The door to a small crowded room creaked open with a sharp shriek that left the people inside wincing. Leftover smoke from the night before still lingered in the air and the mountain of bottles that had previously collected in the corner had taken a tumble in the night and were now spread across the floor, finding a resting place against oblivious bodies.

Walking slowly out of the room and down the unstable metal staircase into the outside world was the youngest of the rooms occupants. The fifteen year old girl pulled her long, matted hair into a low ponytail and moved her backpack higher up on her shoulder before shoving her hands into the pocket of her too big green jacket, holding onto the pocket knife she kept in there. It was still dark out and she was a young, mildly intoxicated teenage girl walking through back alleys in a dodgy neighbourhood. Of course she had a knife.

She didn't really have anywhere to go, she was just smart enough to not want to be stuck in a room full of hungover people coming down from their high. After wondering around for almost an hour the girl decided to head for a soup kitchen she knew opened early. Their food wasn't great but it was warm and that's all she wanted in that moment.

By mid-afternoon the fifteen year old was sat cross-legged on a bench, a cigarette between her lips and a cheap cup of coffee on the side. This wasn't a life she wanted for herself, but it was the life she had and it was the better of the two options she had been given. Living on the streets and fending for herself, or subjected to unspeakable abuse at the hands of her would-be foster parents.

Breathing out the smoke, watching it fly upwards and appear to mould itself with the clouds above, the girl smiled to herself. It was the small moments like those when there was nothing but the chirping birds, a light breeze tickling her hair, caffeine coursing through her body and a warm cigarette in her hand that she felt most relaxed. She felt like maybe. Just maybe things would work out okay.

And then an ear piercing scream cut through the air as a jet of light passed inches from her face.

Standing abruptly from her seat (knocking over her coffee and dropping her lit cigarette in the process) the girl whipped her head from left to right, not believing what she was seeing. On the left was a man dressed in a black cloak and odd clothes like he was going to a funeral with a medieval theme whilst clutching a stick that seemed to be the source of the light, and on the right was an ordinary woman falling to the ground clutching her head in pain. Clearly she was the one who screamed.

Backing away, unsure what was happening, the teenager was quick to turn around and run when the man in the odd clothes turned his stick to her. By this point, her knife was out and she was putting her already worn out shoes to work.

With a loud pop, the man who had been behind her suddenly appeared in front. His face broken into a smile revealing jagged and discoloured teeth. "Oh the master is going to be so happy with me" His voice was deep and scratchy like he hadn't used it in a long time. He reached out towards the fifteen year old, her eyes subconsciously zooming in on his dirt filled nails. Not that her chewed up ones were any better.

Quicker than either of them could register, the girl slashed forward with her knife- cutting deeply into the mans palm down to the start of his wrist. With him momentarily distracted she took off running once more. If there was one thing she knew, it was the back alleys of that city. The city had been her house for the last eleven months, her mind held a clear map of it.

Another pop had her jumping on the spot but before she could carry on running (or even turn and try to get another hit on the man) strong arms wrapped around her torso, holding her in place when she struggled. "It's alright," The voice spoke, but this one was different. Not as deep and much smoother. "I'm here to help. I'm going to take you to safety"

With yet another pop and the feeling of being sucked head first through a vacuum, the fifteen year old girl was suddenly on the other side of London, puking away what little contents she held in her stomach. "It happens to most people the first time they apparate" The voice of the man who grabbed her rung out sympathetically.

Wiping her mouth and turning to face him in caution, she reached into her pocket to look for her knife only to find it wasn't there anymore. She must have dropped it when she was running. Or possible when she was grabbed. "Who are you?" She asked the obvious question "What do you want"

The man didn't look dangerous, but she more than anybody knew looks could be deceiving. He had thin light brown hair and a tired looking face covered in scars. He was wearing a worn out suit that was a little frayed around the edges but still clean and ironed. His shoes were old and slightly scuffed at the end but he had made an effort to polish them. So he didn't have a lot of money but still care about his appearance, she worked out.

"My name is Remus Lupin" He spoke matter of factly, keeping his eyes on her at all times. He was looking at her like she shouldn't exist. Like she was a ghost. "Forgive me" He apologised when realising almost a minute had past of him just staring "You look extraordinarily like your mother"

Those last three words 'like your mother' were the ones that put her even more on edge. Her back straightened and her fist clasped. She looked ready to bolt again at any moment. "Who are you?" She asked again with a small pause between each word.

"I'm trying to keep you safe" Was his reply "That man who you just saw, he's just one of many that's after you"

"And why should I trust you? How do I know you aren't with them? And why would they even be after me in the first place? I'm no one" the girl argued, shaking her head.

"I'm your godfather" He finally admitted, "However until three weeks ago I believed you to be dead. I can explain everything to you in a moment but right now we need to get out of the open. Here, read this" He thrust a piece of paper into the shocked girl's hand who reluctantly looked down at it.

Almost the moment she did, the ground started shaking. Appearing between houses number 11 and 13 was another house that hadn't been there before. "What the hell?" She gasped, too shocked to fight when Remus led her forward- her feet moving without her brains permission.

She was led into a dark hallway that had her sneezing almost instantly. Creepy artefacts and stuffed versions of odd creature that couldn't possibly be real lined the walls. "Where am I?" She asked, her voice cracking as everything that had happened in such a short period of time started to catch up on her. The confusion, panic and fear she was feeling was the reason behind her tears.

"Iris Potter. Welcome to 12 Grimmald Place"