GLIMPSES

Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Newton said that you know. He wasn't talking about science – well he was, but more than that, he was talking about life. Even coincidences have consequences…remember that.

Xenophilius Lovegood

Vernon rarely attended the many meetings that teachers often called parents to attend. He left that aspect of parenting to his wife, Petunia. That was not to say he did not attend any of the many school activities his son and ward were involved in. Be it sports, drama, festivals and whatever else came up; he attended it all. He just did not like meetings.

He hated sitting in the same chair for hours on end, listening to some uninteresting person drone on and on about this and that. He was a hands-on type of man, pure and simple. Yet here he was in a meeting with his wife beside him, and he found himself sitting bolt upright.

It had started out as any other day; his uncle had dropped them off at school with a few minutes to spare. They had classes, which Harry breezed by and Dudley dozed in, which was pretty normal all things considered. It had been going fine until recess. The boys had been given a calligraphy set each, to help them become true penmen. They had been excited of course, but that excitement had slowly dwindled down to nothing; at least for Dudley. Hadrian had recognized this for what it was though, encouragement.

After his debacle with the runes, his aunt had been strict with him. He had tried his best to be on his best behavior and had wrestled with controlling his usually uncontrollable bursts of accidental magic. It had paid off it seemed. Rune-craft required deft steady hands and excellent penmanship. Hadrian could see where his aunt was going with this; practice and get better and then you just might get your book back. He had taken to practicing at every available opportunity, enjoying how his little hands could write something so beautifully. Practice for him meant during recess too. He would often scarf down his food and find a quiet corner in the schoolyard and work on his calligraphy.

Dudley's friends, (well his too but that was taking a while to get used to), had at first given him curious looks the first day he had taken out his set. But they had gotten used to Hadrian being weird and so had left him to his devices. The same could not be said for others.

Hadrian had a sort of admirer, something Dudley enjoyed teasing him about. Andrew Davidson was tall for his age, bright brown eyes, auburn hair and a smattering of freckles on his face. At first glance he was an okay kid, smart and attentive in class. Lots of friends and did not cause the teachers any trouble. Yet for a reason that Harry could not decipher; Andy, as he was called by friends, was very interested in the brunette.

Hadrian had on random occasions felt a sort of soft prickling at the back of his neck; his hair there standing on end. Every time he had looked around there was Andy staring at him with the most intense look on his face. It had made Hadrian self-conscious for a while, but as Andy kept his distance; Hadrian finally decided to not care about it so much. So here he was sitting on his spot; under the shade of the tree working on his calligraphy. The sounds of the playground were strangely soothing, being in the background. He had all his considerable attention on his work; the book of text he was trying to copy was on the grass while a notepad was balanced on his thigh.

Slowly, almost gingerly he traced the pen onto his pad; trying his best to make the simple words flow beautifully like in the book. He was so engrossed with what he was doing that he never heard the footsteps drawing closer. He became aware of his company when his book was snatched from his lap.

"Is this it?"

Hadrian looked up sharply; his body lurched forward, hand snapping out. The book was quickly moved out of the way, his fingers merely brushing past the pages. Hadrian sprang to his feet, his face flushing with irritation.

"Give that back Davidson, tisn't yours." He moved forward but was pushed back and found himself on the ground.

A weasel like face, long and clever loomed above him. Piers Polkiss gave the downed Hadrian a smug grin, his teeth flashing. Hadrian got up warily, eyeing his two assailants. Andy was busy going through his book; uncaring of how he ripped some of the pages.

"Stop that, you're ruining it." Hadrian pleaded but Andy ignored him, his search becoming frantic.

Desperate, Hadrian jumped forward; his speed caught Piers by surprise and Hadrian got past him. Andrew despite his frantic search had been paying attention. He raised the book above his head and raised an arm to block the younger boy. Hadrian tackled him and the two rolled onto the ground. Colors blurred together for a moment and Hadrian lost his sense of up or down. Suddenly with a heavy smack at the back of his head the world righted itself.

Except he was on the ground and there was a weight pressing onto his chest. He could feel his arms pulled tight; stretched to his sides. Warm air, smelling of sweets and apples, was blowing harshly onto his face. Andrew loomed above him; his body pinning his much smaller one to the ground.

"You're him. That's the scar. I know it…" Shadows cast Andrew's face into sharp relief, twisting his features. His eyes gleamed; frantic, darting around, taking in the details of Hadrian's face.

"Get off me! Get off…" Hadrian squirmed and twisted but he was in a vice grip. There was no escape and suddenly he was afraid. He didn't understand what was happening.

"Tell me how you do it. Show me how." Andy's grip tightened, his nails biting deep into Hadrian's arms. He looked mad; his eyes gleaming with emotions that Hadrian could not even begin to understand.

It terrified him and he could feel his power, his magic, bubbling under the surface. Raging, twisting, coiling into a tight ball that wanted to blow everything apart. Suddenly Hadrian could hear shouts and running feet. He moved his head sideways and managed a glance. They were surrounded by a loose circle; jostling and pushing, everyone was watching them and nobody was moving forward to help. He could not see Dudley or any familiar face.

"Look..." he swallowed. His throat had gone dry. He could feel the ball in his chest get tighter and he tried his best to reign it in.

"Let me go and we can talk…" The hands on his wrists tightened and he whimpered. "You're lying. Just like them. Show me." Andrew brought his face much closer and Hadrian noted absentmindedly that his eyes were not brown but hazel with flecks of green in them.

He felt sweat trailing down his neck and suppressed a shiver. The ball tightened and his body, despite the added weight, trembled. It was getting hard to breath, there was a pounding in his ears, a deep rushing sound. His vision was narrowing, the edges becoming blurry and dark and yet at the center of his vision were those gleaming mad hazel eyes.

