AN: Everyone good belongs to JKR, and I'm just borrowing them. This is the story before the story, that explains how she gets to Hogwarts and who she is, because once she gets there she doesn't tell anyone. (But everyone smart figured it out.) Anyway, plz R&R!
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Once upon a time, a long time ago, a shadow fell across the world. Great Wizards banded together to fight it, traveling near and far, fighting the evil with all their power. In that dark time, a beautiful witch, a creature of flesh and fire, gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. But the birth drained her, and it took all her strength to care for the babe in the years that followed, feeding her on nectar and sunshine and her great love.
Her lover followed his calling, a high calling, returning from bloody battles not to her, but to a school, to teach. Though she was a noble warrior herself, the witch had a high calling, too, and took care of the little warrior princess herself, teaching the babe everything she needed to know about weapons Muggle and magical, and deep Old Magic, more powerful than wands. And she taught her Lore, and Healing, and all the ancient secret arts. She taught the child beauty and wisdom, alone, for it too was a high calling, but had to be done separate from wizards and their ways. The separation from her true love broke her warrior heart, but the child was safe and wise and strong in the midst of Darkness. It did not touch her, and would not while her mother lived.
Finally, one glorious day, Darkness was defeated. The shields the witch erected to shield her baby collapsed, and her presence was once again sensed in the world. Her lover sensed her again, and raced to her side. When her lover returned to her, he found her sleeping peacefully the young child cradled in her arms. "Darling," he said, "why didn't you send word? I would have come. I should have been here with you."
"You had a duty, Albus. You did your duty, and I did mine." She smiled and whispered, "Look at her - look at your daughter, Elena." She pulled back the soft blanket and showed the little girl's face, crowned by auburn hair. "She looks like her father," she said, kissing the sleeping girl's head, causing it to glow with the magical benediction.
The wizard stroked her hair and said, "She's not as ugly as her father." He kissed his true love, the child's mother, and she gripped his neck fiercely, pulling him close to her as she breathed her dying breath into his mouth.
His eyes widened in shock as her body faded away, transforming into a nightingale, and flew away, singing. He was the most powerful wizard of the age, and he could do nothing to stop this. Only a phoenix song could cheer him ever after – his ears were deaf to all other birdsong.
The little girl started to
cry, and the sweet taste of his victory turned to ashes in his mouth.
"Come with me, Elena. Your mother is gone. We're going to
Hogwarts."
*
Elena moved to Hogwarts with her father, now the headmaster, and was doted on
by the teachers. She was a bright and beautiful star in their gloomy
lives. Everyone loved her, except her father, who could not look on her without
remembering his lost love. Elena didn't like to make him sad, and tried
very hard to make him proud of her, reading everything she could, becoming as powerful
a witch as her mother. She attracted admiration from everyone, especially
the Head Boy, Tom Riddle. He was her match in power, and in her he saw a
way to bring Old Power to his side. She loved him truly, for his
ambition, his pride, and his power were nothing compared to the warmth of his
acceptance. He didn't look at her with shadowed eyes. He never
wanted to be away from her. He loved her, and she him. So when he
left school, she left with him. There was nothing more Hogwarts could
teach her - but Tom could. And would.
She followed him to the ends of the earth as he sought more and more power, gathering others to him. They were beautiful, and powerful, elegant and alluring. They attracted people to them, being natural leaders. People flocked to them, and wanted to help them, to join them in whatever they did. They sought to defeat death, and Elena was a Great Healer, like her mother. As Tom dove deeper and deeper into darkness, she used the power to heal his weary soul, to bolster his flagging strength as he spent himself fighting Death itself. So, again, the man went off to fight a ferocious, hungry enemy, and his love waited anxiously for his return, so that she could love him, and soothe him, and heal him, and help him prepare for the next battle.
In time, Tom grew more and more scarred, and it took all of Elena's power to fuse together the torn bits of his soul. His quest of power drew more and more power from him, and Elena struggled to replenish him, but as hard as she tried, his hunger grew, consuming him. Elena could barely heal him, even using all her love. She did great damage to herself trying, and grew very weak, for she could not sustain herself, and her love, and the babe in her belly.
