Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling. This version of Aleister Crowley, along with 1,083,092,867 others, was created by Kamachi Kazuma.

Between the Lines: The Stargazing, Bunny-Loving Crow

"Older kids are supposed to help out the younger ones."

That was what Francesca Branwen had been taught. Exactly who and where she had learnt it from, though, had been long forgotten.

And yet, I've just been getting pushed around by younger kids these days. Geez.

She flopped down on her bed with her limbs splayed out, and stared up at her ceiling, where a large roll of black paper had been taped. Her own personal planetarium, where the constellations had been painstakingly drawn by her hand. She was honestly surprised none of the adults had asked to take it down yet. Or perhaps they hadn't even noticed? St. Ursula's did room checks every week, but it was usually only some beleaguered adult taking a cursory look, or reaching to swipe a finger on top of the wardrobe to make sure everything had been dusted.

With a hand she reached around behind her for her constant companion, a small soft toy: a grey rabbit with big red alien eyes.

Sally's right. I do keep wanting after stuff.

Clutching Bunny Grey to her chest, she looked up again.

Aries, Y-H-V-H. Guide the light of the first sign, ten-letter-named angel.

She reached a hand to the ceiling, and watched it be illuminated. The dots and lines of fading silver ink reflected the flickering flames in her palm.

I wish I could do a reading. But I don't know Harry's birthday, and for some weird reason, Sally refuses to tell me hers. Gah, what is even going on? "Preparing?"

As she lost focus, the fire in her hand began to flicker more, and she hastily closed her fist to snuff it out before anything worse happened. Somehow, her own magical fire did not leave burns on her skin, but it would still scorch her all the same if she lost control.

Magic is weird.

It was weird, and it suited her.

~~[a]~~

For as long as she could remember, she loved the night sky, in all of its aspects. It had been her refuge, even before all the shouting and fighting began; even before her mother mysteriously disappeared one day; even before her father finally lost himself to the drink and drugs, crumbling under the weight of the world.

One of her earliest birthday gifts had been a Bunny Grey 'young scientist' set, with a bunch of toy equipment. The 'microscope' had broke quite quickly, but the weak telescope had lasted many nights of stargazing out of the window of her family's small urban apartment.

(Wanting material possessions isn't quite the same as having emotional attachments to said possessions.)

She still remembered how she had wanted to be an astronaut, viewing the stars, and how her head had been rubbed, with the gentle correction of "you mean astronomer, Fran".

But her situation had gotten more and more dire, and the stars ceased to be objects of wonder and study as she had turned to them for guidance.

Please tell me what's going to happen tomorrow.

Please tell me if Daddy will be fine.

Will everything be okay?

If her family had been religious, it was here that she would have turned to prayer–but it had not been, and Francesca Branwen had sought other means of solace.

The occult. Bunny Grey's crop circles. Anglo-Saxon runes. And of course, astrology, the telling of the future from the stars.

Needless to say, it had all been useless.

Two weeks after she stopped attending school, the fifth day in a row she had only dry bread because the rest of the food had ran out and she didn't know how to cook, adults knocked on her door.

Social services had come, and things happened too quickly for her to understand. It was, after all, completely alien from the basic knowledge she had learnt in school, and separate from everything astronomical and astrological.

She was to go to somewhere called St. Ursula's, and her father would be somewhere else undergoing treatment, and she would only be able to see him once a month.

And then on her first day in St. Ursula's her telescope had gotten broken in a fight, as some other kids tried to steal it, and she herself had been sent to Reflect on her actions due to participation in said fight.

Perhaps it was fortunate that she had never been the type to deeply dwell on things. A lot did not hurt her, not really, much like how water always settled back to stillness after stones had stopped being thrown.

(Or perhaps, nothing had yet attacked anything that she cared for.)

~~[a]~~

"Sorry, Branwen. I don't have time for that." Harry had spoken in a curt voice, and walked away.

Her own outstretched hand slowly dropped back down to her side. She could have easily chased after him, demanded more explanation (or indeed, any explanation), but she stood still.

I know I said I wouldn't ask more, but…

In the few years at this institution she had grown and became slightly more adept at reading expressions (and indeed, social cues in general). Harry was obviously worried about something.

And Sally…had also been telling her to go away.

Sally never told her to go away. Others, yes, but never her. And even when it was the others, she never had such a look on her face.

What was the word? She couldn't think of one.

It reminded her of those other occult books she had read when she was younger. Not the mystical and awe-inspiring geometry of the skies, but the very visceral and grotesque faces of ghosts and zombies, of the people haunted by them. She had nightmares for days afterwards, and swore to never touch that side of the supernatural ever again.

