Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Children are curious. It is a natural thing for them, to want to explore the world, to see new sights. An chittering insect here, a pretty stone there, and that snake whose hisses sound like words to the right ears. 

It was curiosity that brought Violet to this place. Though not at first. At first, it was a chore, then fear, and only then, when the fear had become so much that she could not handle it, did it become curiosity. She, like all other children, wanted to investigate this strange place she had found herself in. Not that London was strange, oh no, the strange was yet to come. 

As I said, it started with a chore. “Get these groceries,” her aunt Petunia had told her. Though ordered might be a better fitting word. Snapped could work too. Yes, perhaps snapped was the right word. “Get these groceries,” her aunt Petunia snapped, handing her a grocery list. “And be back within an hour.” The or else was not mentioned. It was implicit to the sentence, and Violet knew this. She knew what would happen if she wasn’t back in an hour. 

And so Violet went, quickly going to the grocery store. She bought the necessary things, milk, eggs, and bacon, and started walking back home. In most other worlds, nothing would have happened. In this one, something did. Children are naturally curious, a chittering insect here, a pretty stone there, and that snake. That snake whose hisses sound like words to the right ears. Violet’s ears were the right ones. 

“Good sun. Nice stone, warm stone.” They were random words, perhaps, but still interesting to a young child. Young enough to believe in talking animals and not see anything strange. Young enough that passerbies did not deem her problematic. They saw the small snake, considered the dangers and their own chores, and left her alone to hiss to that small adder. 

“Are you talking?” She asked, crouching to look at it more closely. She put the bag of groceries next to her. It was large, and heavy, and she’d been walking for quite a while.

“Gone sun. Stupid human, bad human.” The snake hissed some more. No words this time, but just sounds of emotion, anger perhaps. Violet quickly stepped to the side, letting the sun shine upon the adder again. It made more noises, this time of contentment. 

Violet tried to talk to it, but it simply ignored her. Nothing much came of this conversation. Violet, being a child, would chatter about it. Her aunt and uncle would be horrified, tell her that snakes can’t talk, perhaps send her to bed without dinner, and that would be all. A nice story she might think about years from now, joking about it with friends perhaps. 

But this one-sided conversation had taken a while. Children are curious, and can be focused on a single thing for hours if it catches their interest. It had not been hours, but long enough. A single hour contains sixty minutes, and enough minutes had passed that Violet would be late. She gasped, grabbed the bag, and left the adder behind to its beloved sun and stone. 

Violet had taken this route once before. Her aunt had made clear that she better know how to walk it, as she would not be helping her beyond this single time. And she did know the route. Except a single wrong turn led to more wrong turns. And so she was lost. And her fear grew. She already knew she would lose more than a single meal now. It was summer, which meant there was no one that would miss Violet if she didn’t show herself. Everyone in the neighbourhood knew about the Dursley’s weird niece. The one who would sometimes not come outside for days or even weeks on end. 

It took some time, but Violet was now terrified. Would she ever be allowed outside again? The fear became so extreme, that she did something drastic. She had food in the grocery bag, a bit of money leftover. She’d just run away, to make sure the Dursleys wouldn’t put her in the cupboard and never let her out again. It was the thirtieth of August. On that day, Violet Potter went missing after a grocery run. She would never be found again. 

Not by the muggles at least. 

Violet’s fear led to her running away, and after sitting huddled next to a wall for a few minutes, big tears falling down her cheeks, she stood up, grabbed her groceries, and walked away. She’d noticed a bus stop, and she was pretty sure that to properly run away you had to go as far away as you could. So she’d just do that. 

“Where are you going?” She asked the bus driver. 

The woman gave her a bored look. “London. Can you pay?”

“How much is it?” Violet asked, rummaging in her pockets. 

“Five pounds,” the woman responded. Her mind wasn’t on the child trying to take a bus when she didn’t know where that bus would take her. It was on the meal that was hopefully waiting for her at home. If not for this, things might have been different. 

Violet gave her the money. The woman gave it a look, gave a half-shrug, and gestured behind her. Violet walked into the empty bus, and took the first seat she could. A tired sigh as her grocery bag was dropped on the ground, and that was all before the bus went quiet again. A few minutes later, the bus drove away to its destination. 

Violet had never been to London before. Her life had been contained by the four metaphorical walls of Little Whinging. London was large, and perhaps terrifying, but not as terrifying as going home would be. And should she really be calling it home if she was running away? Probably not. 

(There was a clanging and smoking of devices, its owner looking at them for a moment, before disappearing into thin air, a loud crack with it.) 

Violet wandered the streets for a little while, but then found a quiet alley to sleep in. She was tired, and slightly hungry and thirsty, but it wasn’t so bad. She could sleep easily, and she wasn’t so hungry that she had to break into her emergency rations, those being the milk, eggs, and bacon. Admittedly, the last two weren’t very healthy to eat without cooking them first, but that is why they were emergency rations, for when she became super hungry. 

Violet woke up some time later, she wasn’t sure how long, and started wandering the streets again. London was large, but there was a general stream to the middle of the city, so that is where Violet went as well. She walked over a bridge, looked down at the water below for a bit (and shuddered, it was so high up) and then kept walking. She grew thirsty enough to open the carton of milk, took two long drinks, then took another one, and continued walking after that. The thirty-first of August passed by quickly. Violet was a child, and children are curious. London was a perfect place to sate that curiosity, if only for a while. 

(At the same time, the man kept growing more and more nervous as he couldn’t find the girl.)

It was on the first of September that Violet noticed something interesting. She’d been following the train tracks, because trains were interesting and something she hadn’t seen before, when she saw a group of red-heads. Red hair isn’t uncommon, but it is interesting, so Violet decided to follow them. They walked into the station, talking amongst themselves. There were a lot of them, the two adults barely keeping them under control. 

They walked further into the station, Violet following them at range, still clutching the grocery bag. She’d drunk all of the milk, but the other emergency rations were still in there, so she couldn’t just throw it away. 

The family ended up stopping in the middle of platform 9, looking around as they did. They were whispering something, but Violet couldn’t hear what. She walked closer. “You go ahead, Bill. Yes, you too Charlie,” the woman said in response to one of the children saying something. One of the boys, Bill maybe, moved some kind of cart, with a bunch of things stacked up on it. It was some kind of tower, Violet thought, and tried to see what was on it. So focused was she that she didn’t notice it moving until it suddenly disappeared. 

She blinked. Now the other boy was moving his cart, too. He was running at one of the pillars! Violet gave a small scream as he hit it, only for him to run through it like it wasn’t there. She blinked again, and walked closer. “Go ahead, Percy.” Another boy, how many boys were there, nodded, and moved his own cart. He too ran into the pillar, and then through it, disappearing somewhere. “Come along you four, let’s tell them goodbye.” 

“Can’t I go with them, mum?” That was a girl! Violet looked closely. The girl had red hair, too, but it was long. She wore pants, though, which Violet never did. She paid close attention as they walked up to the pillar, and simply stepped through it. Nobody around seemed to react, so Violet stepped closer, and closer, until she could touch the pillar. She put a hand on it, only for it to disappear. But her hand was still there, she could feel it! 

She took a deep breath, held her emergency rations bag close, and stepped into the pillar. Then she was on the other side. 

And it was amazing. Violet wished she had more eyes, because she couldn’t keep track of everything that was happening around her. Things were flying, people were shouting, laughing and crying, it was amazing! Not the crying part, though. She always felt slightly bad if someone cried near her. Her aunt always said it was because of her freakiness. Violet wasn’t sure if she believed that, though. And she’d run away from home, which meant things were different. 

It also sounded weirdly happy? She wasn’t sure, though. Maybe she’d ask them. Not now, instead, her attention was caught by the bright red train. It was beautiful, and shiny, so Violet decided to get closer to it, carefully weaving between legs as she did. She looked around. Nobody seemed to look at her, and she really did want to look inside. 

The steps were high, but she could make it, she was pretty sure. And she really wanted to know, she’d never been inside a train before. Maybe she could even ride it for a bit? Just until the first stop, then she’d go back to London, because there was a lot in London that she hadn’t seen yet either. And she wanted to see it all. 

