Disclaimer I do not own Harry Potter' Universe, but what I do own is what you are about to see.

Genre Angst Fantasy Trauma Drama Fame

Warnings Trigger Warning. This story is not what you think. This story deals with realistic trauma, heavy cursing, and mental Illnesses such as anger issues, HOCD, and child behavioral issues. Proceed cautiously.

Author's Note This kind of Potter may surprise you. As will this story. This series will stray so far away from canon you'd hardly recognize the intended atmosphere of it. Because this story does not follow any canon character. But eventually, the characters will be connected later down the series. Even so be warned, I have no intentions of following the books. You can't write a story and add a drastic change to the original plot - say a whole character close to canon characters - and completely ignore the astronomical rules of the butterfly effect. Tired of seeing it, so here's my take.

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Chapter One

Legal Tradition

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"Just close your eyes for me and try to take deep breaths."

I bounced my leg anxiously. One hand was tightly gripping the arm rest of the couch and the other was a balled fist resting in my lap. My knuckles had turned white from the pressure. And as much as doing so hurt my hands, It was the only way for me to show the restraint that my foster mother had warned me to conjure from thin air. Sadly, my head was hurting today. And my patience was wearing thin.

But Anne had begged me to behave this time.

After all, It was only one agonizing hour a week. That's what I'd told myself to make it seem a little more tolerable than it actually was. Yet, when I walked into that room and sat on that leather black couch I felt like I'd lose my mind. I tried to note the good things about it, at least. The green apple incense in my nose and the sound of Ray Charles playing on low volume in the background was nice. But it proved to never be enough and my mind always turned to the negative sides of the positives. The incense made the room smokey and Ray Charles was a filthy muggle. In my defense, my therapist was an absolute lunatic and she made me feel this way.

I hated her.

She shook the ice in her glass and brought the cup to her ruby red lips, taking a long sip as though it had been years since she'd last drank water. I squeezed the arm rest and tried not to focus on her beady black eyes that never left me.

"Aurora," she spoke again in her posh british accent, sounding as though she were trying to keep her composure. "We won't get anywhere if you don't cooperate with me."

It was best that I'd stay silent than say what I was thinking.

"I'm only trying to help you," she continued. I scoffed softly, averting my eyes from her and instead looking at the squared patterns of the floor. "There's nothing for you to be afraid of."

"Like hell you are," I muttered bitterly, voice cracking a little. Her assumption that I was scared of her stunned me. My eyes narrowed with a bit of hurt pride. She was nothing but an ignorant muggle that was nowhere but below me. I shuttered as I imagined the other pureblood children being present to hear such a degrading comment from such filth. Nobody would ever hear the end of it. "As if I'd be scared of you. You don't have a clue of what I can do."

The comment had slipped, but I meant every word of it.

Sort of.

I knew that I wasn't capable of anything. I was a witch born from two long lines of blood purity. But I had no wand, yet. I knew no spells aside from the ones that the tutor had gotten me to read from a book. I didn't even know how to hold a damn wand. Though in my opinion, that was still more than this lady could probably do. She had nothing, I knew. And briefly I'd pictured what the life of a muggle would be like. Living in a world in which I assumed that anything slightly out of the ordinary didn't exist. I almost pitied those people.

Almost.

"Mm," she chuckled deeply and flipped a page in her book, eyes flickering between the page and me. "You'd believe that, wouldn't you?"

I questioned whether or not I'd been meant to hear that.

Nevertheless, she moved on. Acting as if she hadn't implied a thing. This was how it'd been for the last month or so. The prying into the background of my past that I knew absolutely nothing about. The small comments that made it seem as though she knew something that I didn't. Last but not least, acting as though she could see through me like a ghost of some sorts. Everything I despised all wrapped into one person.

Then again, I felt like everyone knew something that I didn't.

"Now, close your eyes," she urged me again. Then added pleasingly as if she foresaw my refusal if she didn't: "Please."

Fine.

I saw nothing but a pitch blackness at first, but after a split second I could see a blue abstract color that my imagination tended to come up with. Then pictures of things I'd thought about the most lately. Though lately, If I squeezed my eyes hard enough I would see a pair of black eyes. I didn't know if that was normal or not but even I was too afraid to question it.