"Show me how to be like you..." Andy panted out.

Hadrian heard shouting from beyond his vision. Andy brought his mouth right beside Hadrian's ear, "Show me magic…"

BANG!

Light, bright and searing burst out of him with a sound reminiscent of a shotgun. He heard people shout and scream, scrambling back in panic. Above him Andy let out a scream, painful and shrill, and was thrown off him.

Suddenly like it began the light was gone and Hadrian could breathe. His vision was swimming; spots of yellow blurring everything. He felt tired and drained. Suddenly a face was there. Who was this? Tousled blond hair, flushed face and blue eyes. Dudley?

"Dudley..." he gasped out. Forming the words taxed him and he felt his eyes droop.

"Harry, you alright?" Dudley was shaking him, his hands patting him down frantically.

Hadrian managed a weak croak, his throat felt dry and scratched. Beyond that though he just felt so – "Tired." his vision went black.

"We are going to have to suspend both of them…"

Vernon let out an irritated noise at the back of his throat.

"Hadrian was only defending himself, you said so yourself." Petunia angrily brought her hand down on the desk, rattling it.

The Headmistress jumped in her seat, never having expected such behavior from the usually mild-mannered woman. Petunia felt a thrill go through her at the sight. Taking a moment to compose herself, the Headmistress proceeded to explain in a calm manner.

"Yes and that is why it will only be for a week. Look at it this way; if he's left unpunished it would appear as if we condoned his actions; we condone violence…" the older woman shrugged.

"So you would have rather he not defend himself?" Petunia bit back, her lips pursed in displeasure.

"Not at all – but he broke Mr. Davidson's arm and gave him a bad burn, second degree, on his chest, neck and face..." she ignored Petunia's muttering that sounded suspiciously like, the little punk probably deserved it.

"He was in possession of prohibited items; fireworks of all things…" she trailed off as she looked at the sheet of paper before her; a report from one of the teachers.

Petunia shared a glance with her husband. His brow was furrowed as he thought for a few moments before he nodded. He had been under the impression that he had found all of Dudley's fireworks. He said so to the harried looking woman in front of him and the woman gave him a mild glare. He shrugged apologetically.

"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley; Hadrian is a wonderful child; brilliant in many ways. This is all a matter of circumstance. Please don't take this as punishment but as time for him to cope; he is shaken by what happened." the headmistress soothed, her tone genial.

Petunia made to speak but Vernon cut her off. "Thank you for your time madam," he stood forcing her to do the same. The two shook hands. "We'll be going to collect the boys now if that's not too much trouble?"

"That is acceptable. Mrs. Dursley." The headmistress nodded, a tense smile pulling at her lips. Petunia gave the woman a curt nod before following her husband out.

The ride home was undertaken in silence. Vernon forced himself to concentrate on driving; Petunia was sending furtive glances to the back seat, wringing her arms in worry, lips pursed. Dudley was sulking while Hadrian seemed lost to the world; his fingers absentmindedly tracing the bandages around his wrists.

He still felt tired, more tired than he could remember ever being. When they got home the family sat themselves in the living room and haltingly Hadrian told them what had happened. They listened in silence before one startling detail presented itself.

"Wait you said he knew? Knows that you have magic?" Petunia leaned forward, grasping Hadrian's slim shoulders.

"Yes. He said I had the scar and – and magic." Hadrian squirmed at her firm hold, not meeting her eyes.

"But how could he possibly know that you had…." her words trailed off as she looked at her nephew appraisingly. "

Have you had bursts, accidents at school in the past few weeks?" She asked finally. Hadrian shifted under her gaze before he looked away.

"Maybe a few." He muttered causing Petunia to sigh exasperatedly. She got up and quickly engulfed him in a hug.

She squeezed him gently, "I'm not mad honey, okay?"

Hadrian nodded furtively and she smiled at him. She turned to her husband.

"I'm going to call Minerva; damage control." She said quickly and he nodded at her as she left the house. Petunia made her way with purpose; crossing the street and going a house down.

She knocked briskly; three sharp knocks, and waited. She heard muted shuffling inside and soon the door was yanked open. Two blurs, furred and hissing, sped out past her legs and into the surrounding hedges. She paid the animals no mind, rather used to them.

"Petunia, I wasn't expecting you today." an old voice croacked out softly.

Petunia grimaced slightly; she felt guilty yet did not know why. She and the older woman weren't exactly friends. Arabella Figg, had moved into the neighborhood soon after Hadrian came to live with them. To the casual observer it was mere coincidence and meant very little. The casual observer would as usual be wrong. Arabella was there on assignment from Albus. Another layer of protection and help he had said. Minerva had many duties and could not be expected to come at every little whim. Arabella was there for when Petunia needed to contact the magical community; when she had an emergency. This certainly classed as an emergency in her book.

"Arabella, I need to make a call…"

Amelia Bones sighed for what was probably the hundredth time that day. She had had a long week. A tip had led them to an underground drug ring and the ensuing chaos had been a headache to deal with. She and a group of her veteran Aurors had raided the premises. Illegal potions and other substances had just been the beginning; endangered creatures, dangerous creatures, and dark artifacts. It had been a nightmare clearing out the place; the owners had been paranoid bastards, traps layered upon one another, curses and jinxes.

Five of her team had to be treated at St. Mungos. She was just thankful that nobody had died and that there had been no civilian casualties. The media would have had a field day if that had happened. Sadly, her victory had a sour under taste to it. The evidence that her Aurors had gathered implicated quite a number of influential people.

She had been pleased at this until the Minister had gotten wind of it. How he had learnt of the contents of an ongoing investigation was something that implied dangerous things. She hated having leaks in her department. The minister, Fudge, newly elected had come to her and had casually asked that she drop some of her allegations. Allegations she had yet to even make. The cases she needed to make would never get to the court unless the minister was on her side or she gathered so much evidence as to force his hand.