The child was born on a barren island in the North, and like her mother, Elena taught the little princess everything she needed to know, about love, and life and magic. But Elise, her baby, watched, and learned from both her parents. Her mother tried to shield her from the Darkness that grew in her father, and his friends, but she was too weak. As Elise grew, she saw Power, and learned to fear it. She feared the stranger who looked like her father, the man her mother tried to heal, the man with unquenchable thirst. She feared the green glow she saw at night, and her mother's tears. She feared her father's friends most of all. They gave her precious gifts – jewels, baubles, rich robes of silk and velvet, embroidered with fantastical designs that could only please a child. They brought her toys and trinkets of gold and silver, enchanted to do great magic. They praised her and petted her, and looked at her with hungry eyes.
One night the men in their dark cloaks came for her, and dragged her, screaming and clawing, away from her sick mother. Green lights glowed from her father's room, though he wasn't there. She screamed and howled, but no one came as they ripped the sleeve of her robe and burned hateful runes into her wrist. She cried, and fought, but they were big and she was little and there was nothing she could do to stop them. Then the poison from the runes touched her heart, and she stopped fighting. She was thirsty, hot, and angry. So very hot, and wickedly angry, and they stood and laughed and poked and prodded and had no idea how much danger they were in, for they thought her parents couldn't save her. The rage built in her and awoke the Old Magic, her grandmother's magic, burning magic that reduced them all to ash.
The room stank when her father appeared, the robes of the wizards still smoking, and greasy acrid smoke hung about the room. "Elise Morgana, what have you done?" he said coldly.
Elise wasn't afraid – she'd saved herself from them, and she'd save herself from him. She glowered at him silently.
"Do not defy me, little one. You may be remarkable, but you're still my child. I brought you into this world and I will take you from it," she said, grabbing her hair and forcing his way into her mind. She fought, but she couldn't stop him. He wasn't an enemy; he wasn't a friend; he was her father. She was his blood. She belonged to him. She started to cry.
His green eyes narrowed, and he withdrew, but not completely. She knew he was still in her brain, and strangely she didn't mind. She wasn't alone anymore. She'd never be alone. He looked at her wrist and scowled. "Riddles bounce, little one. Never forget that. They'll rip you down, but we always rise again, and have our vengeance. Vengeance is ours."
"Vengeance is mine," she whispered. She wanted vengeance. On him. For her mother.
He sensed her thoughts and grabbed her hair, pulling her from the room. "Still defiant, little one? Stupid girl! Come show your mother your disgrace before she dies!" He pushed her into a dark room, where her mother sat, hunched in a corner, bleeding from a thousand little cuts. She was singing, a phoenix song, a nightingale song. The sound of it made her soul ache, not with real pain, but with healing power. The rage left her, replaced with calm acceptance.
"Mummy!" she cried, running to her for comfort, to bury her face in her soft bosom and breathe her sweet smell. Silken arms wrapped around her, and she felt her mother's sharp teeth against her throat. Elise screamed and pulled away, stumbling away, behind her father. Then, in a flash of white light, her mother faded into nothingness, and a nightingale flew away forever.
Shaking with fear, Elise looked around the dark room. Her father stood between her and the door. She wanted to run, to hide. He father turned and said, "Stay here. I'll be back for you." Then he Apparated away.
A blond man-boy lay on the floor in the corner in a pool of blood. He was beating his head against the floor tiredly. "Stop that!" Elise said with all the authority an eight year old could muster. He ignored her and kept hitting his head against the stone. He was dying. Elise was sick of death. She was a Riddle – she hated death. And she was a witch, little or not. She could do something about it. She crawled over to the boy and held his head in her little hands, His hair was soft and silky where it wasn't sticky with blood. He was quite beautiful, like one of her dolls. A naughty big dolly, she thought as she Healed him. He didn't want to be healed. He wanted to die – her father was in his head, too, telling him what he had to do. He didn't like "Have to" – he wouldn't be forced. He wanted to die first But she didn't care – she wasn't going to be left alone again tonight. He'd live – she'd make him. And she did.
Her father returned and took the big boy away. He left – he had to. Her father made him. And Elise made her decision. Daddy was gone, away from her, in someone else's head. It was time to leave. So she ran, her velvet robes ripped and bloody, her face blotchy with tears. She ran until her legs wouldn't move, and collapsed, crying, to the ground. As the sun rose, she saw a beautiful bird with wings of fire, and reached for it in her dreams. She wanted to fly with all her heart, and begged to bird to take her to her mother, to heaven. And the bird swooped down and carried her home.
To Hogwarts.