Chapter 3

Elora's mother dragged her daughter all the way home by pulling on her arm. Her lips were tight, and she had a hard expression on her face. The young girl felt her heart sink. She had done something wrong; she knew it. Now she was in for it.

Once they reached their house, Phoebe pushed Elora inside and slammed the door shut, instantly locking it with her wand. Then she turned on her daughter, her face livid. "What do you think you were doing with that muggle boy?" she snapped, advancing towards the girl.

Elora shivered as she stepped back. "He's not a muggle, Mum. He's a wizard. I helped him discover it."

"I highly doubt that," Phoebe said. "He's too young to show any signs of magic."

"But he's a parselmouth!" Elora exclaimed. "And we did magic together!"

Phoebe seemed surprised at this, and she stopped her advancements. Several moments later, however, her dark demeanor returned. "You were probably acting on your own. It's about time you started showing you're a witch.

Elora winced. Her mother had always gotten on her case about not showing signs of magic when she was young like a good pureblood witch. Her siblings had succeeded at it.

"And about the parseltongue, it's easy to fake," Phoebe said dismissively. "He was probably only playing. Besides, even if he were a wizard, he would be a muggle-born, which is just as bad. Worse, actually. You know that."

Elora did not, in fact, know anything of the sort. She did not understand why her family was so prejudiced against muggle-borns. What difference did it make how they gained their powers? They were all witches and wizards. She had heard from some muggle kids that there was a movement in the country Germany to get rid of one of the races. Was that not the same thing? They were all people, so why could they not just get along?

Braeden and Emile had taken to the philosophy quite readily, so maybe it was Elora who was wrong. Maybe she was just as odd as everyone always proclaimed. She immediately felt troubled. What was wrong with her? Tom was brought to her mind. He seemed to like her. She wanted to be his friend, even if it was wrong. She knew a good thing when she saw it. There was something else, though, that her mother seemed to be missing. "He might not be a muggle-born," she said. "He lives at an orphanage. He doesn't know who his parents are. One of them could have been magical."

Phoebe clicked her tongue. "No wizard worth anything would leave a child at a muggle orphanage. I want you to stay away from this boy, Elora, do you hear me?"

"No!" Elora cried. "He's my friend!"

A growl escaped the older woman's lips as she briskly walked forward to reach her daughter. Then she slapped the girl hard across the face, calling her to fall to the floor. "Don't you dare talk to me like that, you little brat! You will obey your mother!"

Elora's face stung, and tears began to fall down it. She did not try to get up as she sobbed. "N-no." She could not give up Tom, she just could not. "I want Granny."

"Granny is not here!" Elora bellowed. "You don't deserve to see her, you wretched child!" She kicked the girl, causing her to roll over towards the wall.

The tears were flowing freely now. Elora tried to stand up, but she stumbled and fell again. "I'm s-sorry."

"No, you're not," Phoebe spat. "Look at me!" She picked her daughter up by her long hair, forcing her to look into her cold, stern face. "You'll never achieve anything of greatness if you don't do what you're told. You'll remain worthless. Who knows best?"

Elora felt like her head was on fire, and she involuntarily let out a whimper. She would have done anything to make all of this stop. "Y-you," she whimpered, cringing in anticipation of what she knew would come next.

Phoebe's eyes glittered in satisfaction. "Good," she said. "You best remember it." Then, still clutching Elora's hair, she threw the girl hard against the wall, where she landed with a thump.

Elora's head exploded in pain, and the rest of her hurt all over. She huddled into a ball as she waited to hear the sound of her mother's shoes receding from the room. She stayed in that position as she continued to sob. She had been let off easy, she knew. It could have been much worse. It would be much worse once her mother learned that she would be disobeying her again They only thing she could think of was that she had to get Granny to take her to the park and no one else.

At least no blood had been spilled this time. It was a struggle to get to her feet, but Elora knew she had to lest her mother decide to come back. She had to be strong; it was the only way she was going to survive. She tried to keep thoughts away that would pierce her worse than her physical wounds. What she needed was sleep. She let out a breath of relief when she reached her room and collapsed on her bed. She had survived.

Elora was lucky she was allowed to see Granny the next day. Her mother had agreed because she was sick of the sight of her daughter and wanted someone to take her off her hands. Granny Chrysanthemum had been all too willing to agree.

Elora had regained control of herself by then. There were no visible bruises, and she kept her appearance as reserved as possible. No one would have suspected the abuse that had taken place earlier. The minute she and Phoebe reached Granny's bakery and the door opened, Elora raced forward and clung to her grandmother's skirt.

