One autumn evening in 1981. A dark lord attacked the Potter family and killed James Potter and Lily Potter in an attempt to nip a potential enemy in the bud. His decision was based on an unclear prophecy, which he only partially heard. His body was destroyed, having fallen into the trap that Lily Potter had designed but hoped to never set off. That same night, an old man too full of himself put the first phase of his plan into action. However, in his haste to conceal the child, he made a grave mistake. Had he waited a few days to make sure the child was healthy as he should have done, he would probably have realised that all his plans had long since become irrelevant. Had he taken more precautions, had he been less sure of himself in his old age and his great wisdom too rarely questioned, he would have looked more closely at the little girl wrapped in blankets within his arms. He would have noticed the fine weave of magic masking her reality to the world. But the man did not take the time to ascertain the truth of his expectations. He was far too sure that he could not be wrong. After all, had he not defeated the greatest European Dark Lord of the century? Hadn't he stood up to Voldemort himself throughout the war? No, the old man did not doubt, doubt was the mother of weakness. Something he could not afford.

So he made a choice he would regret much later. He placed little Myosotis Lily Potter on the doorstep of her aunt's house. Her last living blood relative. In the hope of keeping her away from the corrupting influence of the magical world and the fame he would have to garner for her, in order to build a stable support base in the population of magical Britain. For one day she would have to stand up and take action against Voldemort when he would return. She would be the girl who lived. A figurehead for the light in the war that was likely to come. He placed a letter between the folds of the blanket. A letter explaining the situation and his expectations of Petunia Dursley nee Evans and her family. Then he disappeared into the night. He had work to do. Information to divulge and control. A whole post-war climate to temper.

If Albus Dumbledore had taken the time to wait a few days to watch over little Myo Potter. He would have known that his plans were already dead before they were even born. He would have seen the veil of illusion carefully placed over the child by her mother lift. He would have seen the reality in front of him and realized that the circumstances were much different than he had believed. But that night he returned to Hogwart's in blissful ignorance. Unaware that a week later, Petunia Evans would face the biggest surprise of her life. Even bigger than the news of her sister's untimely death. He would be unaware that little Myosotis' survival would be a result of nothing more than a subtlety of her nature.

oOOOo

To the residents of Privet Drive, Surrey, the Dursleys were a fairly normal family. A hard-working father, a seemingly loving housewife, lover of gossip and scandal, and a slightly overweight son with a slightly violent streak, but nothing to worry about, as his behaviour, while problematic, was unfortunately common among children his age. The only really strange thing about this family was that one morning in early November 1986, Vernon Dursley got into his car and did not return for several hours. The next day a group of workmen had apparently been called in to build a tool shed at the bottom of the garden. The only strange thing was that the Dursleys didn't do anything special with their garden except plant petunia roses and a tool shed was a strange investment for the Dursleys. A family whose interest in gardening was limited to the few roses in front of their house.

But then again, why not. No, the only oddity was that this large shed had a dozen padlocks on the door. Finally, one last thing was the presence of a strange cat flap at the bottom of the door. Nothing really worrying, just strange enough to generate a few raised eyebrows among the neighbours. Some had tried to ask questions to the main people involved, but apart from a cold look from Petunia and an abrupt change of subject, or Vernon's face turning an ominous shade of red or purple, nothing came of it. So much so that the subject was left out entirely. The shed at the back of the Dursleys' garden, an enigma that would remain forever unsolved.

oOOOo

Her name was Myosotis Potter, or Myo, not girl, freak or any other funny name. She had finally learned it earlier today when Aunt Petunia had come to see her. Myo... Myosotis, that name sounded good in her head. If someone had decided to name her that, it meant that someone in this world had once loved her. The thought warmed her heart. To have named her that, her mother and father, or at least one of them must have loved her. She raised her big green eyes to the ceiling. Staring at the roof boards and the few beams that served as a frame. They were the supports for the dozens of spider webs that filled the ceiling. A long time ago, Myo... yes, she liked that name. Myo had fought against their settlement. But she soon changed her mind and let the spiders move in and live their lives. Giving them names and looking at their actions. Which was mostly watching them stand still in the middle of their webs, and at times move towards one of the unfortunate insects too unlucky or too stupid to avoid their web and eat it. No, Myo had decided that Spiders were not very active animals. If there was a lesson to be learned from the way Jasmine (the pretty Diadema spider, yes, Petunia had given her a book on spiders... her aunt was anything but natural) could wait hours for a prey to be trapped to eat, it was patience. And patience, Myo needed it. She had to stay all day in the shed at the back of the garden and could only come out at nightfall to take care of herself in the house.

