A/N: Summarily edited as of 2017-12-25. Still looking for a potential beta. :P

The Dumbledore guy looked at her with a sad smile for all of a second, then he seemed to see something and his eyes roamed her face, and the rest of her person, rather frantically. He actually looked pretty furious now. For an instant, Aren feared for her safety. This man might look old, he still looked far from decrepit; she also felt that he could immediately destroy her if he so wished, even though he sported no apparent weapon. She knew as well that it was easy to conceal a dagger on one's self, as she'd seen it done and done it herself quite a few times.

He turned to "Aurore Baldwin" in a snap, and asked in a voice that sounded like that of someone only mildly interested:

"What is the meaning of this, Mr Baldwin?" His voice was calm but still conveyed rather intense annoyance and fury.

"The… The what, Professor," the man stuttered out.

"The meaning of this? You clearly said that she was an obscurus, right?"

"Well y-yes! She levelled a 5-stories building, and everything else in a 35m radius. Burnt two muggles with raw magic!"

Dumbledore's face took on a disappointed expression that somehow was even worse. Aren hoped she'd never be on the receiving end of that . "I see you remember naught of your Care of Magical Creatures, Mr Baldwin, which is quite unfortunate for an Auror." The man winced a little. What has his name got to do with anything? And who in their right mind named a newborn boy "Aurore" for that matter? Wait. Back to the topic at hand. She'd better focus.

"Obscurus is the energy released by an Obscurial," Dumbledude explained with the sort of patience you had for misbehaving children, right before the punitions started raining, "a wizarding child repressing their magic. This is a little girl, not some mass of dark energy, and I think that'd be enough of an indicator of your mistake. Even then, I do agree that she shows the first signs of becoming an Obscurial, but these are in no way definitive! Why, give her the opportunity to use her magic in a safe, constructive way and she'll be a fully functioning wizarding student in no time."

"Sir, with all due respect, are you finally going senile? Or did you just not hear anything I said? She levelled a quarter. Of a block. With magic alone, no incantation or foci of any kind, and I'm pretty sure she also did not mean to gather so much power."

"Excuse me, but… 'Pretty sure'?" Madam Bones interrupted. "Are you telling me that you were going to condone the execution of a child by dementor kiss — which is not even a real solution for dealing with full-fledged Obscuri — on a case that might not be lost, and all that on a hunch? "

This time, Mr Baldwin properly recoiled at the comment. Apparently, he had majorly f***ed-up. She wasn't going to complain, though, because even if she'd understood maybe a third of that exchange, it was enough to guess that things were looking up for her. Maybe. Madam Bones looked positively deadly, and unless humans were fundamentally different in this weird as hell place, the Aurore guy was probably looking at a demotion, if not a proper dismissal. Not that she felt sorry for him, mind. He was trying to get her killed.

The man open his mouth again, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed. Uh-oh, even she could tell that was a bad idea.

"How do you propose that she be allowed to use her magic 'in a safe, constructive way'? Considering the amount of destruction she can unleash on accident, the number of places for that is quite limited."

Dumbledude chuckled at that. Oh shit.

"Simple. She'll start Hogwarts early. We're lucky, the term just started, and it will be easy for her to catch up. Especially with the sort of proficiency she demonstrated already."

A silence welcomed that, and then Madam Bones just slapped the middle of her face with her palm.

She couldn't quite believe what was happening. After that completely whacked conversation, she'd been left alone in her cell for what she estimated to be half an hour, then they'd come back, just Dumbledude and Mr Baldwin. The later had waved a stick to open the barred door, and instantly she'd been brought back to the hag, and her stick, and the human pancake on the wall, and Philip … She started hyperventilating, and she felt the thing inside of her again, trying to escape.

Dumbledude noticed, and unlike Baldwin who'd hastily backpedaled away from her, he actually had walked into the cell and kneeled in front of her.

"Young girl, there is nothing to fear. You are safe now. Can you hear me? Take deep breaths..."