Then Minerva had decided to grace her office. They were friends of a sorts but the moment she saw the look on the world-renowned Professor's face she got the impression that this was not a social visit. She was right, it had not been anything social; Minerva was here to collect favors. A favor she, Amelia, owed Albus Dumbledore.

Getting details out of the older witch was like pulling teeth from a reluctant troll, but she had managed some; Hadrian James Potter had had a massive burst of accidental magic; there had been witnesses. Amelia knew what was being asked of her; discretion, utter discretion. The boy was a target any Dark Wizard or Witch would love a shot at.

Years ago, after the Dark Lord's defeat Albus had approached her, he had been forthright with her, telling her that the boy was hidden. What she did not know was where. Now she did and she had honestly been surprised. Surrey? Of all the places she might have looked; Surrey had never even entered her thoughts. She could honestly appreciate the ingenuity behind it all. Obviously, it would have been ideal if she could have gone and dealt with this herself but that was not possible.

Gone were the days when she could go out in the field when she felt like it. She was no longer a senior Captain in the force; she was the Head of the entire department. While the position came with many perks; it also came with downsides. She could not just leave; well she could. She answered only to the minister after all. Her absence though, if she chose to leave would be noted. Her sudden absence during a big case would be considered strange after all. Luckily this new headache was easily solved; she had someone who she could delegate this all to.

Kingsley Shacklebolt stood in the center of the street. He would have looked quite unusual had anyone actually been able to pay enough attention to actually see him. He wore dark clothes; the pants and tunic had strips of dark scaly leather covering his vital areas. Despite being two parts of the outfit, it seemed seamless. Over this he wore something that was a cross between a robe and cloak. It was a dark navy blue with a hood. It came down to just below his knees and was open at the front. Kingsley was a powerfully built tall black man. His head was shaved bald and he had sharp intelligent eyes.

Those same eyes were currently focused on the mundane neighborhood in front of him. Perhaps it was better to say that his eyes were looking at something above the community.

'There is powerful magic here.' He mused to himself. Part of his training had involved taking his senses, both physical and magical to their peak. This had been further refined by years of dangerous assignments. He was by no means the best at sensing powerful enchantments but he was adequate, above average. To his senses this place sang of powerful wards. He was standing right at their edge yet he could feel them scanning him, judging him. The area these wards covered more than anything told him that a very powerful wizard had erected them; maintaining them was surely not an easy task.

'I wonder how Dumbledore managed to hide these from the scanners?' He shook his head to dispel that thought; that was not his assignment. His assignment while tedious, had not been as difficult as he had anticipated. The files at the school reported the same thing; the magic had been explained away as fireworks. 'How convenient and gullible'

Nobody had seen anything worthwhile or too closely. The children had been a big help; the story had gotten so distorted that it was barely recognizable. The only issue had arisen when he had visited the family of Andrew Davidson once called Atticus Rosier. The boy had been a squib and had been discarded by the family. Sent to live with a distant aunt who was also a squib. Kingsley only had to look at this one case to know how distasteful the practice of some families was.

The boy had been crushed, devastated and depressed. The fact that he had latched onto the first sign of magic he had glimpsed had not been a surprise. The surprise had been just who the unfortunate soul had been.

Kingsley shook his head in distaste. Being a meticulous man and remembering how much his boss had emphasized subtlety and discretion, he had made sure that any school files would never be looked at twice. Most in his position would have settled for simpling vanishing the files and reports but he was going for subtle. Files going missing could be investigated, no matter how slim the chnaces were; but files you knew were around but couldnt be bothered to check, well that was no problem. A few charms and some anchoring runes, scratched into folders to make them last, ensured that nobody would think twice about the files gathering dust in the corner.

After he had wrapped up his questions, he had encouraged the couple to possibly relocate. He hoped they took his advice. He felt something approaching pity for the boy, the burst of magic had left its mark. Kingsley wasn't sure if the burn paste he had left them would do much to help. With a final glance at the sight before him he twisted on the spot and with a soft crack disappeared.

Her breath came in sharp painful gasps, the necessary action bringing a stabbing pain in her side. Her hair was matted down to her forehead with sweat, leaves and twigs were caught in the tresses. Every hurried step caused pain to lance up her right leg; she had twisted her ankle a few miles back. She should have stopped, to assess her injured side but she could not stop. She had to keep moving, until she was far away. Far away enough to be safe.

Safe.

That word sounded so strange these days, so foreign. Once she had been safe and happy. But everything had changed. Here she was running in woods she didn't know. She could hear her pursuers behind her, beyond her vision. But she knew they were there; just as they had all those times she had slowed down to rest.

Mama had told her to run, to head east, to go to safety. Those had been her last words. Her screams had followed her out. Her blood had painted the floor; a river of bright crimson. Her eyes blurred with fresh tears. She did not see the root jutting out of the ground. She gasped as her foot got caught. For a brief moment she was suspended in the air; arms thrown in front of her, eyes wide.

Then time reasserted itself and she felt the world rush towards her. She tumbled hard; rolling onto the damp rocky ground until with a splash she found herself surrounded by water. Cold. Her senses fled her and all she could feel was water, rushing, swirling and pulling her down. Her lungs burned and water rushed into her, she thrashed blindly, searching.

There! Something solid – hope. Desperately she pushed off and hopefully up, and then she broke the surface. Air. She gasped and coughed. A heady feeling overtook her and she greedily took in large gulps of air as she crawled to the bank of what she found was a large stream. She rolled onto her back, gasping. For what felt like an eternity she lay there, watching her breath mist over against the background, a cold blue sky. It would be another cold night.