Myo stretched her wings before rolling back into the thick layer of ash covering the floor of the hut. She loved her ash - the way it slid between each of her feathers was simply delectable. Petunia had tried for a while to stop her from burning the furniture and to get her to clean the ash, but to no avail, it was too natural for her, she couldn't help it. She knew it was strange and abnormal, her aunt had been quite clear about it, but there was really nothing she could do about it. Without regular ash baths, even with regular showers, the roots of her feathers itched. Myo... (god she liked to refer to herself by a name.) Thinking of herself as 'she' was unpleasant, and for a long time it was the best alternative available. She refused to refer to herself as freak. And girl was no better. So for a long time 'She' had been the best solution. But now, finally, her aunt had called her by her full name. Whether it was intentional or not, she didn't know, but she was glad. And the implications of having such a name... Myosotis Potter, it was the best present she could have dreamed of getting for her eighth birthday.

Because, yes, as surprising as it may seem, Myo sometimes got presents at Christmas or on her birthday. Not every time of course, but rarely did more than a year go by without an addition to her meagre possessions.

Myo's life was very strange, she had always suspected, but had only recently fully realised it. Until she was six she lived inside the house. More precisely in the cupboard under the stairs. She was allowed out sometimes, but not always, it was more than strange. One day she could go out and play with Dudley, Petunia would even smile at her. Vernon categorically refused to acknowledge her existence. The next she had to stay locked in the cupboard all day without making a sound for fear of provoking the ire of her relatives. The only constant rule was to stay away from the windows and never! NEVER! Be seen.

Otherwise her relatives were anything but coherent. One day they seemed to put up with her, another they were indifferent to her presence, in the worst... Myo shuddered at the memory. But several times, for no apparent reason, Vernon had beaten her. It always happened without warning after Vernon had gone several days away from the house. The first time was after one of his business trips. Vernon had spent a week in Germany discussing the sale of his firm's drilling machines on the German market or something like that (watever that mean, she didn't understand Vernon's outing). The important thing was that after this week away from home he was in a pretty good mood. Apparently the trip had gone well. But as soon as he remembered Myo's existence, he suddenly opened the cupboard door where she was still living at the time and ordered her into the living room. (For some reason he categorically refused to touch her.) Then he told Dudley to go upstairs. Finally, in front of Petunia's eyes, he had undone his belt. Myo shivered. She still had scars on her back from that first time. He had struck hard and too many times. After a moment of crying and screaming, Myo had screamed and begged him to stop. For no more reason than he had started beating her, Vernon had stopped. His eyes glazed over, his gaze lost in the distance. Then he put his belt back on and went upstairs as if nothing had happened.

Petunia had watched the scene, motionless, Myo couldn't remember very well what had happened. Only the pain, the burning tears in her back seemed to be more important at that moment. Afterwards Petunia had taken her to the bathroom and without saying a word had disinfected and dressed her wounds before putting her back in the cupboard. That night Myo had cried a lot. She still remembered the soft blue light that illuminated the cupboard all night, the pain of the bruises on her back, the feeling of her tears evaporating on her cheeks. The terrible feeling that something had changed forever. And in that she had been right. Since the first time Vernon had beaten her, something had definitely changed between Petunia and Vernon. A sort of invisible and discreet ice split them from now on. Something between them had broken down while raising a wall. Since that day Vernon had beaten her on other occasions, always after spending several days away from home, but never had it been as horrible as the first time (exept that time, when he had been away for two weeks.) . Now Vernon only had time to hit her once or twice before his eyes froze and he went from hate to indifference.

Now, whenever Vernon was away from home for more than two or three days, Myo would have panic attacks and terror. Each new day of absence increased her horror, and her fear. Petunia also seemed to notice that the longer Vernon stayed away from home the greater his violent outbursts towards Myo. More than once Petunia had hidden Myo away after Vernon had returned, and when he didn't find her for more than a day or two... he suddenly became indifferent to her existence again.