"Hello, dear," Granny said as she stroked her hair.

"Make sure she doesn't get into any trouble," Phoebe said curtly. "She's been on a rebellious streak."

"Of course. Good day, Phoebe."

Phoebe made a grunting noise, and Elora heard her walk away. She did not dare remove herself from her Granny's skirt just yet, though. She felt too safe.

"Are you hungry, Elora?" Granny asked in a gentle voice.

At this, Elora stepped back so she would look at her grandmother. "Yes," she said. If it was nearing noon, she had not eaten in almost 24 hours; it had been part of her punishment.

Granny smiled at her. "Well, let's go get you something to eat, and then we can catch up, alright?"

Elora could only nod, and she followed her grandma into the house. The plan sounded fantastic to her. Granny always made the best meals, especially the dessert. She knew this was going to be a good day.

A little while later, Elora was snuggled on Granny's lap while Granny sat in a rocking chair, moving back and forth slowly. "How are you doing, Elora Louise?" Granny asked.

Elora frowned slightly as she remembered the previous day's events. She decided to start with the good parts. She had never told her about Tom. She wondered if Granny would view him differently. "I made a friend at the park."

"Oh?"

"His name is Tom. He's an orphan, but he goes to the park the first Saturday of the month. Mummy thinks he's a muggle, but I know he's a wizard. We did magic together and he can speak Parseltongue!"

Granny's eyes flashed in surprise. "My, that's a rare gift."

Elora nodded. "I know. Mum doesn't believe he's a wizard, though." She frowned at the memory. "And she said that if he is, he is probably a muggle-born. That doesn't matter, does it, Granny?" She looked at the older woman anxiously, begging for her own beliefs to be confirmed.

"Of course not, darling," Granny said, wrapping her arms around her granddaughter. "It would not even matter if you were a muggle. The only thing that is important is that he is a good friend."

Elora smiled slightly. That was what she had thought. She was not sure if Tom would be a good friend yet, but she was willing to give him a chance. Her smile faded when she remembered her mother's actions. "Mum told me not to talk to him," she said sadly. "She hit me again." She glanced down at her hands, unable to look at her grandmother.

"I'm sorry dear," Granny said in a soft voice after a moment of silence. "I'll try to talk to her."

"No!" Elora cried, looking up at her in terror. "You'll make it worse!"

A look of compassion crossed Granny's face. "Trust me Elora, alright?"

Elora bit her lip and then nodded her head. "Ok." She relaxed again as she leaned her head against her grandma's chest. She always felt safe and comfortable with her. She wished she could say here forever. "Why doesn't Mummy love me?"

There was another moment of silence before Granny spoke. "She does love you, darling. She just doesn't know how to show it."

"She shows Braeden and Emile," Elora sniffed.

Granny let out a sigh. "It's different with them, dear."

"I'm the problem," Elora murmured. It had to be true. Why else would she be singled out for such treatment? Her parents had said as much themselves.

Granny abruptly pulled Elora away from her chest, making her look at her. There was a stern look on her face. "Elora Leatherby, do not say such things," she said. "Do not believe a word your mother says about you. You are a very special girl, do you hear me?"

Elora blinked in surprise. "Y-yes, Granny."

Granny's features immediately relaxed, and she smiled at her granddaughter. "Now, would you like me to tell you a story?"

Elora immediately brightened. She adored Granny's stories. "Yes, please!"

Granny chuckled lightly. "Alright."

Elora felt better as she snuggled back into her chest and let her imagination run away once again.

Granny had agreed to always be the one to take Elora to the park. The young girl was happy as she skipped away to her and Tom's unofficial meeting place. She was hurting again. Her mother had punished her the night before as a reminder about her orders for the next day. Elora did not care. Nothing could stop her once she was determined about something.

Tom had not yet arrived, so Elora sat down and picked at the grass, allowing her mind to wander. She did not have to wait long. At the sound of soft footsteps, she stood up to greet her friend. "Hi!" she said brightly.

"Hello," Tom said in a calm tone. He did not look hostile like he had the first time they had met, but he still did not appear too pleased.

Elora wanted to make him smile. She wanted to show him that there was much in life to be happy about. If she could do it, then so could he. "How are you?"

"Fine… now," Tom said. "I like the park. It's much better than the orphanage."

"I like it too," Elora said with a slight smile.

"Was that your mum who took you away last month?"

Elora was surprised at the question. She did not think he would have remembered. Well, there was no harm in telling him the truth. She was not good at lying anyway. "Yes."

