Anna Connors sat in the centre of her bedroom, legs crossed and eyes closed. The room was dark – she never opened the blinds – and dust covered most of the flimsy furniture in it, except for a pile of fairy tale and fantasy books beside the bed and the bed itself, which had a rough, white cotton blanket over it. The girl sat on the wooden floor, face scrunched up in concentration as she made snooker balls fly and spin around her. Controlling this... energy she had always left her tired and made those memories come back, so she wasn't really happy with that part of it, but it was the only thing that set her apart from the others.

A sharp gasp broke the silence as her hands snapped up to clutch her head and the balls hung still. A streak of pain had flashed through her mind but, after taking a few deep breaths, she opened her eyes again. There, in the darkness, was a pair of blood red eyes. They were staring at her, cold, cruel and... disappointed? As always. It hurt to see that judgement, it truly did. It drove a knife through her innards, twisted her stomach in guilt and made her desperate to please those eyes. Which was utterly ridiculous of course since she had never in her life met a person with red eyes. Not that her subconscious realized that as no amount of reasoning made the stupid feelings vanish.

Anna bit her lip and closed her eyes again, letting the balls sink slightly. Why? Why? She thought about it too often. Anger flared up at the simple word. Why did she feel guilt when she was the one who had been abandoned in this hell hole? Why should she please someone she had never met? Who the hell had red eyes anyway?

The balls around her started to crack as a result of the pressure her anger caused, but then again, her eyes were closed and she didn't see it. She was too occupied with the memories that suddenly bombarded her mind to notice. Even with shut eyes she could make out the bright flashing lights that shot from one place to the others, screams and yells in a strange language deafened her and she was afraid, so afraid. Her body started to shake and she forced her eyes open. The red orbs were gone and in their place were eyes identical to hers. She couldn't look away, but neither did she want to. There was something about them that comforted her, something made her feel at home, wanted even. It was a feeling she only ever felt when the second pair of eyes appeared, as rare as it was. When she stared into them a warm feeling spread out from a place deep inside her and relaxed all her muscles, even if she was a naturally stressed person. A soft humming filled her ears, a humming in a deep throaty voice that she heard rarely and it drove her nearly made to think that it might not even be real. It came to her at night sometimes, when she was particularly miserable. It was the only comfort she had.

Automatically her soft voice joined in the humming and she succumbed to the peace that enveloped her from the darkness. She felt arms wrapped around her, and she was rocked from one side to the other in a lazy rhythm. A small smile started to appear on her face.

But then a knocking interrupted all of it and her anger rose up, crushing the balls around her into tiny pieces that scattered on the floor.

"What?" She snapped, frazzled at being interrupted.

The door was pushed open slightly and a girl peeked inside, letting rays of light illuminate the inside of the room slightly to reveal the mess of dust, books, clothes and food scattered all over the place. The girl, who was called Linda, didn't seem surprised at the mayhem, but rather terrified at the girl glaring at her. She fisted her flowery dress nervously.

"M- Mrs Yeats wants to speak to you, Anna." She stammered. "A- a teacher is waiting downstairs with her."

She flinched when Anna frowned, but then looked relieved as she saw that she wasn't the cause of the frown.

Anna was confused. A teacher? Here? Why? She behaved at school, maybe not as well as she could but hey, she was eleven. She might not have the best marks (honestly, everything they taught was boring) but she acted like a right sweetheart all the time and they had nothing to complain about. Anna stood up, waving a hand lazily to repair the balls and lift them into a small box, and exited the room, heading to the living room with Linda following close behind.

Suddenly she stopped walking and turned to Linda, who, while she was nervous, knew she hadn't done anything wrong and looked at her calmly. Or rather, pretending to be calm.

"How do I look?" Anna asked.

"Fine." Linda hesitated. "But your hair is slightly-"

"Fix it." Anna cut her off.

Linda immediately did as she was told and Anna couldn't help but smirk. Linda was such a good girl now, so much better than before. Before, Linda had been one of the ones that tormented Anna. She had been one of the ones that hit her, that called her names, that told her her parents had been right in abandoning her. But then Anna had learned how to control this skill she had and, well, breaking bones was easier than breaking snooker balls.

