writer-with-no-home

[writer-with-no-home]

Honey, I'm taking no orders (I'm gonna be nobody's soldier)

Chapter VI

Warnings: Graphic depictions of Violence, Mentions of Rape/Non-con

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 2.1k

Story Summary:

Alex has never known her real parents. She doesn't want to. The men who raised her were cruel and treated her more like a weapon than a human, and she had barely come out alive. The scar tissue that litters almost every inch of her body, layer upon layer, is all the proof anyone needs. When she wakes to an owl with her Hogwarts letter and the subsequent revelation that she's Rosalie Potter, twin to the boy-who-lived, she begins one of the worst days of her life. Suddenly, the family she does not care for wants her back, the ministry is hell bent on making their wishes a reality, and she is suddenly the most interesting topic in the wizarding world. Alex isn't interested in playing happy family: she's bitter and angry and if years of torture have taught her anything, it's that there is always a way out. She has no interest in yielding to guilt-filled attempts to gain her trust, and quietly counts down the days till Hogwarts begins and she can stay away from anybody remotely associated with the Potter family. Caught between her desire for her old life and the ever looming presence of her biological family, Alex must navigate a world where magic doesn’t ease pain, and blood doesn’t guarantee trust.

Chapter Summary:

Her magic doesn’t simply destroy – it makes people suffer. That is the difference. Destruction cares only for annihilation, for turning things to dust. Devastation is about anguish, torment, and plight, and desperation. Eternal damnation it may not be, but it sure as hell would feel like it.

a/n: okay so maybe I lied about it being a few days. My bad. I promise this time I will get the next chapter up in a few days, I just could not for the life of me, find a name that suited this character. I looked for literally ages, and in between uni and personal issues this chapter took ages. I know what I'm doing for the next one and I promise I will try and make it long since this is only 2k.

Anyway everyone welcome Celeste, she's a delight (menace), and there will be a link between her and the whole Weasley name thing, think back to her age.

Chapter VI: Celeste I

She’s standing in a sea of black and then there’s a forest stretching out before her, its edges blurred like the faded corners of an old photograph. It doesn’t look real – more like a memory, smudged and half-forgotten. The trees rise like skeletal hands from the earth, their bark slick and dark, as if damp with something thicker than rain. A grey mist clings low to the ground, twisting like fingers reaching out for her. The air is heavy with the scent of moss and damp wood, but beneath it all, something metallic lingers – faint but unmistakable.

She’s running, running deeper into the forest like she knows it like the back of her hand, she manoeuvres over fallen logs and tree branches and roots, and carcasses like she’s done this before, like it’s some kind of sick playground.

The deeper the body moves, the stranger she feels. The trees press in around her, stretching so high into the sky Celeste isn’t quite sure they end, their branches are tangled together in a canopy so thick that only slivers of moonlight pierce through. The leaves shimmer with an eerie glow, not quite green, not quite silver, and the realisation dawns on Celeste like a bucket of ice cold water in the middle of winter.

A faerie’s domain.

The body continues to move, and it’s only then Celeste realises everything is so large because she’s tiny, barely four feet tall. She’s watching a child.

The child moves through the trees, barefooted and sure of herself, even as the damp earth and fallen leaves beneath her make Celeste fill with unease, a faerie’s domain is not something to be crossed.

The child does not seem to notice or care.

There is no sound except for the whisper of the wind through the branches, but even that feels unnatural – too rhythmic, too precise, like the forest itself is breathing. Shadows dance at the edges of her vision, flickering between the gaps, and shifting as though they’re alive.

Celeste isn’t sure if she’s imagining it or if something is really watching this child like prey from the corners of darkness.

The child takes off again, this time faster, blurring through the trees, swinging from one branch to another. The mist thickens as she runs, swirling around her, like the mist is trying to grasp at her, like it doesn’t want her to leave. The child keeps running, higher and higher and higher, running until Celeste can taste the copper in the girl’s mouth, can feel it running down her back, the pain is sharp, and the liquid is too slick to be anything else, but the girl barely feels it, and so Celeste barely feels it.

She does not know how long the injury has been there, the girl does not hiss, does not tense, does not slow down. She’s not sure if that’s better or worse. The girl lands in the middle of a small clearing, and she stands still, waiting for something.

Celeste wants to scream at the girl to run, to grab something, she’s got no weapons, and she is so small. The girl's heartbeat stutters, but she does not move, the trees are still tinted with the silver markings of a faerie's territory, but Celeste knows the monster after the girl is not a faerie.

Something else is there.

And it’s hungry.

Celeste sees a shadow come toward her and before she can blink the girl has pushed the monster to the ground, hands in it’s jaw, opening it, tearing it apart.

The monster is a pale white, with burning red eyes, and sharp fangs. Vampire. Celeste notes, and her fear rises.

The girl pulls slowly, and to Celeste’s amazement the cracks expand from the edges of the vampire’s lips, slowly tearing him apart.

Then a laugh echoes through the trees, a mocking, light, laugh, and the girl tenses for the first time during this ordeal, tearing the head off cleanly and standing straight as the body slumps at her feet.

Whatever’s coming for her is much worse.

The last thing she hears is a small, desperate, help me.

Celeste jolts awake with a gasp, her hands flying to her throat as she struggles for air, her breaths coming in desperate, heaving gulps.

Eventually, the tension in her body eases, and she lets herself reflect on the dream. It wasn’t a normal dream – far too real, far too vivid to be a mere dream, which left only one possibility.

Another soulmate.

Then she’s angry, filled with a fury she rarely feels, the girl was a child. She makes a vow then, whoever laid a hand on what was rightfully hers, would pay. She would use every drop of magic in her veins to make sure the pain lasted an eternity. She knows it’s a memory, because if it was a recent memory her magic would have already started to ravage the planet.

The girl was experienced though, and Celeste shudders to think about what it means. She tore apart the vampire like she was toying with it, and though a very large part of Celeste feels sick at the dream, she feels equally proud of her soulmate for surviving it.

Her soulmate.

The thought sends a thrill through her. She’s not sure how many she has, but the idea of another makes an unfamiliar warmth bloom in her chest. She’s always cold. As a nephilim, as the humans have deigned her, she carries the trait from her angelic side.

She’s not really a nephilim, she may be half angel, but she’s in no way a servant of heaven, and there’s nothing truly human about her. She’s considered a nephilim by heaven until she ages, though. The Queen would never dare to order her around like she does her angels, though. The consequences of ordering around a creature not bound to her are far too catastrophic for her to try.

Celeste doesn’t like to dwell on what it means, that she’s one of the very few creatures that don’t belong to the Gods who claim dominion over everything. There’s only one possibility, and the mere thought of it drains all warmth from her veins.

God.

The word reverberates through her mind, echoing like a warning. She may be a nephilim by heaven’s standards but she knows the Angels do not see her as such. They bow to her, follow her commands. When she defies the Queen’s instructions, they never try to restrain and control her, like they would with other creatures.

She knows what she is. She does not have to reach the age of maturity or whatever else they’re hoping for to know what her domain is. There are only five Gods who outrank the Creator, and everyone knows their titles.

Celeste knows which title is hers. The God of Air. The God of the Sky. The God of Weather, Justice, Tornadoes, Hurricanes, Typhoons, and, worst of all, Devastation.

