It was the first of November, 1981 when Petunia Dursley first laid eyes on a small, writhing mass wrapped in a pink blanket on the front of her doorstep. She picked the baby up, cradling it slowly in her arms. Perhaps it was... left at the wrong house? No matter what, she couldn't seem to rationalize why the baby girl was on her doorstep. However, as she read the note...

A choked sob echoed throughout the house as Petunia Dursley discovered the death of her sister. Her own son, Dudley, was barely older than the girl, and Vernon had already taken to ruining the boy. No, she vowed, she would not let the girl suffer the same fate as her son undoubtedly would, or, perhaps, worse. So, Petunia took an unexpected detour on her way to the store that morning, dropping the baby off at an orphanage without so much as a word or a glance back, leaving a note explaining the baby's name, birthday, and other relevant information. Perhaps, if she had indeed glanced back, she would've seen the bright green eyes staring at her retreating figure, or the note she had so carefully written being blown away by the autumn breeze.

"Girl!" A voice snapped. Green eyes rolled lazily upwards from a book far too advanced for a normal nine-year-old to be reading. She nodded to show she had heard the Matron. "A pair are coming to consider adopting. None of your..." She waggled a bony finger in the girl's direction. "... freakishness ruining the other kids chances." She didn't need to say that the girl herself had no chance of being adopted.

After all, who would want a nameless, mute freak that has strange things happen around her when she's happy or sad? From experience, the girl knew the answer was no one. The door to her 'room' slammed shut as she heard the three lockbolts slide into place. 'Prison Cell' would be more accurate, considering it was a small, cramped, six by four space that was barely big enough for her to lay down in. It was originally intended as a closet, but had been renovated into her room so none of the other children would have to deal with being around her.

She silently sighed as she went back to her book, recreating her light so she could read, since the room had neither lights nor windows. She knew that none of the other kids could make the light, nor could they do any of the other things she could do. It was why she had been established as a freak in the first place, and the reason why they had tried to choke her to death when she was five. Why she was mute.

She should've, by all means, been dead dozens, if not hundreds of times over. She took the reason why she wasn't as... magic. It seemed silly, really. Everyone knew magic didn't exist. But, then, how could they explain all the things she did? Summoning lights, teleporting to the bakery so she wouldn't starve to death... those didn't make sense without magic. But, then again, maybe she was just imagining it... magic would've let her speak again. Instead, she was stuck with sign language in a place where nobody else knew how to sign. A place where she was alone.

She heard voices outside her door. "Well, is there anyone in there?" A young woman's voice floated over.

"No," the Matron replied, far more friendly than the girl had ever heard her. "That's just a storage closet."

"Really?" She could hear the confusion in another man's voice. "I could've sworn I heard some movement in there."

The Matron laughed kindly. "Probably just one of the children upstairs. Energetic kids, I tell you." The girl didn't want to listen any more. She held up her hand towards the door, the birthmark on the back of her left hand that kinda looked like the letter "F" staring back at her as she wished for some peace and quiet. She didn't know if she was successful, but she didn't hear any more voices after that, so she took it as a small victory.

A few hours later, the Matron returned, the lockbolts sliding out of place. The small girl scrambled into a sitting position as she waited for the woman to come in, letting some natural light flood the room. "Good job, Girl." She said gruffly. "Emily was adopted, although there was a small issue..." The girl grew still, waiting for the woman to continue her sentence.

"I told you no freakishness. That meant no noise. And yet, they still heard you in here. And that means... punishment." The girl scrambled into the 'far' corner of the room, although that didn't mean much considering the size, tears already starting to leak out of her eyes. She rapidly signed, 'I'll be good', but the Matron couldn't read sign language, so it didn't matter.

That night, the girl cried silently as another scar was added to the plethora already lining her back. Ever since the Matron had discovered that she healed exceptionally quickly, physical retaliation was always the go-to punishment for her doing anything. Or even when she didn't do anything. No matter what, she was always at fault. And that meant she was always the one who got the belt, or whatever tool the Matron had for relieving her anger at her life on hand.