Linda and Eric – one of the boys from the orphanage – were her right hands. They weren't her friends, hell no, they were still far beneath her, but she tolerated them and, as long as they did as they were told, they had a relationship of mutual profit. She was left alone while everyone listened to her when she wanted them to, and they could do what they wanted when she wasn't around, not even the other children stood up to them. Anna might not have been nice, but Linda and Eric weren't either.

"There you go, Anna. You look perfect." Linda said.

Anna waited for a second before giving Linda a blinding smile. "Thank you, Linda. Now smiles up. We wouldn't want anyone to become suspicious, now would we?"

Lina immediately retaliated by giving Anna an angelically innocent look. "Suspicious of what, Annie?"

Ah, Linda was such a good actress. One of the few things Anna approved of.

The two girls kept walking and soon got to the hallway by the living room. A large amount of children were crowding around the door; they were curiously trying to catch a glimpse of this teacher of hers but when they saw Anna they immediately parted and followed Linda's lead by smiling too. Eric stepped forwards and started shooing the children off, knowing Anna wouldn't want any eavesdroppers. Anna didn't even look at him, but he was used to it.

She opened the door and peeked her head inside.

"You wanted me, Mrs Yeats?"

Eleanor Yeats, the forty-nine year old matron of St Joseph's, sat on the couch with an older woman beside her. Mrs Yeats herself was wearing a creamy dress and brown shoes, and her greying hair was tied back in a thick braid. In Anna's opinion Mrs Yeats was a kind but absolutely obtuse woman who couldn't see anything that went on right under her nose. She was stupidly easy to charm and it made Anna's life much easier.

The other woman, however, seemed to be a strict and proper type of lady. Everything about her screamed it; her tight bun, her crisp, ironed clothes, her perfectly straight posture, the age lines on her face that were most definitely not smile lines, but most of all, her eyes. The stern look she shot Anna was laced with mistrust and calculation. That was something she wasn't used to; immediate unnecessary hostility.

Anna's smile didn't falter, though. Not even when she saw shadows slither over the woman's body and blood start streaming from her eyes and nose. She was used to hallucinations, they were a common occurrence after she used whatever it was that she had. Anna calmly blinked and flexed her fingers, sending the chills that ran down her back away from her. When she looked back everything was normal again.

"Oh, yes, Anna. There you are!" Mrs Yeats stood up and bustled over to her. She grabbed Anna's hand and gently pulled to to the seat in front of the woman. "This is Professor MacGonagall. She's a teacher at a special boarding-school in Scotland. She's here to talk to you about attending it!"

The now-named professor gave Anna a wary smile. "How do you do, child?"

Anna grinned at her. "Oh, very well, Professor. And yourself?"

The woman seemed to study her for a second before she answered. "I am well as well. Take a seat."

Anna sat, making sure to keep her face folded into a politely interested mask and to stay seeming as sweet as she wanted falcon-face to believe she was. It wasn't easy, the unnerving stare of the woman did wonders in unraveling whatever confidence she might have. She did it, though, she had too much practice in pretending.

"I'll leave you to it, then." Mrs Yeats said and scuttled out of the room.

Anna's eyes landed on the fancy tea set Mrs Yeats had set out. She only took it out when she wanted to impress people, the china being too delicate to use daily what with all the wild children running all over the place. Better impress this woman, then, she supposed. A few minutes passed in silence, but Anna felt very unwilling to break it, not knowing what the woman wanted to hear.

"Have you ever done something strange, Anna?" The woman finally asked, still looking at her with a strange intensity.

"Strange, Professor?" She feigned ignorance.

"Something you could not explain, something the other children cannot do." The elder clarified.

Anna's eyes immediately snapped up to the woman's face, cursing inwardly when she saw that she had noticed the quick reaction. Carefully she schooled her face to a nervous, maybe even ashamed, expression and looked down. Her hands bunched up in her oversized t-shirt, knowing it'd make her seem smaller and more vulnerable.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about. You are a witch." The teacher's voice seemed more inclined to patience and gentility now, even if it wasn't completely there.

