few children to have lived the longest in the orphanage and that gathered her as much power as a Favorite. She'd been here since she was one after all, ten years, she knew the game better than almost anyone.
There were only a few kids who had been here as long as her- nine in total, including her- most of the kids since back then had been adopted or had grown old enough to leave a long time ago (very few ever lasted here long enough to leave at eighteen, the prestige of St. Mary's had many children of all ages taken in by the rich and powerful, from all over the world, and even if one wasn't adopted out of St. Mary they usually went to become famous or powerful themselves, the reputation of the orphanage opening doors for them that would have been closed otherwise)- those who were left, who had lived here longer than the majority of the other children, were considered the 'older generation', or Elders, they were all mostly free agents as well.
"Pass me the butter will you?"
Rose looked up from her meal to see thirteen year old Darren staring at her. She glanced at the dish beside her before passing it across the table.
He mumbled a thanks before resuming his eating, buttering up his toast with deliberate slowness before clicking the knife against the plate three times softly. The table- known as the Elders' table by the rest of the orphans- was usually quiet, the children here had passed so many years in the orphanage that they usually became a little jaded, a little tired, of the double words and snide comments that were usually passed around in the other tables. They usually sat together to avoid that, to separate themselves from the plotting and planning, for some peace and quiet. Not that they didn't sometimes participate in the action, of course.
Therefore with the ringing of the knife moving across the table the silence that usually settled on them became much more defining, every single person (nine in all) becoming aware of the conversation about to take place. They continued their actions, rousing no suspicion from those around them, but their attention was placed solely in the boy with the buttered knife.
Setting the knife down Darren took a bite of his toast, keeping his eyes on his plate, and with deliberate casualness gave out the information he had acquired.
"Stephanie, apparently, is in the process of being adopted. It's not official, so it hasn't been announced yet, but Mrs. Miller is glowing. Apparently the prospective parents are important political figures and she's positive that they'll sign the papers," he stated, as if he was talking about the weather.
Sixteen year old Annabelle scoffed, as she cut up her sausage, "Of course they'll sign the papers, Stephanie can charm the pants off anyone, what's your point?"
"His point is that Stephanie is a Favorite, one of the most prominent, if she leaves there is going to be a large group of Followers left for the picking and a new position open," Fifteen year old Conner said, glancing to one of the biggest tables in the Hall where a pretty brunette sat, in the middle, talking to those around her as if she was holding court. Everyone of the children around her direct vicinity hanging on to her every word.
The others glanced to the direction of the table, which had erupted into laughter in response to something Stephanie had said, nodding silently to Conner's observation, their faces scrunching up in annoyance.
Rose, like the other Elders, liked her solitude. The Elders being the exception, of course, after living with her for years they had become more comfortable with each other than the other orphans, who came and went so quickly she hardly bothered to get to know them.
Christina- seventeen and the oldest, age wise, of the Elders (and the third oldest in the orphanage)- took a sip of her juice, lost in thought, "The other Favorites will either try to fight between each other to get the most of the abandoned Followers or there will be fighting within the group until someone takes Stephanie's spot," she mused.
Penelope, small for a thirteen year old, shuddered, "Its gonna be total war," she muttered.
Darren nodded a grim look on his face, "That it will be."
"Its always a hassle when a Favorite gets adopted," Joshua, nine and a half years old and the youngest of the Elders (both in age and in the years he had been living in the orphanage- six and a half years), muttered as he stabbed his eggs.
Rose nodded in agreement, she had never been adopted, obviously, it wasn't like she wasn't smart, or pretty, she was usually always picked by parents for interviews. But, for some reason, they always dropped her and moved onto another child by the first meeting. And even if they kept on meeting her the adoptions always fell through before the papers were officially signed. She didn't really mind anyways, every couple she ever met always felt wrong. Like she was meant to go with someone else, like they would never be family, never make her feel complete. Like she had to wait for her family. And deep down she knew it would come, she might have to wait a while but the family that would make her feel complete was coming.
