Out of Necessity
Out of necessity, I found a job as a salesclerk at a small shop on Diagon Alley to support Michaela and myself. The store sold all kinds of household supplies for the average witch. The job didn't pay very much but it was enough to allow me to rent a small apartment close to the Leaky Cauldron. I took the opportunity and walked to work each morning, taking Michaela with me. The walk wasn't long, and it was always peaceful in the mornings.
When I got to the shop, I always placed Michaela in her makeshift playpen. She was content to play with a stuffed Griffin toy and a rattle all day while I tended to the customers. Whenever there was a lull in the store, I would pick her up and carry her around the shop, crooning to her, showering her with kisses. The owner of the shop didn't mind Michaela being there, as long as I made sure to take care of the customers first. I was very lucky that Micha was a happy baby. At the end of the day, after the shop would close, I apparated home.
When I had first acquired the job, I had walked home as well, but one night, Michaela and I were jumped by a gang of London street thugs. Luckily, I reached my wand quick enough that neither myself nor my daughter were hurt. I did end up spending a good two hours with a Ministry of Magic official, explaining what had happened, before the thugs were treated with memory charms, and I was allowed to go home and put Michaela was bed. I stopped walking home at night the very next day. I couldn't take chances with Micha, she was all I had left.
We managed. It wasn't an extravagant existence, but I refused to touch the money from my mother's inheritance. I was saving that money, with the hope that it would be enough to put Michaela through school. I didn't want her to be worried about being teased by the other students when she went to Hogwarts, and I knew I would not be able to afford to send her on my current salary.
I watched as Michaela grew. She was a beautiful child and I was proud to be her mother. She had dark brown hair, like me, but she had her fathers eyes and his facial expressions. Every time she smiled at me, my eyes would mist, remembering the way her father would look at me.
I was overjoyed the day when I saw her first attempt at magic. She was reaching for her rattle which had fallen just out of reach. I was distracted, writing an urgent owl to my landlord, but I turned, just in time to see the rattle jump back to her. I cuddled her close, and counted my blessings. I wanted to share the good news with someone, but it was just Michaela and me. She was my entire life. She was all I had left in my life.
I watched as she took her first steps between me and stuffed toy, giggling in the infectious way little girls could. She brought joy to my life, everyday of my life, and she was the only thing that kept me going through the dark times.
On the day before Michaela's second birthday, I set her in her wooden highstool, and worked at cooking breakfast for the two of us on an older model stove. I paused for a moment when a large tawny owl fluttered into the kitchen through an open window. I took the paper from its beak and quickly took 5 knuts from a ceramic jar I kept on the light blue formica counter. As the owl took flight again, I unrolled the Daily Prophet. I expected only to glance at the headlines before setting it aside for after work. The headline that day, knocked the breath right out of me.
HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED RETURNS
I quickly scanned the page-length article at sat down hard on one of the plastic kitchen chairs. I had heard all of the rumors, but I never wanted to believe them. But the Ministry had admitted it, so I had no choice. He was back. I shot a quick look at Micheala. She was watching me with a curious look on her face. I knew all of the stories of how it was when You-know-who was around. No witch or wizard was safe. No one was safe, not even muggles. He was back and here I was, all alone in London with a two year old child. I had no way to protect my daughter from his minions, the death eaters, from the fear, or from You-know-who himself. I had no way to protect her at all. If he came after me, I had no way to protect myself either.
It scared me, because I knew how likely it was that I was in danger. I had been a prefect at Hogwarts. Albus Dumbledore had come to my husbands funeral, and had afterwards asked me to write him weekly, to let him know I was still managing. I would not be on You-know-who's good list. My parents had gone into hiding with me when I was a child. I had grown up in the country, far away from the city and its dangers. I couldn't afford to do that for Micha.
My thoughts raced furiously. Everyone would be scared; shopping on Diagon Alley would drop; I wouldn't be needed at the shop anymore. I would be out of a job, broke, and most likely on a hit list. I wouldn't be able to keep the apartment; we'd have to move somewhere else.
Why me? Why now? I asked myself as I turned back to the stove. The eggs were burnt to a shriveled black crisp. Close to tears, I scraped them into the trashbin. I quickly toasted two pieces of bread, and spread some jelly on them for Michaela. She grinned at me, oblivious that there was anything wrong at all. I watched her munch happily on the toast. I wasn't hungry anymore.