Santana was a lonely child. She had the whole house to herself, only her father occupied one of the rooms. He was the only prisoner in this hellhole, this fortress of darkness in the black forest.
And Santana was the light that illuminated the whole place. Sometimes her father feared that everyone would see it and take her away. But no one ever came. Not since she could remember anyways.
Her father taught her everything. She brought books from the library to his room so he could read to her. Other times she would bring flowers from the balcony. Lots of different plants grew wildly on the abandoned and weathered stones and in between them. Some ranks had managed to climb all the way up to that one spot at the balcony that was missing some bricks and they now grew even higher towards the rooftop.
Her father was livid when she brought him a handful of flowers. Admittedly some of them were poisonous and dangerous in many other ways than just eating them. But in Santanas hands they grew docile and even a vine of a fanged geranium only gently curled around the other colorful plants in her hand. Her father gave her the first ever scolding she received. It was a memorable day.
In the evenings she would bring honeyed milk from the kitchen to his room and they would cuddle up in his blanket. He always told her stories. Not those fairy tales though or the stories some fancy wizard made up. Her fathers stories were always true. And as Santana grew older these stories seemed to have more holes in them than she would like.
"You worked as the MACUSA Head Auror?", she asked fascinated.
"Yes, I filled his place for a while", he gently smiled at her.
"Where was the other Head Auror?", Santana wanted to know.
"He had to leave."
"Where to?", she indignantly demanded. Her father had taught her loyalty and commitment after all.
"Vacation.", his smile turned slightly sour.
"He can't have vacation in a war.", her eyebrows drew together in disbelief.
"Well, he wasn't a very good Auror.", he said in a final tone.
And that was that.
Santana had asked her father often how he came to be imprisoned in his own house. Only recently had he told her the story about the Duel between him and Albus Dumbledore. Of how dangerous the old man was - especially to her.
She was scared at first. With every story her father told her she understood more and more how much Albus Dumbledore hated killing and how often he ordered it anyway.
As the stories painted a more complete picture of the past she understood how much blood still sticks to her fathers hands. Blood that could fill the entire lake by the forest where she played when the weather was sunny and her father slept with only one blanket at night.
He told her stories about the future as well. About making friends in a cold stone fortress up north. How she would go to Durmstrang and learn magic.
Magic was the only thing her father couldn't teach her. He had explained it once and as he had looked at her with such a heartbroken face, she hadn't asked about magic again. His room simply had none. Since he can't leave, there is no way of him to practically teach her. That is to say she learned all about the theory. As much as he remembered from his first days of learning and even further.
He taught her to fight as well. How to use spells and how to use her fists and the rest of her body. They regularly sparred in the small room up the highest tower. When one of them got injured - mostly because of Santanas carelessness - she would gather ingredients from the balcony and the front garden to make bruise paste with her father. If he didn't know that she counted the forest as part of the garden that was no problem. She never got hurt by the forest or whatever lived in there anyway.
Now she was eleven years old and would soon receive her letter from Durmstrang. She absolutely hated the prospect of going to that school and learning in the same dark place that once shaped her father. These summer months she dreaded the arrival of that damned owl that would bring her acceptance letter and seal her fate. A path in her father's footsteps. A father that is most definitely a dark wizard that was imprisoned in his own fortress for getting people killed.
She didn't want that.
So before her eleventh birthday at noon she had gone into the forest to look for an owl - or any bird really, they all were very nice to her - to send the letter that was practically burning a hole into the pocket of her cloak. It was the first time ever she had directly gone against her fathers wishes.
It was a week after her birthday and she feared that the Durmstrang owl would be faster than the little harpy that had carried her letter.
A day later she was proven right. That dreaded letter arrived from Durmstrang. The owl gave her the letter as she was gathering ingredients for a bruise balm near the treeline of the forest. It flew to a nearby tree and obviously waited for a reply.
Drat. She would have to lie to her father now. That was a very difficult business. He always spotted her lies. Even half truths weren't enough to fool him.
That evening she went to his room for her nightly story and tried not to think of the letter with a dark brown wax seal that she left on the desk in the library she had claimed as hers.
"Are you alright? You seem lost in your thoughts."
Drat. She was damned.
"I don't wanna talk about it.", she replied.
"Are you sure, my little dove?", his voice was sweet as honey, "you can tell me anything, you know that, love."
"I know. I just want to think about it a little more before telling you.", she said with a carefully crafted thoughtful tone and a contemplating face.
"Very well. You grow so quickly.", he seemed to reminisce for a few seconds. "Where were we yesterday?"
"You explained about underestimating a zoologist."
"Ah, yes. Quite a foolish mistake of me.", he smiled painfully.
That evening didn't seem to end. The story was captivating especially since her father was a very good storyteller. Nevertheless she couldn't help but think of her harpy that carried her letter and all her hopes.
The next day Santana spent most of her time outside, hoping that the harpy came back with a reply.
She sat on an old tree trunk when an owl winged its way to her. That was probably another owl from Durmstrang since she hadn't replied to the first one. That letter was still sitting on her desk in the library.
Once she recovered the parchment and turned the envelope to open it she started. The wax was red and in it was the Hogwarts seal. Her heart beat sped up, this was it!
With trembling fingers she opened it and unfolded the parchment inside. She had to read it twice because she was too nervous to remember the words and their meaning in this order. Her brain seemed suddenly empty.
Then everything started making sense again and she rejoiced. She was accepted! They had sent all the paperwork directly!
She jumped off the trunk and danced around the tree screaming: "Yes, I did it!".
She only needed her fathers signature and she would be off to a great school, walking on her own path, not her fathers. She would go to a school where she wouldn't learn dark magic, where she would make true friends and learn from the only wizard that could ever match her father: Albus Dumbledore.