A/N: Aye, I've been playing with a story line like this for awhile now,
and have a few different scenarios that I would like to try and script.
The fate of the story is left uncertain thus far. Review, and I will write
according to how readers react. Oh, Michelle is my own original character,
but I highly doubt that I'll be having any more original characters than
her. I really hate how limited I am on the description, I had a lot of
things I wanted to put into it, but not a lot of room, so I'm going to post
the original description in the front of every chapter.
After faking her suicide following her brother's death, Michelle took her stallion to a different continent. There, the young Miss Potter learnt to suppress the pains that her Hogwarts years caused. But then she's forced back into the world of Magic, when she has been trying to live among muggles for the past twelve years, Michelle Potter returns to England to face her past, and confess to the friends who once mourned her death, the lie that she kept from them all.
Between The Heavens, a Trial of Faith: Chapter 1, The Sun Sets, Moons Rise
She rode bareback along the countryside bordering British Columbia and Alberta, just south of the Rocky Mountains. Her right arm was poorly bandaged, but Michelle Danielle Potter refused to feel pain. As long as she was numb, no pain could inflict itself upon her, nothing could break the barrier between her outer skin and her heart. Or so she liked to think, but it was a lie, one person had done what she had promised herself she would not let happen, and how she hated herself for it.
Nineteen years of living in her brother's shadow had left Michelle fighting for her own independence. And as she rode across North America, she remembered to a certain degree, what she had told the headmistress of Hogwarts nearing the end of her fifth year.
"What do you want to do?" Professor McGonagall had asked.
"Leave England, ride across the Atlantic, find myself. Perhaps then my brother will think me more able," Michelle replied with an authorized dignity too mature for a fifteen year old.
"I meant as a career, Miss Potter."
"So did I," she whispered. She did not speak, back then, of her love of the written word. She dared not tell her Profs that the infamous James had a sister who was neither muggle nor witch.
"If I had a choice," Michelle continued, "I would live among Muggles, without an ounce of Magic through my veins, but the Gods blessed me with a curse, and decided it would be fun to give me a brother like James. The divine creator has a twisted sense of humor, Professor, but I won't play to his perverted game."
"Professor Dumbledore is worried," Professor McGonagall said, not noticing Michelle's previous comments. "Yes," she sighed, "it seems to be a growing trend. First Dumbledore, then Sirius, and now James. I am not like you, and sometimes I question whether I was really meant to be a witch."
Her black hair flew animatedly behind her helmet. "Come on, Shadow," she whispered, "just a bit more."
Her bay stallion was all she had left of her life. It seemed hard for Michelle to believe, but only six months prior, she was happily engaged, with a brother who had accepted her adventurous nature. But now, James was dead; his wife shared his same fate. But the fate of their son, Michelle was unsure, most likely to be raised by Evans's Muggle sister and husband, she thought dryly. At least he is safe, but vivid images forced themselves into her mind of abuse and neglect. No! Her mind screamed, no, he would not live like that, for he was the last living legacy of her brother.
She pulled back on the reigns; the moon was glowing lightly as the sun set beneath earth. She found herself in a deserted clearing surrounded by nothing but trees. With the utmost ease, she slid her body to the ground. "Tonight, Shadow, this is were we stay."
Shadow had been Michelle's loyal companion ever since the summer of her thirteenth year. She sat, staring up at the blue sky, watching James, Sirius, Peter and Remus fly lightly through the skies, free from a Muggles view. Sirius flew almost as well as James, Remus had to put effort into his flight to be at the same lazy level that James and Sirius were at, and Peter's flying was sloppy. But it was not the flying that intrigued Michelle, for, in her own words, anyone can fly, but it takes a writer to soar with the boundaries of imagination, it took integrity.
Something then caught her eye; a gimpy creature limped out of the trees, into a clearing. An abandoned foal. At sight of her, their eyes met, and Michelle in one whoosh, experienced all the pain that this horse had ever felt. It was what she had felt for the first three years of her magic education, being Shadowed in James's unholy footsteps.
"Shadow," she whispered. This bond was a deeper, stronger magic that Michelle had ever experience. She knew that she had to help him, lest he die of starvation or worst, loss of blood.
