Disclaimer: Actually, almost everything in this chapter belongs to me, with the exception of Hogwarts and Snape, who belong to JKR.

Full Circle

Chapter One:  Her Story

It was true despite her mother's calm demeanor, true regardless of her calm, measured actions, and true in spite of her ever-constant façade of relaxation. Regardless of what the doctors said, the girl believed her mother to have been touched by madness.

It was beyond belief, but it was true.

She never breathed a word of it to her father. In love with his undeniably beautiful wife, he humored her stubborn whims with paternal solicitude. To preserve the look of childish happiness in his wife's soft dark eyes, her father was more than ready to ignore her abnormally obsessive attachments and the manic gleam that glistened within her beautiful eyes.

Besides, there was something—endearing—about her dependence upon him, he thought. Her mother possessed some quality of lovable helplessness—not a burdensome quality, for he couldn't have tolerated that, soft dark eyes and light curls withstanding—but an almost apologetic helplessness, as if it were other than self-enforced and entirely beyond her control.

A dumpy blonde man with a ready smile, her father was apt to overlook many of his wife's eccentricities, and never fully realized that perhaps his wife's helplessness was entirely beyond her control. This would have doubtlessly troubled him, for, by extension, it then became a situation over which he had no control. And Lawrence Gracelan was all about control.

Control- in a tree, in a garden long ago, two humanoid creatures began the struggle for control. Control over their actions, control to choose or not to choose, to decide one's actions or relegate the decision to a higher authority, to see the black, the white, or the grey.

But, as Lawrence Gracelan realized, not all three. Never all three.

And so, even so, the child's father sought to impose his rule upon the household. There were no distinctions between people of varied appearance or character—each was assimilated into the household, welcomed into the murky blackness, received as a vital (though easily replaced) member of the household's body. And at its head sat Lawrence Gracelan.

His wife's whims were taken into account, for, after all, he had control over their fulfillment, and gratifying them pleased him, as they were proof of his ability to give and his ability to take. Blessed be the name of the Lord.

He was a magician to his daughter, for he and he alone could maintain this illusion of strict control. She knew it was an illusion, but it fascinated her nonetheless. She, too, was attracted to this forbidden fruit, this intangible pleasure, this possession and complete dominance.

It was indeed an attraction—but no more, and would never be more than a secret fascination—because of her mother. The girl knew that her mother had an inner fire, only expressed in the manic gleam that occasionally overpowered her normally soft eyes. Only Orliana knew her mother was being consumed slowly by a careful and creeping fire, and only Orliana realized that, no matter how solid her father's superficial control, her mother's madness could not be blustered or beaten into submission and could not be tamed.

Because of this, Orliana pitied her father, in the midst of her simultaneous attraction and fear. Because of this, Orliana realized that her father's control had only the merest illusions of power and lacked true authority. Because of this, Orliana vowed that she would not become another mindless addict to a fleeting pleasure—she would refuse a world of black or white, and seek refuge in a world with shades of grey.

It was a lesson that I would not learn until after her death, her death that happened, as in a story, "once upon a time."

Once upon a time. This was the way that Orliana began all stories, her own included. She refused to give an exact date or even a setting. It's not essential to the story, Severus, she would say, narrowing her eyes in annoyance at my interruption. Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful dark-eyed woman, considered so despite her freckles and ungainly walk. She was thought by many to be one of the most fortunate women in the vicinity at the time—not only was she in the possession of several well-valued properties, but she was also blessed with a husband who had the means, but more importantly, the will to control them and keep them under strict scrutiny. And, they would often hastily add, as if close to forgetting, she had a small daughter. A small, dark-haired daughter who inherited her mother's fine eyes.

It was customary for Orliana to stop here, expecting me to grasp the full significance of her last words.

The girl came to the realization of the subtle differences between her mother and her father, and between her mother and the rest of the wizarding community. Whereas most of the practicing wizards in the area had control over their magic, as is the wont of most wizards, her mother's magic was uncontrolled, erratic in its occurrence, and at a constant variance in force. While her father overlooked many of his wife's oddities, this was one thing even he could not fail to notice. To prevent his wife from setting the house afire and turning his child into a crow, he placed limits on her use of magic, and tried to insure that she was never given the opportunity to use it.

How unfortunate.

As time passed, she began to resent him for the control he placed on her magic, and resolved to save her daughter from this. Although neither side of the family had a history of attending Hogwarts, the wife suggested that their small daughter be enrolled there, following her birthday.

Though her husband would have preferred a more rigorous institution, he succumbed to this whim of his wife's, and, following her birthday, Orliana Gracelan was enrolled in Hogwarts.

This was the significance her birthday held for her father.

Orliana and her mother knew otherwise.

It was that night that both learned that besides inheriting her mother's dark eyes and erratic magical abilities (which would hopefully, after Hogwarts' instruction, be controlled), the child had, to a lesser degree, also inherited her mother's madness.

The child, however, would succeed where her mother had failed.

And so, even so, Orliana Gracelan arrived at Howarts.

To be continued.

A/N: I was mortally afraid to post this chapter, but I must try to vanquish both my paranoia and my occasional fear of writing. Thanks to all who reviewed the Prologue: Exwhyzed (I hope you check back), RustyMuffins (even though I hate her), Werecat99 (meet the mysterious person ;)), Stefynae (… 2 days…), and Sage and Snape (I'm going to read your chapter now, I promise! I just wanted to finish this first). 

Now off to write some fun, oddly-paired ficlets. :-D