The relationship between her and Petunia was also very strange. Much less horrible than Vernon's, but definitely strange. Most of the time Petunia seemed to ignore her, before she was six, leaving her in the Cupboard, now in the garden shed. Fortunately, unlike Vernon, she never did anything worse than ignore her existence. What was really strange was her regular and sudden change in behaviour. Several times a week she would go from being cold and distant with her to almost being affectionate for a few hours or minutes. When she got hurt or after Vernon's outbursts, she always nursed her back to health as best she could. However, strangely enough, she categorically refused to take her to the hospital. After all, one rule remained absolute, Myo was not to be seen.

Until she was seven Petunia used to read her a story once or twice a week after Vernon and Dudley went to bed. When she was really little Petunia had read her Frog and Toad, later the stories of Jule Verne. Around the World in Eighty Days was by far her favourite book. One day, she too would travel around the world and see all the things that Phileas Fogg and Jean Passepartout had seen. For her it would be easier, she just had to learn to fly... although she wouldn't say no to riding an elephant. But for the moment her wings were still too weak. And the space in the shed was too small to fully spread them. The only time she could do it was at night when she had to cross the garden to get to the house. Every day she used this short time to stretch her large wings fully and flap them to try to fly away. So far she had not succeeded.

All this to say that Petunia was really strange. Did she like Myo or did she hate her? When she had to call her during her avoidance phases she called her freak, but when she was in her softer phases she called her girl. Recently she had inexplicably started calling her Myo or Myosotis in her good times and girl in her bad. Was this a positive development? Was it? Myo wasn't sure... She was never sure about anything with the Dursleys and it was wearing her down. But at least Petunia wasn't like Vernon. She gave Myo books to read from time to time. Novels, science books, geography, all sorts of books. And on the best of Petunia's days, Myo could even ask her for books on subjects that interested her and Petunia would give them to her! Such was the case with the book on spiders that she had just opened, lying on her stomach. To this day she had got thirteen books ! Myo raised her eyebrows. A mosquito had just gotten caught in Jasmine's web. It was going to be an interesting show...

Unlike Vernon, Petunia had never really been angry with Myosotis. The only time Petunia had ever raised her voice against Myosotis was the day before she left the cupboard. It was a few months after Myo, She, at the time, had been assaulted by Vernon for the first time. She had then discovered for several weeks something else strange about her. Apparently she could make blue and white flames appear. She had realised this the first morning after Vernon had hit her. At first she thought her skin and feathers were burning and panicked. Her voice had been unable to leave her throat, unable to scream or get out of the cupboard, she had waited for the pain. But it never came. She was entirely shrouded in blue flames and she felt no pain. Her beautiful dark blue feathers were intact, her skin even whiter than usual, no trace of burns, no sensation of pain, and yet the flames were all around her, enveloping her in a soft warmth without burning anything. A few minutes later the flames had dissipated as if they had never been there in the first place. In the days, weeks and months that followed, whenever she was locked in her cupboard with no new books to read, she practiced making the blue and white flames appear. At first it was difficult. It was like moving a muscle inside her that she had never known existed before. It hurt at first, as if every time she tried it her veins were on fire. But Myo had been determined. The feeling of security, of being complete, of being in tune with the flow of the world, of being in the order of things when she had bathed in her flames for the first time, she did not give up. Despite the effort, despite the lack of results, despite the pain, she persevered. And finally, after months and weeks of effort, she had succeeded. Something inside her had shifted. As if a missing gear had finally been put back into a complex machine. At that moment, finally, flames had appeared in the palm of her hand and Myo had smiled. The warmth that had invaded her the first time had returned, that night Myo had not slept. Too absorbed in watching the mesmerizing beauty of the flames dancing between her hands.

That week, for some reason, it didn't matter anymore, in the middle of the night, Petunia had gone downstairs and Myo had been too absorbed in contemplating her flames to notice, at the time, so soon after discovering it, it was hypnotising to her. And obviously. Petunia had seen the blue light filtering through the cupboard door. She had opened it wide with a bang, and for several minutes Petunia had stared at her motionless in silence, Myo sitting on her little mattress surrounded by little flames and sparks dancing in the air around her. Petunia then closed the cupboard again without saying a word. Never again were her flames mentioned, and two days later, Myo was out of the cupboard and all her belongings had been taken to the newly built shed at the back of the garden where she had been living ever since.