The bleeding had already stopped, but the pain stayed. Her green eyes were puffy from the tears streaking down her face, her body choking with sobs that her ruined vocal cords couldn't transmit into reality. She didn't know what she had done to deserve this. The Matron had always said that she was forsaken by God. The girl didn't agree - she had read the Bible when she was seven, she knew that this wasn't what God did to those who wronged him. And what would she have done, anyway? What was so unforgivable?

A few hours later, once the pain had started to wear off and she had run out of tears, she sat up, cringing at the pain that streaked through her body. Summoning a ball of light to keep her company, she let it float around as it illuminated her prison. She grabbed at the tiny cup, which she had transformed a piece of floorboard that had broken off into, and held it close to her hand. She closed her eyes, and she wished, she wished so very hard that the tiny cup was filled with water...

And when she opened them, a small stream of water was appearing from thin air, pouring into the cup, stopping once it was full. Overwhelmed with joy at what she called 'her magic' coming through for her again, she signed into the empty air, 'Thank you'. Of course, there was no response, but the girl could swear that she felt a little bit warmer after the action.

She gulped the water down greedily, replenishing her systems even as her stomach growled. She was too tired to teleport right now. She would do it in the morning. The small child curled up on the tiny cot that had been her bed for the past eight years, shivered to keep herself warm without a blanket. She focused on the light lazily bouncing around the room, smiling slightly, wishing she could be that carefree. 'Goodnight', she signed to the light before squeezing her eyes shut very hard. When she opened them again, the room was once again dark and lonely.

The girl blinked her eyes open. Unlike when the ten-year-old child normally woke up, not that she or anyone else knew her age, there was a small glow in the room. Perhaps there was a crack in the door? Or maybe she had started making lights when she was asleep, too. She silently giggled at the thought. However, that was not the truth. No, the glowing was coming from a small envelope on the floor, which had glowing bronze writing on it.

"Wool's Orphanage
The Room Under The Stairs
First Floor
Skyla Lily Potter"

The girl peered at the front of the envelope for a moment. Surely it had to be a joke. 'Skyla Lily Potter'... was that her? She knew most people had names, not just 'Girl'. But, still... it was somewhat... surprising to learn that she had one. And one that sounded so... pretty, too. Perhaps it was meant for someone else in the Orphanage? But... there were no girls named Skyla that she knew of, and the door had never opened... She would've woken up if it had. Which meant...

The girl shuddered with the realization. That meant... Magic.

She tore open the paper, eagerly scanning the contents.

"Dear Ms. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress".

The reread the contents of the letter a few times. It... didn't make sense. She hadn't applied to any school... but... it was a school for magic. Just like she had! Maybe... hope rose up, and she had to squash it down... Maybe they could fix her throat...?

But they wanted an owl? She had no owl. She didn't have access to an owl. Unless...

Determined, Skyla stood up. A warmth blossomed through her as she acknowledged herself by a name for the first time in her life. "Skyla... Lily... Potter..." She signed to the air, repeating it a few times. "Me."

A smile spread across her face as her body felt warm with the declaration. Yes, she was Skyla Lily Potter. And, one way or another, she would figure out how to get to this 'Hogwarts'.

She stood up, her 4'3" figure barely coming close to the ceiling. Rotating around on her bare right foot, she spun around, squeezing her eyes shut. She reopened them, immediately sensing the difference as the warm air brushed her skin, the sun just beginning to peek out over the horizon, lightning up the early morning day. Her magic had sensed where she wanted to go, and she stood, barefoot, in her hand-me-downs, in front of a pet store. It was closed, of course. It was far too early in the morning. However, there was an owl in the window, sleeping.