Her clothes were wet and she could not possibly light a fire, that would be foolish in the extreme. She heard a twig snap and her fragile reality came rushing back. She quickly turned her head to look; a painful throb lanced across her temple. Instinctively her hand came up to feel her temple. She let out a painful hiss and her hand came away wet and sticky with blood.

She felt tears prick her eyes and a lump lodge itself in her throat. She blinked furiously; she would not cry, not anymore. She took deep steady breathes, calming herself. Once she felt her bubbling emotions subside, she took stock of her surroundings. She looked at the other side of the bank and was greeted with a normal woodland scene. Nothing was out of the ordinary except herself. Yet she still felt tense, her body's instincts refusing to let her relax. She got up, groaning as both her side and leg throbbed. Still she gritted her teeth and with a monumental effort got up to her feet.

She immediately felt light headed, she swayed dangerously. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to still. Taking a deep breath, she took a step forward. Pain. She stumbled, almost falling to her knees, but she kept going. Her pace was slow, slower than she would have liked but at least she was still moving and that counted for something. She slowly and carefully limped her way into the woods. Every step was agony, sending a jolt up her leg and into her side. She could feel her broken ribs scraping against one another. Her lungs struggling to get air. Her vision was getting hazy, the edges becoming blurry and unfocused. She could only concentrate on what was right in front of her. Left right, left right, she chanted the mantra in her head.

A few meters in; she could go no further and collapsed. "Maybe I can just rest here for a little while, just a little while." Her eyes had barely closed before they snapped open again. A flutter of wings announced her guest. There, on a branch above her was an owl; snow white with flecks of black here and there. Curious amber eyes observed her. "Stupid bird. Aren't owls supposed to be silent?" She ignored the owl and closed her eyes. Soon she heard the owl leave and for a while she was content.

When she next woke up it was to the sound of voices. Panicking she scrambled up. Pain, she stuffed her fist into her mouth, muffling her cries. Her teeth broke the skin of her hand. This pain she welcomed; it cleared her mind. She stopped moving and listened, her senses on high alert.

"You better not be tricking me again…"

The voice was young. A child, preteen and male. She could hear his footfalls, soft and sure. He was alone. The thought sent a rush of adrenaline through her. The pain in her side and leg dulled and was replaced by a new kind of pain. Her throat felt dry and her stomach felt empty, painfully empty. The hunger she had ignored for days came crashing at her all at once.

She twitched, her muscles coiling up and, her mind grew foggy with lust. All her senses trained onto the spot she knew he would soon burst from.

The snapping of twigs announced his arrival. Pushing aside some vegetation he stepped into the little clearing. He was wearing dark jeans, a grey t-shirt with a jacket over it. His feet were covered in tough looking shoes. Clothes perfectly suited for a day out in the woods. All these details meant nothing to her. Her eyes locked in on his neck and there she saw his vein pulse, a healthy pulse.

She lunged; her injuries forgotten, pushed aside by the surge of adrenaline. Her fangs extended and her nails growing quickly into claws. She saw the moment he noticed her. There was no fear in his eyes, just utter surprise. His eyes widened and he gasped, his muscles tensed. Inwardly she smiled, there was no escape.

Danger! Move! Move!

Her instincts screamed at her. Her clawed fingers were mere inches away from his face. She was so close she could see the emerald threads in his eyes, she could see the pores of his skin. It was too late. Power slammed into her. Her body was thrown end over end, only to stop when she slammed painfully into a tree. Her breath was knocked out her. She heard a crack. Was that the tree or her spine?

Her breath came back to her and she let out a gasp of pain. Her back spasmed, muscles clenching involuntarily from the pain. Bloodlust left her in the wake of her pain; bringing with it a sharp clarity. Her eyes, clenched shut, snapped open to find her attacker. He had not moved. His stance told her of his wariness and discomfort. But he had not fled. His eyes were trained on her, fearful of course but also with a strange morbid interest.

White filled her vision for a moment before she felt a weight settle on her knee. The owl, her eyes widened in realization. She made to get up but the pressure on her knee became painful. The bird's claws had dug into her jeans and were pricking her flesh. A wave of cold washed over her and she watched in surprise as her breath fogged in front of her face. She looked up and met striking amber eyes; she shivered.

"You're a vampire." The boy had managed to come closer without her noticing.

She found her senses suddenly assaulted with his presence. The child reeked of magic as did his pet bird. She felt her panic rise; after all she had been through, no child was going to best her. She tried to stand and found herself incapable of moving. All she could do was move her head. The bird had done something to her. She looked up at her captor. She bared her teeth at him, a hiss of rage escaping her. Her sharp, elongated canines were stained with her blood.

"Witch-boy!" Her words were filled with venom and contempt. The child flinched, his face colouring. She bared her bloody teeth in a savage grin, revelling in the little pain she caused him.

"I'm not a girl!" he gasped out outraged.

She blinked, bemused. "What?"

"I'm a boy, that makes me a wizard. Get your facts right lady." he rolled his eyes at her, his stance relaxing.

She spluttered in anger, her face going red. "You-you insolent brat! I should gut you." She threatened.

"You already tried that, remember? I threw you against the tree." He gave her a superior smirk. "You dont look that much older than me." he added, his eyes peering at her with curiosity.

She growled deep in her throat. He took an involuntary step back. She smirked at him.

"Why did you attack me anyway?" He asked her suddenly.

Her smirk disappeared and she glared at him. He paid her no mind though. His eyes, green she noted, were scanning her. She found his gaze discomfiting; no child should look at someone like that. "You're hurt." he observed.

"No shit Sherlock." she retorted.

He frowned at her, his nose scrunching up.