Frankly, Myo preferred this arrangement. She had always hated the cupboard and narrow spaces in general. Perhaps she was clostroph... Something she'd have to check in her book. But in the shed she now had much more space and therefore much less pain in her wing muscles which she had previously had to constantly bend against her in the cupboard. Here, although she didn't have enough room to spread her wings, she could at least relax a little. Dudley was apparently forbidden to go near the shed and Vernon didn't even seem to be aware of its existence. Only Petunia came to see her. On bad days she would just slip in some food at lunchtime through the catflap, some bread, bottle of water and if she was lucky an apple, on good days she would come in and chat about things, but the topics mainly revolved around Myo's latest reading. (which was strange she didn't have that many books to talk about).

Although strange, having someone to talk to other than Dudley ( never said more than two or three word to him ) was really nice. Especially as Dudley seemed to have interests opposite to her own. Until she was six Myo had spent some time with Dudley, but their relationship had suddenly been limited to a few exchanges after the cupboard fire incident. Myo didn't really like Dudley anyway, his habit of calling her Bird annoyed her. Finally Vernon seemed to be a bad influence on him, telling him that he was allowed to hit people or steal if he wanted. Sometimes he tried to hit her, but each time his eyes became unfocused and he seemed to forget what he was about to do. Sometimes he looked at her with an evil look on his face, but each time something happened and his eyes softened before he went back to his occupation. Myo wondered if there wasn't something protecting her from her relatives in some strange way. Vernon suddenly stopping hitting her in a fit of rage, suddenly becoming calm, and he just ignored her most of the time. Yet Myo knew very well that he wanted to do much worse (sometimes his look was terrifying, she could feel her skin freezing and her heart racing when he looked at her like that. ) But luckily, he was only violent with her when he was away from home for a long time... Myo didn't know what to take from that.

Vernon wasn't the only one who was inherently strange and inconsistent in his actions. Petunia was too, but differently. One moment she could see anger and hatred towards her in Petunia's eyes. But each time, a second later her expression changed to disinterest. When Petunia was just disinterested and she approached her, Myo would suddenly see her change her behaviour. Her mask of disinterest turning into an expression of affection, mixed with a touch of ... guilt? Regret? Sadness? Myo wasn't sure. In those moments Petunia was almost kind and thoughtful towards her. But these moments never lasted very long. The second Myo's movement caused Petunia's attention to settle on her wings, feathers, talons... she immediately reverted to her cold and disinterested version of herself.

One thing that made Myo sincerely believe that Petunia had a good heart was her relationship with Vernon. Before the first time Vernon had... the Dursleys had been a close family, but afterwards, their relationship changed. Petunia became cold towards Vernon at first. Then, after the second time, she moved to Dudley's second room. Now Petunia hardly spoke to Vernon at all and regularly glared at him. Myo had even heard Petunia mumble something about paper, divorce and lawyers. She didn't really know what it was but after looking it up in her dictionary (her most prized possession) she had discovered that Petunia was looking to leave Vernon. Maybe in a few years she, Petunia and Dudley wouldn't have to see him anymore.

Ah! Jasmine had reached the mosquito! " Enjoy your meal Jasmine. " Myo murmured with a smile. Letting the spiders take over the ceiling had been a wonderful idea! Thanks to Jasmine and the others, she hadn't had a mosquito problem in a long time. Myo sat up, put one of her fallen feathers as a bookmark in the book before placing it on the tiny shelf with all her other books not far from her large nest of ashes. At first she had tried to sleep on the thin mattress and under the blankets Petunia had given her, but she had quickly abandoned the idea. Her talons had a tendency to cut and tear sheets and mattresses and other objects that resisted her movements in her sometimes restless nights. The small mattress was soon completely ruined, as were the sheets. The blanket had fortunately survived. In the cupboard she hadn't really had a choice and had had to keep the ridiculously thin mattress which had quickly been ruined, but at the time, daring to ask for a replacement or anything else would have been stupid. In any case she would have ruined any new mattress again.

But now it was no longer a problem. Once the mattress and sheets were far too damaged to be recognised as fabric, Myo had burnt them and made them the start of her ash nest. She had, however, chosen to keep the thick woollen blanket which had so far been spared by the sharp points of her talons. She wouldn't have said no to another arrangement, a big pile of cushions in place of the ash nest, but even on her best days she knew that asking too much of Petunia was a bad idea.