Skyla poked the window a few times, causing the owl to stir. The bird's eyes blinked at her as she showed it the letter. However, she could tell there was no understanding going on. This owl, whatever it was, was not the type of owl she needed. She frowned slightly, although there was no malintent towards the owl. It wasn't its fault for not being the owl she needed. She sent out what she hoped was a calming feeling towards it, and it quickly settled back into its nest, closing its eyes and going back to sleep, causing the girl's frown to turn into a smile.

But... she was still at a loss as to what to do. Hopefully, a few days of thinking would give her the answer she sought.

"Girl!" Skyla was on her feet in an instant as the bolts slid out of place. Angrily, she signed 'Skyla, me' at the Matron as she came through the door. "You know I don't understand your hand language, girl." The Matron scowled. "There's someone asking for you." Skyla froze in place, her head tilted, questioning. "Yeah. I don't know either. But they asked for the girl in the room under the stairs..." The elderly woman's eyes narrowed. "More freakishness, of course. Resolve this."

Skyla followed the Matron out to the entry hall of the Orphanage, where a massive man sat, waiting. His worried face brightened as he took in the duo. "Skyla Potter! Thank ye, Ma'am." His voice boomed.

"You know the girl?" The woman asked, disinterested in general. "She's been here for long enough. If you know her, take her."

The tone seemingly did nothing to abate the good mood of the gargantuan man. "O' course, o' course. I'll jus' be taking 'er fo' the day, and then she'll be back." The woman scowled, but did not contest it.

Skyla quickly signed towards the man, "Who are you?" The question was simple. However, it confused the man.

"What are ye doing?" He asked the girl, who slumped, disappointed. "What's she doin'?" He asked the Matron soon after.

"She's mute," the woman informed him tiredly. "She's doing sign language."

"Sign... what?" The confused man was now even more confused. Skyla frowned, but then closed her eyes hard and imagined herself holding a paper and pencil behind her back. When she opened them again, she was indeed holding the two things, the adults having not noticed when she was talking.

"Who are you?" She wrote, and then pushed the paper towards the massive man, who quickly grabbed it.

"Who am I?" He asked, confused. "Well, I'm Rubeus Hagrid, grounds'eeper fo' Hogwarts! I'm here to escort ye to do yer shopping." He turned to the Matron. "Why isn't she speaking?"

"That's what mute means," the Matron started as Skyla's eyes widened and she scrambled for the only pocket of her hand-me-down pants that wasn't falling apart. "She can't speak."

"She can't... speak?" The massive man repeated slowly. "The daughter of Lily and James Potter... can't speak? 'ow's she supposed to do magic, 'en?" Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the girl's reddish-brownish curls bouncing as she tried to get his attention. "Ah, ye look just like yer mother," he said mournfully, before realizing what she was holding out to him: her Hogwarts Acceptance Letter.

"Ah, yer letter!" Hagrid smiled. "'at's good. 'at means that the school sensed yer magic. It's just a matter of fixing yer voice up." The girl's jade eyes widened as she nodded her head incredibly fast. "Alright, well, 'at's settled 'en." He turned to the Matron. "Thank ye, I'll have 'er back befoh' the sun's down." The Matron scoffed under her breath.

"Don't bother..." Hagrid either didn't hear it or ignored the lady as he turned to the young girl.

"Alright, Skyla! Let's go."

"So, Skyla, ye dun' any magic yet?" The massive man asked the girl as they settled into the passenger seat of the motorbike. The girl nodded enthusiastically, frantically scribbling on the paper to ensure that the man didn't leave her behind, thinking she was useless.

"Ye', tons," he read. "Making light, turning things into new things, an' teleportation." Hagrid laughed out loud. "A bit of an imagination on ye, I suppose! I can't imagine a youngin' like yerself practicin' Apparation like that." Skyla stilled slightly as she processed the information. So, a freak among freaks...? She supposed she should've guessed. She wasn't lucky. Not like that.

She took the piece of paper back. "You're right, I was joking about the last one," she lied on the paper. "Where are we going?"

