Chapter 1: Acceptance

Dark thunderheads crept through the sky over Spinner's End, casting a pall over the already dreary street and its surrounding buildings. To the rare motorist who traversed the main road through the desolate factory town, the derelict houses with their unkempt gardens and rotting siding would seem the last place any person would want to call home. But for one small girl watching the approaching storm with her round hazel eyes through the grimy window of a particularly dismal house at the end of a long row, Spinner's End and the isolated town around it was home. It was where her father had brought her to live after her mother had died, and where she had remained, with her father's brother and her godfather to watch over her.

Aurora sighed; she was bored. The summer holiday was always touch and go, the weeks from late June until the end of August souring the normally jovial atmosphere of the house. She glanced over at the source of the change: her father. He sat in his armchair beside the fire, his face hidden behind the latest edition of The Daily Prophet.

Most of the year he was away, teaching Potions at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Now, although he was on holiday, his posture as he sat was stiff and formal, as though he weren't at all comfortable in his surroundings. She knew exactly how he felt. Whenever he arrived, she felt on edge, careful not to do anything that might set off his notoriously nasty temper. Usually she stayed close to her uncle, Steven, or her godfather, Malichi, but they had both left on mysterious errands. No amount of her begging convinced them to allow her to tag along, and so she sat alone with the father she didn't really know, watching the clouds.

In her eleven-year-old mind, it made perfect sense that should she sit there long enough, he would be bound to notice, and possibly even speak to her. The reality, however, was that she had been in the same room with him all morning, and he hadn't once looked up from the paper.

Aurora turned her attention back to the overcast day, sighing again. This is pointless. As she stood, intending on retreating to her room with a book, she spotted an owl in the distance. There were no other wizarding families—or Muggle ones, for that matter—within miles, which meant whatever the owl carried was for one of the four inhabitants of her house. Her eyes followed the bird's progress as it headed toward the windowsill at which she sat. Larger than Kenoa, the family owl, the approaching messenger had feathers blacker than the curtain of stringy hair that framed her father's face. She'd never seen it before.

Her father looked up as the owl landed on the windowsill and pecked at the glass. Aurora looked to him for approval, and with his curt nod, she spun the lock and allowed the mysterious guest to enter. It didn't fly over to her father, as she'd expected, but instead dropped a letter onto her lap before again taking flight. She blinked, staring at the envelope.

Who'd be writing to me? Every person she knew lived in the house. Aurora picked up the letter and examined the looped handwriting on the envelope. It sparked a glint of recognition, and when she turned the envelope over, a soft 'oh' of surprise left her lips. The seal was unmistakable—it appeared on every letter to her father from Hogwarts. But this was addressed to her. She glanced up again, but her father had already turned back to his paper, seemingly disinterested in the letter's contents.

Aurora had interest enough for both of them. She tore into the envelope, taking in only the first few words before leaping from her chair and crossing the room to where her father sat. When he didn't acknowledge her, she cleared her throat.

"What is it?" he asked, still buried in the paper.

"This letter just arrived, Father—it's from Hogwarts."

"Your point?"

"It was addressed to me."

"Then you would do well to open it." His tone was sharp, his irritation clear.

"I have."

He sniffed and continued to read.

"It says I've been accepted."

Her father looked up from his paper, his black eyes snapping with impatience.

"And?"

Aurora looked down at the letter, then back at him, hope buoying in her chest. "It's not a mistake, is it? I mean, you'd already said that with you teaching there—"

His eyes held hers. She thought she saw the corner of his lip twitch, but it was pulled down into his customary frown too quickly to be certain.

"It isn't prudent to imply that the deputy headmistress is in the habit of making mistakes." He snapped the paper out and went back to it, rolling his eyes and sighing when Aurora spoke again.

"So—I'm not going to Beauxbatons?"

"Obviously."

Aurora had the sudden urge to throw her arms around his neck and hug him—but was sure his reaction would not be pleasant. "Th-thank you for changing your mind."

There was no response from behind the paper.