There are a hundred more titles that accompany it, but Celeste does not have to go through them all. She knows that they fit her magic a bit too well for it to be a coincidence. Her fury is notorious, there is a reason she was named the bonebreaker when in school. Though it’s been centuries since she actually went to school, she knows the title has stuck.

But it’s the Devastation title that child her. In the common language, it’s akin to destruction, but in magic, it’s not quite the same, it’s something far more insidious.

Destruction is the result of unchecked fury, of breaking things apart, ruining empires, and killing without mercy. When the Destroyer comes for you, you know the end is near. His anger has toppled empires in seconds. It’s swift, more painful than anything you could imagine, but it ends quickly.

Devastation, though, is different. She’s seen it firsthand, how her fury twists and lingers, long after the immediate damage. Her anger differs from just toppling buildings and causing a domino effect that turns empires to ash in seconds.

She’d caused a plague. Her magic had made them think the end was near, and then they’d healed. They’d healed and they’d been abandoned by their friends, for nothing is quite as terrifying as a Gods wrath. Then their harvest had been ruined, they’d been forced to starve, and resorted to begging from people who had shunned them.

No one had actually acknowledged the curse.

Her magic doesn’t simply destroy – it makes people suffer. That is the difference. Destruction cares only for annihilation, for turning things to dust. Devastation is about anguish, torment, and plight, and desperation.

Eternal damnation it may not be, but it sure as hell would feel like it.

She doesn’t feel any guilt over what she did. She never has. She hopes her soulmates don’t think less of her for it. She doubts Amalthea would, Slytherin that she is. 

But Celeste is a Gryffindor through and through – she ignores the voice in her head reminding her of the fact that she almost ended up in Hufflepuff – and she feels like she should feel bad, no matter how much they would have had it coming.

She shakes off the thought as she pulls the thin sheet off her. Her lips twitch as she remembers how the boys who had come to work here had protested, even as she glared at them and told them she couldn’t be bothered by the cold. She likes warmth, yes, but she’s naturally ice cold, and the day that changed was not coming soon.

They still see her as a child though, and she gets it, she doubts the scars and the tattoos help when she still looks thirteen. She thanks the Gods every day that she was freakishly tall at thirteen years old. Her height was the only thing saving her in the arguments.

They had given in eventually, but Celeste was hyper aware of the fact that they had all cast warming charms on her tent before heading to bed.

She swallows a laugh at the memory, and gets dressed. The dragons would wake up soon, and if she wasn’t there to calm them, the others would get hurt. It was one of the things that had given away what she was. Dragons tolerated Angels, but because they were cold, they didn’t like them very much. The same fact had not applied to Celeste.

When she was young, breeding them was still permissible, but very few did it, because dragons didn’t take kindly to being treated like common barnyard animals, no matter how much you fed them.

She had met her first dragon at Hogwarts, in her third year, the Professor had brought one along, a common welsh green. It was the size of a horse, but relatively docile, because the Professor had had the sense to put it near the lake, and tie it.

They weren’t allowed to get close, but the Professor had no morals and when Celeste had made her way towards the dragon, he’d simply sighed and told the rest of the class they were going to watch her die.

She still hated him six centuries later.

The dragon had not killed her. It hadn’t even tried to shoot flames at her. It had growled only when she reached for it but before she knew it the word obey was coming out of her mouth and the dragon was preening at her scratches a moment later.

Professor Wellse had never quite forgiven her for making him look like a fool.

She steps outside, her boots sinking into a bed of crisp, fallen leaves, each step releasing a soft crunch into the still morning. The air is sharp and cool, carrying the damp, earthy scent of pine and soil. If she focuses, she can catch the lingering traces of smoke and roasted meat from the drifting from the dragon's nests beyond the hills.

A thin veil of mist lingers over the fields, curling around her ankles as she moves. Celeste’s lips quirk into a knowing smile as she thinks about the newcomers' reactions. The mist isn’t ordinary; it rises from the dragons, their heat forming vapour from the cold morning air. The sight always leaves the newcomers spellbound, staring in quiet wonder. It never fails to amuse her.

The horizon is painted in soft hues of pink and gold, the last traces of the night still clinging to the sky in deep blue and scattered stars. The first light of dawn falls over the hills, stretching long shadows across the land.

A low rumbling call echoes from the distant cliffs, deep and ancient. Celeste halts in her tracks, tilting her head as another voice rises in response, this one softer, closer. The dragons are waking.

She inhales, a slow, contented breath.

Today will be a good day.

She thinks back at the dream of the girl forced to fight, and she exhales.

When I find you, I will make you one of the most revered things on the planet.

I swear it.

a/n: As always, hope you enjoyed! If you notice any mistakes please let me know, and leave a comment if you can because I love to chat! Like I'm begging i need people to talk to about this it's kinda the only reason I published it. It was becoming a problem.

Ao3 link here

[writer-with-no-home]

Honey, I'm taking no orders (I'm gonna be nobody's soldier)

Chapter V

Warnings: Graphic depictions of Violence, Mentions of Rape/Non-con

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 3.6k

Story Summary:

Alex has never known her real parents. She doesn't want to. The men who raised her were cruel and treated her more like a weapon than a human, and she had barely come out alive. The scar tissue that litters almost every inch of her body, layer upon layer, is all the proof anyone needs. When she wakes to an owl with her Hogwarts letter and the subsequent revelation that she's Rosalie Potter, twin to the boy-who-lived, she begins one of the worst days of her life. Suddenly, the family she does not care for wants her back, the ministry is hell bent on making their wishes a reality, and she is suddenly the most interesting topic in the wizarding world. Alex isn't interested in playing happy family: she's bitter and angry and if years of torture have taught her anything, it's that there is always a way out. She has no interest in yielding to guilt-filled attempts to gain her trust, and quietly counts down the days till Hogwarts begins and she can stay away from anybody remotely associated with the Potter family. Caught between her desire for her old life and the ever looming presence of her biological family, Alex must navigate a world where magic doesn’t ease pain, and blood doesn’t guarantee trust.

Chapter Summary:

His scars from where Greyback ripped him apart are visible: she is familiar with the sight by now, Greyback’s marks are distinct, unmistakeable. He always goes for the torso, and uses his teeth more than his claws. He enjoys the taste of the blood – sweeter than honey, he’d taunted. He’s methodical, practised at turning people. He knows just how much to tear them apart, making sure his victims suffer and survive. He doesn’t want bodies. He wants soldiers. The dead are useless to him. She’d seen the dead he created, the aftermath of his violence: when he wasn’t meticulous enough, when the venom spread faster than he’d anticipated, when the bodies he tore to shreds were too small, too fragile, to survive long enough for the venom to take effect. A seasoned killer, indeed. If only it had been enough to save him when she ripped his head clean off his shoulders.

a/n: Hi! Sorry for being gone for so long, this chapter was a bit difficult because I didn't know where I wanted it to go, but to make up for it I will try to have another chapter out within the next few days. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter V: Alexandria IV

Alexandria woke to the entirety of her torso burning in pain, she grumbled, sitting up and calling her dagger to her palm, she dragged the blade back over the rune, getting rid of the illusions, shoulders slacking in relief once the pain stopped. She stood, determined to get out of this house as fast as possible. She took a quick shower, and got dressed, leaving with some weapons and her walkman. She didn’t bother using the door, choosing to open her window and climb her way down.