"To a store to get ye outta those there rags!" Hagrid bellowed as he started the motorbike. "No daughter of Lily and James Potter is going to go aroun' looking like a house elf," he said definitively. He still felt slightly awkward, though. He definitely wasn't the right person for this. Maybe Minerva...?

The trip to the store passed uneventfully. Skyla came out wearing clean clothes for... the first time in her life that she could remember. A clean, pink sweater and a pair of grey shorts, as well as a few more pairs of clothes under in a bag hanging off of her arm. Hagrid paid for it quickly, waving off her unvoiced concerns, telling her that a man named Dumbledore was paying for it. He had nothing but praise for the man, so that meant that he was a good man in her book, too.

The first shock came when they entered a small pub named The Leaky Cauldron. A few people were milling around, but it was for the most part, empty, which was incredibly surprising for a pub in the middle of London. "Ah, Hagrid!" A voice called out from behind the bar. "Good to see you. You here for a few pints?"

Hagrid chuckled, but shook his head with mirth. "Ah, wish I could Tom. Ey'm 'ere on business, though. This here's Skyla Potter," he gestured towards the girl with his free hand. "Taking her shopping for her school stuff." Tom's eyes widened.

"Skyla Potter... as I live and breath." The barkeep's eyes widened as they took in the birthmark on her hand. "By golly..."

"Keep it quiet fo' me if ye would," Hagrid requested, the barkeep quickly nodded. "Last thing the girl needs is te be mobbed while doing er shopping."

"Of course, of course, Rubeus. Can I grab either of you a meal or a drink before you go off?" Rubeus turned towards the small girl questioningly, however she quickly shook her head negative. The last thing she wanted to do was encroach on their business despite the fact that her stomach was grumbling due to all of the activity.

"Girl says nay," Hagrid nodded. "We best be off, then."

Tom nodded. "Of course, of course." He turned to the girl. "Thank you, Miss Potter." He said quietly, leaving the girl confused as she was led to the back, only to see Hagrid tapping on bricks of a wall with his umbrella, letting the wall shift out of its way to allow bustling activity and a gorgeous alley that by no rights should've existed within the London Underground.

Hagrid chuckled at the girl's reaction, with her wide eyes and open smile. What a wonder... 'Magic...' the girl thought, breathing in the fresh air. 'Incredible.'

Their first stop was the Wizarding World's Bank, Gringotts. Hagrid was teaching her as much as he could while on the way, after getting over his shock that Skyla knew absolutely nothing about the Wizarding World. All the while, she was marveling at the bustling alley around her, the constant displays of magic, the constant reassurance that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't a freak.

They entered the bank, and there was a culture shock. It was run by goblins! Apparently Hagrid hadn't thought it relevant to mention beforehand, although he quickly rectified that. "Goblins. Greedy lil' buggers," he nodded. "Wizards trust 'em with their money, an' not much else. Never mess with goblins, Skyla. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe, 'cept maybe Hogwarts." He warned her.

This confused the girl, but she couldn't exactly write out a full question while they were walking. They quickly made it to the teller's desk at the front, where Hagrid asked to see the Potter Account Manager. The goblin peered over the table. "And does Miss Potter have her key?"

Hagrid nodded quickly. "Got it right 'ere. I also have another vault to head te, 713," He patted around his dozens of pockets before finally pulling out a small, bronze cast key and handing it over to the goblin, who inspected it for a moment before nodding.

"Alright. Griphook will assist you on the carts." The girl nodded. "Too high above us to even speak to us?" The goblin scoffed, making the girl shake her head rapidly in disagreement before signing "I can't talk" with her fingers. The goblin raised an eyebrow. "A mute? Interesting... We could fix that," he started, before his mouth curled into a sneer, "for a fee."

Hagrid shook his head. "'at won't be necessary, I'll take 'er to Madam Pomfrey before the day is up." The goblin's sneer turned into a scowl at the lost revenue, but went back to his paperwork regardless.