"Tell me, Potter. What do you see?"

I resorted for the half truth, without giving too much away.

I'd told her how I imagined the halls of the 'boarding school' I was to be attending soon. How every day I'd take the time to picture the tiniest detail to satisfy my curiosity of what it would look like from the pattern of the bed sheets in the girls' dorm rooms to the faces of the teachers I'd be looking at every day. She hummed, showing me that she was hanging onto every word I said.

"A boarding school, you say?," the therapist asked me. I heard the ice hit against the glass. She was drinking her water again. Sighing in satisfaction, she asked: "Quite prestigious, is it not?"

I didn't know what that word meant, but I nodded to make it seem like I wasn't dumb.

She tapped something against her clipboard. I began to wonder when it would be the right time to open my eyes. I was growing impatient with every passing second. I began to think about my bed, the snacks that were waiting for me on my nightstand, and how I wanted to get back to having my head for myself so I didn't have to look at it.

The eyes in my head that were watching me.

It was as if in between my imagination I saw the pair of them. Black. Creepy. Not blinking. It was staring at me, waiting for me to make a move. Testing my fear. Seeing how long I could take it before I cracked under it's fatal beckoning. It had been there for a small amount of time and sometimes made me scared to go to sleep at night. They were there to watch me every time I closed my eyes. I felt threatened.

My breathing became uneven.

"Do you think your parents would be proud, if they saw you now?" she asked me, lowering her voice a bit as if it'd make it better. She said it slowly, as if she thought that I wouldn't understand her otherwise. Oh, what I'd give to just prove her wrong.

Yet, it was as if my lips moved on their own. I felt myself sink further into the abstract darkness. My mind began to tell me to answer everything honestly. To speak. Or else. It was a surreal feeling that made me feel as though I were lucid dreaming and the only way out was to do what was asked of me.

My heart began to beat quickly to match the pace of how high my fear began to skyrocket.

"I don't know them," I'd told her honestly, giving my hands a squeeze to remind myself that I was where I thought I was. "I never loved them."

The black eyes that beckoned me seemed to urge me to think harder.

"You never loved them?" She pressed. "At all?"

I hadn't. My entire life I only cared about what was right in front of me. In my opinion, I couldn't miss something that I'd never had. But like any child, the only reason I'd ask about them was to ease the curiosity that I had of my origins. And like any child, got unbelievably angry when I was given very few answers. Two purebloods that had strict beliefs murdered in cold blood sometime in the 1980's. During a war in the United Kingdom, I'd heard. My father had went first, leaving my mother to raise me alone for the next year and a half until she became next in line on the chopping block.

Did I feel sorry for these people?

Yes.

Did I care about them enough to feel any sort of grief?

I'm ashamed to admit that I was numb to the revelation.

Sometimes my guilt pokes at me, telling me that I was cruel and heartless for it. It was a constant voice in the back of my head that told me right from wrong from the expectations of someone else. There were times that I wondered if they were watching me through the afterlife. I wondered if they were hurt by my thoughts of them.

"I don't - " I paused momentarily to debate whether or not I should continue with my sentence. I was a bit paranoid. What if the black pair of eyes glaring at me were them, listening and watching my every move? "I don't know."

I asked if I could open my eyes.

She didn't answer.

Instead, she tapped her clipboard some more and whistled the tune of The Addams Family theme song. I thought she was going to ignore me for a moment, until she spoke again.

"Do you know what they looked like?"

I didn't want to fall anymore and became tired of the questions. I felt forced into feelings that I was working to forget. I mentally began to climb out of the darkness that I'd been forced into and opened my eyes, the lights in the room blinding my sensitive eyes. The Therapist had a puzzled look upon her face, but it was gone as quickly as it'd come. She slapped a smile onto her face.

"Well, we seem to be out of time," she stated calmly, glancing at the clock. I did as well and noticed that the session should have ended twenty minutes ago. I had things to do with Anne. Before I could ask, she stood up and went towards the door. She seemed to do so reluctantly.