The thing had lashed out, making gashes and cracks in the stones of the walls and a cut somehow had found its way on Dumbledude's face. It had started seeping blood, and she had panicked further. What if she did to him what she'd done to the hag? But no, she had still been conscious of what was happening around her, she hadn't been as far gone yet. She had still been able to stop the thing.

Out of a desire to regain control, she had stopped breathing altogether. The thing had stopped in response, and the power centered itself back on her, slowly crushing her.

"Shhhh. Do not be afraid. Here," he had taken one of her hand, that laid limp at her side, and put it on her chest. He'd done the same with her other hand on his own chest, and proceeded to take measured breaths, "in, out. In, out. Can you feel my ribcage moving? Try to mimic it. In, out. In, out. The air comes into your chest and reaches all the corners of your lungs. Hold it in for a second then… Let it out. In, out. You'll be alright. Mr Baldwin will stay well away from you, and I will be escorting you from now on to make sure you remain safe. In, out. In… Out."

This had kept going on for a while, how long she couldn't say, until the pressure in her chest had eased off by small increments. Her head had stopped spinning, and she had slowly regained some degree of feeling in her limbs. Once he'd been sure that she was back in control of herself, he'd sat back on his heel, then rummaged in his bathrobe-like clothes until he brought out two things that had looked like licorice lollipops — and after she'd mindlessly accepted one and started eating it, which was a terrible idea, it actually had tasted like licorice.

Once she'd managed to get up and stay steady on her feet, they'd exited the building (Baldwin was nowhere to be seen) and she had followed him into several streets until they had reached a dark corner. Before she had time to panic — oh no, not again, old men in dark corners please not again — Dumbledude had kneeled in front of her again, and was explaining to her why exactly they were there.

"Young girl? I better inform you before hand: I brought is to this place because we're going to Apparate." Reading the question on her face, he had quickly added: "Apparition is a form of magical travel, among others, that allows one to move instantly from one location to another one they have been to previously. It is, however, not very discreet, and Muggles — non magical folks — are not supposed to see it."

She had nodded her face to show her understanding, and he had beamed at her like she'd announced both Christmas and Halloween were going to happen right then and there.

"Another warning: the sensation is quite unpleasant at first. Some of the muggleborns liken it to 'having to squeeze themselves through a gardening hose' from one point to the other. One gets used to it, but at first it also tends to induce nausea. Now, if you will hold onto my arm, I will transport us to the wizarding shopping district."

Wondering why he hadn't done that from the place the cell had been in in the first place, she had gripped his arm and been… the sensation really was reminiscent of being shoved in a garden hose. She had stumbled upon arrival, but the old man had stabilised her by lightly grabbing her shoulder.

Once she had gotten some non-existent dust off herself, she'd taken in the place they were in and stood there for several second, her mouth just hanging open. Dumbledude chuckled.

"Quite interesting, is it not? I grew in wizarding society, and still I had the same reaction as you when I first came here. In the popular opinion, Diagon Alley is one of the most fascinating places of England, and possibly of Europe. Now." He gestured with his hand towards what looked like an ice-cream parlor. "Would you fancy a little breakfast?"

They made their way to one of the tables, with Aren having to almost run to keep up with him while still not running into people. They settled, and no waiter seemed to go between the tables. She was wary about picking up the menu, as she had no way to pay for herself, but the old man urged her to take it, saying he was offering. As she was perusing the options, he started speaking.

"Now, I must tell you of a few important facts. The first is, I was able to negotiate with the Ministry of Magic, which is where you were held, and they have given me your guardianship. That means that from now on, I will be responsible for you. It is not the same as Muggle adoption, as far as I know, but it will provide you with a place to fall back to, at least for now. It also means I will take all your day-to-day expenses in the foreseeable future."

She took that in, then nodded and kept reading the menu. Hmmm… Pistachio. She'd nabbed some during her stay in the streets, with Philip's help— No. Don't go there. She closed the menu, and placed it back on the table.