The trip down to her vault was mostly filled with Hagrid's voice as he explained more and more about the Wizarding World. At some point, Skyla started tuning him out, and eventually, he started to get queasy and started talking less, leaving gaps of silence.

"Vault 687," the goblin said gruffly as the cart came to a stop. "Potter Family Trust Vault." Hagrid hopped out of the cart and gave Skyla a hand out. The goblin inserted the key into the vault and then placed his hand on the door, the massive slab of metal shimmering and then disappearing.

"What would happen if someone tried to get inside the vault without authorization?" Skyla wrote on a paper, which Hagrid then voiced. The goblin gave a devilish grin in response.

"Well, they'd get in of course. They just wouldn't be able to get back out. We check for anyone like that, oh, every..." he shook his head as if doing a calculation. "five or ten years or so." He ended with a snarky grin, making Skyla shiver. She knew right away there was no chance she was ever going to try and steal from these creatures.

Inside the vault, there were piles upon piles of gold. A small, shimmering paper on the wall dictated the balance of the vault to be exactly 2,000 Galleons, which Skyla had learned meant the golden coins. The goblin cleared his throat, making the young girl look at the short creature, who was offering a bag.

"A Bottomless Bag," he intoned. "For all the gold you could need to carry. For a small price of 10 Galleons," he grinned. Skyla was quickly beginning to understand what made the goblins tick. Anything for a profit. Skyla quickly nodded her head and accepted the bag, bowing, and writing 'Thank you' on a piece of paper and showing it to the goblin, who seemed... incredibly surprised at the action, raising his eyebrows.

A tinkling noise caused Skyla to turn back around. Some of the gold had shifted slightly, and the paper on the wall had updated its contents. It now read, "1,990 Galleons", which made sense to Skyla. She quickly scooped a large mass of coins into the bag, which she noted didn't even begin to become heavier even though the coins seemed to be solid gold. By the time she was done, the vault had far fewer Galleons, which seemed to make the goblin chuckle. She noticed Hagrid was turned around, and as she came out of the vault and the door solidified further, he turned around and explained to her,

"Ah, it's jus' rude to look in anotha wizard's vault, ye know?" Skyla supposed she understood the concept, nodding. They shuffled back into the cart, although Hagrid was rather reluctant. Rather than going back up, they continued yet deeper into the cavern, although only for a few dozen seconds.

"Vault 713, Flamel Personal Vault." Skyla turned around, much as Hagrid had for her, and waited as Hagrid collected whatever he needed. It only took a few seconds and it was done, the vault door shimmering back into existence. And just like that, they were heading back up to the main floor of the bank. Rather illogically, it seemed much faster, especially without Hagrid's constant talking.

As they were leaving, Skyla bowed to the goblin, tearing a page out of the notebook she had made and writing, "May your business prosper" on it, and handing it to the goblin. She bowed, leaving the goblin, and those watching the interaction stare intently at the incredibly odd witch that had just bowed to a goblin, who seemingly felt it to be no big deal as she skipped out of the bank with her large-bodied guardian.

Very odd, indeed.

Once outside, Hagrid turned to the girl, who noticed the man was looking quite pale. "A'ight, Skyla. I'm a little... unsteady on my feet a'er that, so why don't you go ahead and head te Ollivander's," he pointed at a small shop right across the street, "and get your wand, and I'll meet ye back outside with a little treat in a few minutes?" Skyla nodded enthusiastically.

Skipping across the street, she took in the unassuming shop with intuitive eyes. "Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C." The banner above the door read. 'That long?' Skyla thought to herself curiously. She stepped in slowly, not seeing any movement in the shop. Was it closed?

Suddenly, movement from behind the counter startled her. "Ah, Miss Potter! I was wondering when I would be seeing you in my shop."

"You know my name?" She signed out of instinct.

The man nodded. "Yes, yes, I'm sure just about everyone does. You're a celebrity, after all."

"You speak sign?" Skyla questioned, eyes wide. Finally, someone here who understood her!