After making sure her book wouldn't fall off (it had happened before, her little shelf was far too small for far too many books, resulting in some really impressive arrangements and balancing works from her point of view) Myo stood up completely. She couldn't wait to get out and stretch her legs on the garden path between the house and the shed. Not that the shed was too small or anything. Far from it. Besides, Myo was small enough. It was just that her wingspan. ( yes, she hadn't regularly asked for books on birds for nothing ) was bloody wide, and spreading them out completely always felt so good. Feeling the wind against her wing feathers, stretching her aching muscles from lack of movement, feeling the air take hold around her. On windy days she could even feel herself being lifted off the ground. It's just that even for her size Myo was really light, much too light for a normal person.

But she supposed that for a bird thing like her it was pretty normal. After all she had read that birds had hollow bones. Or at least with an airy structure... In short, birds are complicated. But good to know about a bird thing. Maybe that was why Vernon's belt had already broken her ribs.

Yes, undoubtedly, Myo was a bird thing for lack of a better term. That was probably why NO ONE should be able to see her, why Vernon hated her and why Petunia was so uncomfortable around her. But strangely, being a bird thing that could make weird fire (yes her fire is bloody strange) really didn't bother her that much. She just couldn't imagine not being one. Not being able to fly on her own one day was a nightmare. Just seeing the sky made her want to fly.

Especially Myo did not know what the norm was. She had never been allowed near the windows or out of the garden. The only human beings they had ever seen were Vernon, Petunia and Dudley. When the family had guests she was always locked in the shed with the restriction of not being seen. Several times she had tried to ask Petunia why but she had always ignored such questions so Myo had finally given up. She wouldn't ask Vernon or even talk to him and asking Dudley a question always rewarded her with a blank stare. Maybe she was a secret and people would do terrible things to the Dursleys if she was seen. Maybe being a bird thing was rare or unique enough to scare people... But Petunia Petunia had never said anything about her appearance, Dudley only alluded to it by calling her bird and Vernon had simply never spoken to her.

Maybe that meant she wasn't so weird or monstrous? But it was hard to say... The Dursleys were acting so strangely and inconsistently. She was beginning to think that the Dursleys had multiple personalities. The only one who was remotely consistent in his actions was Dudley. Vernon went from being a placid, inactive idiot unaware of her existence to a violent monster. Petunia oscillated between a kind of anger and hatred under a surface of disdain and almost tender acts. This kind of behaviour made Myo extremely confused. One minute she was a monster in their eyes, the next she was just ignored or even looked after. Over the years, this environment had made her particularly paranoid, she had no confidence in her ability to predict the actions of those around her, never knowing whether to expect hatred and violence or disdain and a kind of disturbing, unhealthy affection.

Myo was well aware that there was something deeply wrong with the Dursleys' behaviour, but she didn't really know what it was or what to do about it. She would like to go far away, to reach the sky, to go above the clouds, to stop living in this unhealthy atmosphere of constant fear and anxiety. But she couldn't leave yet. Her wings were still too weak, she felt that soon she could fly and join the sky, the winds and the clouds. And even if she could fly, leave and never return to her strange prison with its mad guards, where would she go? Here she was relatively fed, had a roof and walls around her to protect her from the rain, the cold and the icy winds of winter. Perhaps with her flames she could survive alone. But she knew far too little of the outside world. Were there many humans? Were there other people like her? She didn't even know enough to ask herself more questions. She knew that there were other humans than the Dursleys out there, she knew that they lived in groups in places called cities. She had read geography books and seen pictures but didn't know what to make of it... She understood the idea of a society of people, but beyond that the implications of the thing were beyond her.

Once up, Myo stretched and looked out of the shed's only small window onto a hedge of pruned cedars. The sky had turned dark blue. The sun had just gone below the horizon. Petunia would soon come and unlock the padlocks and let her visit the toilet and bathroom. She looked around her shed. A single small room with bare wooden walls. In one corner her pile of ashes near the small shelf where her many books (about ten) were piled up, on the other side her wool blanket was neatly folded, next to some old and worn out clothes. Myo was quite happy with her possessions. The Dursleys had given her many things over the years. A skirt, a little yellow dress (at least she supposed it had been yellow, but the colour had faded and it was now almost white. ) simple open in the back for her wings. Some underwear. Her thirteen precious books, and a few shiny rocks and metallic scraps she gathered from around the garden. She frankly had nothing to complain about.