"Swearing won't help," he scratched the back of his head in thought. "At least that's what auntie says."

She gave him an incredulous look and he blushed.

"Anyway, you should stay here. Not that you have another choice…" he let out a chuckle. "I'll go get help okay?" he turned to leave.

"Wait…" she choked out. He turned and looked at her, his eyebrows touching his hairline. "Why?" Why help me when I nearly killed you? Her eyes demanded.

"Cause you need it." He shrugged carelessly. Before she could think of something to say – anything, he took off running.

She let out a tired breath before she clenched her eyes in pain. Breathing hurt her lungs. Her back was throbbing, probably bruised and her leg was a mess. She opened her eyes and connected with amber eyes. She glared at the smug looking avian.

"This is all your doing." she accused.

The bird let out a bark before gracefully jumping into the air. A few lazy flaps had the bird over a branch and it alighted. Thinking she was free, she tried to move but found that she still could not even twitch.

"How?" she wondered aloud, pushing and trying ti will her muscles to move.

An amused bark made her look up at the bird. Her avian guardian seemed to be looking at the ground in front her. She flicked her eyes down and saw a stone. Smooth and polished, the dark oval stone could fit comfortably in the palm of her hand. Its surface was broken up by carving, archaic writing that she recognized. Runes. The script flowed over the stone, covering it in a delicate embrace. She did not recognize the language but she could discern its purpose; to keep her where she was.

She let out a helpless chuckle. She had not consumed any food for days, neither had she fed in those days. Day and night, she had been running, barely resting. Keeping just ahead of her pursuers only to find herself captured in this forest. By a child no less. A boy who could be no older than ten. A child who it seemed was powerful enough to throw her around like a ragdoll. A child who knew how to use Rune-script. She felt so useless. Her mother had sacrificed herself so that she could have a chance at life. Yet her she was frozen by unseen bonds against a tree.

The snapping of twigs underfoot jolted her out of her thoughts. She looked up. A woman, blond, slim and pretty stood a few meters from her. A first aid kit was clutched at her heaving chest. Her eyes seemed to look her over, jumping all around before they settled over her face. The woman's face seemed to harden before she took a step towards the downed girl. A large hand stopped her.

"Petunia…." the large man warned.

"Vernon, she's a child." She glanced back at her husband who was looking at the girl who was pressed against a tree awkwardly. She looked to be only a few years older than the boys. Her clothes were bloody and torn in several places, bruises visible on her pale skin. She was barefoot and one of her ankles was swollen. Her face and arms had scratches and there seemed to be a sizable gash on her forehead.

"That doesn't make her any less dangerous though." Vernon rumbled out his eyes were full of distrust, his instincts warring with his compassion.

Reluctantly he let go of his wife. Petunia gave him a nod before quickly walking to the girl. She knelt down and quickly rummaged through the first aid kit.

"What's your name sweetie?" the woman offered her a warm and gentle smile. Her hands were deftly working on the gash on her head. Using a canteen to pour water on the wound and dabbing at it with a cloth. The girl let out a sharp hiss of pain.

"Sorry." The woman's tone was apologetic even as she dabbed harder.

"Se-Selene," she glanced over the woman's shoulder.

The man was hovering over them, his eyes trained solely on her. For the first time she noticed the rifle in his hand. She knew he would not hesitate to use it.

"My name is Selene." she repeated with more strength.

The woman had moved to her ankle now. She was running her index finger very lightly over the joint. Selene shivered. The woman sent her an apologetic look.

"I'm Petunia and that's my husband Vernon," Petunia took out a long strip of bandage, before she pressed something cool against her ankle. Selene let out a sigh at the sensation.

"Vernon, help me with this." Petunia called and the man, Vernon, was suddenly there. He took the bandage and quickly wrapped it around her ankle. If it was a tad too tight nobody mentioned a thing.

"Okay, now we are going to try to move you okay?" Petunia's voice was gentle and kind. Selene found herself wanting to trust this woman. She gave her a hesitant nod.

"Can we move her Harry?" Petunia asked, looking behind her.

"Yea the stone ran out of power a few minutes ago." His voice startled her, she hadn't realised her captor was back.

He was stood off to the side looking on. Beside him was a taller boy, blond and thicker. She felt large arms go around her. She cried out in pain as her ribs were jostled.

"Sorry." Vernon apologised voice gruff but soft.

Gently, the large man lifted her up and ensconced her against his chest. He felt warm and suddenly Selene felt tired, so very tired. Her eyelids of their own accord fell heavy over her eyes and she succumbed to blissful unconsciousness.

When she next woke, she was much more comfortable. Wakefulness for the first time in weeks did not come with a jolt of panic. Instead she felt like her mind was full of cotton, heavy and sluggish. Her limbs feel stiff. Her first sensation was soft; she was lying on something soft and it smelt of lavender. She felt a breeze on her cheek, soft and gentle, bringing in the sounds and smells of outside. Fresh cut grass and roses dominated her senses. Yet something lingered on the edge of her perception, it was not a threat but it demanded her attention. She strained her senses and listened; lub-DUB, lub-DUB.

The person's heartbeat was calm, serenely so. She felt tired though and she was so comfortable. She fell asleep again, the heartbeat lulling her to sleep. Finally having a chance to recuperate and rest her body's naturally impressive healing goes to work. Her healing is further accelerated by the various medicines that are administered to her. In her deep regenerative slumber, she is helpless and unaware; she does not see the visitor that comes by every day, nor his hesitant smile.

It is afternoon when she next wakes. Golden light spills into the room, falling onto the bed she's on. Her lids crack open and for a moment the light is too much for her. Her vision swims for a moment before with a deep breath she gains clarity. Colors coalesce into proper shape and focus. She's in a room, the walls are painted a pale blue.