I didn't move. I felt as though what I was seeing wasn't real. Like I'd woken up out of a nightmare of sorts. I squeezed the couch just to make sure before standing up myself.

"I'll see you soon, Ms. Potter," she said to me. "September will come before you know it. I'm very happy to see a child excited about school and wish you the best!"

I glanced at her. It was not possible for her - a muggle - to know when my school started.

"How the hell did you know?" I looked her up and down. She hesitated at first, but kept her demeanor all the same. "When school started?"

She seemed to look for an answer.

"Don't all schools start in September?"

Must have been a muggle thing I hadn't known about. I was ushered out of the room quickly, the door clicking shut behind me. I let out a breath that I didn't know I'd been holding in the entire time.

"She's too little to understand. But she plays an important role to an unknown destiny."

I was angry that my Ilvermorny letter hadn't come yet. In my mind it should have been in my hands by now. I should be out holding my first wand by now. And despite Anne's efforts to keep me reminded that the letter comes either the morning of my birthday or the morning after, It didn't stop the tantrums I'd thrown. I cursed at the top of my lungs, broke anything that my impulsive magic could reach, and refused to listen to reason.

I began to question my own blood purity, as shameful as that was.

"I'd rather die than be a squib!" I declared in the middle of the halls. Anne put a hand to my mouth and shushed me harshly, looking around at the wizards and witches in the that had turned their heads to look at us.

"You mustn't say such things in the presence of others, especially those of The Congress." she reminded me gently, removing her hand from my mouth in disgust when I'd licked it. Wiping her hand against her robes, she added in a whisper; "You are the daughter of the noble Potter and Briar blood line, you are no squib. Now please just sit here and let me take care of business!"

My look became harsh and I crossed my arms. The last place that I'd wanted to be at was in a large grey bricked building surrounded by the ones that decided the fate of all witches and wizards. Though, I was curious on what it felt like to have so much power.

Her eyes didn't leave me for the longest. They challenged me for obedience. Yet, inevitably failed after mere seconds. Anne signed, placing both hands onto my shoulder and changing her expression into a sympathetic one.

"Aurora," she began softly, though I knew that she was in a rush. "You will get your letter eventually. It's only a matter of days now. It isn't as if you're some iffy half-blood."

The comforting words that I'd been needing to hear for the past couple of days. I didn't show any gratitude, though. I was tired and craved sleep. Anne could see it as well. With her hands on my shoulders she guided me to a nearby bench right outside of a pair of large brown double doors and pushed down to make me sit.

"Why are we here anyways?" I asked her, my mind officially registering where we were. "You don't have work today."

I could be wrong, but the look on her face had told me otherwise. I huffed and puffed, stomping my foot on the ground and leaning back onto the bench. Anne was quick to defend herself.

"It's an emergency," That was the best excuse she could come up with. "I have to go, Aurora - "

"What emergency?"

She ran her fingers through my ginger hair for a moment, debating some sort of answer for me. I noticed that adults made a habit of that. It pissed me off. It made me comstantly feel as though I was being stepped around like broken glass. Especially when she just chose not to answer me. I repeated myself, this time more forcefully. I thought she'd give in.

"You wouldn't understand," It came out quietly, but I'd heard that statement so many times that even if there were a muzzle on her face I'd still be able to understand what she'd said.

I began to stare forward at nothing in particular. Almost as if I'd gone into some sort of daze. All I could do was try my best to maintain my composure in front of all of these people. Important people, I'd been told.

I snapped myself out of it and turned my eyes back to her.

"I can to!" I began to stomp at the ground. Anne put her hands on my legs to stop me with a tight grip. I tried to kick them off, but she was much stronger than I was. "I'm old enough to know!"

"You are not!" she raised her voice, showing that she'd already had enough of my behavior. And I knew then that it was merely a warning, but it didn't stop me. I opened my mouth to retort.

"Is there an issue here, Anne?"

Anne straightened her posture immediately. The voice sounded oddly familiar. Yet when my eyes glanced up, there stood a blonde haired woman with eyes like gold that I'd never seen before. She stared at me for a bit before turning her eyes to Anne, who shot me a severe warning look and slapped the quickest smile upon her face.