The sun was still rising when her boots hit the ground, the sight in front of her was familiar, trees towering over her for miles, green stretching for as far as the eye could see. She took a deep breath, focusing on the air flowing into her lungs, her chest expanding, shoulders rising, and then she let go. The air was pushed out, and Alex could hear her heart beating beneath her skin: with that, she opened her eyes and took off running.

She ran as fast as she could, passing through the trees in a blur. She had left her walkman in her pocket, so no music was playing. She could hear the birds chirping, the sounds of running water, and the steady thump of her heart, and nothing mattered for a moment. Nothing but the feeling of her feet hitting the ground, the pounding of her shoes against the mud and dirt, the wind in her hair and the green all around her.

She ran for miles and miles before she was in a small town, she ran through it, ignoring the weird looks she was getting, only turning back when a dull ache began to seep through her bones.

She turned back, running through the forest until she got back to the edges that were around the house. She didn’t want to go back in. She stared at the house for a moment, her eyes on the lights being switched on. Someone was awake. She huffed, she still had at the very least three hours before they started to look for her, and she knew Felix and Pat would worry if the Potter’s contacted them, so she just had to make sure to be back before then.

She climbed the nearest tree with practised ease, laying on a branch that she made sure was out of the house’s line of sight. She could see them but they could not see her. She closed her eyes and leaned against the tree, enjoying the familiar sounds of the forest. She hadn’t lived in a forest in about half a year, but it was the place that seemed most like home to her, more so than her apartment and her room in Felix’s apartment.

She opened her eyes when she felt soft fur against her arm, the wide, golden eyes of a cat staring back at her, and Alex smiled genuinely for the first time since she’d been told of her fate yesterday. She let her fingers sink into the soft, black coat, her body relaxing slightly as she did. She leaned back, ready to close her eyes again when the cat meowed, she looked at it curiously and it meowed again, moving to climb back down the tree. 

Alex huffed, so much for not returning back to that house. She gathered her things and followed the cat back to the house, it had been a few hours since she had first laid on that branch and the house was now bustling with activity, she could see Mr Potter, followed closely by Harry.

She made her way around, climbing onto the roof below her bedroom window with ease, the cat didn’t follow her, choosing to stay outside the door and scratch at it. Alex pulled her window up, climbing in, making sure her movements were silent. She closed the window behind her, and went to take a shower, ignoring the laughter that made her skin crawl.

She let the cold water run over her, rubbing her skin harshly, leaving angry red lines in her wake. The sight of blood broke her out of it. She quickly got out of the shower, getting dressed and standing in front of the mirror.

She didn’t like the prospect of looking like this all the time, she looked far too much like the Potters for her liking. She had to find a solution, and quickly, she only had a month before she was faced with Hogwarts.

She blinked in surprise when she heard a knock at the door but chose to ignore it, sitting on her makeshift bed, earphones in and sketchbook out. No one attempted to open the door with a spell. Alex didn't even see the handle pushed to signal someone was trying to open it with their hands, so as the day passed she stayed like that, forgoing food in favour of the feeling of safety and eventually it worked. The room became somewhat of a safe haven.

She spends the day drawing and slowly pulling up the runes Ollivander had made her take off. Various safety runes and runes that took more than just being carved make her take a break because no food and blood magic was a deathly mix. By the time the sky started to get dark she’d managed to pull up almost all of her runes, save for the ones involved with her appearance: she'd have to see how far her magic would allow her to take that.

The chances of her managing to pull all of it back up was low, but a girl could dream.

She waits until everyone is in their rooms to slip downstairs to eat, and even then it’s not much of a meal: some toast and fruit. She manages to eat the entire thing though, so that’s a win. She’ll take them where she can get them.

The rest of the week passes much the same, with her making an effort to stay away from the family, only going down when they are all fast asleep. They knock a few times, vying for her attention, but she never opens the door, and the knocks lessen over the week.

She learns a lot, from staying in her room, whispers of a pack coming for Remus, she almost laughs at their worries of Greyback. She knows he won’t be there, she has his head as part of her collection. She had taken pleasure in removing his claws and torturing the sick bastard: he deserved it. It was his pack who would come for Remus. They thought he had something to do with their leader's disappearance. 

Alex knows the pack will come tonight, her run in the morning had been enough proof that they were already in the area, if the missing foals were any indication. The wolves in the area had also been on edge, further proof that Greyback’s pathetic pack was coming for Remus.

She doesn’t call him Lupin anymore, not after realising his own father was the one who hated werewolves so much Greyback had chosen his son for revenge. She is not needlessly cruel, or at least she does not wish to be.

Old habits die hard, afterall.

She can hear the telltale sound of the children going to sleep, grumbling the entire time, and Alex listens carefully to the plan they have.

“They’ll be here soon, what exactly do you plan to do, James?” Remus, Alex notes, not without humour, sounds as though he thinks the plan is stupid. Alex does not have to know what the plan is to agree with him. These fools didn’t even know what a blood moon werewolf is, and although she knows Greyback’s pack doesn’t have any blood moon wolves, they don’t. Not to mention that most spells are useless against a werewolf.

“Last I checked, they don’t want to get involved with wizards Moony, we should be able to deter them.” James replies and Alex breathes out a sigh of annoyance. He’s an idiot. Fun.

Well, it would be if he wasn’t going to get himself killed. Alex may get in trouble with certain contacts for killing a pack of wolves without warning, but she’d take it. She wasn’t going to watch anymore innocent people die, not if she could help it. Well, innocence was subjective, and as much as she hated most of the fools downstairs they were still innocent by Hell’s laws. Unfortunately.

“Are you an idiot, James?” Remus exclaimed, and Alex’s lips twitched upwards. At least someone had sense. “They’re werewolves, they’ll tear all of you apart to be able to get to me! Not to mention, they are Greyback’s wolves! They don’t care about wizards, they will kill you.”

Alex drowns out the rest of his rant, focusing on the incoming footsteps pounding on dirt, they’re here. They can get into the grounds, but they can’t get onto the porch, that much is evident by the way their makeshift leader releases a roar loud enough to shake the house. Alex hears the fools downstairs scramble to open the door, and when they stand on the porch, Alex makes her way downstairs.

She heads to the kitchen, no one is going to kill anyone yet, they’re just going to exchange pathetic threats, she might as well get something to eat. She makes herself a cup of tea, carving the rune for her illusions as the kettle boils, and then, slowly sipping her tea, she walks out onto the porch nonchalantly.

Everyone’s eyes turn toward her, but her eyes are on the wolf closest to the porch, if he has enough intent, he can get past the wards, they haven’t been particularly well kept and he is a werewolf, half-shifted too, his hide will bounce magic straight off.

She sizes him up, he is relatively tall, just over six feet, his claws are out, and his hands have patches of fur on the back but his tan skin is there, a testament to the only half-filled moon. His entire back is covered in fur, climbing up his neck, where it meets his face, his ears are still human, but they point up slightly, much like a goblin’s or a faeries. He has sharp cheekbones, and sharp, blue eyes that Alex knows have seen many people take their last breaths. It means nothing to her. She has seen more.

His fur is a mix of light brown and grey, the front of his torso has only slight patches of fur, and his fangs are sharp and stick out as he grins wildly, his brown hair is short, and Alex can barely spot where his human side ends and his wolf begins. She knows his legs are covered in patches of fur too, she can see it just under his shorts, but she doesn’t move her eyes from his face.