"To a degree, yes." The man nodded. "I am Garrick Ollivander, and this shop has been in my family for generations upon generations. I remember every wand I have ever sold, you know? Wandmaking is in my blood," he nodded. "Well, let's get to it, then." He walked around the counter and picked up a wand and random and handed it to her. "Give it a wave, my dear." She did, although nothing happened.

She tried a few more, questioning what was going on. "The wand chooses the wizard, my dear. Right now, we are trying to find your wand." None of the wands felt like hers, though. On the dozenth, she waved it and a stream of fire shot out, nearly roasting the poor wandmaker instantly. However, he shielded himself and was handing her another wand, which shot out a puff of smoke. They were at well over thirty wands when Ollivander huffed. "Perhaps... some of the rarer wands? Maybe even..." He snuck a glance at the girl's hand, before quickly pacing into the backroom and coming back with a single box.

He opened up the box. "Try this one out," he offered it gently. Skyla had a bad feeling about it, her hand practically refusing to touch it. Still, she forced herself to go on... a mistake. The instant she touched the wood, she collapsed in pain, silently screaming as it was all she could do. Ollivander quickly pulled it away, apologizing and helping the girl to her feet. "I'm sorry," he said after a moment. "I've never seen a wand have such an adverse reaction to someone before. However... Holly, ten inches, phoenix feather core... Phoenix feathers are incredibly rare. In fact, the bird that gave this one only gave one other - in another wand I sold, nearly sixty years ago..." He glanced down at Skyla's hand again. "The same wand that gave you that scar, I'm afraid. It's no surprise it rejects it."

Without leaving her to question what he had said, he swept away to the back room, returning again quickly with three more boxes. "These wands are all much more powerful than the ones out here, which I believe might be your issue with the other wands." He offered her the first one. "Yew, 8 and 1/2 inches, Dragon Heartstring and a Unicorn Hair." He handed it to Skyla, who was half-expecting it to burn her hand again.

She grasped it slowly, holding it firmly in her hand. She felt a bit of power flow into it, and opened her mouth in surprise. She flicked it, and a stream of confetti spiraled out. "Promising, promising..." Ollivander muttered, but took it back anyway and giving her another. "Rowan, 11 inches, Unicorn Hair and a Phoenix Feather."

Skyla grasped it again, a bit more confident. She felt her magic flowing into the wand, although it was lesser, and after giving it a flick, she felt the air become somewhat purer in the shop, and a bit of dust had fallen of many of the wandboxes covering the shop's surfaces. Still, Ollivander wasn't pleased. "No, no, no..." he muttered. "Alright..."

He took the last box, holding it in two hands, breathing slowly. "This wand, I have not even tried to sell in all of my decades of working here. It was one of the first Master-level wands I crafted." He breathed in, seemingly reluctant to even hand the girl the wand, but opening the box regardless. "Ebony, 9 and 1/2 inches... A Unicorn Hair, a Dragon Heartstring, and a Phoenix Feather core. One of the only successful wands I've ever made with three cores, and actually the one I used to prove my theory of the three Supreme Cores," he told her, unashamed. "Go ahead," he whispered, his voice suddenly lowering with excitement. "Give it a flick."

As soon as Skyla picked it up, she felt like she'd never part with it. So much power flowed between her and the wand that it practically felt like an extension of her body. She slowly raised her hand... and flicked. The effect was immediate. A white light shone throughout the shop, and when it died down...

"... Incredible..." Ollivander muttered, quickly conjuring a mirror. Whereas the girl in front of him had previously been dirty, with her hair covered with filth and so unkempt it went down below her waist and looked to be brown, it was now perfectly waist-length and brilliantly red-brown. Her skin, previously pale, was now looking healthy and flush with life. Her form too, had increased from 4'5 to 4'8. Still not tall by any means, but she was now standing straighter, feeling more right than she ever had before. The only thing that hadn't changed, it seemed...

The deep bruise on her throat, which was now even more pronounced without her slouching head.