If only the Dursleys could be less scary people. As much as she was looking forward to her aunt arriving and opening the door for her so she could finally get out and stretch her wings fully, she was dreading her arrival. Who would she be tonight. The sweet, guilty, regretful Petunia or the hateful, resentful woman who would overlook her? Fortunately Vernon had been coming home every night for several weeks, so there was little risk of him becoming violent. At this thought her blood froze in her veins, and her heart raced. She had to calm down, today she wasn't risking much. But heading towards where Vernon was, even for the benefit of seeing the sky for a moment, was difficult. She felt like she was being led to the slaughterhouse every time. And it didn't help that for a few months now, Vernon had stopped ignoring her completely and started giving her little sidelong glances with his bright, swiney eyes. She didn't know what to make of it, but this change didn't bode well. Every time Vernon had acknowledged her existence only pain had followed. For some reason, maybe just because of her existence, Vernon felt the need to hurt her. As if he was taking revenge for something she had never done. But lately his gaze had changed, the hatred and violence had been joined by something else but just as unhealthy. Myo preferred not to think about it, not to know. She was just getting more and more anxious about the next time Vernon left the house for several days. What would happen when he returned if he found her was frightening.

Myo heard footsteps approaching the shed. Petunia was finally here. She didn't know which attitude she preferred to see in her aunt. Cold hatred or false affection. In the end, both were equally unpleasant to her. A few years ago she liked to see Petunia give her some warmth and affection. But now she realised that this affection was hollow, artificial and fuelled by inexplicable regret and guilt. She heard the sound of keys in the locks and finally the door opened. On the other side Petunia had already begun to turn back towards the house, her face devoid of any expression. Ah, tonight it would be the cold and vile Petunia. Myo almost preferred this version of Petunia to her counterpart. This one seemed more real, more natural, less forced. As if the puppeteer had loosened his strings a little.

Without saying a word, Myo followed her lead. Once outside she stretched her arms towards the sky, stretching her spine, her legs, her arms and all her muscles aching from inactivity. Her joints cracked with delight. She could feel the tips of her talons digging into the soft earth, still wet from the previous day's rain. She spread her wings fully, feeling each feather tense and vibrate softly in the breeze, her muscles loosening. A wingbeat later and she was surrounded by a cloud of ash dislodging itself from between her feathers. She almost felt herself being lifted off the ground! A smile spread across her face. Soon, very soon she would be able to reach the sky. She could feel it in her bones, the call of the sky deep and irresistible. A shiver of impatience ran through her wings. Soon, now she had to get into the house before Petunia became impatient.

A moment later she folded her wings behind her back and entered the house. Myo hated this place, the memories of the cupboard, of the narrowness, of the awful pain in her wings forced to stay completely folded for far too long. The sudden, terrifying sounds of Vernon Petunia or Dudley passing in the hallway or coming up the stairs. The silence. Myo had only spoken her first word when she was five, she thought, it must be strange because even Dudley had started talking earlier. But Myo had always found it difficult to speak, for a long time she had thought that the darkness of the cupboard had devoured her voice. But even without the cupboard she hated the place, the narrowness, the smell of chemicals burning her throat, the walls too white, the bright lights burning her eyes. The pink, the dazzling colours. If she could, she'd rather not go back here, but the feel of the water running through her feathers was too good. Dudley and Vernon were in the living room and luckily neither of them bothered to look up at her. It was frankly a blessing that for some time Vernon's gaze had been burning her skin and the promise of violence in his eyes terrified her.

Petunia began to walk up the stairs and Myo hurried behind her, not wanting to stay any longer than necessary in a place where Vernon could see her. Petunia opened the bathroom door for her and said, "Hurry up, I'll give you twenty minutes." Myo nodded and entered, closing and locking the door behind her. She quickly removed her skirt, her underwear and opened the Velcro fastening on the back of her shirt. A year ago she had managed to borrow Petunia's sewing kit and sew some velcro into the back of her clothes so she could close them around her wings. Since then, getting dressed had become much easier.

The bathroom was quite large and well equipped, a sink, a shower, a toilet, a medicine cabinet and a large wall mirror. But again, far too white for her. She wondered why the Dursleys were so obsessed with white. How strange...