Anna furrowed her brows. "A witch? Are you a- a witch too?"

"Yes, I am." She took out a long, polished stick and waved it over the tea set. One of the cups started floating and it rose high into the air, touching the ceiling, before coming back down and landing gently. "That is one of the first spells you will learn at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the school I've come to offer you a place at."

MacGonagall stopped talking, but Anna didn't notice, having involuntarily gone into a slight trance.

Magic, as she now knew it was called, triggered memories -at least, she hoped they were memories, otherwise she was just going mad- that weren't hers. Wether she did the magic herself, or someone else around her did it, apparently made no difference. Mostly she could just shake these vision off, but this one was too strong, stubborn almost. Honestly, she didn't know what to make of the large house on the hill, with the old couple and middle-aged man bathed in green light. She really didn't. She hadn't seen this particular memory before.

At first these memories gave her nightmares, seeing people be tortured by thin air was quite frightening, but now she managed to hide and control her fear relatively well. Anna hurriedly snapped herself out of it and smiled at the teacher.

"I can do that too." Outstretching a hand, she put in a bit of effort and tea pot lifted. Gently she coaxed it into pouring some tea into one of the cups. It was slow and slightly mechanical but she didn't spill a drop. Then she lifted the cup to the Professor, who accepted the drink with a flabbergasted look on her face. Anna almost smirked triumphantly. So she was showing off, so what? She wanted to make a good impression on this teacher. She was going to be taught by her after all, might as well get a couple of accomplishments in before the school year started.

Anna smiled softly and looked back down, pretending to be flustered. "I don't do it in front of the others. They're afraid of it and some of them have hurt me before." She shrugged. "Though doing... magic feels good, it feels like I'm myself. I'm happy I'm not alone anymore."

So she was being honest for once, who cares? It's instinctual not not want to be alone, it couldn't be held against her in any way.

"No. No, you're not alone, child." The Professor cleared her throat and looked away, it seemed like she didn't want to see Anna anymore. "As I told you, I am here to offer you a place to study at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. All magical children from 11 to 17 go there, those with magical parents were inscribed since birth and children from a non-magical heritage, muggle-born, are inscribed when they begin doing accidental magic."

"So... how did you find out I'm a... witch?" Anna asked. "Was it the first time I did magic?"

"No, you were inscribed since birth." The teacher shook her head.

Anna paused, shocked. "So you know who my parents are?" Her eyes were wide as she straightened up in her seat.

"I'm afraid not." McGonagall said. "You see; when you were born, we were in the middle of a civil war, which has already ended. My guess is that, for your own protection, your parents changed your name and put you here, where nobody would think to look for you, until they were safe and in a position to take care of you. I believe that if they did not come to get you it means that, whoever they were, they are dead." The woman seemed devastated to have to tell her that.

Not as devastated as her, though. Anna took a second to process the information before locking it all away to leaf through later, swallowing roughly and blinking rapidly. She was in the middle of something, she couldn't start screaming and breaking things now, no matter how much it tore her apart. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists for a second, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Her eyes opened again and sank back into her seat again, letting herself hunch. Then she looked up at MacGonagall, who was looking at her with an expression of pity that would have infuriated her if she hadn't been so numb.

She forced a smile. "Thank you for telling me, Professor." She paused. "Does Mrs Yeats know about... me?"

"No. We have the International Statue of Secrecy to think of, which states that no muggles, non-magical folk that is, are to know about magic unless strictly necessary." The woman paused. "But I digress. I have here-" She took out an envelope and set it on the table. "-a letter that tells you about your acceptance to Hogwarts. With the letter is a list of the supplies you will need and a train ticket. You will need to go to King's Cross station on the first of September to take the Hogwarts Express, it leaves at eleven o' clock."