He is grinning sharply, and where most people would cower or at least feel some semblance of fear at the sight, Alex doesn’t, she barely blinks as she takes a sip of the tea. No sugar.

“Well, lucky me! We have a child just ripe for the picking.” He exclaims with glee, and Alex smiles back. It is devoid of any humour.

His scars from where Greyback ripped him apart are visible: she is familiar with the sight by now, Greyback’s marks are distinct, unmistakeable. He always goes for the torso, and uses his teeth more than his claws. He enjoys the taste of the blood – sweeter than honey, he’d taunted. He’s methodical, practised at turning people. He knows just how much to tear them apart, making sure his victims suffer and survive. He doesn’t want bodies. He wants soldiers. The dead are useless to him.

She’d seen the dead he created, the aftermath of his violence: when he wasn’t meticulous enough, when the venom spread faster than he’d anticipated, when the bodies he tore to shreds were too small, too fragile, to survive long enough for the venom to take effect.

A seasoned killer, indeed. If only it had been enough to save him when she ripped his head clean off his shoulders.

The wolf in front of her will take even less effort to kill. He cannot even stand evenly, he is leaning to his right side, unconsciously. She takes a step forward, taking a sip of her tea again, she relaxes her body since the first time she stepped foot in this house. Lupin is to her right, she puts the cup of tea on the wood rail around the porch, taking her time, her movements slow and relaxed.

“I wasn’t aware I was in your age range, Weber.” She replies finally and she can see his eyes flash with surprise.

Immediately, his entire body language changes, he’s no longer relaxed, although he tries to feign it, she can see his eyes narrow warily, his arms are tense, ready to fight back at a moments notice. The muscles across his torso tense, and she laughs lightly at the response. Her grin is sharp now, and his has dropped entirely.

“Such a shame you were in Greybacks when your father decided to pull the fool into a fight, hmm?” She continues easily, her movements are fluid, her body language could not be more relaxed. This is familiar, she can do familiar.

“How do you know that?” He asks and she can see his wary eyes flick over her body for weapons, he won’t see any. She left them upstairs.

He continues to stare at her with poorly concealed fear and her grin widens as she tilts her head, looking at him in amusement. She scans over him, making sure her movements are slow and obvious.

In truth, she has already spotted all of his weaknesses, she knows every movement he will make every time she opens her mouth, it had taken her a few seconds after seeing him. He does not know that.

“You think Remus here has something to do with Greyback’s disappearance, right?” She asks her own question instead of answering his own and his eyes widen, but his pack closes around him, baring their teeth at her in warning.

She ignores the warning, taking another step forward, Remus is behind her now, and she smiles at Nicolas, goading him, she is begging for a fight now, hoping for one. She wants their blood dripping from her hands.

“He does!” Nicolas growls out and Alex’s grin lifts slightly, a small huff of laughter escaping her. No one behind her has so much as quickened their breath, their eyes on her, horrified and impressed all at once. “What, you think you know better, child?”

Alex laughs then, the sound is soft and light, it carries like a breeze through the trees, echoing in the night. She smiles at him, and her voice is only slightly condescending when she speaks: it is never full of emotion, not unless the emotion is anger.

“Well, I can tell you Remus here has no idea where Greyback is.” She leans forward, lowering her voice mockingly, as though she’s telling a secret, even though her voice still carries over the crowd. “I do, though,” she reveals, her eyes twinkling.

That must be enough for Weber, because in a flash, he swipes his arm at her, aiming for his claws to tear through her face. Alex doesn’t even blink, catching the hand right before the claws hit her face. She smirks then, her body is still lax, and her eyes are alight with amusement.

She tuts in mocking disapproval. “Well, Nicolas, I suppose you don’t want to hear about Greyback’s very impressive demise.”

He stiffens, his eyes widen, and she continues – his shock will keep him still for a few more seconds.

“I did take a great amount of pleasure in ripping him to shreds. I started by removing his claws, you see–” she moves her thumb, pushing it up into his palm, inspecting his claws tauntingly, “–they’re easy to remove. All it takes is a restraint to keep you in place and–” she pauses again, moving her eyes from his claws to meet his.

She smiles at the fear she finds. “Then I just have to pull them out. One. By. One.”

Alex smiles further when she sees him bare his teeth. He growls, pulling his other hand back, ready for a fight. But she moves first, swift and decisive – she won’t wait for him to strike this time.

Her patience is thin.

In a blur, her hand curls around his head as she kicks his knees out, forcing him downward. She grips his chin and twists.

A sharp crack echoes as she pulls, followed by the sickening sound of skin tearing. She is used to it. No one else is.

She sees the fear and disgust out of the corner of her eye – the other werewolves look as though they are struggling not to vomit onto the forest floor, lest they appear even weaker.

In the blink of an eye, she stands with his head in her hands, her fingers slick with blood, still hot, and dripping from her nimble fingers as his body lies lifeless at her feet. The other werewolves growl, forming a tight circle around her. They lower themselves, baring their teeth as their muscles tighten, prepared to kill her.

Alex raises a brow, unimpressed.

She doesn’t think – there’s no need. She steps off the porch, and instinct takes over. The years of training guide her every movement.

One by one, they charge.

And she tears. And tears. And tears.

Blood spatters hot against her face, she can feel it drip off her chin, from her red curls onto her face. The forest echoes with the snap of bones, the wet squelch of muscle ripping apart beneath her experienced fingers. The wolves howl and roar, clawing and kicking, spitting mud and dirt onto her clothes and into their fur, their desperate cries turning to gurgled begging as they fight to gain the upper hand.

A set of claws sink deep into her forearms, sinking through layers of flesh. She doesn’t flinch as she rips their limbs from their bodies, her grip does not waver as the claws sink further into her arm, scraping bone in their pain.

The forest floor is painted red.

She stands straight, blinking the blood from her eyelashes, it drips from her arms, her shirt is covered in the hot liquid, sticking to her skin, her hair is matted with it, it’s dripping down her back and from her fingers, and down her legs, but she doesn't care. No one who travels with Greyback has any problems with hurting children, especially not if they come in search of him.

Her eyes move to the one werewolf who lays unharmed, apart from a few bruises she had given him. He scrambles back in fear and she almost huffs in annoyance, hasn't she shown that if she wanted him dead, he would be?

She moves forward, and he is tense beneath her gaze, his eyes filled with fear. She offers him a hand, and he takes it carefully, she lets go once he stands, and his voice, small and fearful pipes up then. “Why am I not dead?” She looks at him, her eyes uncharacteristically soft.

“You aren’t someone who enjoys hurting others. You’re not a rapist or a murderer, you came because you were afraid.” She answers simply, but it only sparks more questions in him, she can see it.

“But how could you know that?” He asks and she smiles, it’s almost mocking, not quite condescending.

“Don’t ask too many questions, Andrei.” She replies, and when the rune on the small of her back burns lightly she speaks again. “You won’t remember who I am when you leave. Not what I look like, not how old I am, nothing. The memory will still be there, but details about me and where you found me, they’ll be gone. You understand?” He nods jerkily.

“Leave.” It’s an order, not a request, and he must sense the shift in her behaviour because he runs, his footsteps pound against the dirt and leaves.