She reached as high as she could, barely managing to grab onto one of the bars on the side of the entrance. Tugging herself onto the train was difficult, but she managed even with one hand, her emergency rations bag much lighter now without the milk in it. She heaved herself onto the train, and looked right, then left, then right again. Just like her aunt and uncle always told Dudley! See, she wasn’t stupid, not at all. Then she walked into the train. There were rooms inside, and many were empty, so she stepped into one. She yawned slightly as she looked around. There was a place where you could put your bags, but it was pretty high up, so Violet couldn’t put her emergency rations bag there. She’d just keep it on the ground so it wasn’t in anyone’s way. She yawned again, a large one this time. She’d gotten up pretty early to wander around London, so maybe she’d take a short nap. Then she’d wake up when the train got going, and she’d take another train back at the first stop. 

Yeah, she’d just do that. Taking off her shoes, she laid down on the bench, making sure to take up as little space as possible so others could sit down if they wanted to. Just a short nap, ten minutes or so. Just ten minu… the moment she closed her eyes, she was out like a light. 

Chapter Text

Violet woke up slowly, eyes blinking away blurry lights and sights as her brain slowly came back to the world of the awake. It was strange that there was light. The cupboard was normally completely dark. It took a few more seconds of simply blinking up at the ceiling to realise that the cupboard was moving, and that what she thought was the cupboard was in fact a train compartment. She scrambled up to look around. The compartment was empty, her emergency rations bag still on the ground in front of her. Outside, the landscape zipped by, endless green plains stretching as far as her eyes could see. Yet for a child, that was more than enough. Fantasy made up for what she couldn’t see. In her head, the blurry green far away was massive forests, with trees that reached up to the sky. 

In reality, it was simply plains, ones you might see in most places in the world. Flat and endless, making you wonder if they had always been there, or if humanity had changed the landscape at some point. 

Violet found herself sitting with her nose against the window, trying to take in as much as possible. But it became boring after a while. Minutes of doing the same thing, with little actually changing about it, did not interest her much. She huffed, and jumped to the ground, landing with a thump. She giggled and did it again. Thump. And again. Thump. And again! Thump. Bonk. She’d slipped upon landing. Her head hurt slightly because of it, and she felt tears springing into her eyes. Blinking them away quietly - uncle Vernon didn’t like it when she cried - she walked to the door. She opened it, and looked into the hallway. It was noisy. And there were a lot of bigger children. She closed the door and went back inside. The noise disappeared. 

Violet frowned, and opened the door again. The noise appeared as she did. She closed it again. No noise. She opened it. The noise returned. She grinned, and continued the game. Sliding the door open, only to close it a second later, the noise became a weird kind of song. She moved the door until there was only a finger of space between it and the wall. The noise was the same as when it was wide open. She entertained herself with it for a few more minutes, until another noise made itself known. Her stomach grumbled loudly, and she held her hands to it. It was like those times she did something freaky, and she wasn’t given dinner. She looked at her emergency rations. Was it time yet?

No, she would simply sleep until the train arrived, and then go back. It couldn’t be that long. The sun was pretty low in the sky, too. And she knew that sleeping made the stomach pain go away, if only for a little bit. 

And so she did. It didn’t take long to fall asleep. She woke up when the train had nearly come to a halt. Violet glanced out the window. There was a huge forest there, like the one she’d seen when she woke up the first time. Trees reached up to the skies, and it was dark inside. It was dark outside the forest too, though. The sun had gone behind some mountains in the distance. Large mountains, they too reached for the sky. Violet wondered if she could climb them one day. What would the world around her look like when she stood on them? Could she touch the sky, maybe? She shook her head and walked to the door. She should see if she could take a train back, even if she didn’t really want to. 

She wanted to even less when she saw it. It was large. Just like the mountains and the trees, its towers reached for the skies. No, they didn’t reach. They touched them, blue and grey merging into something stunning. A massive lake lay between her and the castle, the water glistening a strange black, just like the night sky. Before the lake stood a tall man, not so tall to touch the sky, though he got close to it. Violet wondered if she could become as tall as him. He was surrounded by smaller children, even if they were still much taller than her. Other children walked to… somewhere. Carriages? Yet there were no horses. Violet hesitated. She didn’t see another train, but maybe this one would go back to London? 

“Sir-”

“Call me Hagrid!”

The child who had called the giant, for he must be a giant he was so tall, shuffled their feet. “Yes, Hagrid. What happens to the train?”

“The train? It stays here until Yule! Some of you will take it back to King’s Cross then!” The child nodded in thanks. Violet grinned. 

She wasn’t sure what Yule was, but it sounded like something very far in the future. That meant she could go to the castle! But how? She saw the even bigger children, or were they adults, walk to the carriages. The younger children were still around the giant. 

Choices, choices. “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. Catch a tiger by its toe. If he hollers, let him go. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe!” She muttered it until the end, when she couldn’t contain her enthusiasm anymore. She’d go with the bigger kids, because her finger ended there. She quickly ran after them, carrying the emergency rations bag the best she could. The last carriage turned out to be empty, so she quickly stepped into it. Her emergency rations were put on the ground, and she closed the door behind her. Then, she kept staring out the window, taking everything in. 

It was a huge castle. Huger than huge! She wasn’t sure what a good word was for that, but she was sure it existed. Hugest? It was the hugest castle! She wasn’t sure where she could stay, but there would surely be a place. Something that huge couldn’t not have room for her. It was huge! And Violet was very small and didn’t take a lot of room. Of course, she’d need food too, but she had her emergency rations. Yule sounded far away, but she could surely last until it happened, right?

The carriage jolted to a start, leaving Violet nearly tumbling off the bench. She gasped as the castle slowly came closer, becoming even larger as it did. Her mouth was wide open, and aunt Petunia would likely say something about it, but aunt Petunia wasn't there, so she kept it wide open. She opened it even wider, at least until she had to giggle. 

Aunt Petunia wasn’t here, which meant she could do whatever she wanted! 

The carriage slowly came to a halt. Violet waited inside until all the bigger children had left, then she quickly got out. She gave the horseless carriages a closer look, shrugged, and whispered “thank you!” Then she walked into the castle. The entryway was huge, too. Everything was huge. And there were paintings that were moving. And knights in armour, except the knights weren’t in the armour. She ended up at an intersection. In the far distance, she thought she saw the bigger kids turn the corner, but she wasn’t exactly sure. It was all a bit blurry, unfortunately. She hurried after them anyway, dragging her emergency rations with her. Her arms were starting to hurt a bit, so maybe she should find somewhere to leave them. She stopped at the place where she thought they turned the corner. Except… she wasn’t completely sure which way they had gone. Left or right? Choices choices. 

“Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. Catch a tiger by its toe. If he hollers, let him go. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe!” Left then. She quickly ended up at a door. It was covered in swirls for some reason. Violet shrugged and pushed the door open, then went down some stairs, took a right, ended up at another cross section where she once again ended up going right, and walked down another hallway. She looked up at the stone wall in front of her. There was a large painting with a pear hung on it. Several other paintings were hung on the walls, too, most were just paintings of fruit. One was of a lady who was looking at her curiously. 

“Well, they become smaller and smaller every year, don’t they?” She walked closer to the edge of the painting, jewellery tinkling as she did. 

Violet gasped. “You talk!” 

“Well of course I do, dear. What kind of portrait would I be if I didn’t talk?” Violet gave her a curious look. 

“I thought most paintings don’t talk.”

“Well, those are quite strange paintings then. Why are you not in the Great Hall having dinner?”

Violet shrugged. “I’m exploring the castle. Why are there so many food paintings here?”

“Portraits, dear. We are all highly sensitive about the distinction. Painting is a gross overgeneralization, you see?” 

Violet slowly repeated the word. “Ov- Overgerenzilation!” 

“Very close. Though I would swear that eleven year olds knew this word,” the lady mumbled to herself. “Repeat after me, dear. Over.”

“Over,” Violet repeated obediently.

“General.” 

“General.”

“Ization.”

“Ization.” 

“And that makes overgeneralization.”

