Blaire Silver stood on the playground corner, her eyes distant. She was eight, her hair a dark scarlet, her small hand clutching the chain link fence. The bright brick-red building behind her held dozens of cheerful orphans, and many were playing outside, but she...well, she was atypical. Her vivid green eyes looked past the corner and past the street, for she was different. A different soul.

"Blaire? Get down here! Its time for breakfast!"

It was a week before when she turned 11. She shrugged on a t-shirt and overalls, running down the attic stairs and the regular ones to the kitchen, where her adoptive father and mother sat, looking at her with disapproval.

"Blaire. Make breakfast." her adoptive father said, his eyes cold.

Blaire started grimly, her eyes still having that faraway look. "Yes, Sir."

Her adoptive mother, Cynthia sat down at the table, her little tube top scrunching up. "Well, Hun, your vacation week is almost over, where should we go?" she said in her thick accent. She said over "ova" and your sounded a bit like "yoi".

"I think we should go on a cruise, Snookums."

"Where will we leave her?" Cynthia said, looking reproachfully at Blaire. Blaire didn't smile. She just had that blank look. She silently served breakfast and ate hers at the counter.

"Maybe with ... Blaire, your grandparents are coming up today." her father said, his mouth full.

"Grandmother and Grandfather?" she said dully. She looked at him unblinkingly, only a sliver of green outside the pupils on her eyes.

"We have to get those eyes checked. And yes, Grandma and Grandpa." Cynthia said. "Collect the dishes."

Blaire gathered the dishes and began to wash them in the sink.

Blaire took a walk outside the large house, looking around the large yard. There were trees everywhere, and a nice rose garden done by the judge next door. She was a nice woman, and always invited Blaire over when she saw her. Blaire picked a small rose, one you wouldn't notice if it was gone, and breathed in its luscious scent. She looked ahead lifelessly. She walked and sat on a beautiful stone bench, and watched the sky, not knowing what she was waiting for. She squinted at the sunlight and gasped as a large white owl swooped down to perch next to her, handing her a golden parchment envelope.

"Aren't you beautiful?" she asked in a hushed whisper, petting the bird in awe. The bird (Blaire suspected it was a she) nipped her palm affectionately and cavorted into the sky.

Ms. B. Silver

The Attic Bedroom

13 Privet Drive

Little Whenging

Surrey

Blaire examined the letter carefully before even touching the violet wax seal. She ran into the sun for better light.

Dear Ms. Blaire,

You have been excepted to

Her father snatched the letter away.

"Cynthia! Get over here!"

Cynthia read slowly over her father's shoulder, her eyes forming to small 'O's.

"Should we?"

"No. I know exactly what to do. I think its time to call him."

Harry Potter paced aimlessly around his great living room, his best friends sitting on the couch. Hermione twisted her weddign band on her finger, as did Ron. Their daughters, Sarah and Francesca, played with Harry's great black Newfoundland. Sirius sat sipping coffee, reading the paper.

"I don't know what you should do, mate. You've got this mansion, you've got that dog, you have no wife." Ron said, his arm around his. Herminoe smiled at him.

"Oh, thanks!" Harry said. "Rub it in, why don't you?"

"Okay! You don't have a wife!"

"We're not in school anymore Ron. I could hex you right now."

"But you wouldn't. Becasue you wouldn't want my little girls to have a hexed Daddy."

Cess looked at him and smiled. "Nope!"

Sarah sat in her magical walker, playing with the sparks that came out. She hadn't spoken a word yet, but Hermione was convinced it was because she chose not to. Sarah giggled.

"Oh, Ron, she giggled!" Hermione said with tat tone of a joyus mother while Ron grinned proudly. Harry couldn't help but smile.

His muggle phone rang lougly in the perfect moment, blaring. Sirius picked it up, spoke for a moment, and solemnly handed it to Harry.

"Who is it?"

"Your cousin, Dudley."

"What does he want?"

''No idea."

"Yes?" Harry said into the receiver.

"Our daughter was just accepted by that, that school of yours, and we refuse to have any freaks like you in our house! Pick her up within the next day!" The dial tone sounded after a loud click, the voice that had spoken slightly scared.

"What did he want?" Ron asked as Harry turned deadly pale.

"His daughter. He wants me to take his daughter."