She thought about talking to Sally again, but, well, it was Sally after all. Even after Harry showed her magic, Sally was still Sally. Like…a cactus? A hedgehog? Language wasn't really her strong suit.

But, somehow, she couldn't remember any times when Sally had actually hit her.

~~[a]~~

The magazine had been left behind with the newspapers, perhaps discarded by one of the younger adults that worked at the refuge. As luck would have had it, she was on cleaning duty, and picked it up. The wards of the refuge weren't allowed such material, because while it wasn't obscene, it apparently had 'improper values'.

She just wanted it for the horoscopes.

But on the way back it had quite literally been snatched out of her hands, leaving her holding empty air in dismay.

Oh…but…

Francesca Branwen had always gone along with the flow of things, and never really questioned the reality of her situation, but on this day, something changed.

Perhaps it was just one time too many.

"Give it back!" She ran after them, giving chase.

"Make us!" The taunt was their response, and the kids, older and faster and quicker, weaved all around her, tossing the book from hand to hand, while she was forced to dance, chasing one person, then another–

At least, until someone snatched it out of the air, and bore down upon them all.

How could someone so small have such an imposing presence? It really felt as if the air had grown thicker, as if gravity had intensified on her shoulders.

The small, brown-haired girl just glared imperiously at them all, frozen emeralds for eyes, before grabbing Francesca roughly by the collar, and dragging her away.

Around the corner, she was let go, but the girl motioned for her to follow, and she did, tied by an invisible leash.

Finally, when they were outside, she found the magazine being thrust roughly into her hands.

"Take it." The girl's voice was rough. "It's yours, right?"

"I-I just found it somewhere."

"Whatever." The girl just glared at her.

"T-Thank you. Um, what–"

"I'm Sally." The girl seemed to be inspecting her, scanning every pore on her face. "You're…Francesca Branwen, right?"

"Y-Yeah–"

"And you're only in this place because your father was deemed an unfit caregiver?"

The words took some time to sink in, but when they did, Francesca looked at Sally a bit more warily. "How did you know?"

"I'm correct, then." Sally inspected her some more, before turning to leave. "Well, don't bother me, and I won't tell anyone about you. And if you report me to the adults, for anything at all, I'll make your life miserable as well."

A few steps away, Sally turned back. "Oh, by the way. Don't bother with stuff. If you like something, keep it in your head. That's my advice to you."

And that had been the end of their first meeting.

Their second meeting was during lunch, when Francesca had sat down next to Sally, seeing that there was nobody beside her. The girl had given her another withering look, but she said nothing.

Several times Francesca had tried to open her mouth, but each time she found that she had nothing to say.

All the other kids avoided Sally, probably due to the fact that she was threatening and scary, but Francesca simply knew Sally had helped her, and given her advice as well.

Eventually the both of them finished eating, and each departed without a word said to the other.

Similar events carried on in a similar vein, until one day weeks later, when Sally turned to the dark-haired, violet-eyed girl that was always standing quietly by her. "Why are you following me around?"

"Does it bother you?" Francesca shot back a question of her own.

"Not particularly," Sally said, without much rancor.

"Then, don't mind me."

~~[aaa]~~

Francesca Branwen considered these memories as she stared out of a window during class.

How do I help my friends?

That was the question. Both of them, younger as they might be, were both better than her at magic, and smarter too.

What can I do?

A awful ringing pierced the air, and murmurs quickly began in the class, while the teacher looked around, momentarily stunned, before raising his voice to get them all to "quieten down, then form up in orderly lines outside of the classroom".

This is…the fire alarm? But the adults didn't say anything about a fire drill being scheduled, right?

Inexplicably, a terrible feeling of dread gripped her, and she turned to look out at the window once more.

The morning sky, devoid of any stars save one, gave her no answer.

I know I said Stiyl and Kanzaki, but I realised there were other things I wanted to say first.

Originally, I choose Fran as one of my supporting characters because I needed a magician that was (1) British, or could possibly have been in Britain, (2) close in age to Index, and (3) not too strongly associated with any existing magical organization (yes, I know she's technically Anglican, but she's less dyed-in-the-wool than others like Stiyl and Kanzaki, for example).

Turns out that answering the question of "what would a member of the Kamisato Harem be like without Kamisato's existence?" was a bit more difficult to answer than I thought, and I basically had to make up a lot of things myself. I guess that is part of fanfiction.

Next chapter: Hidden Away by Magic, Final. For real this time.

Sorry for the long absence.

Review please!