"No, ma'am," she shook her head. "I was just talking to my daughter here, Lady."

"Foster daughter," I muttered under my breath, turning my eyes to the floor once again. I didn't want to look at them. All I wanted was to go home and wait for my letter. I'd rather go to my lessons than be here. The golden eyed woman didn't speak for a few seconds after that. I refused to look, hoping she'd go away. I wanted to be alone to think if I couldn't do it at home.

"I see," she stepped forward and knelt down to my level, and for a moment there was a black glint in her eyes that made chilld run down my body. She was strangely calm, the opposite of me. Then, she said in an optomistic tone: "Well, I'm sure the case will go in your favor."

She said it like she was giving me a hint.

I heard Anne suck in a breath at her words. It was something I wasn't supposed to hear, I was sure of it. Lifting my head, my expression went puzzed as Lady stood up with a smile upon her face and began to walk off without so much as a backwards glance at us. She didn't even give me the chance to ask. My eyes stayed glued to her back as she reached the double doors, raised her wand, and watched as she saughtered through them when they'd opened on their own. The doors slammed loudly. It caused an enbearable echo to ring through the halls.

I looked back at Anne, who was glaring at the door Lady had walked through.

"What case?" I asked Anne when I felt the other one was out of ear shot. She was ready to dodge my questions already. It was also something that I could tell. "Anne!"

"We are not speaking of this now," she told me sternly. Then held a finger up to silence me when she saw me open my mouth to retort. I hated that. I wanted to follow her into those doors and sit right there to see what was being said about me. At least, I assumed it was about me if I was dissecting Lady's words correctly. "This is not your concern. Know your place."

Know my place.

Her words appalled me. I felt as though she had some nerve to say that a meeting that I now thought was about me was none of my concern. It was all of my concern if it was about me.

"It is my damn concern, it's - about - me!" I began to yell. Anne tried to shush me, but I was ready to throw a tanrtum despite how tired I was. Maybe the fact that I was functioning on only a couple hours of sleep added to my anger, but I had a lot of rage in me to begin with. I'd always had. "How dare you!"

"No," Anne whisper hissed. "How dare you for speaking to me this way."

I said some colorful words after that and tossed the quill and parchment she'd given me for entertainment onto the floor and kicked it to the opposite end of the hallway in a fit of rage. I began to demand entry into the meeting. Or case. Or whatever it was that the golden eyed lady had said to me. It sounded important. I had a right.

Didn't I?

Anne told me that she didn't have time for this. Despite my protests, she left be behind and flickef that wand of hers to enter the room. I would have ran after her, but my mind kept me in my spot. I felt absolutely powerless and my curiosity was eating me alive. All I could do was burn holes in the wall with my gaze and watch the fancy wizards and witches that walked past me every once in a while.

Then, an old man stood in front of me in the shiniest of robes and the longest white beard that I'd ever seen. He looked strange to me and was dressed in a fashion that indicated to me that he wasn't from around here. That was a face that I could have sworn that I'd only seen in the newspapers once or twice before. I didn't bother to say anything, or ask him why he seemed to examine me with a strange sense of curiosity as he did.

The nodded to me, smiled, and went towards the door that I'd seen the others walk into. My mouth hung open a bit, then I kicked the heel of my shoe into the leg of the bench.

And time seemed to pass by slowly.

I didn't know how long it had been, but I knew I'd drifted off to sleep because I saw nothing but pitch blackness. It consumed me along with the fear that came along with it. It's happened almost every night now and I never took my chances to go to sleep most times.

But I was so tired.

Tired, of what?

The voice was tempting me again. Like coocked chicken waved in front of a dog's face. I looked around, trying to find the source of the voice. I couldn't speak. Couldn't move. Couldn't even smell. I felt like a hollow doll without permission to my senses. It was agonising. Torture. I thought this was what a puppet may look like.

I love puppets, Potter. They are so much fun, don't you think?

It could hear my thoughts.

They are talking about you. About your fate. Don't you hate when adults do that?