"Overgeneralization!" Violet gave a small cheer. She learned something new already. She was pretty sure that she’d never learned something new this fast in a new place before. “But what’s with the food portraits?”

“This is where the kitchens are. The elfs quite enjoy them as decoration. It’s also a way for hungry students to find them more easily.” 

Violet looked around, even going so far as to give the walls a close inspection. “There’s no door.”

“You need to tickle the pear, dear,” the lady said. 

Violet walked up to the pear portrait, the portrait pear, and stared at it. Tickle the pear? She put her emergency rations on the ground, and tickled it. “Tickle tickle tickle”. 

The pear shuddered and gave a high giggle. The wall opened behind it. Violet scrambled to grab her emergency rations and move out of the way in time. She carefully peeked around the side. It was large, just like everything else. And warm. And there were a lot of good smells, too. Violet walked inside. There were strange creatures everywhere, making food. Then they all turned to look at her. Violet gasped in fright, and ran outside, leaving the emergency rations on the floor behind her. She hid behind the wall, peeking inside again. 

“What’s it you wanting, small miss?” 

Violet whirled around. Behind her was one of the weird small human creatures. It had large, pointy ears, and huge round eyes. They blinked up at her. “What are you?”

“Blanky is Blanky, small miss. And who are you?”

“I’m Violet. What are you?”

Blanky made an o shape with her mouth. “We beings house elves, small miss Violet. Would you liking some food?” 

Violet blinked at her. “What kind of food?”

“What kind you be wanting?” 

“Can I always eat here?”

Blanky gasped. “You wanting to always eat here?”

Violet nodded. “Can I?”

Blanky nodded back. “You cans!” 

“Can you cook my emergency rations now, then?” Violet was pretty sure that that’s what you were supposed to do when you reached a safe place. 

Blanky gave such a vigorous nod her entire body shook with it. “Come with me!” They walked back into the kitchen together. Blanky pointed at a table. “You sittest there, while I make emergency rations!” 

Violet sat down, looking around in awe. There were elves everywhere. And she meant everywhere. On the ground, on the counters, on the knives, on the ceiling. Wait, no, that was just a very large spider. A spider portrait, that is. She shuddered. That was scary. Why was it on the ceiling? 

“Here you going!” Blinky appeared in front of her with a large plate. Violet blinked at the food. She must have had more emergency rations than she thought, because that was a lot of food. She was pretty sure she hadn’t brought vegetables either. She shrugged and took a bite. She should have emergency rations more often if they tasted this good.

Chapter Text

Living in a castle was a lot of fun. After the huge dinner she ended up sleeping in the kitchens. It was warm, she could stretch out, and the bedding, which Blanky had gotten for her, was so soft that she felt like Violet would drown in it. She loved it. She’d stayed in bed for what felt like hours - but was in fact only twelve minutes - and only got out because of breakfast. Blanky was very firm on her eating well, so she’d ended up with a slice of toast and an apple, sliced into a bunch of small castle pieces. They were super detailed, too, and were some kind of puzzle. Assembling it made it one massive apple piece, just like the castle. 

After that, she ate it, because it was an apple and she liked apples. 

And now, it was time to explore, because you couldn’t live in a castle without actually having fun in it. She’d asked Blanky, and Blanky said that there were seven floors, and then an eighth above that, but you couldn’t always find it. And there were dungeons, and secret passages, secret rooms, a bunch of nooks and crannies, moving stairs, and even more. Needless to say, Violet was ready to see it all. 

After she’d brushed her teeth, observed by Blanky, and had put on clean clothes, supplied by Blanky, and grabbed a new emergency rations bag, prepared by Blanky, she stepped out of the kitchen, ready to experience a bunch of new adventures. “You best be makings sure you be back by lunch!” Blanky shouted after her as she walked back down the hall. Violet turned and saluted. 

“Yes, Blanky!” 

“You should be curtsying, dear. Ladies do not salute, that’s what men are for.” Violet turned to look at the portrait lady and pouted. 

“But that’s less fun!” 

“Ladies do not pout, dear.” 

Violet stopped pouting and frowned instead. “I don’t like you anymore.”

“Caretakers hardly exist to be liked, dear, they exist to teach children manners.” The lady narrowed her eyes. “Now curtsey.” 

“Yes, portrait lady!” Violet saluted. “What’s a curtsey though?”

The lady frowned. “I shall need to give your parents a stern talking to. Remind me of your name?”

“Violet!” 

“And your last name?”

“Potter!” 

The lady gave her a closer look. “I beg your pardon.” 

“You’re pardoned,” Violet pronounced carefully. 

“You are Violet Potter?”

Violet nodded. 

“I could have sworn that Violet Potter was too young to be a first year student.” 

“But I’m not a student. I’m an explorer.” 

The lady nodded slowly. “And who did you stay with before coming here?”

“The Dursleys.” 

“Who are these Dursleys? In what manner are they connected to you?”

They weren’t connected to her, though? Shouldn’t they be touching her for that? “They’re my aunt and uncle?” Violet said hesitantly. 

“Ah.” The lady got a very strange look on her face. “They are… muggles?”

“What are muggles?”

“Non-magicals.” 

“I thought magic doesn’t exist?” Violet asked. That’s what the Dursleys always said. Magic doesn’t exist, and saying it does gets you in trouble. Even Dudley would be punished if he said that word. No video games for a full hour.

“Do you know any muggle portraits that can talk?” 

The portrait lady was right. And carriages shouldn’t be travelling without horses, too. So maybe magic did exist? “No, I don’t think so.” 

“I believe it is quite safe to say that the Dursleys are muggles.” The portrait lady looked at her closely. “I suppose I can’t blame you for your horrid manners in that case. Muggles are pigs in practically every way, pardon my French. Of course, pigs actually have uses where muggles don’t.” The woman gave an elegant shrug. “I suppose we will have to start at the beginning.”

What did the French have to do with the Dursleys? “What is the beginning?”

“We will meet here every day for an hour, after lunch. There, I will teach you everything that a six year old lady must know about life,” the portrait lady said. “You can call me Lady Black. I shall be your caretaker for as long as necessary. Now.” She clapped in her hands. “House elf,” she called out. Blanky appeared. “Miss Potter’s luncheon will be served at exactly twelve. At one, we will have our lessons. It will have to be until two, as I have a meeting with the ladies on the nineteenth floor.” The nineteenth floor? Violet was pretty sure there were only seven floors. But maybe magic created a nineteenth floor somehow?

Violet watched as Blanky nodded, then disappeared again. That must be magic, then. Was the castle magic, too? “Can I go now?”

“May I go now, Lady Black?” Lady Black said. “If you ask me that, you will be allowed.”

“What’s the difference?”

“The difference, Miss Potter, is that what you said is not actually the right question. For one, asking me if you can go makes it seem that you are asking if you are able to. That is not what you intended to ask me. You wished to ask me whether you were allowed to. In addition, not mentioning my name makes the question terribly vague. Who are you asking? The house elf? Or the pear perhaps?”

Violet giggled. Then thought on what Lady Black said. Could the pear talk? It giggled. She looked at the pear portrait. She’d figure it out later. “May I go now, Lady Black?”

Lady Black smiled. “Yes, miss Potter, you may. Enjoy your explorations.” 

With that, holding her emergency rations close, Violet ran off.

—

Violet was standing in front of a place where she was pretty sure a staircase was supposed to be. Except it wasn’t, so this must be one of the moving staircases Blanky told her about. She could even see a staircase, a little bit further away. As well as another six. She was sure it was six, because she counted them. And Missus Parther always told her she was good at counting. 

That said, waiting for the slowly moving staircase to get back was pretty boring, so she decided to keep looking around. She was pretty sure that explorers were supposed to have plans, so she’d made one. She was currently on the first floor, she thought, so she’d look around here first. After doing that, she’d go up a floor, look around there, go up another floor, explore that one a bit, and so on. 

