All characters belong to J.K Rowling. This is her sandbox, I just play in it.

Chaos and Confusion

A small girl looked around warily at the Great Hall of Hogwarts, the other children had a hum of excitement. Not just for themselves, waiting to be called and sorted, but for the sorting of The-Boy-Who-Lived. The-Boy-Who-Lived had been the main topic of conversation throughout the train ride on the way to her new school. She'd heard about it from the girl who was now discussing the ceiling, Hermione.

"She'd read all about" she had said, "the son of Lily & James Potter had defeated an evil wizard. He was famous. Saving them all when he was no more than a baby." That had only confused her more.

The big man, Hagrid, who had delivered her letter to her had told her that Lily and James were her parents. They were courageous and brave, dying while fighting to protect their child. He never mentioned the-boy-who-lived. "Murdered," Hagrid said, "murdered, whilst she had survived".

Her parents had been murdered, the thought crashed within her mind. They were not a drunk, not a whore and most certainly not killed in a car crash. Leaving her an unwanted burden. Unwanted, unloved, not worth caring for, as her relatives had always told her. A burden. Lies, the thought hissed in her mind, her relatives words were all lies. Relatives not family, she mused distractedly. Only half paying attention to the children around her waiting to be sorted.

Sorted into Houses. Houses that would be like their family Professor McGonagall had told them. Would they be like her family, no not family, relatives. She really hoped that wasn't true. Please, not like her 'family'. It was a desperate thought. It flashed in her eyes, glowing, startling a professor seated at the head table, as he saw the naked fear, open across her features for a split second. He watched her intently, wondering what could have caused her reaction.

She visibly flinched, jostled accidentally by another child and caught the eyes of the man watching her. She drew his gaze, and felt his shock, her blazing emerald green eyes boring into his obsidian black. It lasted a mere moment, yet felt like an eternity, as he schooled his features into an implacable mask. Except for his eyes, for the eyes were the windows to the soul, and in his she felt she was drowning. Yet at the same time she felt and indescribable assurance of safety, a protector, she felt she could trust this man. Trust him with her secrets. Trust him with her life. A trust beyond all others. She had never felt such an instant trust before, it startled and confused her. There was a slight fear attached, but she wasn't scared. No she definitely was not scared. It was the only thing she was sure of. Of him she could never be scared.

She withdrew her gaze and focused back on the sorting as she heard the name Potter called. Potter, Harry James Potter. The name not quite the same. No it wasn't her, she was content to wait. She watched with the other children, expectantly, to see who this boy was. This boy, Potter. Her name but not her name. This boy she'd heard so much about. Were they related, she mused, wondering what his life had been like up until now and desperately hoping it had been nothing like hers. She would not wish her life on anyone.

Deep down she knew it was wrong how her Aunt and Uncle treated her and had often wondered why no one seemed to notice or care. There was a small spark of anger as she remembered that both children and adults alike had seemed to actively avoid her. Well, except for her "family", that is. Not that she or even they, classed each other as such. Her so-called family seemed to take pleasure in her pain, relishing in it even. Going to great lengths to ensure that everyone knew who she was and why she was to be shunned. Lies, the word crashed into her mind once again. LIES.

Freak, the delinquent. Freak, the troubled. Freak, the good for nothing daughter of a drunk and a whore. They did not care about the hurts they caused. She was only The FREAK. The Freak who should be grateful that the "good, upstanding, fine people", that were her Aunt and Uncle, took her in.

"She is my sisters child" was all Petunia would say. Knowingly, it would only increase her standing with in the community for being the good, selfless person she pretended to be. LIES. If only they really knew. But, she wondered, would they really care.

Potter, Harry James Potter was called again but no one stepped forward. She felt the emotions of those around her, worry seemed to permeate the air. Where was their Savior, it was like waiting for God to show, she couldn't help but giggle to herself. Or maybe perhaps Merlin, she had read about him, and was not yet sure if these people had a concept of God. Yes Merlin, she thought, they were waiting for the coming of Merlin. She stifled her laughter feeling compassion for those around her. She knew what it was like to live in hope, only to be crushed when dreams were ripped away.

The headmaster stood up, requesting the sorting continue on, they would discuss this later. She had a good look at him and immediately felt a strong sense of unease. There was a memory, she couldn't quite grasp, niggling in her mind. A strong dislike, almost a hatred, was instinctively felt. They had met before, she knew, even if she couldn't quite remember. That thought would wait, the memories would return in their own time, they always did. Though one thing she was sure of. Here was a man, she knew deep in her very soul, here was a man, who could not be trusted, not when it came to her.

Especially when it came to her. She wanted to leave, to be anywhere but near him. The instinct of flight was hard to suppress, but then she mused, she had no where else to go. So she continued to wait, she waited in vane. Patiently, as her name was never called.

Zabini, Blaise, the last child other than her waiting, was called. She felt sorrow and regret. She didn't belong here either. The unwanted child, always left waiting, hoping and wanting, but it was never to be. It was hard to hold back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes, she withdrew further into her self.

"What is your name child?" The question broke through the reverie of her thoughts, it wasn't asked unkindly.

"What is your name?" was asked again. She replied speaking barely above a whisper, not used to using her voice. Silent and unheard was how her relatives liked her. A small sob escaped her as everyone in the hall strained to hear her.

"Speak up child, we would all like to hear", a sardonic voice came from the head table. She looked up, once again drawn to his eyes, a slight smirk to his features.

"You are not in trouble", he continued, his deep baritone voice making her shiver, his voice giving her strength as it seemed to caress and wrap around her soul. We only wish to know who you are.

She whispered again barely more audible than before. He raised an eyebrow in response and smirked as if he found her amusing. She didn't like that, she didn't want to be an amusement for this man. She stood up straighter, glaring at him. She was not Freak. She was not a sideshow attraction.

"Potter", she said loudly for all to hear. She could hear the disbelief in the gasps of those around her.

"My name", she continued, hidden strengths lacing her voice, power glowing through her eyes, now was not a time to hide.

"My name is Harisa Jamesia Potter and I am the DAUGHTER of Lily and James Potter."

Chaos erupted, disbelief was heavy throughout the room. She watched as the emotions played across his face, his masked ripped off as he half stood, gazing down upon her. Her strength and courage fled, she faltered before him, the terror of the unknown finally overwhelming her. Harisa, my name is Harisa Jamesia Potter, was her last conscious thought as she collapsed amidst the confusion of the great hall.

A/N in answer to a guests question. Jamesia is a flower. It is a species of hydrangea and represents honesty, determination and courage - my sister chose the name not me. I had originally picked Jonquil.

Harisa means Lioness.