Aurora wandered back to her seat by the window, numb with shock. I'm going to Hogwarts. Now, more than before, she was eager for her uncle and godfather to return. Both were Hogwarts alumni, and Malichi had been Potions Master during most of her father's attendance. Their excitement when she told them, she knew, would rival her own.

Malichi and Steven arrived home within moments of each other, just before dinner. Aurora waited only until they'd removed their traveling cloaks before rushing to them and telling them her news, earning a disapproving grunt from her father, now buried in a Potions text. Far from sharing her excitement, however, both men turned startled gazes above her head to her father.

"That's some news," Steven said. His usual cheery tone was curt as he stared at his brother, who remained unbothered.

Aurora was astonished at his reaction—though he resembled her father in every physical way, Steven's personality was the complete reverse of his older brother's, and he was normally warm and quick to laugh. The expression on his face now made it clear that laughter was the farthest thing from his mind.

"Indeed it is, Piccolina." Malichi diffused her uncle's brusque reply with the use of his pet name for her. With his long grey hair flowing past his shoulders and the lines that leant character to his features, her godfather seemed frail, but Aurora knew better. There was a glint in his eyes that spoke of a storm about to be unleashed. He shifted his eyes to Aurora after shooting a warning glance towards Steven. "Let's you and I go and get supper together, and leave your father and uncle to talk, eh?"

Aurora frowned but followed him into the kitchen. She glanced back at her uncle, his fists clenched at his sides. None of this made sense. "Malichi, doesn't Uncle Steven want me to go to Hogwarts?"

"We all want what is best for you, Piccolina. The decision had been made to send you to Beauxbatons. Your uncle is surprised by the change, that is all."

"But -"

"Ah, ah." He held up a finger to stop her. "Aren't you pleased to be going to Hogwarts?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Then leave well enough alone, child. Do not ask so many questions." He turned to the cupboard, a signal to Aurora that, for him, the conversation was at an end.

Her frown deepened as her excitement waned.

Severus clenched his jaw, but kept his eyes trained on the page in front of him. He'd made the decision unilaterally, without consulting or informing Steven or Malichi, knowing he was putting off this inevitable conversation.

As soon as Aurora's and Malichi's footsteps faded into the kitchen, Steven advanced toward him. "What happened to sending her to Beauxbatons?"

"I wasn't aware I needed your approval to obtain the best education for my child."

"You're the one who suggested it!"

"And I changed my mind." Severus lifted an icy gaze to his brother. "I concluded close proximity was preferable to the chance that she would be recognized and without protection hundreds of miles from her family."

"Because being close to her has worked well for you so far?" Steven's words bit through Severus's calm.

"I don't need to explain my decision to you."

Steven let out a frustrated puff of air, throwing his hands up in the air. "What about all of that worry about the children of your former colleagues? What if one of them was to discover who she was? You said yourself that they wouldn't think twice about…she isn't safe where they can find her, Severus, and you damn well know it!"

Steven's eyes held a mixture of emotions as Severus met them head-on—fear, anger, concern—nevertheless, Severus had made his decision only after much consideration, and he would not be swayed.

"I wouldn't place her in harm's way," Severus said through gritted teeth. "And you damn well know that. While Albus Dumbledore is Headmaster, the school is virtually impenetrable. She will be well protected there."

Steven opened his mouth to say more, and Severus braced himself for another round, but Malichi's voice from the kitchen doorway halted their discussion.

"Supper's on." Malichi's voice was low as he looked back over his shoulder into the kitchen. "And the two of you would do well to attempt to conceal your animosity for an hour. She's not a dolt." He glared at them, making Severus feel as though he were a first year found out after curfew, then walked back into the kitchen.

Severus stood from his chair, rolling his head to the side in irritation when Steven blocked his path to the kitchen.

"This had better be because it's what's best for Aurora, and not because you wanted to do something just to irritate me," Steven said.

"Yes, Steven, because every decision I make concerning my daughter is actually about what will irritate you the most." He closed his book and tossed it down onto his chair. "As evidenced by the fact that I've allowed you to stay in this house for the last ten years. Clearly an ulterior motive to inconvenience you." Severus pushed past him before Steven could respond.