She started walking down one of the many halls, slowly moving away from the kitchens. Getting lost wasn’t a problem either, because she had her emergency rations, this time is a much more handy bag. It was just like her backpack when she went to school, though slightly different? That one had been a weird brown with a bunch of tears and stuff. This one looked brand new! And it was green, which was a nice colour, though not as cool as blue. Of course, blue-green was the best. It even had its own name, except she couldn’t really remember what it was called. 

Violet walked through the halls, past rows and rows of portraits. Some were sleeping, others were talking, and one was looking at her. More than one, actually, there were several. She walked up to one of the sleeping portraits. The man inside was snoring very loudly. “BOO,” she shouted. The man’s eye snapped open, nearly falling off the chair he’d been sitting in. He was coughing a lot, too. Violet scampered away, snickering the entire time. 

She turned a corner, another long long hallway, except this one had doors all along it. Violet tried to open one, but it didn’t budge. She frowned. Neither did any of the other doors. She kicked the one she had been trying, then sat down next to the wall. She wasn’t sure what time it was, but she was getting slightly hungry. She took her emergency backpack off and put it beside her. Maybe a quick snack? It didn’t really count as an emergency, but that didn’t really matter now. She could always get more food in the kitchens. 

She looked into it, rubbed her eyes and looked again. It was filled to the brim. She grabbed something, some kind of cookie she thought, and started munching on it. Her shirt was covered in crumbs quickly. She grabbed and ate them one by one. It didn’t take long before there were no cookies left. 

Time to continue exploring. She turned another corner, smashed into something, and fell.

Chapter Text

Falling hurt, and she felt tears spring in her eyes. She pushed them away. There were a few boys looking at her. The one she’d bumped into had a very strange look on his face. “Oh gods, it’s a ghost,” he whispered. “I just bumped into the ghost of a child.” 

Everyone looked at him. “You’re a bloody idiot, Hank.” 

“What? I just don’t like hurting kids, even if they are dead.” 

“It’s not a bloody ghost, you blithering idiot. You wouldn’t have bumped into it if it was.” 

“Well, how do you know there aren’t ghosts that you can bump into?”

“There are. They’re called poltergeists. If she’s a poltergeist, we’re no longer friends and you’re always staying on the other side of the room as me.” 

“What kind of gryffindor are you?”

“The one that wants to survive.”

“Oh, lay off Johnny. It’s not his fault that he takes so much after his father.”

“In looks, too,” a girl muttered.

Violet decided that this was a good time to keep going, as they’d seemed to completely have forgotten all about her. 

“What’s that about my looks?” 

“It’s quite simple really. You look nothing like your mother.”

“Shame, that. Your mother’s hot as hell.”

“Oh sod off!” 

The girl sighed. “Wish I had a chance with his mother. She’s bloody hot.” 

“SOD OFF!” 

Violet backed around the corner, and then sprinted off. “Wait, where’d the ghost go?” She didn’t hear what was said after. 

She wasn’t sure what time it was, but it felt like lunch time. It’s a good thing she still knew how to get back, otherwise she might’ve gotten lost. Though she did have emergency rations, so it wasn’t as bad. 

She didn’t get lost though, and tickled the pear, trudged into the kitchen, and waited for Blanky to get her more food. 

— —

The lessons that Lady Black gave her were hard. She insisted that Violet always sit in a very specific way, back straight, shoulders back, looking straight at someone. And to use certain words, too, always say please and thank you, always call someone by their title. Oh, and never say bad words. Though Lady Black also said that she was allowed to say those bad words sometimes, but if she did she had to mean them. Violet wasn’t entirely sure what she meant with meaning them, because saying a word meant she meant them anyway. So she asked, which led to a lecture which had taken them right past two ‘o clock, when Blanky told Lady Black that it was time for her get-together, only to be send right back to the kitchen. Apparently Violet was much too thin and how was she supposed to attract a husband to control then? Violet was pretty sure that she was way too young to be married, but what did she know. 

Lady Black insisted that the younger you got married and did your duty, the faster you could arrange an unfortunate accident and be free afterwards. It just confused Violet even more, because wasn’t an accident a bad thing? Yet Lady Black said it like it was a good thing. 

“Why, dear, I remember when my late husband had his unfortunate accident. I, that being the house elves, had to get entirely new curtains. Had to get new house elves, too,” she muttered, which made Violet think she wasn’t supposed to hear that part. “That said, you are indeed quite a bit too young to consider marriage, and you are the head of your family, so it might not even be necessary.”

“Lady Blacky not be telling Lady Violet such horrid stories,” Blanky tutted. “She beings way too young.” 

“Too young?” Lady Black sniffed. “When I was her age I’d learned how to use the killing curse, without a wand, from both hands, and wordless. My father brought me along on his next de-stress trip.” A soft smile grew on her face. “I still remember how those five muggles fell. And the look on their faces.” She started laughing. “You should have seen the look on their faces! A five year old girl sending green lights out of her hands!” She gave Violet a thoughtful look. “We’ll see if we can’t bring those muggles here. Being related to muggles? Unacceptable. Muggles are good targets to train your spells on as well. It’s taking two husbands down with a single black widow.”

Blanky shook her head through the entire speech. “No no no, Lady Violet will not be killings anyone at such a young age. You havings to work up to it, yes!” 

“Those muggles obviously abused her, letting them live is unacceptable.” Violet wasn’t sure why Lady Black thought that, but she had to have a reason. 

“Abuse?” Blanky looked at her. “You beings abused?” 

Violet shook her head. Lady Black nodded. “Living with muggles is abuse if you are a witch.”

“What about wizards,” Violet wondered. 

Lady Black waved her hand. “They’ll be fine. It’s good preparation for when they have to do everything in the household after marriage. Helps them get the most out of their short lives, as well.”

“I think you having a very weird look of how life works,” Blanky said, offering Violet a sandwich. She starting eating it, still looking at Blanky and Lady Black. “Wizards and witches not beings black widows. They beings human.” 

“Well, that’s simply not possible. Muggles are also human, and witches and wizards are not the same as muggles. We share no similarities, and if we do, the muggles plagiarised us.” That was one of those difficult words. Lady Black said to always use a more difficult synonym of the word if possible. Though Violet wasn’t sure if she was very good at it herself, because she didn’t do it that often. 

Blanky shrugged. “Well, that soundings like what dragons think.”

“Dragons?” Violet gasped. 

“Oh yes,’ Blanky said, nodding rapidly. 

“Dragons are arrogant creatures.” 

“Oh yes,” a male voice spoke up. “They think dying is a birth defect.” Violet looked around, but there was no one there. 

“Here. It’s the pear.” The pear was talking! Violet scurried over to take a closer look. The pear had a little hat. “I am Sir Pare of Pera, Lord of Reap, Duke of Epar, and Count of the Allpe. Don’t ask me about that last title.”

“Cool,” Violet whispered. “Why are you here?”

“Boredom, mainly. Now, dragons. Dragons are arrogant creatures, worse than even wizards and witches,” he said, ignoring Lady Black’s affronted gasp. “If you meet one, you can get away simply by saying that you were awed by their splendour. Or something like that. Just flatter them, and that is all you need to do.” Sir Pare of Pera shook his head. “I will be gone for the next hour and a half. A meeting with all the Pearlords, you see? We will be fighting against the Applelords, those fiends.” With that, he walked away. 

“Let’s continue our lesson, Violet. Another hour or so, and you will be slightly caught up.” Lady Black shook her head sadly. “Those muggles. They shall learn their lesson, I assure you.” 

— —

“Can I ask you something, professor?”

“Does it have something to do with transfiguration, Mr. Hallsing?” Minerva carefully avoided sighing. Hellsing was a kind boy, but not the smartest of her students. Not even close. 

“Not exactly?”

“Is that a yes or a no, Mr. Hallsing?” 

“I bumped into a ghost, but they’re saying it’s not a ghost cause I bumped into it, but it was a child and children don’t go to Hogwarts, so it can’t have been a child!” 

Minerva didn’t keep her sigh this time. “That was not a question, Mr. Hallsing. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you will not be able to focus on the lesson if I do not enlighten you?” The rest of the class was no longer there either, so she might as well answer whatever question he had. 

“Yes, professor.” 

“Then what is the question?”

“Ah, do children go to Hogwarts?”