"She doesn't like me." The statement came out flat, and there was no emotion on his face.

Elora frowned. "She thinks you're a muggle," she confessed. "Or a muggle-born."

"A what?"

Elora sighed. She wished she did not have to explain. The distinction really did not matter; Granny had said so herself. "A muggle-born is someone without magical parents. They just have powers for some reason. It happens quite often. Some wizards, like my parents, don't like muggle-borns because they think they stole powers from real wizards or something." She rolled her eyes. "It's silly, really. They think magic should stay within wizarding families, so they think muggle-borns are just as bad as muggles."

There was a hint of interest in Tom's face as he listened to the explanation. "And what's wrong with muggles? That's what I always thought I was."

Elora shrugged. "Nothing, really. We're all people. I talk to muggles all the time. Some wizards think they're better than muggles because they have magic powers and muggles don't. It really doesn't matter, though. I would like you even if you were a muggle."

Tom blinked. "What about your mum?"

Elora hesitated. She was not sure how much to tell him. "She told me not to talk to you. I won't listen, though, no matter much she punishes me."

Tom raised his eyebrows. "Punishes?"

Elora nodded. "Look." She pulled up her shirt to reveal the deep blue and purple bruise on her stomach.

Tom gasped, and it was the first sign of emotion she had gotten from him. "Your mum did that?"

Elora lowered her shirt and nodded, smiling sadly. "Yeah. And my dad. They said they had to teach me a lesson."

Tom's eyes darkened. "Does this happen often?"

Elora faltered. "Well…" She glanced down at the ground out of embarrassment. "No. Just when I do something they don't like, which seems to be a lot."

"Elora," Tom's sharp voice said, and she immediately looked up because this was the first time he had ever addressed her by name. Hs face was hard and controlled. He lifted his own shirt to reveal a bruise similar to hers. He turned around, and she saw deep red lines on his back.

Elora's eyes widened. "What?" She had never met any kid who received similar treatment to herself. She thought it was just her. "Who-"

"The other boys," Tom said grimly as he dropped his arms. "They don't like me. And they get me into trouble so that the adults hurt me as well."

Elora was instantly filled with sympathy and compassion. "I'm sorry."

Tom tilted his head to the side slightly as he looked at her. "Why is having a family better than what I have if this is how they treat you?"

Elora frowned and became trouble. He did have a point there. Their lives seemed to be similar in ways she had never expected. But… It was different, wasn't it? Granny had said her parents loved her. Maybe if she figured out how to please them, they would stop. "They just want what's best for me," she said quietly, repeating her parents' own words.

Tom did not look convinced. In fact, his eyes tightened. "Do they call you names? Tell you you're not worth anything?"

Elora flinched. How did he know? Then she realized it must have been from personal experience. She swallowed and nodded her head.

Tom took several steps closer to her. "What good is there in that? Why should I want it?" His eyes seemed to be alive with a challenge; his jaw was clenched tightly.

Elora opened her mouth, but no words came out. There had to be something she could tell him to convince him that he was wrong. "Not all families are like that," she started. "And my life isn't all bad. I have Granny."

"She doesn't hurt you?" Tom said.

Elora shook her head. "No, never. She's always nice and kind. She hugs me and tells me good things. She would never hurt me. She loves me. She makes me feel good."

"Then that is what you have that I don't," Tom said, dipping his head.

"You might be able to find someone like that," Elora began timidly.

"No," Tom said. "It's not worth the effort." He paused, and his face became speculative. "Except maybe… you."

A hopeful smile formed on Elora's face. "Yes! I will be good to you, Tom." She felt a sudden need to be there for him like Granny was there for her. Everyone deserved at least one person who loved them. She did not know where she would be if not for her Granny.

Tom seemed to consider her. "We'll see," he said.

"Do you want to meet my Granny?" she asked. Maybe if he met her, he would realize the good things that came out of relationships.

"No," Tom said flatly.

Elora's face fell. Maybe she should try something else. "Well… Granny told me a really good story the other day. Do you want me to tell you?"

Tom was silent for a minute. His eyes seemed to be boring into hers. It was almost as if he was trying to decide if she was worth his time. "Ok," he said at last.

Elora smiled. "Let's sit." After the two of them had sat down in the grass, she began the story. She expanded on what Granny had told her, and she animated her voice and used physical gestures. She found that Tom was good at listening, which pleased her. Too many people were always telling her to be quiet. It felt good to have someone her own age with whom she could talk.