She turns, her eyes meeting black slits in a hue of deep, fiery red, and she smiles, this time genuinely. “Abaddon,” she greets, moving forward, past the sea of dead bodies, “to what do I owe the pleasure?” It’s not really a question, she knows why he’s here.

Abaddon smiles, though the expression looks unsettling on his human face encircled by demonic eyes but Alex does not flinch. She knows the man would not hurt her, and even if he tried, he would not get very far.

He is still a demon though, and beautiful, as they all are. His human face has sharp cheekbones and dark skin, but the bright red eyes and blue veins that snake across his entire body are distinctly not human.

Without them, he could be mistaken for human – a very beautiful one, but a human nonetheless. By keeping them, he sends a message, and it isn’t meant for Alex, but the humans behind her.

He holds out a file once she’s within reach and she takes it, taking the quill he hands her. It’s a blood quill, and as she signs her name in perfect cursive, she feels the familiar sting of her name being burned into her thigh, where a brand lies.

Alex lifts her eyes once she’s done, handing the file back to him without a word. Abaddon gives a shallow bow, his eyes still locked on hers.

“Thank you for your service, executioner.” She fights the urge to scowl at the alias and nods instead, her eyes do not hide her anger, though, and Abaddon swallows. “Your payment will be given on the next nightfall.”

Alex nods, and with a blink, the demon is gone.

She turns, and is suddenly aware of the dozens of eyes on her. Time to face the music. 

a/n: As always, if you notice any mistakes please let me know, and leave a comment if you can because I love to chat!

Ao3 link here

[writer-with-no-home]

Honey, I'm taking no orders (I'm gonna be nobody's soldier)

Chapter IV

Warnings: Graphic depictions of Violence, Mentions of Rape/Non-con

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 3.5k

Story Summary:

Alex has never known her real parents. She doesn't want to. The men who raised her were cruel and treated her more like a weapon than a human, and she had barely come out alive. The scar tissue that litters almost every inch of her body, layer upon layer, is all the proof anyone needs. When she wakes to an owl with her Hogwarts letter and the subsequent revelation that she's Rosalie Potter, twin to the boy-who-lived, she begins one of the worst days of her life. Suddenly, the family she does not care for wants her back, the ministry is hell bent on making their wishes a reality, and she is suddenly the most interesting topic in the wizarding world. Alex isn't interested in playing happy family: she's bitter and angry and if years of torture have taught her anything, it's that there is always a way out. She has no interest in yielding to guilt-filled attempts to gain her trust, and quietly counts down the days till Hogwarts begins and she can stay away from anybody remotely associated with the Potter family. Caught between her desire for her old life and the ever looming presence of her biological family, Alex must navigate a world where magic doesn’t ease pain, and blood doesn’t guarantee trust.

Chapter Summary:

She can still remember the first time she wished for her mother, she can taste the copper on her tongue, can feel the blood dripping from her eyes, can feel every lash like it was yesterday, she can feel every muscle in her legs begging to give in, and the ghost of pain in her jaw that comes from holding in every scream or slight sound of pain.

a/n: Hi! This is a more normal length, enjoy the second part of the update! Comments are appreciated I'd like to know I'm not just posting to the void.

Chapter IV: Alexandria III

She had packed all of her belongings and moved them into one of Felix’s apartments by the time the ministry arrived again a few hours later just like she had expected them to. Patricia and Felix were waiting in the living room for them, and she could hear them sighing dejectedly once they heard a knock at the door.

Alex walked into the living room, surprised to see Kingsley there after she’d thrown a chair at him, but she was glad to see him look at her warily. He was joined by Amelia Bones, and even more surprisingly, there were no other aurors with the pair.

“Sorry about this, Alex,” Felix got up from the couch, looking at her softly, thankfully he was aware of her triggers and didn’t hug her, but he did ruffle her hair which was quite annoying. She wrinkled her nose as Pat laughed. “We’ll be here if you need us, okay, call us anytime.”

She nodded and Patricia intervened, this time she was subjected to a hug, but it was simply because Pat was a woman, and she didn’t trigger memories the same way Felix might have.

Alex sunk into the arms gladly, burying her face in Pat’s shoulder, Patricia was warm and comfortable and Alex was tempted to just throw the aurors out and stay but she knew the fight was futile unless she wanted to disappear off the face of the earth, which she did not.

Patricia kissed her head before stepping back, her hands on Alex’s arms, “if you ever need anything, you call us, got it? Make sure to give us a call when you get there. You know the number, right?”

Alex nodded, “yes, I know the number,” she said slightly exasperated and just then, Felix walked back into the living room with her things, frowning slightly.

“If you need money for anything, give me a call.” He said firmly, as Patricia stepped back.

“Are you coming to see us for your birthday?” Patricia asked softly and Alex sighed.

“Well, I still wanna keep my job, so I should be there next week. I'll try my best to see you for my birthday.” She answered softly, and Pat nodded. Alex took her things off Felix, trying not to let the anger consume her as she turned to face the aurors, a blank look on her face.

Both the aurors looked apologetic but Alex didn’t care, if they were doing this for work they should choose a different fucking job, what kind of psychopath takes a child away from her home?

“How are we travelling?” She asked flatly, not even bothering to mask her disdain.

“Apparition.” Amelia Bones answered, her voice sympathetic, only serving to further anger Alex. “Would you like me to hold some of your things?” Alex almost laughed then, she had a small suitcase and a backpack, why would she need help? She simply stared flatly, waiting for one of them to offer her an arm, Amelia Bones sighs, offering her arm up once again, and once again Alex takes it.

Apparition was more unpleasant now than it had ever been. She almost chuckled at the thought as it passed through her head, she had been apparated whilst her spine was showing and somehow this was worse. She felt nauseous and dizzy, she could feel her magic like static all across her body, begging for her to return back to safety, but she couldn’t. This time, she was stuck here for the next seven years.

She followed Bones and Shacklebolt silently, ignoring their looks of sympathy, and deciding to instead, look around at the house. From the outside, it was more a mansion than a house, with more rooms than she could bothered to count, there was a large, full scale, Quidditch pitch, and surrounding the vast land of the mansion was a blooming forest. 

The forest was gorgeous, trees towering over her, glowing with life, she rejoiced internally, at least something in this place was familiar. She would be spending hours in that forest, staying away from the hellscape that is bound to be her new home. She straightened her back further as they reached the door, preparing herself to remain quiet and nonchalant in the face of their desperation, or in Harry’s case, anger.

Kingsley knocked on the door, and Alex wanted to run as the sound reverberated in her ears, this was a nightmare, one she had to make her peace with. The door opened to reveal James Potter, he looked more relaxed, his robes were off and he was dressed casually, Alex noted that even his casual clothes were stitched with gold and more expensive than she could ever afford.

He smiled softly, moving to let the aurors in, Alex followed them quietly, ignoring his pleading gaze. She felt a sick kind of satisfaction in the way he backed away slightly like a wounded dog. He moved to stand beside his wife, his lips still turned down in a small frown. 

Alex stood beside Bones as she began to speak, “Mr and Mrs Potter, as Rosalie is now under your care, we suggest she see a mind healer,” Alex seethed as the woman pulled out a file and gave it to Lily Potter, how dare she talk about her as if she wasn’t there? Alex flexed her hand, trying to stop herself from digging her nails in so her palms bled. 