Minerva resisted the urge to rub her forehead. There are no stupid questions, she reminded herself, but some got quite close. “Remind me how old you are, Mr. Hallsing.”

“Ah, I’m fourteen, professor.” 

She simply stayed silent. He needed to think sometimes. 

There were some snickers around the class. Minerva gave them a stern look. The snickers faded. “Are you an adult, Mr. Hallsing?”

“Ah, no, but I’m not a child either.” 

Minerva rewarded him with a small smile. “I would say you are a teenager, yes.”

“I think she was four or something, professor.” 

“Four, Ms. Liaison?” Ah, she could feel the average intelligence in the room rise whenever Lyra spoke. If only she actually used that intelligence for something more useful than messing with people. 

“Yes, professor. She was a child.” 

Minerva nodded slowly. “You two will come with me to the headmaster after this class. You can explain this there. No, you are not in trouble, Mr. Hallsing.” 

And with that, she could continue the lesson. Goodness, this entire business had cost them ten minutes. “The lesson will last fifteen minutes longer, to make up for lost time now. You are third years,” she spoke loudly to be hearable over all the protests. “There is a lot to do, and we do not have much time.” They all went quiet. Ah, third years. They were at the age where they were still terrified of her, but were old enough that some could actually think for themselves. Much better than fourth years, who weren't terrified, but had somehow managed to regress in their maturity. 

Chapter Text

“Can you explain this to me one more time, Johnny?” The fourth edition of kindly old grandfather worked best for this. “What makes you think this child is a ghost?”

“It was a child, headmaster Dumbledore,” Johnny responded. Albus nodded, grabbing a wine gum from the small bowl on his table. It was nearly empty, quite strange for an ever-refilling bowl, but that simply meant it was time for a new type of candy. Something more sour, perhaps?

It was quiet as Albus sucked on the wine gum. It was quite peculiar. The rules stated that children below the age of eleven were not allowed at Hogwarts, unless they were the child of a member of staff. As none of his staff had any children, though admittedly they could have secretly had one, which Albus deemed highly unlikely, the child had to come from somewhere else. Johnny believing it to be a ghost was highly unlikely, as ghosts didn’t come to be unless the ghost felt the need to achieve something. As children seldom had clear goals in mind, except for abstract ones which didn’t allow one to become a ghost, children seldom became ghosts. This logically meant that a child had somehow found their way to Hogwarts. Again, very strange. They would have to be a mage, find their way on the train, then find their way to Hogwarts. All that time, they would have to not be spotted by any of the students or staff on the train. It was quite unlikely.

Yet not impossible. “What did this child look like, Johnny?”

Johnny didn’t immediately respond. Good. The boy had a tendency to not think things through. Perhaps he was learning from Lyra. That girl would go very far, Albus was sure. “She had black hair, was very small, and wore very large clothes.” Johnny, as much as Albus hated saying it, would likely not go far. He was simply unobservant, and only seemed to think about quidditch. That is not to say that Albus felt quidditch was unworthy to think about, far from it, but he didn’t think it should take up all studying time.

“They looked like hand-me-downs, headmaster,” Lyra said. “And she had green eyes. A bag, too, now that I think about it. And she insisted she was five.”

Five years old. Green eyes. Black hair. A pattern was forming in Albus’ mind, and he was not sure what to think about it. “Thank you, Lyra, Johnny. You should go to dinner now.” Albus ignored Johnny’s muttering of finally, nodded at Lyra in response to her thank you, and waited for them to leave the room.

“Can you ask around about this girl, Phineas?” He asked one of the hundreds of portraits of previous headmasters in the room.

Phineas grumbled, said a curse that even Albus would give someone detention for, then left his own portrait. “Green eyes, black hair, and five years old. It is quite the mystery.” With that, he left the headmaster’s tower and went to dinner as well.

---

“Oh yes, my dear flower, it is quite the conundrum! And yet, this Sir Pare of Pera, Lord of Reap, Duke of Epar, and Count of the Allpe, but don’t ask me about the last title, will achieve victory over the dark and terrible Dame Palpe of Paple, Lady of Palep, Duchess of the Ppale, and Countess of the Aper, but don’t ask her about the last title.” Sir Pare looked proud as he talked, and he talked a lot. He’d been telling Violet all kinds of stories the past hour. He’d fought a dragon! And was apparently in an eternal war with Dame Palpe of Paple. She’d been trying to find out where Dame Palpe was, but Sir Pare refused to tell her. It was against the code to let outsiders in on their battles, no matter how kind those outsiders were.

“Can you explain the code again?”

“Of course my dear flower! The code says that the Fruit Wars are only between the Fruits, with no one else allowed in. That means no trees, no vegetables, and certainly no animals! Unfortunately, my dear flower, humans do count as animals to us fruits.”

“Why?”

“You are descended from monkeys, which means you are still an animal, albeit a very kind one. You know not to eat the sentient fruits, unlike those damn monkeys.” Sir Pare sighed. “This reminds me of the monkey wars of the sixteenth century.”

“What are the monkey wars of the sixteenth century?”

“A very good question, my dear flower. The monkey wars of the sixteenth century, oh a terrible time for the sentient fruits. It was the cause of the great and unholy alliance. Risking our very chance for survival, we fought back against the monkeys to push them out of our lands. Why, this is where I got the Allpe, though I do not talk about that.” He shook his head, a forlorn look on his face. “The monkey wars of the sixteenth century truly devastated fruit-kind. Two branches of my family were lost in those dark times.”

“Me thinkings you have a wild fantasy, Pare. Just yesterday, you were talkings about the great monkey wars of the fifteenth century,” Blanky said, eyebrow raised. “You better not be tellings Violet lies, else I’ll be making pear pie.”

“Pare pie? How could you even say something so horrible!”

“Fruits are destined to be eaten! And pies are delicious,” Blanky said. Violet couldn’t help but nod in agreement. She’d been in the castle for a long time, and though she really should be going back to London, she was enjoying herself here. Blanky was nice and made good food, and Lord Pare told funny stories, even if Blanky kept telling him to lay off. Lady Black insisted he tells stories about House Black instead. Lord Pare kept telling her no. They were not acceptable for a child her age.

Violet watched Lord Pare and Blanky argue for a few more minutes, before deciding to explore a bit more. She already had her emergency rations bag on her back, so it didn’t take long to go. All she had to do was tell Blanky she was going, and then she set off.

She’d already explored most of the floor where she’d entered, so she was currently exploring the second floor. She didn’t step foot in the basement beyond what was needed to get to the kitchens, because the basement was dark and scary. There were even spiderwebs.

The second floor was easy to get to, despite the moving stairs. Whenever she wanted to go up or down, she simply had to wait for a few seconds, and there would be stairs moving toward her. They were always empty, too. Well, except for that one time when there was a weird woman on the stairs. Violet did not want to be seen by her, because adults would probably send her back to the Dursleys, and she really liked not being near the Dursleys. They’d punish her for not bringing the food back. But the woman simply walked past Violet, as if she didn’t even see her!

It made her think. The Dursleys always said that magic doesn’t exist. But they also said that Violet was a freak and that nobody would ever like her, but that wasn’t true. Blanky, Lady Black, and Sir Pare all liked her. There was even the weird old man that was sometimes in Lady Black’s portrait that one time. He said that he liked Violet, too! So obviously the Dursleys were wrong about that. Which might mean that they were wrong about magic as well.

And Violet wasn’t sure how else the staircases could move like this. They flew through the air.

It hit the edge with a loud boom, and Violet quickly jumped onto it. Then it flew off to the second story. It was very nice not to have to go up the stairs.

The second floor was just as much a maze as the first floor. Violet had found dead ends many times and had considered drawing a map. That would be difficult, though, because the floor kept changing. She could go left or right when she arrived on the second floor. She’d found the same statue, one of a pretty woman with a crown, at both ends! And she was sure it was the same statue because it had a crack running down the entire body in the exact same place! Maybe she could repair it somehow.