"Oi! Pettigrew!" Michelle called. The pudgy boy flew over, and looked down at her with a disgusting scent of superiority. With one swift movement, Michelle knocked him, hitting him hard in the stomach with her foot. Such an attack, in normal circumstances, would have been useless, but Michelle sported heavy combat boots, deemed effective in such situations. He sat on the ground rubbing his head, and Michelle hovered above him on his very own broom, leaving him with the thought that not only had he been beaten by a girl, he had been beaten by a girl two years younger than he. "Thanks," she said, smiling.
"Michelle," James called, taking notice of his sister, "Michelle!" It was a more urgent cry when she did not respond. "Get back here, Michelle, what are you doing?" He zoomed after her, and Michelle could feel his haunting presence, his broom was much better than Peter's was, and she was left to rely on the fact that she weighted was significantly less than James's. It would be enough to reach her Shadowed friend.
Alas, it was not, she felt his grasp on her – not so much hers as it was Pettigrew's – broomstick. He was going to jump on, and wrestle her down to the ground. Then they will make me go home, except, James would never let me go home by myself, he would come, and Sirius would follow. Leaving Remus and Pettigrew alone here.
"Over my dead body," she whispered, and jumped off her broom just as James jumped on. His own broom hovered for only an instant, and fell, completely abandoned by his rider. Like Shadow. He circled lazily, and landed in front of her. Except, James did not see the injured stallion, putting him at a disadvantage. Michelle often did things with no explanation, and had he known her reasons for flying half a kilometer to the end of their safe clearing, he would probably have stood before her and the stallion. But James assumed like all others did when Michelle acted this way, he assumed she was trying to escape.
She pivoted right and ran as fast as she possibly could. A wave of untamed black hair following in her wake. The stallion met her eye, and he kneeled over as she ran with all her strength, he kneeled out of love.
Michelle jumped on effortlessly, James running, only feet away from her, taken aback by what had just happened. Sirius had clued into this as well, and was already flying over to head he off. "Shadow," she whispered. And he whinnied in content. "Shadow," she whispered again, "take me to my home."
A slow canter was all he could muster, but it was enough to get Michelle on the public roads. Feeling very much more powerful knowing that it would be impossible for James to follow her into the crowded streets of London using magical means of transportation.
That was how Michelle and Shadow came to be. During her years at Hogwarts, however, the dawn of her departure, Michelle let Shadow free into the fields where they had found each other, and on the eve of her return, each year, Shadow could be found gracing her doorstep, yearning the be ridden along the countryside. And up until Voldemorte had risen, James had allowed it.
A/N: Yes, yes, clever observation, this chapter is much more of a prologue than an actual chapter. An introductory feature honoring our young heroine.
After faking her suicide following her brother's death, Michelle took her stallion to a different continent. There, the young Miss Potter learnt to suppress the pains that her Hogwarts years caused. But then she's forced back into the world of Magic, when she has been trying to live among muggles for the past twelve years, Michelle Potter returns to England to face her past, and confess to the friends who once mourned her death, the lie that she kept from them all.
Between The Heavens, a Trial of Faith: Chapter 1, The Sun Sets, Moons Rise
She rode bareback along the countryside bordering British Columbia and Alberta, just south of the Rocky Mountains. Her right arm was poorly bandaged, but Michelle Danielle Potter refused to feel pain. As long as she was numb, no pain could inflict itself upon her, nothing could break the barrier between her outer skin and her heart. Or so she liked to think, but it was a lie, one person had done what she had promised herself she would not let happen, and how she hated herself for it.
Nineteen years of living in her brother's shadow had left Michelle fighting for her own independence. And as she rode across North America, she remembered to a certain degree, what she had told the headmistress of Hogwarts nearing the end of her fifth year.
"What do you want to do?" Professor McGonagall had asked.
"Leave England, ride across the Atlantic, find myself. Perhaps then my brother will think me more able," Michelle replied with an authorized dignity too mature for a fifteen year old.
"I meant as a career, Miss Potter."
"So did I," she whispered. She did not speak, back then, of her love of the written word. She dared not tell her Profs that the infamous James had a sister who was neither muggle nor witch.
"If I had a choice," Michelle continued, "I would live among Muggles, without an ounce of Magic through my veins, but the Gods blessed me with a curse, and decided it would be fun to give me a brother like James. The divine creator has a twisted sense of humor, Professor, but I won't play to his perverted game."
"Professor Dumbledore is worried," Professor McGonagall said, not noticing Michelle's previous comments. "Yes," she sighed, "it seems to be a growing trend. First Dumbledore, then Sirius, and now James. I am not like you, and sometimes I question whether I was really meant to be a witch."