To her left is a window, it's open letting the breeze flutter the curtains. She can hear sounds from outside, strangely muted. She hesitantly pulls the covers off of her and lets out a relieved sigh. She's been dressed in a faded blue t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. She hesitantly lifts her arms and marvels at the unblemished skin there. She had not expected that; her powerful healing relied upon her having fed. Something she had not done in weeks. Swinging her feet, she made to get up. Wobbling on her feet for a bit, she spread her arms seeking balance. Giving the room one last glance she headed for the door.

Her steps slow but full of determination. She opens the door and is relieved not to hear it creek; the owners of this house must do maintenance often. She finds herself in a corridor, doors on either side of her along its length. Sound, voices drifted up to her from her right. She followed the sound. As she quietly made her way down the corridor she could not help but glance at the walls. Pictures hung along its length; a family of four out having ice cream. Two young boys covered in mud; a birthday party, a trip to the zoo, the man buried in the sand at the beach. It painted a clear picture for her. She felt her heart clench as she remembered her own mother. Tears prickled her eyes and she roughly scrubbed her eyes. Taking a deep calming breath, she made her way down the stairs. She could start to distinguish the different voices. Two male and two females.

Dredging up all memories of her training she walked lightly and quietly on the steps. Carefully masking her presence.

"Ah, it seems she has awoken." A voice announced.

She froze. The voices cut off and she knew that she had been discovered. She could try to run, to leave this place. But that plan carried a lot of risk. She was not yet back to full strength and she was clearly outnumbered. Despite her wariness though she knew that these people would not have bothered to heal her if they meant her harm. Making her decision, she straightened her back and proudly made her way all the way down the steps.

Four pairs of eyes meet her and she resisted the urge to fidget. She recognized the woman who had helped her in the woods, Petunia, who gave her a gentle smile. The other woman, dark haired with pale green eyes looked at her neutrally; she wore dark green robes identifying her as a witch. The first male was short, his skin waxy and leathery. His nose was long and hooked, his ears were long and pointed and his fingers long. His mouth was pulled in a toothy grin, showing off his sharp teeth. A goblin.

The other man made her eyes widen, for she recognized him. Old, with silver grey hair and long beard, perched on his very crooked nose were half-moon glasses that hid bright blue eyes. Nearly everyone knew who this man was. What filled her with dread was how on earth she had attracted his attention.

"Ah miss we have much to discuss. Please sit." He gave her a grandfatherly smile and she found herself obeying.

The sky was a blend of deep purples and orange, and the shadows grew long and dark. His steps quick and silent, he slinked unseen, darting from one shadow to the next. The park was on the edge of the neighborhood, its trees blending into the outlying forest. It was here that the specter made its way to. For a moment he stopped at the edge of the woods, his eyes panned out to his surroundings. Finding nothing he darted into the shadow of the wood, his form blending into the shadows. Minutes later he came to a small clearing and stopped.

"Well?" a voice growled out from the shadows.

He spun round searching for the voice. There among the shadows a pair of bright luminescent blue eyes observed him. Relaxing his tense shoulders, he let out a frustrated sigh.

"The wards cover a vast portion of the neighborhood, I was unable to truly discern their purpose, but they are powerful…" he explained dully.

"Blood-wards often are. Some little wizard went to great lengths to protect something here." The speaker stepped out of the shadows.

He was quite tall, with a lithe build. The dark clothes he had on made his pale skin look more so. His face was framed by dark red hair that contrasted well with his glowing blue eyes. He had a long nose set above thin lips, his sunken cheeks giving his cheek bones prominence.

"Were you able to get any information on the girl's unexpected hosts, Isaac?" he continued.

"Yes. A family of four; husband and wife with two children, both boys, aged between ten and twelve. The smaller child's scent carries magic." Isaac recalled.

"I imagine that's who the wards are for then?" his superior mused, not expecting an answer.

Isaac made a noncommittal grunt, shrugging. It seemed rather obvious considering he was the only one who smelt of power. The rest of the family were mundane.

"It is strange though is it not?"

"What is?" Isaac looked up to see his superior with a frown marring his features. "It is not often that a wizard child is left in the care of mundanes. Curious."

"You know I've never been one to speculate." Isaac leaned against a tree. He turned his neck this way and that trying to get rid of a crink.

"Anything else you observed?" he noticed that Isaac gave a grimace.

"I spotted a witch and goblin leave…" Isaac pulled his lips back into a grimace.

"That is troublesome." He mulled it over in his head. Goblins were known for their shrewdness in business. They were notorious for getting things done, be it legal or not so legal. The goblin's presence suggested that the girl would not be staying long. Most likely he was making travelling arrangements for her. This mundane family had connections.

"I think we should try and take her. She and the boy spend time outside, unobserved. We could easily…" Isaac explained.

"No. We wait." He raised a hand up noticing his companions' protests before they started. "You are young Isaac and do not yet understand some things. We cannot get to the girl, so long as she remains in that house, she is beyond us. Any attempt on our part to assault the building will have the wards react. Blood wards are dangerous; their restriction by the government is well deserved, I assure you."

Isaac mulled over his superior's words before nodding in defeat. "So what do you propose we do?"

"Our best option is to figure out where the goblin intends for the girl to go, which means getting our own goblin." he explained, lightly tapping his fingers.

"I've never liked dealing with goblins." Isaac said with a pained face, his left hand traced a scar on his right wrist.

"Don't worry, we don't have to meet our goblin associate just yet." his superior chuckled.

Isaac looked up at him curious noticing the older man's smirk.

"We have to inform the boss first, don't we?" Isaac asked lowly and received a sharp nod. He let out a frustrated sound. "He is not gonna like recent developments." Isaac stuck his hands in his pockets and scuffed at the ground.