“Usually we’d have her see one beforehand to determine whether this was the best course, but in this case, we have obviously been told not to. The relevant contacts are in the folder, and you know how to contact me should you need any more details on this arrangement.” She wanted to laugh then, her anger dissipating at the guilt on her new guardian’s faces. I take it back, Bones, if that's what talking about me like I'm not there gets me, I'm willing to not throw you out the wall the next time you do it.

Alex ignored the information and pleasantries that followed, taking in the interior of the house instead: the house bled money, and Alex could feel the magic that ran through every brick keeping it upright, the walls were perfectly painted, there were no scuffs or scratches, not even on the roof, everything looked pristine.

The house looked lived in, with a book lingering on the counter, dishes left to dry by the sink, and the quite obvious unassigned assigned seats at the dining table. The kitchen counter was made of marble, the real kind, not the patterned fake stuff, and Alex wanted to scream again. They could have all this but they had chosen to throw her to the wolves? Or rather, the snakes. 

She turned her attention back to Amelia Bones as the woman looked at her carefully, searching for any signs of anger. Alex let the absolute fury she was feeling show in her eyes, letting herself revel in the anger, if only for a moment.

Amelia Bones swallowed nervously, “I am truly sorry for this.” The regret and guilt in her voice did nothing to soothe the burning anger that ran through Alex’s veins.

“And yet you did it,” she replied flatly, making sure the woman met her gaze, “you will have to live with the decision.” She kept her fury on the woman even as she shifted in discomfort, “and I will never forget it, that I can promise, Miss Bones.”

Her voice was cold, void of any kindness, and she did not regret a word even as the woman nodded dejectedly and left with her partner.

“Why don’t I show you to your room?” Alex turned her eyes to the woman who spoke, she had a mullet of blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, and was a few inches shorter than James Potter: Marlene Mckinnon, her mind supplied and she ignored the woman entirely.

She walked past the crowd of them, heading through the hallway into the living room. She could hear footsteps scrambling to follow her, but she couldn't care less, her eyes falling upon an old couple in the loveseat by the fire. She ignored them, filing away the information whilst she searched for a phone, she clenched her jaw in annoyance when she didn’t find one, turning back to the couple.

“Is there a phone here?” She asked them, her voice neutral, the woman smiled at her, she didn’t look any older than forty but she was a witch, and so Alex knew her age was closer to sixty, and once she processed who exactly she was looking at, she knew the woman was sixty-three. 

Euphemia Potter, née Selwyn, was born on the sixth of May, 1928, her husband Fleamont Henry Potter, was born on the twenty-second of January, 1928. 

Her mind rattled off the information, like she was going to be tortured if she got a single thing wrong, or hesitated for a second too long, she still hadn’t gotten out of the habit. She tried not to focus on the memories of the last time she had repeated the names, focusing on the woman's answer.

“There are no phones here, the nearest phone is in a village about half an hour away, by walking that is,” her smile was soft, but Alex wasn’t convinced, the woman had stood by as she was put in an orphanage. “We can drive you, if you’d like.”

Alex shook her head, turning to the crowd that had formed behind her, “what do you need a phone for?” Lily Potter asked softly, her face was warm and welcoming but Alex could smell the fear coming off her, and the wariness in her posture made Alex want to laugh.

She chided herself internally, she was living with these people for the next eight years, they had complete control over her, she had to learn how to be slightly civil toward them. The scars littering her body burned in agreement.

“No reason,” she lied, she would just send a letter, owls would be much easier to find anyway, and the journey couldn’t be too far. 

She watched as Lily Potter’s face dropped at her answer, “why don’t we show you to your room?” Alex nodded hesitantly, and Lily Potter smiled once more. It was funny, Alex thought, how much she could make them feel all while doing very little.

She followed the woman quietly, her feet didn’t make a sound, her breathing light and even, her nonchalant mask perfectly in place. They walked up the stairs as Lily Potter began to speak, “the room is bare at the moment, but you can decorate it however you like, we can take you to buy decorations tomorrow if you like.” She turned her head slightly to shoot Alex a smile, and Alex wanted to scream with anger.

The entire house was gorgeous, there wasn’t a single decoration she could afford, everything was far too expensive for her, and Alex was hit with flashes of sleeping in trees and under bus stops and on forest floors. Lily Potter’s friends were walking beside her, Marlene Mckinnon, Dorcas Meadowes, both of whom were holding hands to her right, to her left was Emmeline Vance and Mary Macdonald. 

They stopped at a door, and Lily Potter opened it hesitantly, Alex walked in behind her, marvelling at the size of the room, the bed alone was bigger than her entire room back home. “The room is not the biggest, but it is closer to us, if you want a different room all you have to do is let us know.”

Alex turned to look at Lily Potter, who was shifting nervously, she swallowed the bitter laughter that threatened to leave her. Not the biggest? The bed was bigger than her entire room. The room itself was probably more than half the size of her apartment.

The walls were a dark red, highlights of gold painted all around them, Alex wanted to laugh, she wasn’t sure she’d get into Gryffindor, but she’d throw herself out the window if she ended up in Slytherin. She stopped herself from darting her eyes about the room once she realised Lily Potter was watching her carefully, looking for a reaction, she nodded in thanks, not saying a word and Lily Potter beamed.

Alex placed her bag down on the bed, placing the suitcase down next to it. She turned back to face the women with a sharp gaze, “what exactly do you want from me?”

Lily Potter flinched at her tone, “we just want to be your family,” her voice was soft, desperation laced throughout and Alex chuckled bitterly.

“I had a family! You had no right to take me away from them because you dropped me off at an orphanage when you had no reason to.” She hadn’t raised her voice at all, but the anger was clear as day, a storm brewing with every word she spoke.

“You could have not wanted children, but you kept my twin brother, you could have had only enough money to sustain one child, but you’re filthy rich, I mean, for fuck’s sake this room is half the size of my apartment! This place is a fucking mansion, and I can’t think of any more reasons, so why don’t you give me yours.”

She was burning with anger by the time she was done, even as her face remained calm and passive, her voice not rising by an octave, even as she felt like she had been dipped in acid on the inside, a bitterness crawling around like a beast, blood dripping from its teeth.

“Rosalie,” Alex laughs harshly, standing up, the beast claws at her insides, tearing its way out.

“You didn’t even bother to fucking name me when you dropped me off, and you think you have a right to do it now? To change the name I’ve been going by my entire life, all because you couldn’t be bothered ten years ago?” Her anger is a wildfire, burning through everything in its wake, but for the first time in her life, Alex can’t bring herself to regret the ash that trails behind every word, for it’s finally aimed at the people who deserve it.

Lily Potter’s face twists in anguish with every word, tears forming tracks on her cheeks, Alex doesn’t feel an ounce of remorse: she knows she should, knows that this woman went through arduous labour to give her life and there should be a certain amount of respect she holds for her, but when she searches for it, all she finds is an emptiness.

She can still remember the first time she wished for her mother, she can taste the copper on her tongue, can feel the blood dripping from her eyes, can feel every lash like it was yesterday, she can feel every muscle in her legs begging to give in, and the ghost of pain in her jaw that comes from holding in every scream or slight sound of pain. She remembers wishing for some comfort, wishing for a mother that had failed her long ago, but she craved the comfort she’d only seen in others up until then.