She pondered it as she turned left, right, right, then right again, which should make her end up in the hallway where she came from, but instead led her to a long corridor. It was similar to a corridor she’d found on the first floor, so she called it the second-floor corridor. There were a lot of doors here, and she’d tried to open a few, but they were all closed. Well, there was one which wasn’t closed, but there seemed to be people inside, so she thought she probably shouldn’t open it.

But she’d heard interesting things from inside and she really wanted to take a look. She walked up to it, standing on her toes to try and look through the small window, but it was too high up. She ended up sitting down next to the door. She wouldn’t sit here, except the door never slammed into her.

The two times where it should have happened, the door stopped just shy of her shoes. She could hear what was happening in the classroom very well from here, so it was a fun place to sit and eat something.

There was a lot of talking today, at least until a woman’s voice loudly spoke over everyone else. Then it was quiet. The woman continued talking, but her voice wasn’t loud enough to understand anymore. Violet sighed. She wished she could understand them. She started munching on a cookie. Blanky always put cookies in her bag. Lady Black said it wasn’t proper food, but Blanky stuck her tongue out whenever she did. It made Violet laugh every time she did. Lady Black looked terribly affronted, too.

A shifting at her back startled her, nearly jumping away from the wall. A little hole opened up. It was very dark, and Violet didn’t want to enter.

Lights lit up suddenly, letting her see what was inside. The tunnel was small, though she should be able to fit. She could understand the woman’s voice! She quickly ducked into the tunnel.

“And this is the first rule of Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration.” The woman said. “Are there any questions?”

“Yes, Ms. Liaison?”

“Are we supposed to write it out entirely, or is Gamp’s Law enough?”

“The standard rules apply Ms. Liaison. You write it out in its entirety the first time, then make clear you will abbreviate it to Gamp’s Law,” the woman responded.

“Thank you, professor.”

“Now, I will allow you the rest of the lesson to do practical work. If you wish to use spells we haven’t covered, please clear it with me before.”

The sudden noise startled Violet, leaving her unable to understand what people were saying. Everyone was talking over each other. She wished she could see what was happening.

The floor beneath her suddenly shimmered and turned into glass. Violet scrambled away from it, then carefully peered through it.

She blinked, and her mouth opened in awe. Magic was real. Now she knew for sure!

Chapter Text

“Magic!” Just like the previous times, it did nothing. Neither did the tried-and-true spells like Hocus Pocus, and turn this frog yellow. Though that last one might have been because the frog was actually a pear and in a painting. Despite it failing, it was still fun to try and pretend. It also helped that Blanky sometimes actually made things happen, and always exactly what Violet had in mind! If she didn’t know better, she’d think that Blanky could actually read her thoughts!

That said, even the most enjoyable things got boring after a while. An hour of doing the same thing did not a happy child make, no matter what that is. Of course, there are a few things that will get a child out of the way for a while, but those are rarely healthy. Addiction isn’t good at any age, let alone a young child’s. 

And so it happened that Violet decided to continue exploring, ready to once again venture into the great unknown parts of the castle, even if these parts were slowly being explored. From the dark depths of the dungeons, where according to Blanky a great bat lurked in the shadows, to the highest tower, which Lady Black said held a fraud. 

Violet wasn’t exactly sure what a fraud was, but it sounded like a kind of bird. That also made sense, considering it was the highest tower. That said, it being the highest tower also meant that she would likely go there last, or the first to last, as the dungeons were dark. Violet could vaguely remember something about the dark being scary, though she wasn’t exactly sure where she heard it. Perhaps a cartoon that Dudley had been watching. 

Cartoons had never really been her thing, something about them just felt boring. Why watch adventures when you could experience yourself? Why see grand places on a screen, when you could go there yourself? Difficult questions, Violet thought, because it seemed like Dudley did nothing but watch the telly. 

Fortunately, she was no longer in that house and could do whatever she wanted. Mostly. Lady Black insisted that she get an education, Sir Pare said it was very important to learn how to duel, and Blanky loved giving her all kinds of delicious food. Apparently, healthy food could also be good, something that Violet did not know before. The Dursleys were not all that interested in healthy food, which made it very delicious. Also, Aunt Petunia had been an excellent cook, even if Violet ended up doing a lot of the preparation. 

To get back to the original matter at hand. There was a grand castle to explore, though Violet had slowly come to wonder if it wasn’t a palace instead. Its walls were covered in paintings, it was always nice and warm, the walls and floors were clean, and… well, it wasn’t a ruin. Violet was pretty sure that for something to qualify for a castle, it had to be a ruin. Lady Black was very sure that that wasn’t the case, though, so she guessed that Hogwarts, as she’d learned it was called, was actually a castle. Lady Black didn’t know where the name Hogwarts came from, though, and Violet thought she’d been telling a joke at first. Turns out, Lady Black didn’t make jokes. But then Sir Pare insisted that ladies did make jokes, as Dame Palpe was one big joke. 

They started arguing after that, so Violet decided to slip away from the lesson and continue exploring the seventh floor instead. After nearly two months of exploring, she’d seen most of the floors. The only places left were the various towers, common rooms, secret passages, a great hall, and the dungeon, which was dark. Blanky had forbidden her from trying to explore the towers as being caught would have her sent back to the Dursleys. She wouldn’t like that, castles were much cooler and the people here were much nicer, so she followed Blanky’s rules. 

Even if it was very, very tempting to ignore them. It was why she often found herself standing in front of the tallest tower’s entrance. It was a weird entrance, because you needed to climb a rope ladder to get to the top. Based on what she’d heard from some passing students, there was only a classroom at the very top. It was empty beyond that. That said, she would follow the rules (for now) and stay out of the towers. 

She continued wandering, staying close to the shadows to avoid random wandering students. These were generally taller than average, and older. One of them even had gray hair! Violet couldn’t help but laugh when she saw him, but she’d managed to stifle it when he’d turned to look at her. His wand had even lit up, it was so fascinating. She couldn’t wait until she could do the same. 

Violet broke away from the entrancing entrance to the tallest tower, instead walking down a random corridor. Unlike most other corridors, this one was rather bare. Generally, they were covered in decorations, paintings, and sets of armor, all of which were alive. This one was simple and bare, however. It was quite boring, even if she did find a funny painting halfway. It was a wizard and several weird large men. Though they didn’t look like men. They had weird skin, all wrinkly, and had super large noses. And they were wearing pink ballet dresses, like the overly wide ones. She’d seen one of her classmates get in trouble for wearing one to school. She’d been sent home. 

Except for the painting, which Violet ended up inspecting for a few minutes, there wasn’t much of interest here. She ended up walking back to the tower, looking up at the dark ceiling. It was then that she heard it. Voices. “Thank god that the lesson is over.” 

“Oh, it wasn’t so bad this time.” 

“For the love of the gods, Johnny, if you say one more time that-” 

“It could have been worse! I don’t get what’s so bad about being optimistic, Lyra.” 

Violet ran into the empty corridor, but they kept following her. There was nothing to hide behind either. What to do, what to do?

“Did you hear that?” 

“You’re hearing the leftovers of your brain melting out of your ears.”

“That’s disgusting.” 

“It’s the truth.” 

“Not true.”

“It is, though.” 

Hide, hide. Where can she hide? Violet ran past the painting, only to turn around and run back when she saw a light in the distance. 

“Why do you always bully me?” 

“You’re an easy target.” 

She ran back to the other side. Where could she hide? Behind the painting?

The light kept moving closer. The shadows seemed to grow as it did. 

She ran back to two students. Maybe they’d forget they’d seen her? She really needed a place to hide, though. 

It was the groaning of stone that made her stop in her tracks. Before her very eyes, opposite the wizard and the dancing men, the wall opened. Violet stared at it, just for a second, before running in.

Chapter Text

The room was set up like a playground. Swings, climbing racks and slides were everywhere. Behind it, a large hedge maze spread out and out, growing in front of her eyes. Violet could even make out little tunnels between inside the hedges, and a large tower sat in the middle, a bridge connecting it to towers that were all around.

The playground was only a small part of this place, she realised, and the towers went up and up and up, with huge windows made of stained glass. She couldn’t contain her excitement, running through the playground into the maze. You had to reach the middle tower to get to the others.