The tension at supper was apparent, even to Aurora. Her father didn't speak to any of them, and her uncle refused to look up from his plate. Aurora's excitement about receiving her letter was gone. Now it felt as if a lead weight had settled in her stomach. Is it going to be like this the rest of the summer?

"Aurora."

Her father's voice startled her, and she flinched, dropping the spoonful of peas she'd been holding to the floor. He sighed, his narrowed eyes following her movements as she cleaned up her mess.

When she was seated at the table again, he cleared his throat. "We need to discuss how you're to behave at Hogwarts."

Maybe it was the disappointment, maybe it was the tense atmosphere, but Aurora found herself irritated—and willing to act on it. She met his glare. "I'm confused. I know I don't get out much, but I think I know how to behave around other people."

Her father's jaw clenched, and Aurora braced herself for his sharp retort.

"It isn't your behavior," Malichi said, "as much as how you present yourself to the students and faculty."

"Oh." Her heart sank even further. Now she understood. "I'm going to be Aurora Rinkle, then?" It was the alias she was forced to adopt on the off chance that she had to give her name to anyone.

Her father nodded. "And you'll use the glamour potion."

Aurora tried to choke down the lump that rose in her throat. "But—the Hogwarts letter. It was addressed to Aurora Snape, not Aurora Rinkle."

He clucked his tongue and shook his head. "Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall know your true name. But you are enrolled as Rinkle."

She swallowed, staring down at her plate. "Am I ever going to be allowed to be myself?"

Her father's voice took on its usual irritable tone. "Nobody is telling you not to be. All we require is that you do not tell people that you're my daughter. That has nothing to do with how you choose to act."

"You're wrong!" She surprised even herself by standing up from her chair. Her eyes focused on him, anger and hurt flaring. Realizing that she had shouted, she lowered her voice. "It's going to be the same as it is every time I'm allowed to leave the house: a rehearsed answer to every question. It's hard enough to lie convincingly for a few hours; how can I be myself when I don't look like myself, and have to be careful about what I say every second of every day?" Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she ignored them. "When I got the letter, I thought just maybe, things would be different. Stupid me. Why would you suddenly decide to admit that I'm your daughter, just because I'm going to be in the same building with you for ten months?"

Severus was too stunned to stop her when she ran from the room. She'd never spoken out of turn—at least, not to him. Steven glared at him and pushed his chair back, no doubt to follow Aurora.

"She's my daughter, Steven."

"Then act like it, you idiot! Go up there and tell her the truth about why she has to hide who she is. Sooner or later, she's going to return your silence with her own, and you're going to wish you'd spoken up. " He threw his napkin on the table and stood when Severus said nothing. "I have to go. Malichi, you'll go up?"

Malichi nodded. Steven exhaled, cast a look up the stairs, then stalked out, slamming the door behind him. Severus leaned back in his chair, rubbing his throbbing temples.

"She has already begun to ask questions, son," Malichi said. "I suggest you start being a bit more forthcoming with her."

"She'll do as she's told, Malichi. The details need not concern her."

"Not if you want her to loathe you by the end of term, no."

Severus closed his eyes, wishing—not for the first time—that for just one day, nobody would contradict him.

"Do me the favor of allowing me to rear my daughter in the manner in which I see fit." He stood, dinner untouched, and headed upstairs to the sanctity of his bedroom. The one place in the whole blasted house where he could find peace.

He hesitated as he neared Aurora's door. I should speak with her. But surely nothing he could say would comfort her—he was not going to change his mind about the alias or the glamour. Steven's words rang in his ears, and he found himself opening the door without bothering to knock.

"Aurora."

She sat on her bed, facing the window, but turned toward him when he spoke, the sunset casting an eerie red glow over her face. A cold sense of foreboding washed over him.

"Goodnight," he said, quickly shutting the door behind him. He leaned against it for a moment, his heart pounding. He didn't believe in signs, but the bloody pall which had passed over her face nevertheless stuck in his mind, haunting his dreams.