Tonight she had twenty minutes to clean herself, a little longer than usual. Maybe Petunia wasn't in such a bad mood tonight. One question kept running through her head. Was her appearance the reason Vernon hated her and sometimes hurt her? Was it the reason for Petunia's strange, incoherent behaviour? She looked at herself in the mirror. From her point of view there was nothing shocking about her appearance. She had always looked like this. She was about 122 cm tall, a bit small for her age, but since she didn't eat much and Petunia sometimes forgot to bring her meals, it was normal. After all, she had heard Petunia tell Dudley that to become big and strong you had to eat a lot... probably for that reason.

She had big luminous green eyes, a little too green, it was a strange shade, and black hair. Long black hair that fell to the middle of her back. There was nothing wrong with her face... she found herself even more pleasing to look at than Petunia or Dudley, not that it was that difficult. What she suspected the Dursleys were struggling with was all her feathers. Her arms were covered in feathers all the way up to a little past her shoulders except for her hands. Her legs were very different from the Dursleys, they too were covered in feathers stopping at the top of her thighs and at her reeds, but her legs seemed to have some kind of extra bone and ended in scaly talons. She found it difficult to run and felt quite uncomfortable on the ground as a rule, but walking was not a problem. The big advantage was the ease with which she could catch things on the ground in her talons, she almost never had to bend down. So far nothing that would really make her hated by the Dursleys.

A sudden realisation hit her. Perhaps ... Perhaps they didn't like her because they were jealous of her wings. She could fly one day and they could not! They would never have big, dark blue feathered wings like her. Everything made sense now. After all, there was reason to be jealous. Instinctively Myo was rather proud of her wings. They were wide, too wide to be deployed in the bathroom. The only room where they could be spread was the living room, and even there she wasn't sure. They were also beautiful, depending on the angle the light hit them her feathers took on bright iridescent colours. On sunny days, alone in the shed, tired of rereading one of her books for the umpteenth time, she liked to spend time under the window watching the light dance on her feathers, giving them purple, blue or green reflections. Myo had a passion for shiny objects, and seeing her feathers reflect a beautiful iridescent cyan never failed to put her in a good mood. The Dursleys could never fly, they had no beautiful feathers, no beautiful blue flames warming them in winter, lighting them up at night, and keeping away the monsters and strange little creatures lurking in the shadows of the shed. Myo understood now, they were jealous and frustrated and hated her for being what they would never be.

Her smile widened, if that was really it, the great enigma was now solved. The only question left was why their behaviour was so erratic, inconsistent and contradictory. If this theory was true Vernon would be much worse, not just after being away from home for days, and Petunia would hate her all the time. Something eluded her, but now was not the time to think about that, she had a shower to take.

The scalding water running over her head, through her hair and between her feathers was one of her favourite feelings. It was as if the water carried with it her worries, her fears and her sufferings. Under the hot water she forgot her horrible uncle, her sometimes strange aunt and her stupidly strange cousin. Each time she felt free of something, she didn't like being naked, no she hated it, she felt vulnerable, and helpless naked. But in the bathroom, once the door was locked and the scalding water was running down her wings along the feathers of her tail and her spine it didn't matter. Vernon had never bothered her here, never even tried to open the door. Unconsciously, even in a house where danger lurked, this room remained a safe place.

But she had to finish quickly, otherwise Petunia would come knocking at the door and the illusion of safety would be shattered, and she wasn't sure she could take another shower here if that happened. Once the odourless soap and shampoo were completely rinsed off, she turned off the tap and stepped out of the shower. With a thought her strange blue and white flames enveloped her completely, the water on her skin in her feathers and hair evaporating completely in an instant. Once she was dry and her plumage all fluffy (yes this method of drying tended to air out her plumage quite a bit) she directed her flames at her clothes, her flames consuming anything not integral to the garment. It was a neat trick to get her clothes clean without having to ask Petunia for help. Myo really preferred to avoid asking Petunia anything too often. She certainly didn't hit her, but the tantrums she could sometimes have against her were terrifying. She got dressed quickly and left the bathroom.

She went back down the stairs and poked her head through the doorway to discreetly observe the interior of the living room. As usual Petunia was comfortably seated in an armchair with a book in her hand while Vernon and Dudley were sitting in front of the TV watching something. Myo had never had the opportunity to look at the TV for more than a few seconds at a time on such occasions. And she didn't mind, she had no desire to spend time sitting in front of something so noisy and with fast moving images that gave her a headache. It didn't help that the Dursleys tended to turn the volume up all the time, and Myo really struggled with loud noises. Too used to the relative silence of the shed.