The two started heading deeper into the forest. "No he will not indeed." The two men's forms disappeared into the shadows.

When she had ran in terror from her home, Selene had not expected to be here. Here being a kitchen in a house located in some suburb. She watched as the blonde-haired lady, Petunia, puttered about the kitchen. The woman had been kind to her, even after she had learnt about what she was. The whole family had been kind; even the man, Vernon.

He had been wary of her those first few days. His eyes never really leaving her form for long. It should have bothered her, the way he looked at her. Like she was some dangerous beast living among them. But the truth was that she was dangerous. Eventually though the looks had faded somewhat. He was still cautious about her but it was with a lot less hostility. The older boy Dudley, seemed to find the whole situation exciting.

She got a headache just thinking about all the questions she had been peppered with. Hadrian though acted like this was all completely normal, as if there was nothing to worry about. Like this was not the first time they had a creature of the night hiding in their house. She knew wizards were an odd bunch, she just had not expected their oddness to start so early. Still it was Hadrian's attitude that strangely enough made all this bearable.

Even as she watched Petunia measure out some cups of flour, her mind wandered. She was not ungrateful to the Dursley family for taking her in. She was in their debt; a debt she knew she might never be able to pay. They had taken a huge risk with her. Taking in a complete stranger into one's home was always risky; and that was before you complicated matters with her unique circumstances.

She was gravely injured, had people pursuing her and she had attacked their child. Even forgetting that her species often ate humans for breakfast, lunch and supper; they had taken her in. She could not understand why. Her only theory was that, these people were just that decent. So here she was in their house, safe.

Safe. That word, idea, had become so alien to her in the past few weeks, yet this was the safest she had felt since she fled her home. A mere week ago she would not have believed that a house owned by mundanes would be safe for her. But after she had gained enough energy to do so, she had spread her senses outward. She had been shocked.

The entire property, in fact the whole neighborhood was surrounded by powerful magic, a ward. The presence of the ward had led to a plethora of questions. But she had not asked them. How would she even go about it? Asking her hosts how they had such potent protection. She knew though that Hadrian was not the source of it. Yes, he was connected to it in a way but no matter how powerful he felt, something so complicated, so powerful was beyond him. The question she really wanted answered though was simple; who were the Dursleys?

"Penny for your thoughts?" Petunia's voice startled her she almost jumped out of her chair, heart racing.

"Oh, dear did I startle you?" the older woman chuckled. Kind blue eyes peered at her from across the kitchen. Selene took a moment to gather her thoughts.

"I wasn't really thinking about anything in particular?" she cringed at how high and squeaky her voice sounded.

Probably because you know you were thinking about how strange they are. She ruthlessly stomped on her inner voice. Either Petunia did not notice her strange tone or chose to ignore it.

"You had the same faraway look Hadrian gets when he's thinking too much." Petunia smiled fondly.

"I guess I just have a lot on my mind is all…sorry." Selene offered, chewing her bottom lip. Her hand came up to tuck her hair behind her ear.

"It's alright. In fact, it is to be expected, given all that's happened to you." Petunia moved toward her, pulling up a chair. She sat down and looked at her. Her eyes were filled with kindness and compassion.

"Selene, I know that you don't know me well. I could not even begin to understand what you are going through." Petunia brought her hand up and Selene felt her hand being squeezed lightly. It felt warm.

She felt her throat constrict. Her eyes suddenly felt hot and moist. She desperately wanted to pull her hand away, but her body refused to comply.

"But I want you to know that I am here for you. If you need anything, even if it's just to talk. I am here." Petunia reassured.

Selene felt a curious wet sensation on her face. Her hand came up to feel her face, even as something salty touched her lips. Tears. She sniffled. She felt a sob coming up her throat and tried to stop it. She failed. She felt herself drawn forwards before arms circled around her. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon filled her nose. Another sob escaped her and that was soon followed by another.

Her face felt hot, smeared in tears and snot. She pressed it against Petunia's chest. Once her tutors had told her that she needed to be strong. That certain emotions were a sign of weakness, that tears were a weakness. All those lessons meant nothing as she let out a keen. She could hear Petunia muttering sweet nothings in her ear, felt her rub her back gently. The sensations only made her sobs louder. She cried for her home, for her mother, she cried for her lost innocence.

The oak tree at the back of the estate was massive and old. Caius had once told her that the tree was already old when the estate was originally built. It towered over everything else. Its boughs stretched out to the heavens and its thick roots twisted around the base. The mighty tree was its own little world; a lot of critters called it home. Selene run ahead of her mother; her eyes staring up in wonder at the tree.

"Don't be in such a hurry my little preciozo, the tree is not going anywhere." a gentle voice chided.

"But mama, you said I could play with the bowtruckles." The little girl spun around a pout on her face.

The older woman let out a throaty chuckle. She shifted the modest wooden basket in her left hand. "You may harass the little creatures after we eat, okay? Come." With her free hand she grasped her daughter's hand and guided her to the tree.

There, under the cover of branches and between the roots, they found a checkered blanket laid out for them. She let out a fond smile, Caius could be thoughtful sometimes. She set the basket down and, with deft hands, pulled out its contents.

Breads, slices of beef, salads, dips, a whole jug of lemonade, and finally, some buns. A small hand darted out to snatch at one of the sticky glistening buns, but she slapped it away.

"Tsk tsk, those are for dessert." the woman tsked.

"But I love those buns, they are so delicious…" Selene tried to snatch one again but her mother brushed her away laughing.

"You need to learn to be patient my little preciozo. All good things come in time." she smiled gently flicking the young girls nose.

Selene scrunched her nose and looked at the bun, she wished time could speed up.