Breakfast the next morning was even more terse than dinner had been. Aurora refused to even look at her father, and her uncle's absence bothered her. He worked most nights as a Muggle stage magician, performing sleights of hand and other tricks that did not breach the International Statues of Secrecy, but he was typically back well before she was awake.

She hadn't even volunteered to cook breakfast—something she usually begged to do. Instead, she simply re-read her Hogwarts letter until her father called her in to the kitchen. She ate quickly, not saying a word to either her father or godfather, then laid her dishes in the sink and went back up to her room. Neither man made any effort to speak with her, but that wasn't out of the ordinary. Her father's conversations normally consisted of laying down rules and became awkward and forced when the subject turned to anything else. As for her godfather, Malichi spoke only when he felt it necessary. It was Steven who was her consoler, Steven who made everything seem well again. But Steven was nowhere to be found.

September first—three short weeks away. Aurora looked through the list of items she'd need for the term, her excitement building again. Hogwarts had always been an almost mythical place, her uncle's stories of his days there filled with excitement and adventure, the place her father clearly preferred above the crowded house at Spinner's End. And soon, she'd be there, embarking on adventures of her own—despite the fake name and face she'd be burdened with.

Her door swung open, her father and his ever-present scowl appearing.

"What?" she asked.

"Mind your tone. I do not want last night's episode to become a regular occurrence."

She barked out a sharp, humorless laugh. "What are you going to do? Put me on restriction? I'm not allowed to go anywhere, and you've made sure I don't have any friends, so what good will it do?"

His eyes narrowed, his scowl deepening. "It's not too late to send you to Beauxbatons."

Aurora bit back a retort before he made good on his promise.

"Steven is going to take you to Diagon Alley. I suggest you get ready immediately if you wish to go."

Aurora's spirits soared. Steven was back. And spending a day with her uncle, out from under her father's disapproving glare, was just what she needed. She jumped from the bed and ran to her mirror to put up her hair. Her father's reflection, a vial in his outstretched hand, tempered her enthusiasm. Aurora knew without being told what the milky white potion swirling inside the container was. She'd had to take it her entire life—any time she stepped foot outside of the house.

The reasoning had never been made clear, and when she asked, her uncle and godfather referred the matter back to her father's wishes. And her father was not very receptive to any questions. With dismay, she drank the potion, and then watched her reflection as it took effect. The long auburn hair she'd inherited from her mother became thin, blonde, and shorter than her father's, and the upturned button nose turned down and elongated. Almond-shaped green eyes stared back at her, and without a word to her father, she brushed past him and hurried down the stairs to where her uncle was waiting.

"Let's go." She grabbed his arm and began dragging him to the door, desperate to get out of the house.

"Ra-"

Aurora stopped, turning at the use of his pet name for her.

Steven smiled. "You don't want to walk all the way to London, do you?"

"Why not?" she asked, keeping her voice low as her father descended the stairs. "It's not like it's going to be any fun around here for a while."

She smiled back at him as he guffawed loudly—maybe last night hadn't ruined the entire summer after all.

Steven held out a cannister of Floo powder. "Let's take the quicker route anyway, okay?"

Aurora tossed a pinch of the powder into the fire and stepped into the green flames. "Diagon Alley!"

She loved traveling by Floo. Her pulse quickened and her mood improved as she zipped along the network, stopping and jumping out into the Leaky Cauldron. Her uncle was only a moment behind her, brushing off his clothes before he was completely out of the flames.

"There now." He chucked her under the chin. "A smile again. Let's see if we can't keep it there, eh?"

Aurora's smile widened. Away from the oppressive dourness at Spinner's End, she felt lighter, almost as though there'd been no unpleasantness the night before. She took his hand and led the way into Diagon Alley, the bustle of the thoroughfare further elevating her mood.

Every time they came there was something new to see, whether it was the newest collection of books at Flourish and Blotts or the latest in self-stirring cauldrons at Potage's. Aurora pulled Steven toward the bookstore—by far the shop that was the most difficult for her uncle to drag her from. Usually they left it for the end of their trip, but Steven was busy reading her school list and didn't notice where they were until she released his hand to begin perusing the shelves.