Myo didn't have long to wait, Petunia glanced at her watch and started to get up with a grumble. She looked up and saw Myo, then immediately walked towards her without a word. Once in the hallway she beckoned her to follow. Myo's theory about her relatives being jealous of her seemed to crumble little by little the more she thought about it, her wings or feathers were never mentioned and the worst things that happened to her happened for no apparent reason. Myo tried to be a good girl, she never disobeyed, she never complained, even when Petunia forgot her for three days in the shed she didn't complain. But nothing did, nothing she was or did explained the hatred and violence and the total incoherence of the behaviour of her relatives. Perhaps her very existence was a crime, that she was paying for something she didn't remember doing. Maybe one day she would know, but for now these kinds of questions were pointless. She wouldn't get an answer. At least not from Petunia of Dudley and even less from Vernon. After all, the man had never even spoken to her.

The journey across the garden in the opposite direction was made in a tense silence as it always was when Petunia was in a bad mood (Myo didn't know how else to describe it) but when she arrived in front of the shed, to her surprise, instead of opening the door, Petunia turned to her and said.

"Tomorrow Vernon is going on a business trip to Spain for a month. Don't take advantage of his absence to do something stupid. Come on in." she opened the door, and without waiting for an answer she pushed Myo inside.

Myo stood frozen on the doorway of the shed. The only sound was her heartbeat quickening and the sound of the locks closing followed by Petunia's footsteps walking away. Myo stood alone, motionless, in the darkness of the shed, the cold of that early winter night beginning to bite her. Realization was sinking in. Vernon was going to be gone for a full month. Never had he been gone for so long. The longest she could remember was two weeks. And when he came back, he had... no, she shouldn't think about it. Just the memory of the pain was too strong. A month ... Myo had figured it out by now, something in the house was keeping Vernon from hurting her. And the longer he was gone, the more that something protecting her from her uncle's worst would let go. If two weeks was enough to weaken its inexplicable protection to the point where Vernon could do what he'd done before his eyes went glassy again for a moment before he finally left her alone, after a month the strange protection would be gone completely and who knows what Vernon would do then. Worse, on those days Vernon sometimes looked at her strangely, Myo had the impression that the grip of the protection on Vernon was weakening. And in a month, nothing would stop him from finishing what he'd started last time. And Myo didn't want to know what he was going to do. Never would.

The cold was really starting to take hold of her and Myo was starting to shiver against her will which broke her stupor. She sat down in the middle of her pile of ashes and wished the flame would appear. She felt the usual reassuring tingle in her body as the flames appeared around her in a multitude of small blue and white wisps dancing in the air, illuminating the shed with a soft blue glow. Myo smiled weakly and grabbed one of the small flames to hold it close to her heart. The warmth had returned, the icy fingers of winter had left her. A sense of comfort had returned. Myo loved her flames deeply, when they were there she didn't feel like she was really alone. As if something was watching over her, surrounding her. As if anticipating her own will, her flames enveloped her completely, covering her skin and feathers with their soft warmth. Never had her fire burned her, never since that fateful night in the cupboard had her flames abandoned her. It was her only unwavering support. The only thing she could trust.

An idea came to her. Maybe she could burn Vernon if he tried to do anything to her when he returned. An image of Vernon burning to a crisp appeared before her eyes. If only... But did she really have to? She looked down at her hand nestled in its soft flames. Feeling only their sweet warmth. Could she even do it? Her flames were really strange. She never burned her skin. Never her clothes. It did, however, reduce even damp wood to ashes in a few seconds. But on her? Nothing. On anything she didn't want to see reduced to the beautiful grey powder that was her nest, her flames had no hold. Was it just a question of willpower or were there other rules? Perhaps her flames did not burn what was alive and that was why they were harmless to her? She couldn't use it on Vernon directly, if it didn't work he would go into a rage and she wouldn't survive it. No, her flames, as beautiful, sweet and formidable as they were, were not an option.

But she had to do something... Otherwise... Vernon was going to finish... Myo began to tremble with fear, even the gentle caress of her flames against her skin did nothing. This time she couldn't help crying. Petunia didn't like to see her cry, she would immediately turn cold and scream at her. But now she couldn't fight it. Her tears flowing down her cheeks evaporated instantly leaving only a trail of salt. That night she cried until a dreamless slumber took her away.