She looks at the weeping woman in front of her now and she doesn’t feel anything of the sort: anger, sadness, and helplessness. A seven year old version of her is crying somewhere, begging for answers, but she only feels disgust now. Her mother, the woman who left her at an orphanage, had just torn her away from her family, the only one she’d ever known, all because she suddenly wanted her child back, or maybe it truly was just so that the public didn’t paint her out to be a villain. She had kept Harry after all, maybe she had known he was going to be famous, maybe she simply didn’t want the child that was expendable in the middle of the war.

Alex’s lips twitched at the thought, and how expendable she had become, images of ripping apart werewolves with her bare hands flashed through her mind, the piles upon piles of dead bodies she was responsible for, the vampires, werewolves, humans. She knew more spells than most grown adults and she didn’t need a wand to cast any of them: if she was expendable, then they may as well prepare Harry’s grave now.

“What name do you go by?” Marlene Mckinnon asked, pulling Lily Potter into a side hug, her eyes were filled with sympathy, her voice thick, and Alex could see how conflicted she was even as she stood, unwavering in her support.

Alex chuckled, her eyes burning with anger, she could feel the magic crackling, wanting to lash out against whatever opponent she was facing this time, but she knew there was no use, she was stuck here for the next seven years.

“Stick to Rosalie and get out.” Her voice was empty, her eye lingered on the way the womans face fell at her words but her eye was hurting, she’d forgotten the pain would return with the loss of the illusions, but with the pain steadily becoming more prominent, her patience for this farce was waning and her anger was rising.

Marlene nodded, and they left, too slowly for Alex’s tastes, she flexed her hand to resist hitting something as they finally left, the door shutting with a click behind them. She walked over to the door and locked it, leaning her head on the cool wood, the cold soothed her building migraine for a moment, before she huffed, pulling back. 

She dragged her blade out of its sheath, and winced as her magic protested, but ignored it nonetheless, carving the rune into her skin over the only just scabbed over cut, she ought to stitch it this time, she thought, letting the mark burn into her skin before digging through her backpack and finding a small, wooden box. 

She dragged it out, letting the blood from her arm drip onto the box: it spread across the wood, burning a pattern in its wake and opening the box, it dropped flat onto the bed, revealing an abundance of medical supplies, amongst them a thread and various needles: she had never bothered to buy herself a suture kit, and stealing one wasn’t worth the time or energy it required, so she stuck to a needle and thread. She made sure to sterilise the wound, of course, she didn’t want to die of sepsis of all things.

The burning in her arm ended eventually, and Alex raised her fingers to feel for a scar she knew wouldn’t be there anymore, she winced as her magic flared in anger once her fingers touched smooth skin. She opened her right eye carefully, hoping the rune had been carved accurately, she’d never taken that one off and so she’d never had to recarve it.

She sighed in relief when she opened her right eye to a clear view of the world, she couldn’t see the strands of magic tying everything together anymore, and the migraine that had formed immediately felt better. She sighed at the realisation it wasn’t going to go away anytime soon, she waved her hand and her things settled in a corner of the room, she didn’t bother unpacking, she didn’t plan on staying here long. 

There are always loopholes, in magic, and its law, weapon. The voice echoed in her head and she felt the faint taste of bile in her mouth as the memory played out. The memory was horrific but she had learnt the lesson well, and she wasn’t going to forget it any time soon: there was always a way out. She just had to find it, and get out of her personal hell.

For now, however, she was exhausted and she would love some sleep, her eyes landed on the king sized bed in the middle of her room, she flexed her hand in annoyance. She couldn’t sleep on the bed, but she had thought of that in advance, knowing these idiots would have no idea what exactly she had been through.

She felt a sense of longing, she missed her quiet apartment, where everything was how she liked it, and she missed Felix and Pat, both of them knew how she liked things, and her room in Felix’s house was comfortable, it was the closest she had come to feeling safe somewhere, and then these motherfuckers ruined it.

She huffed, taking clothes out of her bag, and quickly getting changed before setting up her makeshift bed, she took out a light duvet and a blanket, along with some pillows, carefully laying the blanket down first: she hated the feel of a mattress, it was too soft, it felt as though she was sinking, like she was going to drown.

Alexandria stared at the ceiling for hours before her exhaustion finally won out and she lost herself to sleep. She woke up as soon as the first sliver of light shone on the horizon, feeling as though she’d never fallen asleep at all.

Ao3 link here

[writer-with-no-home]

Honey, I'm taking no orders (I'm gonna be nobody's soldier)

Chapter III

Warnings: Graphic depictions of Violence, Mentions of Rape/Non-con

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 1.7k

Story Summary:

Alex has never known her real parents. She doesn't want to. The men who raised her were cruel and treated her more like a weapon than a human, and she had barely come out alive. The scar tissue that litters almost every inch of her body, layer upon layer, is all the proof anyone needs. When she wakes to an owl with her Hogwarts letter and the subsequent revelation that she's Rosalie Potter, twin to the boy-who-lived, she begins one of the worst days of her life. Suddenly, the family she does not care for wants her back, the ministry is hell bent on making their wishes a reality, and she is suddenly the most interesting topic in the wizarding world. Alex isn't interested in playing happy family: she's bitter and angry and if years of torture have taught her anything, it's that there is always a way out. She has no interest in yielding to guilt-filled attempts to gain her trust, and quietly counts down the days till Hogwarts begins and she can stay away from anybody remotely associated with the Potter family. Caught between her desire for her old life and the ever looming presence of her biological family, Alex must navigate a world where magic doesn’t ease pain, and blood doesn’t guarantee trust.

Chapter Summary:

The only magic above the law.

a/n: Hi! This is a short chapter but it's a double update for that reason. I just had no need to make this one longer. Comments and likes are always appreciated, and as usual, if you notice any mistakes let me know!

Chapter III: Amalthea I

For as long as she could remember, Amalthea had been plagued with visions, of the past, the future, what could have been, what could be and everything in between. Some visions were harder to decipher than others, but she’d had years worth of practise. 

Recently however, her visions had changed in what they showed, the stories of a war to begin soon, the rise of bloodshed and a death toll even she could not comprehend, they had changed into a story of warmth, of belonging, of safety. She was being shown her future, which by itself would have raised some alarm bells, because her visions were mostly about everyone around her, she rarely got visions of her own future. When she had in the past, it was never this kind.

She had been getting these visions for weeks, and was surprised when they stopped, only to be replaced with visions of someone she hadn’t seen before.

A girl with curly, red hair, scars littering her body, and magic flowing freely from her, but the most jarring thing about this girl was the scar cutting through her right eye. Amalthea knew this girl would be starring in her life very soon. It took a few weeks to realise in what capacity, and her magic roared at the injustice.

At thirteen, Amalthea Cassiopeia Black had stopped ageing, mentally, physically and most importantly, magically. She had known years before the event that it was going to happen, such was the downside of a soulmate bond. She had met one of her soulmates already, but she knew there were more, she had yet to start ageing, after all.

Soulmate bonds were extremely rare, and there was very little on them, and so to the magical world it was a tragedy that the youngest child of Walburga and Orion Black was cursed with being a child forever. Her parents disagreed once they found out why she wasn’t ageing, overjoyed at the news that she was not cursed but in fact blessed with a rare form of magic.

The only magic above the law.