Ollivander stooped down. "... I'm no Mediwizard, but I'm sure I could fix that for you." He spoke softly.

"No thank you," Skyla slowly signed without letting go of her hold of the ebony wand. "H-a-g-r-i-d," she spelled out, "said he would take me to Madam P-o-m-f-r-e-y."

"Hagrid?" Ollivander questioned. "The Hogwarts groundskeeper? Interesting... is that, by any chance, him waving through the window?" He pointed to the window, where the large man was waving and smiling with one hand, while the other was tucked behind his back. Skyla blushed and quickly nodded.

"Well then, Miss Potter, it looks like our time together is coming to an end," he said with slight amounts of mirth. "I don't think I could have ever predicted this. That wand..." His voice grew serious. "That wand will serve you incredibly well, Miss Potter. You have the opportunity to do truly incredible things with it." He pulled away, belatedly making Skyla realize he had leaned in. "Regardless, payment! An average wand is seven galleons, however that wand in particular is 17 due to its multiple cores. However... I can tell you don't want to even stop holding it," he chuckled as she reached into her Bottomless Bag, counting out the coins with one hand as her other was firmly grasping her wand, "I'm going to give you a gift. A gift to ensure that you use that wand to its - and your - greatest potential." He picked up a box with a small device in it. "This is a wand holster, Auror-grade." Skyla didn't know what that meant, but she did know that this was the first gift she had ever gotten. She looked up at the older man, who was smiling, and promptly burst into tears.

"Thank you," she signed, over and over.

Ollivander smiled, taking the money she offered and strapping the holster around her wrist with expert precision. "Take care, Miss Potter. I expect to see many great things from you. Many great things."

"Ye look a bit... different," Hagrid commented as Skyla came out of the shop. She flushed at the comment, nodded, and pointed to the wand. "Ah, an effect of finding yer wand, eh? I still remember when I got mine. Such a sad day when they snapped it..." He trailed off, but then bounced back, pulling his hand out from behind his back. "Surprise!"

In his hand were two perfectly preserved bowls of ice cream. "Stasis Charm," he explained. "As soon as you touch the ice cream, it breaks and it's just like muggle ice cream." Skyla's head tilted, and he explained further, "A muggle is a person without magic. So, the world without wizards is the muggle world, and the stuff in it is muggle stuff." Skyla nodded with understanding, although she felt like it might be slightly reductive.

"Anyway, we best be getting ye to Madam Pomfrey. Best Mediwitch in the country," Hagrid assured her. "She'll have yer throat fixed up in no time." He peered at the top of her head, and in a softer tone, spoke, "Aye... with that hair, yer the splitting image of yer mum." Skyla flushed again, taking a spoonful of the delicious dessert that was surprisingly cold. She had never had ice cream before, even "Muggle Ice Cream" as Hagrid had called it, so it was a welcome surprise.

Then came her first (formal) introduction to magical transportation - the Floo. It was a network of connected fireplaces, of all things. The Fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron was massive, easily big enough for Hagrid to fit through. He instructed her to take a handful of the green powder above the fireplace, called Floo Powder, and then throw it into the fireplace while saying out her destination. There came the first problem - she couldn't speak.

So, the resolution is that they would just go in together, with Hagrid holding onto her tightly. "It'll all be fine," he assured her, "probably." Firmly reassured, she let the man grab onto her and pull her through the fireplace. "Hogwarts Great Hall," his voice boomed, and then, the world disappeared around them. They swirled for a moment before being spat out into a massive hall. Looking up, it appeared that it was open-air, although there was no rain or direct sunlight or anything like that, interestingly enough.

Her world was spinning slightly, but Hagrid kept her from falling over with a hand on her shoulder. "Alright, this way, Skyla." He led her, obviously feeling more comfortable with the bigger rooms. The castle was... frighteningly empty.

"Where is everyone?" She wrote, contemplative.

