Chapter Text
This story is dedicated to Zullie. Your flame was short lived, but it burnt bright.
Through sleepless days and dreamless nights, she found herself bound to walk through tall dark gates, towards freedom. She wouldn’t stumble, under silver strands of moonlight she had no fear of falling.
On that rainy night darkness doubled, and lightning struck itself. The old nun had patiently waited for her to slip, and when she did, the last drop of hope was lost. She had asked to be set free. To someone. Somewhere. She had felt pain, the ropes tying her to the chair biting on pale, thin wrists.
The overweight nun hobbled towards her, the dusty remains of what once was a classroom suffocating her. Through whispered holy words, for the Lord’s Prayer would purify her soul. Through Christ's blood she’d be redeemed.
Vivien tried being somewhere else, listening to the rain, but hearing not that. Her fear that night made her wish for the kiss of death, as she never really knew the embrace of life.
To the little girl, life was littered by magic. For it she was twice almost murdered, she was left alone in an orphanage, never knowing where she once belonged, or if she ever did.
Magic, as she knew deep inside, was the mark on her forehead. A bolt of lightning shaped by evil, infecting her soul. She couldn’t blame her parents for leaving, the kids for fearing, the nun for trying to exorcise it from her.
After the acceptance had come, fate sealed as her little heart began to stutter, she heard it. Darkness doubled and lightning struck itself, but the strands of silver reached pale blue eyes.
Chew the chains, loose the locks. The moon had whispered arcane secrets, it spoke with neither word nor vision, but the child understood it all too well.
Would she accept the calling? She heard the whispers of star crossed love, of unavoidable fate. She was too little to understand the concepts, but meaning burnt itself into her mind. She learned then, she could belong to someone, somewhere.
Rope untying itself was just another abnormality in the little girls life. The old nun screamed as she rose, silver blue eyes, intense with purpose. On her walk towards fated freedom, she did not stumble, and from the third story window, as darkness doubled and lightning struck itself, Vivien had no fear of falling.
Vivien reached tall dark gates. Rain poured down, her raven hair a black cloak. Barefoot she approached, neither cold nor wind making her falter. The enchanted song of moonlight drew her in, lured her soul from its shape, and through the gate, like a veil. The dense forest around the old orphanage welcomed her. She had imagined this countless times before, as in her lonesome she had witnessed nature, picturing what freedom in the evergreen would feel like. Now the girl had the chance to accept her fate and make a grab for freedom.
Deep within she marched, with blind eyes she drew a breath in, and when she let it out she had found her way. The little girl followed the enchanted song, barefoot her steps were punishing, but she did not stumble. After an eternity she found herself in a steep trail, high in the peak she knew something awaited.
She stopped where paths crossed, and left behind her clothes and all she owned. She knew not why, but knew where she was headed, they were of no use. She felt her burdens lighten, but knew that heavy was the path ahead.
At the second stop where paths crossed, she paused. She left behind weighty thoughts. She had nothing and no one to worry about. She felt her burdens lighten, but knew that heavy was the path ahead.
At the third stop where paths crossed, she paused. How could she leave her fears behind? They clutched to her like a bad smell. The enchanted song told her to drop her masks, but she knew not how. Her silvery blue eyes looked up, and through the canopy, like a big top tent up high, the moon was a hole of light. She knew it was there before, and would be there after her. It offered borrowed strength to cross this monumental threshold, and she knew then the price was high. Step back to the relative safety of normalcy, or thread forward the steep path towards the unknown? She could then have declined fate, and the offer was loud and clear. Vivien did not stumble, and fate shone down on her.
With fear still in her heart and cracked masks, the little girl let her burdens behind. The moonlit trail ahead was heavy, but with borrowed strength up she went.
A little girl was summoned to mountain blue, where moonlight could reach her. Naked at the top she accepted fate, and the mountain knew her. The shadow women danced about her, sang for her, chanting powerful runes. Into weather and wind she faded.
Silver blue eyes opened in the cold morning, and hands patted down, feeling the fabric of clothes that now strangled her. The tender skin of her bare feet, now healed from any form of punishment it suffered the night before. Was it all a dream? She saw no path towards the massive climb she endured the night before. Alone she cried, the uncertainty of life too much for a little girl to bear. How could she survive alone? She felt hunger and thirst.
She carefully made her way through dense threes, sidestepped fallen branches and thorny vines. She fell sick after drinking from a stream, and after a long day she laid down to rest, the cold chilling to the bone. As darkness enveloped her, pale skin felt kissed by moonlight, and she realized it was just as happy to see her. That night as darkness doubled, it had lost some of it’s oppressive aura. She could hear nature clearly, and faintly she could hear that song, and knowledge was once again imprinted into her brain
In the distance a rock shone, and she gently picked it up. It was sharp enough to cut. Cedar and birch - The voice whispered, and she instantly knew what it meant. She grabbed dry branches, and from shredded bark the slow process of building a fire begun. She used all her might to drop the standing dead tree, broke her short nails digging down on rotted wood, reaching the dry wood within. With a spindle, a notch in the wood, she rubbed her small hands raw, but after long hours the fire roared, and she never felt happiness like that before. She used burning hot stones to boil water, and after quenching her thirst, she lied down next to the warmth she had created. With an empty stomach, but a smile on her face, she slept till sunrise.