The maze was perfect. Flowers covered the hedges, each blooming in a different, vivid colour. Just as she began to get bored of it, she reached the centre. The entrance to the tower was an open archway with intricate carvings all around it. On the inside lay carpets, and stairs went around and around and up and up, leading to new floors filled with new things. It wasn’t long before she forgot all about the other towers. Currently she sat on the most comfortable couch ever.

She practically sank into it, with a warm blanket around her and hot chocolate on a wood table beside her. Plushies sat on the other end, except for a dragon plushie. She was reading a book about dragons, too, and this way she could teach him about his future. “You’ll be a Welsh Greensnout, I think,” she said, though some minutes before she’d been certain he’d be a Hungarian Horntail. “You’ll have large-” She was unable to suppress a yawn. She must’ve been awake for a long time.

The couch suddenly turned into a bed, the hot chocolate disappearing and the book grabbed from her hands. “Bedtime, kiddo.” A man with black hair that looked a bit like her put the book on a bedside table.

Violet couldn’t suppress a huff. “But it’s too early.”

“Tomorrow’s another day,” he said, but she shook her head.

“Tomorrow you’ll be gone!”

He sat down onto the bed. “Only if you don’t want me to be here. That’s the beauty of this place, you see? It’s as magical as can be.”

“So you’ll be here when I wake up?”

“And every other night besides,” he assured her. He put a hand on her head and ruffled her hair. “That’s what fathers are for you know?”

“Can I do magic here too?”

Her father laughed. “You’re already doing that,” he explained when she got a hurt look on her face. “You’re the one making all of this happen.”

“Does that mean I can be a princess and an explorer?”

“You,” he tapped her nose with a finger, “can be anything you want.” He gestured at a table, a slightly sad look on his face. “See? Your crown is right there, waiting for you.”

And it was. A beautiful crown, though it was a bit small. If she remembered right, the actual word for it was a diadem, at least according to Lady Black. “Give it to me,” she said.

Her father raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s hardly how we ask for things, right? Besides, it’s bedtime. Princesses don’t wear their crowns while they sleep.” He rose to his feet. “It’ll still be there in the morning. As long as you want it be.”

“Alright,” Violet responded with a pout.

Chapter Text

A child’s mind is a bit like a butterfly. It flutters to and fro, flitting from thought to thought, from dream to dream, from fantasy to fantasy. One moment they dream of becoming a firefighter, then they dream of becoming a professional football player. The world is their oyster and the sky is its shell. When Violet woke up the next morning, she no longer wanted to be a princess. She was back to her usual dreams, strangely consistent in this, of being an explorer. And so the tower had changed into a large forest, and her bed had turned into the softest moss. 

And the night table that had been on the side of her bed was no longer there. The diadem that had lain on top of it had disappeared as well. Such was the nature of the Room: only that which you wanted appeared. 

The Room wasn’t omnipotent, however. After running around the forest for an hour, she became hungry, but with nothing to solve it. 

“I can’t help you with that,” her father said. “I can’t create food.”

“Why not,” Violet asked irritably. 

Her father laughed softly. “I don’t know. Blanky will have made pancakes, though. She always does that on Sundays.” 

“But it’s a Thursday!” 

He shook his head. “It was Thursday when you entered the Room. Time is strange inside, it works differently. I’m sure she will be worried, even if she knows where you are.” 

It was with great reluctance that Violet asked how to leave. Her father simply shrugged. “However you want. Just start walking in a direction and you’ll end up in Hogwarts again.”

“You’ll be here when I get back, right?”

Her father grinned. “I’ll be here for as long as you want me to be.” 

She followed his advice, walking past him. It wasn’t long before the forest morphed, trees becoming large piles of random things. A small part of her wanted to look around and find out what beautiful things lay here. She could already see a little clip for her hair. Her stomach’s rumbling dissuaded her of that notion, however, and she walked to the door. 

The moment she closed it, it became a wall. Opposite it was a weird painting of a wizard and three ugly rocklike things wearing dresses. “At least it won’t be hard to find,” she said to herself. 

Then she started walking. It wasn’t long before she reached the stairs which brought her all the way down to the kitchens. Her father had been right, she could smell the pancakes already. 

Lady Black demanded she eat inside the kitchens where the house elves could keep an eye on her. The moment she finished breakfast there would be lessons, all to catch up on the missed ones the days before. 

It was in those kitchens, while happily eating apple pancakes with syrup on them, that she met the strangest person she’d ever seen. He was fairly tall, with a long, white beard that reached his stomach. He wore a brilliant purple dress with golden stars on them. 

“You’re old,” she told him in the way only a child managed. 

He nodded. “That I am, dear girl, that I am. I recently celebrated my one-hundred-and-sixth birthday.” 

Violet’s eyes went round, trying to take in this ancient man. “That’s one hundred years older than me.” 

“My my, very impressive. I did not know six year olds could count that far,” he murmured, stroking his beard. He sat down opposite her. “My name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, the Headmaster of this school, but you can call me Professor. That is what I have always been and always will be.” 

“I’m Violet,” Violet responded, Lady Black having taught her well. “Violet Potter. Are you a wizard?” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Why would you think that,” he asked, putting a hand in his pocket and rummaging around for something.

“Because of your clothes.” 

He looked down at them, still rummaging around in his pockets. “You might have a point,” he murmured, taking in the purple robes with golden stars sewn onto them. “They are a bit vibrant.” 

“So are you a wizard?”

His hand came out of his pocket. “That I am, dear girl. Winegum?” He offered it to her. 

“Absolutely not!” Blanky appeared out of nowhere and confiscated it. “Missy Potter still be eating breakfast!” 

Violet gave the winegum a sad look, but nodded. “And Lady Black says I shouldn’t take candy from strangers if I’m not looking for morly correct victims.” 

He nodded. “Very smart of Lady… Black, you said?” He gave her a close look. 

Violet nodded. 

“And… Morly correct victims. Do you mean morally correct victims, perchance?” 

She nodded again. “Yes! Morly correct victims.” 

He stroked his beard some more. “Curious, curious. I would love to meet this Lady Black. She sounds like quite the fascinating person. Morally correct victims, not what I would expect from a Black. They are generally less…” he trailed off thoughtfully, still stroking the beard. Violet was slightly temped to stroke it herself, just to see how it felt. “Discerning about their victims,” he eventually finished. 

“What does did- dic- discerning,” she said slowly. “What does discerning mean?”

“It means they generally do not care who their victims are,” Professor Dumbledore explained. 

“When is someone a morally correct victim?” 

“Oh, that depends on what you believe in,” he said, grabbing another winegum from his pocket. It vanished immediately. “I intended to eat that myself, Blanky.”

“Professor Dumblydore shouldn’t make Missy Potter jealous! No eating candy before lunch, too!” 

“Smart, very smart. Perhaps that is a rule we should use in Hogwarts. The students eat far too much candy, especially on Mondays.” He looked back at Violet. “As for morally correct victims, it depends on what you believe in, like I said. It also depends on how to intend to victimise your potential victim. Someone might believe that stealing from a thief is morally correct, for instance.” 

“Do you think so?”

He smiled. “I think it depends on the kind of thief. If it is someone who steals to survive, then no. If it someone who steals for the sake of stealing, then perhaps it is not so bad. And on what you steal, of course. Philosophy is quite the complicated subject, though this makes it quite helpful to learn. I’d be happy to talk to you about it every once in a while.” 

“Will you teach me magic too, then?” 

“Certainly! Philosophy and magic are both favourite subjects of mine. Perhaps after dinner? I’m certain we can arrange something then. Perhaps with a cup of tea and some winegums?”

Violet grinned. “I like winegums.” 

“So do I, dear girl, so do I!” He rose to his feet, huffing and puffing as he did. “It’s the knees,” he explained. “Age makes your knees go bad. Now, I’ll leave you to enjoy your pancakes. Perhaps you can come by tonight? I’m sure Blanky can bring you there.” 

“I will doings that,” Blanky agreed. She pointed a finger straight at him. “You better not giving her too much candy, else she become sick.” 