"Well, it's the summer months," Hagrid explained. "Very few teachers are 'ere during the summer, Madam Pomfrey's only here in case any Muggleborn need a magical checkup before 'eir schooling begin." The redhead nodded slowly. She wouldn't need one of those, right? As if reading her mind, Hagrid elaborated. "We won't force ye, but if she had her way, all the students'd get checkups." Skyla smiled.

They eventually got to the school's medical wing, although Skyla's legs were hurting by the time they got there. "Alright, this is where I leave ye," Hagrid told her. "Madam Pomfrey doesn't allow distractions while examinations are ongoing." He opened the doors, following her in. Quickly, they were greeted by an aging woman.

"Rubeus," the woman greeted warmly. "A muggleborn in for a checkup?"

"Not quite, Poppy," he replied. "This here's Skyla Potter." The woman's eyes widened, although she maintained her composure rather well compared to just about everyone else so far.

"I... see..."

"She's going to need some vocal damage fixed," he spoke quietly. He then started whispering, causing Skyla to strain her ears just to hear a few words. "Ey'd... mend... full... up..."

Poppy nodded, her face pale. She forced a smile on her face, however, and turned to face the young girl who had been brought in. "Alright then, Miss Potter. Let's get you set-up, shall we? And off you go, Rubeus. You know I don't allow distractions."

"Ye, ye," Hagrid replied with mirth. "Good seeing ye, Poppy." The Mediwitch nodded in acknowledgement, barely waving the man goodbye as she started to gather her materials.

"Alright, dearie... Why don't you hop up on this bed for me?" She questioned. Skyla complied, feeling oddly vulnerable without the hulking man by her side. However, the bed was, without a doubt, one of the softest things she had ever sat on. Madam Pomfrey saw her face and smiled slightly, seemingly calming down. "Comfortable, yes? The incredibility of Cushioning Charms," she explained. "For your throat, I can probably fix most of the damage right now, however, I will also send you with some lozenges to compound on the effect and prevent itchiness or discomfort from the raw nerves." Skyla didn't quite understand, but nodded slowly. Her throat was going to be fixed.

"Will I be able to speak?" She asked, writing the question clearly on the piece of paper while the Mediwitch was ensuring she had all the things she needed. She waited until the woman was finished to show her the paper. The woman responded immediately,

"Oh, yes, of course. Speaking is an essential part of magic, after all," she smiled. Skyla's brows furrowed slightly. Then why was she able to do magic? That didn't make sense... The thought came unbidden, making her flinch. 'A freak among freaks...' She thought of Hagrid's reaction to her talking about her teleporting, and a few tears dripped down her eyes. She wiped them away roughly with her pink sweater, the soft fabric feeling nice on her skin, not allowing the Mediwitch to see her crying.

"Alright," Madam Pomfrey started, "drink this." She directed. Skyla tilted her head in confusion at the proffered vial. "It's a Dreamless Sleep potion," the Mediwitch explained. "Highly addictive if abused, but luckily for you, Miss Potter," she smiled, "I am a professional. It'll put you to sleep so you don't feel any pain from me fixing your throat, and when you wake up in an hour or so, you'll be perfectly able to talk."

It sounded almost too good to be true. But, perhaps... perhaps that was magic. Skyla took the vial and sniffed it. It, surprisingly enough, didn't smell too bad, despite its purple appearance. There wasn't too much of it, so it probably wouldn't be too bad if it was poison... an awful thought went through the girl's head. 'What if this has all been a dream, and this is how I wake up?' It seemed like it, almost. And after all that had happened, after what she had experienced... she didn't know if she'd be able to live without it now.

She took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut and poured the flask in her mouth. She blinked once, twice, and handed the flask out to the Mediwitch, who accepted it. "Alright, you should start to feel sleepy. Just allow it to happen." Skyla tried her best to follow the advice, and within a minute... her head was swimming, and her eyes were having trouble staying open. Her head hit the soft, soft pillow, and then she knew no more.