The voice was all around me now. It grew louder and louder, like I was supposed to do something. I wanted it to stop. Then, I saw them. The dark pair of eyes that I saw every time I closed my eyes. The reason I hadn't been able to sleep. All I could do was silently beg to wake up.

Eventually, the voice told me.

I sank even deeper into slumber.

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"Little girl, you don't have a choice!"

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"Mrs. Lady, are you present with us?"

Minister Lotte cleared her throat, several eyes turning to where the golden eyed lady sat, staring off into space with her hands folded into her lap. Her expression was stoic, but feigned happiness as she snapped from her trance. Her eyes laid upon two figures in front of her on opposite ends. On the left, Anne Briar. She wore a shamed expression. Stressed. Like she were about to recieve the death setence and already knew it. On the right however, a man that'd traveled a long way to be here for this important case. One of the most so-called powerful wizards in the world.

Her body became stiff as the man seemed to stare right through her.

"Of course, Minister Lotte," replied Mrs. Lady with a forced smile. She began to tap her fingers against the wood and stare down at her papers. "What was the question?"

"We asked for your stance on the matter," another man spoke up from his place in the jury. The sea of royal blue in the stands were enough to give someone a headache. He looked down at his papers as well and cleared his throat. "Mr. Permethius Potter died in the fall of 1981, October 30th and was found in the middle of the streets heading towards Godrics Hollow. Mrs. Dormada Potter, nee' Briar, died in the summer of 1983, June 14th."

The man began to cough, putting one hand to his heart. He was rather old. He looked to the woman beside him to finish what he'd started. Gladly, she oblidged.

"Yet, in the winter of 1982 the will of the Potters were offically legalised," she read allowed. "Which clearly states in bold print their despire for their only daughter, Aurora J. Potter - born May 31st, 1982 - to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Unfortunately, Anne Briar reserved this date back in March to bring us together to grant a will pardon."

Minister Lotte held a hand up, a light smile coming about her face.

"That's enough. Thank you kindly, Mr. Pole," she turned to Anne, who was looking over her papers last minute. "Ms. Briar, I believe the wishes of her birth parents are pretty clear and written in stone. Alas, you are not happy with what they've decided for their daughter?"

No, she was not. As far as Anne was concerned, that was her daughter. And that meant by right and law that she made the decisions. Aurora was too young to be far from home in a whole other country. She refused to let her go so early. Who knew when the next time would be before ahe set eyes on her? She may be a difficult child with a countless amount of mental issues, but that was her child. Regardless.

"Ye- I mean no, Minister Lotte, I- " she paused because she'd thought it'd be best to get her words together first. "Aurora is - is - too young to go off to another country."

She couldn't get her argument right. Maybe needed more time to prepare. She had hardly any. Aurora had lessons with her pureblood peers. She had therapy. She regularly threw tantrums. Overall, a high matanance child that required constant supervision.

"Unfortunately, the law shows no sympathy for such personal matters," Ms. Lady offered a kind smile. She saw from here that Anne had seethed, but said nothing at first. "Who knows if this will is a magically binding one. They were rather powerful students of Hogwarts, so I've heard from the Headmaster here."

The old man on the right hand of Anne seemed to smile fondly and look to the ceiling, seemingly replaying fond memories.

"Indeed they were," he stroked the sides of the stand slowly in thought. Then, turned to Anne. "Relax, my dear. I haven't a clue why they'd summon me all the way from Scotland."

Minister Lotte seemed surprised at this.

"The child is eleven now, Headmaster!" she exclaimed. To which the Old Headmaster nodded his head and kept his never-ending calm demeanor. "Since her birth parents are deceased and her legal mother is bindingly contracted to the congress, you would be held legally responsible for her during her studies on your school grounds!"

Heads turned to the old man, but he did not speak. Anne silently prayed to whomever was in charge of fate to rule in her favor. This man would influenced the decision of the jury.

Then, he spoke through the hushed silence of the court room.

"I see no reason why the child herself cannot decide where to pursue her schooling," he replied to the Minister. Whispers broke out amongst the room and Lotter had to hit her gavel hard against the wood. She called order, but the headmaster seemed to hardly show which way he was leaning.