"Really, Ra? We can't spend all day in here. Ten minutes!" he called to her as she wandered away, her fingers grazing the spines as she walked past them.

Her disappointment at having to be disguised faded as she read the titles. She hadn't been to Diagon Alley in nearly six months, and it seemed every other book was a new title. She rounded a stack of precariously balanced books on kneazles, and saw a battered sign, nearly hidden by shadows at the very rear of the store. It read 'Muggle Books - ½ price'.

Aurora made her way to the deserted aisle. Standing directly beneath the sign, she devoured the titles that loomed before her. Some she had heard of, even read, but there were several she knew nothing about. She selected one at random, pulling it from the shelf and scanning the synopsis on the back cover before replacing it and pulling the next down.

"There you are!" Her uncle's face wore a look of resigned indulgence as he crossed the crowded shop to stand beside her, a stack of textbooks in his arms.

"Muggle books, Uncle Steven!" Aurora said, pulling yet another from its spot. "Oh! It's a cookbook!" She flipped through the pages, drinking in each recipe.

"Ra, we haven't the time—I've got all the books you'll need, but this was just the start of your list."

"Can't I get one of these as well?" she asked, giving him what she hoped was a woebegone expression. For a moment, it looked as though he was going to refuse, but he shook his head and smirked.

"Oh, all right. You know I can't resist that puppy-dog stare. But just one," he said as she pulled several from the shelves.

After five excruciating minutes of being unable to decide, she closed her eyes and selected one at random. It was the thickest of the group, which meant it might just last until the end of summer.

"Let's get over to the till, then."

Steven took her arm and guided her through the throngs of customers. They stopped at the counter—which Aurora could barely see over—and he set their purchases down. The clerk looked down his bulbous nose at the books on the counter, then turned his eyes to Aurora.

"Daughter off to Hogwarts, sir?" he asked, his dull blue eyes surveying her critically.

"Yes. Well, she isn't my daughter, but yes, she's been accepted at Hogwarts this term."

"Bit of goblin in her, I reckon?" the clerk asked.

Steven frowned. His jaw tightened, but his voice was pleasant and even when he spoke. "Merlin's beard, no. All wizard."

The clerk cocked an eyebrow and looked skeptical, and Aurora's fists clenched at her sides. She knew she was short, even for eleven—one of the aspects of her true appearance that the glamour potion did not alter—but she was sick and tired of getting stares of incredulity when people learned her age.

"Excuse me," she addressed him through clenched teeth, prepared and eager to tell the clerk off. "Just because someone happens to be—"

Steven cast a furrowed brow in her direction to silence her as he dug out the coins from his pocket and pressed them into the clerk's hand.

"Thank you," Steven said, scooping up the books—now tightly wrapped in brown paper—and taking Aurora's arm as before. This time, though, his grip was firmer.

Aurora cast a glare over her shoulder at the clerk, who had already turned to the next customer in line. Only when they'd passed through the doors of the bookshop did Steven release his grip.

"You know the rules. No brawls in public." He grinned at her, but it did nothing to quell her irritation.

"What do you want me to do? Pretend that I didn't get what he meant?" She stuffed her still-balled hands into the pockets of her jeans, glaring into the shop.

"I'd expect you'd be used to it by now."

She turned back to her uncle, jaw dropping open. "So just because I'm short I have to get used to people treating me like I couldn't possibly be human?"

"Of course not—but getting angry doesn't solve anything."

"Makes me feel better," she said.

They walked down the street to Madam Malkin's robes, an unseen bell chiming their arrival into the shop. Steven greeted Madam Malkin, and she peered around his shoulder at Aurora, then nodded.

"Into the back, then," she said, leading them through the shop to a room with several raised platforms.

"In any case," Steven said cheerfully, taking a seat at the front of the room, facing the platforms, "you go off on your classmates, you're liable to end up with an extra set of arms. Mind you, they could be useful in keeping your room tidy."

His words had the effect she knew he wanted—her grimace of fury softened as she struggled to keep from laughing.