"Selene!" She blinked rapidly, her eyes had gotten misty. She looked up. Hadrian was staring at her, his eyes were clouded with emotion, he was concerned.

"You went away for a minute, are you alright?" he asked.

Selene glanced away, avoiding his eyes. They were in the park; the sound of laughter and the scent of sweet flowers filled the air. Petunia was seated at a park bench a few meters away from them, her head down, engrossed in a novel. Dudley was further away, his father helping him fly his kite.

They looked like any family in the park. She had overheard Petunia telling some women, a friend of hers perhaps, that Selene was their niece. The person had bought the lie easily. Selene could of course see why they would think that. While both Petunia and Dudley were blond, Vernon had dark hair that was just a shade lighter than hers. Selene also shared the blue eyes that three of the Dursleys favored. While Hadrian shared quite a bit of his face with Petunia, his colouring resembled Selene, both of them rather pale. Selene really could be part of their family - but she was not.

She glanced down at her hand, she was holding a sticky, glistening cinnamon bun. Just like the ones her mother made. When she was a child, she had always wanted to rush past things, but now sitting here in this park, she felt a false sense of peace wash over her. She wanted all those rushed moments back, to savor, to enjoy one last time. She felt a lump catch in her throat. She glanced away and was met with emerald eyes, dark with emotion. Before she could say anything, she found a disposable cup shoved under her nose.

"You should try the juice, it's nice." he said quickly, not meeting her eyes. Hesitantly she accepted the cup, peeking inside she shuddered in relief. It was orange juice, not lemonade. She took a sip.

Hadrian was right, the juice was nice.

"Thank you." she said quietly.

Hadrian returned her smile with his own, teeth flashing in the afternoon sun. They stayed like that for a while, just enjoying the day. It was nice, Selene thought. She glanced at Hadrian and found him busy with a notebook, his tongue sticking out in concentration. She smirked as an idea popped into her head. With reflexes worthy of her species, she snatched the book away from him. Hadrian let out a strangled gasp of surprise.

"I was using that." His voice was equal parts annoyed and anxious. His eyes tracking the notebook.

"Relax, I just want to see what has you so busy, busy enough to not want to enjoy a good day outdoors." She gave him a sideways smirk and he glared back.

She laughed at him before going back to the book. It was filled with all sorts of things, numbers, runes and designs to things she could not put heads or tails to. It was intimidating to see a ten-year-old doing this.

"With all those trophies in your room, one wouldn't expect you to be a little bookworm." She had been in his room enough times to have a proper look at all his awards. Academic, athletic and martial arts. It was a strange combination in her opinion.

"I didn't manage to pin you against a tree by knowing some Tae-kwe-ndo," he smirked at her scowl.

"Plus, there's nothing that says I can't be good at both sports and academics." He shrugged. Selene shook her head, from what she had seen he was a few levels above plain old good.

"Still it's a beautiful day and the sun feels amazing, you should enjoy it." she suggested, leaning back.

"I thought vampires didn't like the sun." Hadrian said when she finally gave him back his book. He quickly tucked it away in his bag.

Selene let out a snort, before stretching herself languidly, laying her head down on the blanket. Her top rode up and Hadrian got a flash of skin before he looked away.

"That little old thing isn't a problem for someone like me." she pronounced, quite smug.

"Someone like you?" he followed her lead, lying down.

"Dudley is right, you can be slow sometimes." she chucked. Hadrian colored slightly.

"I am only a half vampire. My dad was a vampire." she explained.

"Your mom?" Hadrian asked eagerly, turning to her and the smile on his face slipped.

Selene's face had darkened, her eyes becoming a dull grey. Her hands were clenched into fists and Hadrian was sure that her claws were extended. He opened his mouth to apologize but she spoke before he could.

"She was a witch," her voice was quiet and if Hadrian had been even a foot further away, he would not have heard her.

"My mother was a witch; she wasn't the most powerful but I think she had the most beautiful voice." Selene continued, the words a mere whisper.

Hadrian stayed quiet as Selene got lost in memories. Selene talked for a few minutes, quietly, her voice carrying no further than the two of them. She told him about how her mother would sing in the mornings alongside the birds, she told him about Caius, their manservant, whom a younger Selene used to play hide and seek with. Hadrian listened in rapt attention to all this.

"My mother and I, we used to have picnics like this, under a large oak tree in the backyard. She used to make me cinnamon buns, they were my favorite." she finished, her voice

"Your mom, she sounds amazing." Hadrian's voice was thick with emotion.

"Yea, she was." A soft nostalgic smile played on her lips.

Hadrian expected the silence that followed to be awkward, but it was not. It turned out to be the opposite. It seemed that a weight had lifted of Selene's shoulders and she felt just a little bit better. They watched Dudley run around, pulling his kite this was and that, harassing the other people in the park, with shout of; "Death from above."

"So since you're only half vampire, what other vampires are there?" Hadrian asked eventually.

Selene gave Hadrian a sidelong glance. He was lying on his back arms folded and linked behind his head forming a makeshift pillow.

"You really should read up on our world, it's quite dangerous. Especially for someone like you." she advised.

"Oh is it? What's so special about being an heir to an old family other than the whole inheritance thing?" Hadrian wondered outloud.

Selene gave him a bemused look, but he was busy with a butterfly and did not notice. How can he not know? She glanced curiously at Petunia who was still engrossed in her novel.

"Just read up okay? I promise it will do you some good." she advised.

"Alright. I'm sure it'll beat reading about laws and stuff." He turned to look at her, eyes flashing with interest. "Still better from the source than some dusty book…" he grinned mischievously wriggling his eyebrows.

She snorted in amusement. Dredging up her lessons and experiences she proceeded to tell him about her species.

Edited 22-05-2024.

Again fixed the paragraph issue and dialogue