Anne herself seemed surprised at the man's reaction. Her cousin had spoken about the man often when she was alive, but this was the first she'd met him in person. And he was just as she described. Neutral. Calm. Hard to tell where he stood. It gave Anne the chill, making her question whether or not she'd trust her daughter in the man's care for most of the year.

"She - is - eleven," Anne said through her teeth. "She is a mere child incapable of making such -"

"Perhaps, Headmaster," Lotte cut in, shooting Anne a look. "You are unaware of the Wizard law here in the United States."

The headmaster seemed to think on it.

"Forgive me, then," he nodded to the minister. "I merely wanted to make it clear that It would make no difference to me either way."

Anne looked on nervously. The minister and the others seemed to accept it as an acceptable answer for now. All accept Ms. Lady, who raised her hand like a muggle school child in elementary. It took only seconds for her to have all the eyes in the room on her.

"Ms. Briar here seems to be correct," she agreed. For a moment Anne had to refrain from showing her surprise. She'd thought that maybe Lady had her best interest in heart after all and make this simple for her. That was, until she added: "Therefore by default the will of her parents should be granted."

"Objection!" Anne slammed her hand on the table. She mentally kicked herself, having realised her likely fatal mistake of saying that Aurora should have the say. After all, she knew that the girl wanted to attend Ilvermorny more than anything. "Listen, Minister Lotte, I am sure that the Headmaster here is - is great with running the school over in Scotland, but I am Aurora's mother now."

She had to take a breath before she continued. Remind herself not to get too emotional. Compose herself as the prideful pureblood that she was. Yet visions of an empty house plagued her mind and she already felt the bitterness overtake her.

"Which means by law I decide where she goes," Anne explained. "I've read that will more than a dozen times after they passed. It states that I am her godmother and that I hereby make all decisions regarding her until she is eighteen."

"Technically seventeen," said Minister Lotte. "As the will states as well, it plays by United Kingdom laws."

Right.

Anne inhaled deeply.

"Seventeen," she muttered, then spoke louder. "She doesn't want to go to Hogwarts, Minister Lotte. How I wish you could see how excited she is to receive her Ilvermorny letter and how crushed she is that she hasn't gotten it yet."

"So you've said for the past few days," Lady raised a challenging eyebrow. "That doesn't change the fact that you have failed to officially adopt her?"

That made Anne clam quickly, much to Lady's delight. Of course. She was Aurora's foster mother. Not adoptive.

"Her documents were last during the war, Minister," Anne said this while glaring daggers at Lady, then turned her softened gaze towards Lotte. "The will was legalised and transferred from the Ministry of Magic in the United Kingdom through a safe, which is why that's the only surving document of hers that indicates my rights to her. I could not adopt her without her certificates and papers."

"Which only means that she hasn't even the proper paperwork to make her a citizen of the U.S!" Lady declared, her voice echoeing with victory throughout the room. The room began to speak im hushed whispers once more. Anne's face fell, and she felt as if she's lost already. The gavel hit the wood again to silence the court.

Then, the old man spoke from beside her.

"I am sure that the documents are somewhere. I would be more than happy to find them myself if it means the child may have her say," The Headmaster said to them. "But as far as I can see, this lovely woman here has more rights to her than I do, for I do not appear to be on Mr. and Mrs. Potter's will. Not by name, at least."

He was on there by default as the Headmaster of Hogwarts, but not listed as her caretaker.

Anne wondered why this man was defending her. She stared at him with a questionable expression, mixed with a bit of gratitude now. He was most likely more aware of Aurora's origins than she was. He knew things that she didn't. He had answers that even she couldn't give Aurora herself. Surely, he'd want the other Potter right next to him for her own protection?

Perhaps she'd had his motives wrong.

Several beats of intense silence, the only sound that could be heard was the occasional whisper and shuffling of papers.

"Well, It appears that the will of the Potters puts the law in a contradictory circumstance," Minister Lotte spoke. "I think I've heard enough."

She looked to the jury.

"Have you reached a decision?" She asked them. "Because I have."

And they nodded.

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"Just you wait, she's more than meets the eye."