"Might need six arms, though, at the rate your messes spread."

She was nearly there, her mouth twitching up at the corners.

"I'll write Professor Dumbledore. I'm sure there's bound to be a hex for that sort of thing. Make sure it gets spread around the school, so there are plenty of opportunities."

Aurora clamped a hand over her mouth as an involuntary snicker emerge. Too late—Steven had heard it and beamed triumphantly at her as Madam Malkin slipped a robe twice Aurora's size over her head.

Steven kept up a diatribe of quirky ideas on things Aurora should be on the lookout for at school, effectively keeping Aurora's anger in check while Madam Malkin pinned the hem.

"Don't move, dear," Madam Malkin said as Aurora began to fidget.

Aurora begrudgingly stood still, though she continued to shoot looks towards Steven, who finally began to laugh at her.

"It will look fine when she's done," he said. "Madam Malkin is the best robe maker in London."

The old witch beamed with this praise, and began moving a bit faster, finally standing back and nodding with approval. "You're done now, dear. Let's just slip this off, and I'll get it sewn up. Come back in an hour, and I'll have a set ready for you."

Aurora pulled off the robe and jumped down, dragging Steven from the shop.

"I thought we'd never get out of there!" she said, sinking onto a bench dramatically.

"A near thing," Steven said with a wink. He frowned as he glanced down at his watch. "But it took longer than I expected. I have an appointment this afternoon, so no more mucking around, right?" He grinned as he said it, prodding her with a hooked finger in just the right spot to make her giggle.

Their next stop was the apothecary, and as they crossed the threshold, Aurora realized she'd never been inside. The interior was dimly lit and smelled of old socks, freshly dug earth, and dragon dung. Along the walls were shelves filled with jars of indiscernible ingredients, some of the labels faded and peeling away. Barrels hid some of the shelves from view; the ones closest to Aurora and Steven were filled to the brim with beetle eyes, dragon livers, and rat tails. Aurora bent to examine everything, disappointed when Steven hurried her out what seemed like seconds later, her supplies tucked under his arm.

"There were loads of ingredients in there!" Aurora said.

Steven's hand pressed lightly against her back as he steered her through the other shoppers. "If you know how to brew them, Potions can be used for just about anything."

His words cut through Aurora's excitement. "That's why Father enjoys them," she said. "They give him control—they even let him create the perfect daughter."

Steven stopped mid-stride and stared down at her, his mouth open. He let out a huff of air and shook his head as he led her to a bench. His hand pressed on her shoulder, forcing her to sit, then he took the spot beside her.

"Ra, look at me."

She wasn't sure why she'd never thought of it before. Was it why he'd forbidden Malichi from teaching her anything about Potions while he was at Hogwarts? Because he didn't want her to circumvent his efforts to mold her into what he wanted her to be?

"Ra."

She lifted her head slowly and looked at her uncle.

"Your father—he loves you. Just as you are."

"If he did, I wouldn't have to pretend we aren't related all the time. I wouldn't have to be—this." She waved a hand over her body as the tears welled up in her eyes. No. I'm not going to cry. Nothing's changed. Except it had. She'd always assumed her father was distant because he was that way with everyone. But maybe it was more than that. Maybe her mere existence irritated him. The tears escaped, and she wiped at them, irritated with herself.

"Oh, sweetheart." Steven pulled her to him, kissing the top of her head. "I know it doesn't feel like it, but how could he not? You're smart, funny, and beautiful. Of course, you get your good looks from me." He tossed his head and posed pompously.

With his short-cropped inky hair, coal-black eyes, tall lanky frame, and hooked nose, he and her father were mirror images of each other—and neither held any resemblance to her.

She forced a smile, knowing that was what he wanted from her.

"Now, we'll hear no more nonsense about your father wanting you to be anything than what you are, okay? C'mon." He stood and offered her his hand. "Let's get your wand."

Aurora took his hand, not convinced by his words. Still, as they approached Ollivander's, the thought of buying her first wand send a tremor of excitement down her spine. It was almost enough to break through the cloud of disappointment that had settled over the trip.