She learned as the days passed, that as the day stretched out beneath the sun, her steps faltered and her fingers groped, but in fading day she felt confident enough to run. At night she wouldn’t stumble.
Necessity then led her to her first kill, under cover of darkness she approached, learning how to use her magic to conceal her presence. She snapped the rabbit's neck and cried the whole time, her rock glinted impossibly sharp, cutting through flesh, slicing the skin. She was then shown visions of wolves hunting, the realization that nature was brutal was branded in her mind. She learned that day that everything would one day die, including herself.
As time went by she built her strength, and with it, her magic. Occasionally she saw visions of magic, secrets she herself could one day learn. Her deep slumber brought forth knowledge, and enforced the sensibility she had to the mysterious force guiding her steps. She learned to feel the faint magic in the air around her, always guiding her towards something.
One day, as cold night took her to a place to scape the chill, she heard the engine rumble, the lights piercing through the woods. She stood there on the road, had she found what she was looking for? Was she supposed to leave her woods, join once again a society that hated her? She just sat there, tucked up somewhere in the woods, watching the cars passing by. Did she have a reason to stay? To go? Vivien had no answers.
The wizened men in colorful robes stood with anger in his heart, sadness in his eyes. They had given up the girl, how could the family discard their own blood? To an orphanage she was sent still young, without the protection her mother's sacrifice had granted. Was she still alive? The old wizard hoped she was, or everything would be lost.
Was he too late? Built over an old burial ground, stood an orphanage, his memory of young Tom still fresh in his mind, burning like hot coal. Five steps through the door and he could see so much, it just didn't feel right. In another time, such similar pitiful gray walls, tainted by fear and faith. How did these kids last through the winter? he wondered to himself. The old wizard charmed staff, gently probing minds for information, and they all remembered the fall. They remembered a small, frail girl, possessed by the devil. Young Vivien had fallen from the third floor, never to be seen again. Unobstructed he wandered through, the girl had no belongings to be packed.
He found an old nun, she did remember the fall. His heart broke as he saw the memory of a small girl tied to a chair, dread in tear stricken silver eyes. She really fell, and that level of accidental magic, he had only seen once before.
The playground was a pitiful sight, the metal toys were broken and rusted, the sand was hard and shallow. The constant rain left puddles all around, and if you weren't careful you'd find yourself knee deep in water. Dumbledore whispered magic words, gentle motions with his fingers helping the process run smoothly. His detection spells revealed nothing, which didn't necessarily make the old wizard think the worse, the girl could have been very far from there at that point, and to Dumbledore's horror, all his searching through the vast forest would be futile.
Months later, Hogwarts.
Minerva read the letter for the second time, her heart pounded as incredulity marked her features.
Dear Ms. Potter,
The letter was addressed to the Potter girl. Minerva Mcgonagall almost fainted when she read: Galloway Forest Park, Newton Stewart, United Kingdom.
Vivien Potter had been alone in a forest for a year. Dumbledore had tried to find her, but everything failed. They sent owls to track her location, did everything they could to find the girl without alerting the ministry, but this was confirmation, Vivien was alive still. Hogwarts herself attested to that.
The Deputy Headmistress decided she couldn't wait for Dumbledore to return to the castle, and immediately went after the girl. She'd find her herself or die trying. They abandoned young Vivien to her fate, and she'd right her wrongs.
She apparated near the orphanage, gave it nothing but a glance. ''Appare Vestigium'' she spoke, but no magical signal was found. McGonagall pondered, a regal pose struck at the edge of the woods. Moments later, a cat sped into the woods. The old fashioned way it'd be.
It took most of the week, and Minerva felt drained. She tried many things, including apparating back to Hogwarts to get herself a broom, to sweep over the vast greenery.
One afternoon, as the witch stalked the woods in her animagus form, she could smell it. She couldn't place the scent, but it was comforting, like home. After a short while, sensitive feline ears picked up faint running water, and she was not prepared to what she'd see next.
Her tracking took her to a big clearing, and little paws ran to investigate. On the far side of the clearing, a makeshift camp could be found, the shelter was made of branches and twigs, a protective black tarp with dry leaves covering it as a final touch.
Curious, the cat entered the shelter, and in there she found a sleeping bag, backpacks Vivien had probably stolen, books and other small survival tools and trinkets. Although this shelter was too small for two people, a ten year old girl couldn't have made this all alone, everything was too complex and well built. Minerva decided she had to observe the girl for a while, to figure out who was there with her.
The campsite had a well made spot for a fire, which by the embers had recently been used. On a stump clearly used for prepping, she found a smooth, round rock. One side was comfortable to grip, while the other came down to a sharp slicing edge. The rock was beautiful, and it had that same, faint smell. It was sweet and earthy, like the calm sea at night. She just sat there for a while, dumbstruck as she admired it. When she came out of her reverie, she pressed on.