Rose turned to finally look at Stephanie, noticing the smile on her face, wider than usual, and the twinkle in her eyes. Noticing how she seemed to glance to Mrs. Miller, who would send her small smiles in return, and she knew that Stephanie was as positive as Ms. Miller of her adoption. She let her eyes roam over the table, trying to see if anyone else knew of the adoption and which one of them would be the ones to pounce onto Stephanie's position the first chance they had.
She turned back to her table after her inspection, noticing that everyone else was staring at her, waiting for her comment, her verdict. She was, after all, the Elder to have lived the longest in the orphanage, ten years- months more than Darren- she had, in a small way, influence within their little group.
She met their eyes, thinking over the situation before shrugging and taking a sip of her juice, "We'll just have to make sure that the fighting doesn't cause problems and that if anyone actually manages to take Stephanie's place that they remember their place," she turned to stare at Patricia- Stephanie's second and the most likely candidate to take her position.
Feeling the table's eyes on her Patricia turned to meet Roses' stare, "And remember who, exactly, is in charge here," Rose finished louder, smiling in response to Patricia's sneer.
Patricia turned away with a huff and Stephanie, who had noticed the interaction turned to stare at Rose with narrowed eyes. Rose just smiled and raised her glass in her direction, the rest of the table following her example, 'Congratulations' she mouthed, smirking at Stephanie's glance around their table. She returned Rose's mocking toast with a triumphant tilt of the head, and arrogant twist on her lips, her eyes obviously conveying how better she believed herself to be because she was being adopted and Rose wasn't. Rose just responded with a raised brow, her own arrogant tilt, a little mocking laugh, and a toss of her hair over her shoulder as she turned back to the table, conveying how little she cared for Stephanie's adoption. The rest of the table laughed at her action and she could feel Stephanie fuming and glaring, but she didn't care.
Rose, if anything, was patient. So she waited, it didn't matter that hadn't been adopted yet, that she'd been without family for ten years, she was never really alone. She knew that, deep down, and it was always reinforced at night when she dreamed about a mother, and father, and siblings, and she knew that her family was with her, even if they were part of her imagination, or her memories, to her they were real enough. So she cared very little for Stephanie's taunts, hardly let them get to her.
As they returned to their food, ignoring the holes being dug into the back of their heads after their little show of dominance, they ate in silence, the little plotting session between them finished. Letting the cacophony of the Eating Hall surround her Rose felt her mind wander. Remembering last night's dream. Remembering ringing laughs, bright green eyes, and hair like a bird's nest. Remembering a hummed lullaby that was always sitting within the recess of her mind.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
A/N: So this chapter came out almost three times longer than my first one, but once I started writing a background of Harry and his siblings lives I really couldn't stop. In fact, I had written so much for all four siblings that I had to separate it into two chapters (two siblings per chapter). Its been a while since I've updated so I decided to just give you two long chapters instead of separating it into four. I'll probably post the next chapter some time next week.
Anyways I hope you like the changes I made to Harry's home life, I always thought that some of the situations in the book about how he was raised were impractical (like how there seemed to be no one checking to see how he was being taken care of- I don't know much on how guardianship/adoption works, much less in England, but this is a fanfic anyways so if there are any impractical situations please suspend your disbelief and don't let it get to you- and how none of the neighbors questioned the obvious abuse that he was going through- even if he was a "criminal"). I also really wanted Harry to have an ally in his home and I decided that I wanted to write a fic where Dudley and Harry actually act like cousins/sort-of-brothers. I wanted to write them as the next Petunia/Lily, how Lily and Petunia could have turned out if Petunia hadn't let her jealousy get to her.
Also you officially met one of the siblings, Rose, and were able to get into her head. (If her orphanage or orphanage life is impractical please, once again, suspend your disbelief and enjoy it.) I hope you liked her character and she came out believable.
Thank you for reading and please don't be shy and review. Let me know how I'm doing.
~ Aneriam