Anna picked up the envelope. It was heavy and thick, the paper -parchment?- was rough and yellowed. Somebody had written her name in neat, loopy handwriting, along with exactly where she was. The Drawing Room, St Joseph's orphanage for children, London. Anna looked back up at MacGonagall with a slightly bewildered look.

The woman put down a velvet pouch on the coffee table. "This is money from the student fund. We give money to all children who cannot pay for their own supplies, such as yourself. You need to go to the Leaky Cauldron on Charing Cross. There you may ask the barkeeper, Tom, to let you through to Diagon Alley, where you will find all that you might need." The woman seemed to be warming up to her as she asked: "Will you need assistance?"

Anna shook her head and forced another smile. "No, thank you Professor. I think I will be perfectly fine by myself."

The Professor nodded. "As you wish. If you will excuse me then, I must leave. There are many more children I need to contact."

"I'll show you out." Anna walked with the woman, holding the pouch and the envelope tightly to her chest.

When she closed the front door after saying goodbye -after beaming at her teacher and telling her she hoped she would have a nice remainder of the holiday- she let her smile drop. Her eyes darkened with grief, turning the bright silver to a stormy grey, and a pained snarl pulled at her lips. Her footsteps sounded ominous as she trudged up the stairs, glaring at anyone who might try to get in her way. No one did, and the only one who called after her was Mrs Yeats, who was promptly ignored. She slammed the door of her bedroom shut and threw the envelope and pouch on her bed.

Then she sank to her knees. She screamed, muffling her voice with her hands, and pulled her hair and threw her belongings and furniture across the room, making it crash into the walls as leafs of books were ripped out and scattered through the air. Her strangled voice rang through the silence and rage blossomed up in her chest. It was like a drop of acid that burned its way into her heart and into her veins. It spread and filled her from top to bottom as she opened and closed her hands, hoping to calm herself.

As she stood in the rubble of what remained of her room, with ragged breaths and gritted teeth, she vowed she would find who killed her parents. The one responsible for making her live in the damned place. She would find them and make them beg for mercy. Then, and no sooner, she would kill them.

Minerva MacGonagall aparated back to her cottage in Caithness, Scotland. She walked into the small livingroom and sat on an armchair. A house-elf popped in, asked if she wanted tea, and left at her slow nod. Actually, she had had enough of tea for the day, but she couldn't bring herself to call back Mannie.

Annabelle -as she knew the child was actually called- was identical to Bellatrix. So identical in fact, that she was sure some people would recognise it, but almost no one knew the Lestranges had a daughter so it wouldn't be all that important. She had feared this child to be the same as her parents, she had expected something like what Albus had told her Tom Riddle had been like in the orphanage, she had waited with baited breath for the rudeness and arrogance that her face reminded her off. But it hadn't happened. Anna had been polite, kind and lonely. She had seemed ashamed of her magic, she had seemed glad of not being alone. She didn't know how much of it had been true -she had been teaching Slytherins for over two decades now and could smell out a lie- but the child had not seemed cruel, just angry and alone.

She had definitely not been lying about being harmed by the other children. Minerva knew how cruel children could be, she knew how afraid people could get of what they didn't understand. It wasn't unheard of for muggleborn children to be bullied or -in some extreme cases- abused for what they could do. Everything that wasn't identical was bad, it divided the world in us and them and made it easy for people to be unkind.

The girl's amount of control had also been surprising, but once she started using a wand she would lose her wandless abilities almost completely, like all other children. Unless she was more powerful than Minerva realised and got extremely angry at some point, it happened in some isolated cases. What worried her the most was the pause after using magic. Annabelle -Anna- had seemed to be in pain, or something akin to it. She had closed her eyes and held her breath, her lips had trembled and her brow had furrowed. It had been almost inperceptible, but it had been there. She had seen it.

She had also seen the heartbroken look Anna had when Minerva had lied to her face and told her that she did not know who her parent were, and that they were probably dead. She had seen the way her eyes filled with tears. She had seen the way she looked down, forced a smile and clenched her fists. Minerva almost hadn't been able to help her self, she almost told Annab- Anna the truth then and there.

She could only hope Anna would enjoy herself at Hogwarts.