"Are you done choosing? Very well. What will it be?"

"Pistachio?" She answered in a tiny voice. He looked at her approvingly.

"Excellent choice. You might want to get some whipped cream with it, the one they make here is divine. I~ will have the lemon meringue pie flavoured one. And two helpings of whipped cream, one for each of us." He closed his menu, and both his and hers disappeared from the table. Aren jumped in fright. "Easy, little one. This just means they've taken our orders. Now, I believe our introduction took place in such dire circumstances that I think it would be helpful to start over. I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I find that to be a bit of a mouthful, so you may call me Professor in public, and Albus in private like right now. Since I am your guardian, being called 'Professor' all the time might get weird. I read in the file that your name was Aren, but that is all it said as the name was simply provided by scrying parchment. I'd like to know more about you?"

She shrugged with her left shoulder, not too sure she wanted to expound on her brilliant — definitely over as far as she was concerned — childhood. The waiter arrived at that moment, their order miraculously, or as she was starting to suspect, magically balanced on his arm. He placed it in front of them, somehow knowing who had ordered what, and then wished them a 'bon appétit' and left them to eat. Dumbledu— Albus turned back at her, and added:

"It just occured to me that you might not feel like talking about what happened to you until now, but it is necessary to ensure I take care of you as best as I can, and to ensure I do not cause a repeat of what happened in the cell before we left."

She paled considerably, then realised he was blaming the incident, and the possibility that it might happen again, on himself. She gaped at him.

"To make this easier on you, I thought you'd ask a question first, that I would answer, and then I will ask one that you will answer, so on and so forth. I realised that answers to the questions you have might not seem worth it, and they are not indeed vital — you could manage on your own with some time — but it will make things far easier for you. Do you agree?"

Aren pondered this for a while, taking several bites of her ice-cream and chantilly to stall having to answer. She blurted the first thing she could think of.

"Why have we come here?" Well, that sealed the deal, she supposed.

"Aaaah, of course, we left rather hastily. Well, as I said, provided that you are properly taught, your magic should come back under control fairly quickly. Actually, the fact that you settled so fast earlier means that you probably are not even an Obscurial, merely a very powerful child who had a panic attack. You do remember what an Obscurial is?" She nodded. "Good. As you are simply very powerful, probably more than I ever was at your age, there is no reason you shouldn't be able to attend school starting tomorrow, or rather the day after as it is Sunday. Children usually start their schooling at eleven, but the level of magic you displayed means your education must start rather early. We are here to acquire what you will need for your schooling and basic needs for the year to come, and if anything misses, we will come back."

Aren struggled to take all that in, but decided it could all go to hell. She had the chance of getting an education . No more hiding in libraries to devour everything she could. No more stealing books to try and keep up with the kids that went to school. No more people looking down on her… Maybe?

"Now, I believe it is my turn to ask a question?" She nodded again. "How long have you been living in the streets?" She gaped, again. "Your general state of 'wellbeing' is rather characteristic. I do not know yet if you were abandoned, ran away or grew up like this, however, which is why I am asking this."

She didn't want to answer, and suddenly her appetite was gone, but she knew he wouldn't let it drop…

"Roughly a year ago… I think? I was with other children. One of them died. The other was unconscious when I left, and the third was not there. I don't know what happened to them. I left them… three weeks ago, I think." She hoped that was enough of an answer. "What subjects are taught at Hogwarts?"

Albus had a knowing glint in his eyes, but let it slide.

"During your first year, you will mostly be taught about core subjects: transfiguration, charms, history of the magical world, how to fly a broom (although that's only for the first year), potions, defence against the dark arts, herbology, and… ah, astronomy. Is there any of these subjects you want me to explain a bit more? That won't count as your question."

"Errr… Potions? And charms? All the others are pretty-self explanatory."