At the other edge of the clearing, a nice array of berry bushes and fruit trees could be found, it seemed like Vivien had found a blessed oasis within the harsh environment. She broke the tree line, still following the sounds of running water.
She was the deputy headmistress of the biggest school of magic in, arguably, the whole world. She was a master of transfiguration, to a level rarely seen. And yet, in all the words in her vast vernacular, the only word she could use to describe Vivien Potter was magical.
Dancing in the shallows of a river, Vivien Potter was, to Minerva's immense surprise, healthy. Not only that, she looked happy. This new information attested to the fact the girl wasn't alone, and as much as it hurt her, she knew she couldn't just grab the girl and take her away, she had to be careful dealing with her.
The small girl left the river carrying a squirming fish, and on her way, picked up a handful of stones. She finished setting up what appeared to be an intricate sundial, where the old witch saw that the fading sunlight shone past 6 o'clock. The young girl smiled, small pale hands grabbed a handful of plump, strange black berries that grew all over long branches. The girl plopped some on her mouth, and walked into her makeshift camp. Minerva watched with a mix of horror and fascination the girl gut and clean the fish with the beautiful round rock. Vivien Potter was something else.
Vivien sat cross legged as she waited for her fish to cook. Night would be there shortly, skies would be hung up with jewels, her nightly communion, which always brought forth valuable knowledge, would start. Like many times before, she felt a presence. This time tapping into her magic to disappear from sight seemed like overshooting, so she decided to double her attention. From the tree line a silver cat came, its gait unsure. She felt ecstatic, the possibility of having a cat and not being so alone bringing tears to her eyes. don't scare him away. she thought, and with shaky fingers she gathered some of the cooked fish. The little girl waited patiently for the cat to approach, and when it ate out of her hand her smile was genuine. The next couple minutes were full of joy, she shared a meal with her new cat, and decided she'd think of a name for it.
But like every moment of happiness in Vivien's life, it was short lived. When the first rays of moonlight reached them, a voice she hadn't heard in a while spoke. Not what it seems. deceiver. and in a second, Vivien's mist form took over, and she was gone.
Her back hit wood, analytical silver eyes scanning the scene in front of her. In the moonlit clearing the cat sat, its magic burning bright to Vivien's now extra sensitive senses. Suddenly she felt the feline's magic morph, and before her very eyes, the cat turned into a thin tall woman with a comically large hat. Silver eyes shone with unasked questions.
After a long pause, the woman spoke.
"Vivien, you've been running and hiding much too long." The witch licked her thin lips, and with frustration she added. "Darling girl, won't you ease my worried mind?"
Her voice echoed, emotion clear in her tone.
Her name had been spoken, she could barely pay attention to other words uttered by the middle aged witch.
Vivien hesitated, she didn't remember the last time she spoke. In the orphanage she was always the silent type, only speaking when spoken to. She did her best, but when a cough threatened to break her stealth, she dropped her physical form. Slowly the white mist once again took shape, and with effort she spoke.
"You say a lot for someone who wasn't there." The raspy voice came from many places at once, and the woman was made stiff, frantically looking for a source.
"I had no clue. We thought you were safe with your family. Neither I nor Albus would have left you in that dreadful orphanage."
The girl let the silence stretch, she wasn't used to talking, and the short words seemed to have drained her from energy. "Who are you?" a light whisper, but her magic carried the sound loud and clear.
The witch adjusted her robes, and proudly spoke. "My name is Minerva McGonagall, deputy headmistress of Hogwarts, the most prestigious school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world." She waited for a response, and when none came, she kept on. "We thought we had lost you, but when magic put your name on this acceptance letter," - with a flourish of her hand, a pristine white letter appeared from thin air. "I had to come here myself, it's an honor to deliver it to you, miss Potter."
Potter. Vivien Potter. So that was her name. She thought to herself with a small amount of reverence. The witch stood there, letter in hand. A clear invitation for the girl to step into the light. She did just that.
McGonagall saw the small girl breaking the tree line. She wore what was left of a black dress, her small form barely clinging to it. The girl had long untamed black hair, a curious streak of silver falling over where she knew was her infamous scar. Silvery blue eyes met hers, full of mistrust but a bit of wonder. She offered the latter, and small fingers clutched it. Respecting the silence, taking in more of the girl as she read, she looked a lot like her parents, she'd certainly grow into a beautiful young lady.
Silver eyes met hers once again. "When you're always locked inside, life is boring.'' and another moment of heavy silence followed. ''Can't be hurt here.''
From the old witch's crackling heart a painful gasp arose, Albus had told her about the treatment the girl received, and she wouldn't wish it on her worst enemy. She wouldn't let this girl turn out like young Tom did. ''We have much to teach you. And as good as your life is here, you're not safe. It's not proper for a young lady such as yourself. We know you, we knew your parents.'' She pleaded, slowly kneeling down, and gently not to scare the girl, grabbing her hands. ''This isn't what your parents would have wanted for you. They would want you at school, with friends and people around, to give you the love and help you deserve.''
Vivien didn't notice the tears freely flowing down her pale face, but when she remembered the promise her moon made her, of star crossed love, and the faith she had accepted to herself, she gently nodded. Hogwarts would be her new home.