Her black hair flew animatedly behind her helmet. "Come on, Shadow," she whispered, "just a bit more."
Her bay stallion was all she had left of her life. It seemed hard for Michelle to believe, but only six months prior, she was happily engaged, with a brother who had accepted her adventurous nature. But now, James was dead; his wife shared his same fate. But the fate of their son, Michelle was unsure, most likely to be raised by Evans's Muggle sister and husband, she thought dryly. At least he is safe, but vivid images forced themselves into her mind of abuse and neglect. No! Her mind screamed, no, he would not live like that, for he was the last living legacy of her brother.
She pulled back on the reigns; the moon was glowing lightly as the sun set beneath earth. She found herself in a deserted clearing surrounded by nothing but trees. With the utmost ease, she slid her body to the ground. "Tonight, Shadow, this is were we stay."
Shadow had been Michelle's loyal companion ever since the summer of her thirteenth year. She sat, staring up at the blue sky, watching James, Sirius, Peter and Remus fly lightly through the skies, free from a Muggles view. Sirius flew almost as well as James, Remus had to put effort into his flight to be at the same lazy level that James and Sirius were at, and Peter's flying was sloppy. But it was not the flying that intrigued Michelle, for, in her own words, anyone can fly, but it takes a writer to soar with the boundaries of imagination, it took integrity.
Something then caught her eye; a gimpy creature limped out of the trees, into a clearing. An abandoned foal. At sight of her, their eyes met, and Michelle in one whoosh, experienced all the pain that this horse had ever felt. It was what she had felt for the first three years of her magic education, being Shadowed in James's unholy footsteps.
"Shadow," she whispered. This bond was a deeper, stronger magic that Michelle had ever experience. She knew that she had to help him, lest he die of starvation or worst, loss of blood.
"Oi! Pettigrew!" Michelle called. The pudgy boy flew over, and looked down at her with a disgusting scent of superiority. With one swift movement, Michelle knocked him, hitting him hard in the stomach with her foot. Such an attack, in normal circumstances, would have been useless, but Michelle sported heavy combat boots, deemed effective in such situations. He sat on the ground rubbing his head, and Michelle hovered above him on his very own broom, leaving him with the thought that not only had he been beaten by a girl, he had been beaten by a girl two years younger than he. "Thanks," she said, smiling.
"Michelle," James called, taking notice of his sister, "Michelle!" It was a more urgent cry when she did not respond. "Get back here, Michelle, what are you doing?" He zoomed after her, and Michelle could feel his haunting presence, his broom was much better than Peter's was, and she was left to rely on the fact that she weighted was significantly less than James's. It would be enough to reach her Shadowed friend.
Alas, it was not, she felt his grasp on her – not so much hers as it was Pettigrew's – broomstick. He was going to jump on, and wrestle her down to the ground. Then they will make me go home, except, James would never let me go home by myself, he would come, and Sirius would follow. Leaving Remus and Pettigrew alone here.
"Over my dead body," she whispered, and jumped off her broom just as James jumped on. His own broom hovered for only an instant, and fell, completely abandoned by his rider. Like Shadow. He circled lazily, and landed in front of her. Except, James did not see the injured stallion, putting him at a disadvantage. Michelle often did things with no explanation, and had he known her reasons for flying half a kilometer to the end of their safe clearing, he would probably have stood before her and the stallion. But James assumed like all others did when Michelle acted this way, he assumed she was trying to escape.
She pivoted right and ran as fast as she possibly could. A wave of untamed black hair following in her wake. The stallion met her eye, and he kneeled over as she ran with all her strength, he kneeled out of love.
Michelle jumped on effortlessly, James running, only feet away from her, taken aback by what had just happened. Sirius had clued into this as well, and was already flying over to head he off. "Shadow," she whispered. And he whinnied in content. "Shadow," she whispered again, "take me to my home."
A slow canter was all he could muster, but it was enough to get Michelle on the public roads. Feeling very much more powerful knowing that it would be impossible for James to follow her into the crowded streets of London using magical means of transportation.
That was how Michelle and Shadow came to be. During her years at Hogwarts, however, the dawn of her departure, Michelle let Shadow free into the fields where they had found each other, and on the eve of her return, each year, Shadow could be found gracing her doorstep, yearning the be ridden along the countryside. And up until Voldemorte had risen, James had allowed it.
A/N: Yes, yes, clever observation, this chapter is much more of a prologue than an actual chapter. An introductory feature honoring our young heroine.