"Very well. Charms is generally the manipulations of the forces organising the world. The most simple example of that is the first spell you will learn, the levitating charm: it negates the effects of gravity, but only to the degree that you want it to. It also deals with creation and disparition of objects such as water of fire, or the animation of objects. The intricacies are more complex than that, but you will not study them unless you take up arithmancy in third year.

"Potions is… are you familiar with chemistry?" Aren nodded. "Well, in practice, think of it as a medieval form of chemistry. The ingredients are much less pure but also much more fine in application. It is a fairly dangerous subject, which is why our teacher in this topic is rather exacting on the students. It is also quite complex on the theory side, which makes it a subject very few students take a liking to.

"My turn now, I think. Where did you live before you lived in the streets, and for how long?"

"I was in an orphanage in London for a bit more than a year. That was where I met the other children I was with in the streets." She looked up at Albus, who was expectantly looking at her. "They were… it was not too bad, at the beginning." She swallowed to try to get her throat less dry. "It was actually way better than the previous place I'd been to. Another orphanage. At this new place, the older kids looked after us at best, ignored us at worst. The matron was mean and no one liked her, and she did tend to give us too many, too dangerous chores, and hitting us sometimes… but it was still better. But then about two months before we left, s-she started to get angry. She'd hit us all the time, and she didn't give use food… she left Nichol in a closet for two days, without water or food, and she didn't let him out even to go to the bathroom. Nichol was very small, smaller than me. She only let him out when it started stinking, and by then Nichol was dead. When Phanes saw that, she said that if we were going to be starved, we might as well live on the streets because then at least we wouldn't get hit or abused or killed. So we followed her." She blinked, very fast, even though her eyes were dry. "Can I ask a question now?"

"May I, and yes, you may."

"How does the school work?"

"Administratively? Scholarly? Socially?"

"All of that." Aren knew she was being greedy, and that if Albus agreed, she'd have to answer a big one next.

"Administratively speaking, it's fairly simple: you have me, the Headmaster; I am tasked with heavy sentences when a student steps out of bounds, such as suspension or expulsion; I take care of the public relations of the school, and of its funding; and finally, though it is less known, I am tasked with maintaining the wards of Hogwarts, that ensure safety within the school. Then you have McGonagall, the transfigurations teacher and the deputy headmistress. She's the one who takes care of recruitment for the first years, and deals with the organisation of detentions, as well as the coordination of the time tables and clubs. You have all the teachers, who can sometimes take care of extracurricular clubs. You will also meet Rubeus Hagrid, the Keeper of Keys and Grounds, but he just started as the Care of Magical Creatures this year. And finally, you have Filch, the caretaker of the castle; he is mostly responsible for maintaining the castle's state of cleanliness… and he thinks finding students out of bed after curfew positively delightful, though said students rarely return the feeling.

"Scholarly speaking, first year and second year are as I described earlier. In third year, you get to chose between different electives, such as Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, Arithmancy, Muggle Studies… you have to take whatever class you choose until the end of fifth year, bar special circumstances. That's when you take your O. , or Ordinary Wizarding Levels. Depending on the results to these tests, and the expectation of your teachers, you can continue to pursue such and such subject, or you have to drop it. You then have your two last years of school, that lead to your N.E. , or Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests. The result to those determine which sort of further studies and career you can pursue, but that's for later, I think.

"Socially speaking, the school is divided into four houses. They group students of the same mind, try to foster their strength and discourage their weaknesses and quirks. The first house is Griffindor, which values boldness and courage and looks down on cowardice. The second is Hufflepuff, which value loyalty and friendship and abhors betrayal. The third is Slytherin, which values subtlety and cunning and discourages recklessness. And the fourth is Ravenclaw, which value knowledge and sharing it, and look down on lack of intellectual curiosity, or stagnation. They are led respectively by: Minerva McGonagall, the transfiguration professor; Pomona Sprout, the herbology professor; Severus Snape, the potion professor; and Filius Flitwick, the charms professor.

"Does that answer your question in a satisfying way?"