“I will endeavour to limit her candy intake,” Professor Dumbledore agreed. “But children are sneaky creatures, and I am only an old man. I might accidentally forget I’ve given her some.” He winked at Violet, who started laughing, then left the kitchen. 

Blanky was left shaking her head, hands on her hips. “Foolish old headmaster. Always making things difficult.”

Chapter Text

“Dumbledore is one of those quintessential wizarding names. It combines alliteration with a silliness that makes one laugh in a slightly surprised way. That doesn’t mean all wizarding names are like this. Black, Bones, and Abott are quite normal wizarding names as well, in that they don’t stick out as particularly muggle. If you were to ask someone on the street what a weird name is they will point at names like Johnson or Young.

“You see, wizarding names are meant to tell you where someone comes from. The Blacks acted as religious and spiritual leaders for a sect of Dionysus called the Maenads in Classical Greece for instance. They insist their name was given to them by Dionysus himself for the beer they made, which they called Guinness. Of course, this makes no sense. Guinness was created in Ireland, for one, and no one there would ever betray Dionysus by drinking something other than wine. Roman Chronicles insist they were named for the extremely violent parties they threw. Those ran black with blood.”

Violet nodded, even if she’d lost Professor Dumbledore’s explanation of the nature of wizarding names a long time ago. It wasn’t that interesting besides, not close to the story he’d told her about the three brothers. Why they all had to die she didn’t know though. What was the point of a sad story? They were sad. 

“The Lestranges are another interesting one. Their origin is somewhat shrouded in mystery, though it is certain they arrived in Europe during the Mongolian invasions, possibly under Subutai. Once again, stories differ. On the one hand, the Lestranges insist that they conquered all of Europe east of the Rhine before they got bored and moved to France, where they were called l’ é tranger, or the strangers. They sailed across the Channel to England after the French Revolution, where it changed to Lestrange. It should really be Lestranger, but I suppose Lestrange does sound better.” Professor Dumbledore frowned. “What was I talking about?” 

“Where the Lestrangers came from,” Violet said. 

“Right. If you look at the muggle’s European history it clearly shows that the Mongols stopped around Hungary. A bit more research - it only took me several months to find this - proves that the Lestranges actually originated from one of Subutai’s bastards, one which saved a Hungarian muggle from…” Fawkes screeched loudly, making Professor Dumbledore’s words impossible to hear. “Quite, Fawkes. These might not be things for a young child to hear. Suffice to say, the origin wizards espouse is seldom their real origin.” 

Violet contented herself with petting Fawkes, who had taken to sitting on her armrest. He was a phoenix, which meant he had golden feathers, and she really really wanted one. She hadn’t managed to convince him to give her one yet. She hadn’t been trying hard either, as Aunt Petunia always insisted it was very rude to interrupt someone, especially when telling lies. Though… Lady Black insisted that Aunt Petunia was always wrong because she was a filthy pig that somehow made the filthy muggles look good, so maybe interrupting someone was very kind, especially when you interrupted them by telling lies?

Violet told herself to ask Lady Black about it, before trying to understand Professor Dumbledore’s interesting but complicated stories. The Bones were especially interesting since they could raise the dead. 

“Ah, but they don’t raise the dead, dear girl,” Professor Dumbledore suddenly said. “They lay them to rest. If you wish to raise the dead you should look to the Peverells, foul necromancers that they were. An absolutely fascinating family! The Three Brothers belonged to it. There was a vicious house war between them and the Bones during the thirteenth century which led to their demise. Only a single daughter survived, Iolanthe Peverell, who married into the Potter family.” 

Violet looked up. Her last name was Potter, not Dursley. This had confused her for quite a while before Aunt Petunia had grudgingly explained that her sister was Violet’s mother. Violet preferred to think that her mother was Petunia’s sister, but she supposed it was the same thing. “Does that mean I’m a Peverell?” Violet asked. 

“Well, technically you are. The blood will be slightly diluted over the six centuries since, but I’m sure you can raise a few skeletons if you really want to. It is something you work up to, though. Necromancy is something you have to work up to. Perhaps we should start with charms? Or a few curses… I don’t suppose you have any rivals you wish to vanquish?” Dumbledore hummed softly. “Maybe just a simple charm instead. I’ll need to get you a wand.” 

“Maybe instead of learning about houses?” Violet asked. 

Professor Dumbledore stayed silent for a bit, considering it. He nodded again. “Maybe. Though knowing where the Potters come from is quite important. Can’t just have you walking around not knowing who your family is, that would be quite the social faux pas.” 

Violet gasped and stared wide-eyed at the headmaster. That was the worst kind of faux pas! Lady Black said it was as bad as admitting to backstabbing an ally - always deny that you did, even if caught red-handed - and drinking coffee. Secretly, Violet couldn’t help but think that drinking coffee was worse. She had a small sip a few weeks ago and it was incredibly bitter. Like a lemon. No, like… she wasn’t sure. Like something else that was bitter. 

Blanky teleported into the room a few minutes later to put an end to the lesson. In Violet’s humble opinion - always say that before giving an opinion, that’s what Professor Dumbledore said - they were more stories than lessons. The Dursleys had a neighbour who did that too, and Dudley always forced Violet to take his place when that neighbour felt talkative. Petunia insisted someone had to do it, because that was a normal neighbourly thing to do, and doing normal neighbourly things was incredibly important in having a normal lifestyle. 

Did that make Violet’s lifestyle freaky? She considered the child-sized creature with large, floppy ears and round eyes that filled about a quarter of her face arguing with a wizard-professor who must be at least sixty years old and whose beard stretched all the way to his knees, all the while portraits egged them on. 

Violet considered it, then shook her head. This was completely normal. The Dursleys were the weird ones!

Chapter Text

Adults are complicated creatures. Their lives consist of many worries and fears, yet they’re not allowed to show these. In comparison, children are simple. And in this, it is a rare adult that dislikes them. They’re a window to simpler times. In Violet’s case, her worries consisted of doing well in her lessons, which were so much more enjoyable than those she’d had at the Dursleys’, even if she could barely remember those.

Now, her lessons consisted of Professor Dumbledore and his endless stories of strange places and stranger people. From the Rising Waterfalls, where the water flowed up instead of down, to Nicholas Flamel, whose Philosopher’s Stone brought endless life. And of course Lady Black’s lessons that were constantly interrupted by Blanky whenever the house elf disagreed with whatever Lady Black said at that moment.

Today was a less fun lesson, however, though Professor Dumbledore showed his skill in education by still making it enjoyable. The Last War was how it was called in Wizarding Britain, when He Who Must Not Be Named rebelled against the very country itself for nothing but meaningless power. It was a sign of how young Violet was that her understanding of a war such as this is not the one you and I have, but one of knights and dragons, fighting against a great evil and defeating it.

“Why shouldn’t he be named?” Violet asked the old professor.

“People were afraid, then, and old habits die hard. If one were to name him, an old spell would bring him right to your doorstep.” The Professor looked tired then, yet the smile remained. Violet liked that smile, imagined it to be the one a grandfather might give a grandchild. “The only ones that would name him were those powerful enough not to fear him or those so close that they didn’t have to. Both groups had few members.”

“Are you in one of them?” She asked, wide-eyed.

He chuckled. “Well, I was certainly not in the second group. The first group… I suppose. I certainly don’t fear him.”

“Then what’s his name?”

“Voldemort. Though I will always know him as Tom. He would envy you if he saw you here, I think.”

“What is envy?”

“Jealousy. He would wish to be in your place.”

“Oh.” Violet was a smart child, but abstract concepts are difficult to understand. When you are happy with your life, happy with what you can do, one is unlikely to be jealous.

“They are not the same,” Professor Dumbledore mused. “Tom was a brilliant child, ever ambitious. If fate had been kinder, he would have changed the world for the better. Voldemort is just the smoldering embers that remain.”

It was this point that Violet, like any six year old, had lost interest. Such is the fate of any lesson that involves strange abstracts and vague concepts as told by a man as old as Albus Dumbledore. Instead, she thought about the next lesson she’d have. Lady Black had promised to teach her all about poisons and the best ways to sneak these into a husband’s wine.