"I think so, yes. I might ask you to clarify things later on… that won't count in my questions, right?"

"It will not," confirmed Albus. "You said that being hit and starved and used as a house-elf- sorry, a slave, was better than the previous place. What was that place like?"

"Have you heard of Spurgeon's Orphanage in London?"

"Yes, we had a muggleborn from there a couple years ago… what does this have to do with our current situation?"

Aren lowered her eyes to her hands, joined in her lap, and her next words were a barely intelligible whisper.

"I was there from as early as I can remember, to then it closed when I was almost six and a half. That's when I moved to that other orphanage." Then she looked up.

Albus had paled so drastically that she actually felt worried he might have a heart attack or a similarly grave affection, then she understood. Heknew . He knew. She had supposed she would have to tell him at some point, and now she didn't have to, but she wasn't sure if this was better or worse.

"What was the name of the superintendent?"

Aren had sometimes associated voices with colours, out of sheer instinct. Some had been red with anger, some had been green with fear, some had been purple and blue, with warmth. Some were white with the blinding perfection of lies; some were black, absolute, true. She'd never heard a transparent voice before. She flinched.

"... Joseph Matthews."

She was surprised when she escaped further questioning, as Albus let his face drop in his hands, his elbows propped up on the table. Both their ice creams were forgotten now. After a bit, he looked back up, and although he looked extremely tired, some colour was back in his face. Aren was surprised at the importance she gave to that. She also noticed that the cut on his face, while almost completely healed, had left a nasty scar. Magic looked potent but was apparently not omni potent. She felt guilty about the scar.

"Aren," she flinched again. "... I won't ask more of you today. Do you wish to finish your ice-cream?" She shook her head left and right. "Very well. Then I think it best that we start moving now. We have to get your school supplies now. You have books, potion supplies and equipment, clothes both for school and casual, a wand, a pet, a suitcase with Wizarding space… That means space that is larger on the inside than on the outside. What do you want to start with?"

"The suitcase, I think? It will be more practical in the long run. Less things to lug around."

"That is not really a worry for Wizards, but you make a good point. Let's start there, then see what other shops there are nearby." His smile was small but seemed enthusiastic and sincere, and she followed him to their first destination.

She walked out of the clothes store completely blown off her own mind. The amount Albus had just spent on her was an aberration. She now had a few of everything in both normal- Muggle clothes, and Wizarding clothing. Cloaks, skirts, jeans, underwear… she had everything. Scarves and hoods, gloves… she would never be cold again.

She followed Albus in something called an "apothecary" where she simply stood as he got everything she would need that year, and once that was acquired and placed in her suitcase, the moved on the what looked like a bookstore.

When she passed the threshold, she felt like she'd gotten slapped in the face. So many books, everywhere, and this must be some more of what Albus called this 'Wizarding space' thing, because it definitely was larger inside than it had looked from the outside, and all of these were on thing she didn't know, without exception. She knew she could not get everything, but how could she choose?

Albus has kept moving, expertly moving through the shelves and grabbing books this way and that, then going to the cashier and giving them to her but not paying them yet. He then walked back to her and leaned towards her without towering over her, which she was grateful for.

"I've already picked up all your school books, so you don't have to look for them. Now, since you'll probably be more interested in some subjects than others, I suggest you limit yourself to five books for now, then we will come back in two or three weeks, once you've gotten a feel for every subject. Does that seem ok to you?"

She realised that in that time she'd probably read only her school books, although she'd be done by the next outing. She said so to Albus, who acquiesced, and then went to pay the books and put them in her suitcase.

"Only two things left, Aren, and then we'll leave for the school for good. The wand, first." They entered an old store, where a man with wild white hair, wide eyes and wiry limbs welcomed them, smelling of dust and wood and closed spaces. It made Aren uncomfortable, but she quashed it as soon as the feeling reared it's ugly head. She did not want to lose it here.

"Hello, young girl. Hmmm, young indeed, very young for Hogwarts, and yet Headmaster Dumbledore is here with you, so it must be that you are ready. Very well. Let us try… this first one. Birch, dragon heartstring, 11 inches, low flexibility." He handed the stick to Aren who felt distinctly uneasy. She swished it, and the old wand man's moustache caught on fire. He patted it down quickly, putting the fire out, but not before Aren had hurriedly put the thing back on his desk. "Well, I suppose that means not that one." He put it back in its box then pulled another one. "Yew, dragon heartstring, 13 inches and a half."

She swished this one too, away from any potential target. Nothing caught on fire this time; instead, one of the shelves exploded. She put it back down on the desk too while the wand man fixed the shelf.

"Not this one either."

This went on for quite a while. She had a very pronounced tendency to make things explode, or burn, or melt, and at some point, one of the wands exploded in her hand. "Oh, that was a terrible placement indeed. I am sorry. Please give me your arm, I will heal you right away."

The wand man waved his stick over her arm, first pulling the wood shards out of her skin, then slowly sealing the cuts. He then thought for a couple minutes, and in his silence she wondered if she was a monster afterall. Maybe monsters didn't need wands. Maybe they didn't need school, either. Just as she was starting to consider bolting through the door, the wand man snapped his finger and crowed a "I know!" Then he fled to the back room and came back with a single box.

"Young miss, I believe this one might be right. Yew wood, unicorn hair, thirteen inches, swishy and plenty flexible."

She waved that one with dread, but instead of yet another disaster as she expected, she felt a heat go up her arm, almost like the think living in her ribcage but more controled and going the reverse way.

She let out her first true giggle in years. The wand man, Ollivanders, she remembered, now that her anxiety wasn't gnawing at her insides, smiled at her and handed her the box the wand had been in.

"I think this is the one, young girl. Yew often chooses powerful wizard, be they light or dark, but unicorn hair is extremely resistant to dark magic. In addition, it tends to dampen the end result of spells, which considering your raw power is probably a good thing. The length and swishiness will make it great for transfiguration and potion work; in other words, precise crafts." He turned to Albus, "That will be seven galleons, please." And upon reception of the payment, "thank you. Young girl, I expect interesting things from you," he added for Aren's benefit.

She returned the wand to its box, then placed the box securely within her trunk. No way in hell was she letting that one be damaged. She nodded to Albus, and they exited the store.

The last store they visited was the animal menagerie, upon Albus' insistence. The choice, emotionally speaking, had been an easy one.

A small cat, adolescent probably, but certainly not a full adult yet, had caught her eyes when she'd gotten close. It was black as night, a striking contrast to her own white hair, but its eyes were a piercing blue, between her own pale turquoise and Albus' glacier blue eyes. When Aren came closer to the cage's bars, which she judged an awful way to treat anything living, the cat started purring like it would die if it didn't; and when she scratched its head, the sound got even louder, loud enough that the owner came to see what was happening.

"Well that's a heckuva surprise. She's not mean to anyone, but she's usually cold as ice to all the clients, and even to me." Albus went on discuss with the owner, and Aren kept petting the cat. She knew, strategically speaking, that an owl would be more helpful, especially with mail, as Albus had explained to her during their shopping; but the cat was now softly batting at her finger, like it wanted to play but feared hurting her. Few people, or even few thing, had ever showed that degree of caring.

Albus came back to her, startling her out of her reverie.

"I've discussed with the clerk, and I got her for you. She doesn't have a name, as it is traditional to name an animal after they come into their owner's care. As for mail, well… provided that Fumseck, my familiar, is amenable, you can borrow him to send whatever correspondence you might want."

Aren gaped at him, then at the cat — her cat — then back at Albus, and then the cat, and back and forth for a few seconds. She could not answer Albus, nor say thank you, as the words stayed stuck in her emotion-clogged throat. She just got the cat out of her cage, gathered her in her arms, and put her face in her slick fur. The purring picked up again, louder.

"I'm going to call you Duister."