There was nothing on soulmate bonds besides the warning that getting involved with one would end in destruction. It was for that reason she didn't dare touch her only known soulmate. Touching her would activate the bond and until all of her soulmates were the same age, she wasn't going to activate the bond. Both of them had agreed upon it, their magic was volatile enough without an incomplete soulmate bond thrown in the mix. 

The unfortunate thing about being a seer and having a soulmate bond was that she usually ended up knowing of them earlier than she would have had she not been a seer. Her family understood that she had to stay away from certain people until it was time for her to meet them, and fortunately that was an aspect of being a seer that transcended just her soulmates. 

Moreso, knowing about her soulmates before she was supposed to meet them made her magic lash out in impatience, plaguing her with more visions than she could handle once a new soulmate was shown. 

Thankfully, she’d gotten used to her magic’s temper, and that was how she was found on July 1st, sitting cross legged on an incredibly expensive carpet, meditating. Her father had taught her how to meditate when he started teaching her occlumency, and she had honed the skill over the years, managing to use her occlumency to control the frequency and intensity of her visions. 

He had yet to teach her how to keep meditating in the face of her brothers’ constant interruptions.

“Thea!” Sirius knocked incessantly at the door, his voice almost deafening. She opened her eyes, flicking her hand and opening the door with an annoyed glare.

“What do you want?” She continued glaring at her eldest brother as he moved to make himself comfortable on an armchair in the corner of her room.

“We met Harry’s twin sister today,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically solemn. She stopped herself from lashing out, she couldn’t meet the girl yet, but her magic was already protective, bound to this girl from the beginning.

“I know,” he looked down at her, his grey eyes boring into hers, questioning, “I saw her in a vision.”

“She’s only two years younger than you,” he answered, and she stopped herself from smiling at the insinuation, he had tried to get her to be friends with Harry recently, and Ron, and previously all of the Weasley’s once they were her age, Bill and Charlie had been in school with her and still wrote her letters, but they had grown so they treated her more like a younger sibling than a friend at times, not that she minded.

“Technically it’s three years, she’s ten.” Her voice was light and teasing, her grin making a small smile appear on Sirius’ face. “How did it go?”

She had seen a lot of possibilities, and she wouldn’t know which one occurred until he spoke, but from the way he sighed, dragging his hands down his face, and looking at the floor forlornly, she knew it wasn’t a good outcome. Not for the Potters, at least, their daughter would probably be content with what occurred.

“We found her in Diagon Alley,” he started, and Amalthea silently crossed out all the possibilities where the aurors had been the one to find her, “she was going to get her things alone, and we ended up staying in Ollivanders as she got her wand, we had gotten everything for Harry and Ron but I think she had only just started shopping.” 

He shook his head, his face horrified, and Amalthea looked at her brother, the brother that had always managed to stay positive even in the midst of a war, he looked defeated, looked as though whatever he saw was more horrific than the war that had taken place. 

“What happened?” She asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer.

“She was going to look for her wand, but Ollivander said something about her taking her illusions off,” he shuddered slightly, and Thea refrained from laughing, it seems her brother was still afraid of Ollivander. 

“She took them off, by carving something into her arm,” he looked at her, gesturing wildly, eyes wide in horror, “I don’t know what it was but it glowed and after a second all these scars showed up, they were horrific, it was like she’d been tortured.”

He stood up, moving to pace around the room anxiously, and Thea refrained from telling him that it was because she had been tortured, she didn’t think he could handle anymore information about this girl just yet. 

Alex. Her mind whispered as she avoided saying the girls name and her magic tugged, pulling her in the direction of what it believed to be hers.

She felt nauseous as the images popped into her mind, Sirius continued rambling, effectively banishing her visions. “Her eye was taken out, well someone had obviously dragged a knife through it, but she opened it for a second, and I could swear she could see through it.” Thea didn’t interrupt him as he started rambling, undoubtedly wearing his boots down with the amount of pacing he was doing.

He ran a hand through his hair, his arms flailing as he kept on pacing, “she got her wand, and it was so pretty, it was almost as good as your display when you got your wand,” Thea smiled slightly, knowing the display was undoubtedly better, as this girl had honed her magical core younger than Thea had, it was simply his arrogance. 

“Then James managed to convince her to let him pay for her things, and we left. We stood outside for a while whilst James and Lily talked to the aurors, but whatever they said, it didn’t work very well, because they tried to force her to come with them.” 

A small smile appeared on his face then, eyes shining with amusement, “she threw them back with a wave of her hand, you would’ve loved that part.” Thea’s lips twitched upwards at the comment, “she went with them eventually, and then she was like really angry because she threw Kingsley back and threw a chair at his head when he kept telling her to sit down.”

He laughed slightly and Thea smiled at his amusement, her brother was always a creature of chaos. “Then she sat down and carved something else into her arm, and after a while a werewolf ripped the door off, he came with a lawyer as well. I think she knew them pretty well because she was smiling a little bit, and I felt bad for Lily and James because she really wants nothing to do with them. She’s only going to stay with them when she absolutely has to because of the ministry decree.”

“Are you surprised that she wants nothing to do with them?” She asked plainly, but on the inside her magic was burning with anger, if he said yes she didn’t know if she’d be able to stop her magic from lashing out.

“No,” he hummed, ceasing his pacing and looking at her curiously, “what do you know?”

“I can’t say,” she answered simply to her brother's annoyance, he groaned, falling back into the armchair. 

She laughed at him and he huffed, his face turning serious once more, “she left but the ministry found out where her guardian lives, and they’re going to go get her and take her back to Lily and James’ house.”

She hummed, she knew this was coming, having foreseen it in all the circumstances that required it, “how does Harry feel about having a sister?”

Sirius laughed, “he’s not happy about it, he’s used to having their attention all the time, and now their attention is on her. He’s a nice kid though, and Lily’s hoping it’s just because of the fact that she doesn’t like them and the adjustment of having a sibling all of a sudden.”

She nodded, just as Remus steps into the room, he smiles at her softly, his eyes turning to Sirius, “they managed to find her, she’s being brought to Lily and James’.”

Sirius got up from the chair, he moved over to her, kissing her temple, “thanks Thea,” his voice was soft and Thea hummed again.

“You’re welcome,” she mumbled, tired from the visions and the meditation, Sirius laughed as he left.

“Get some sleep!” He shouted as he closed the door behind him, and she huffed at the treatment, but followed it nonetheless, deciding to take a nap.

Ao3 link here

[writer-with-no-home]

Honey, I'm taking no orders (I'm gonna be nobody's soldier)

Chapter II

Warnings: Graphic depictions of Violence, Mentions of Rape/Non-con

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 9k

Story Summary:

Alex has never known her real parents. She doesn't want to. The men who raised her were cruel and treated her more like a weapon than a human, and she had barely come out alive. The scar tissue that litters almost every inch of her body, layer upon layer, is all the proof anyone needs. When she wakes to an owl with her Hogwarts letter and the subsequent revelation that she's Rosalie Potter, twin to the boy-who-lived, she begins one of the worst days of her life. Suddenly, the family she does not care for wants her back, the ministry is hell bent on making their wishes a reality, and she is suddenly the most interesting topic in the wizarding world. Alex isn't interested in playing happy family: she's bitter and angry and if years of torture have taught her anything, it's that there is always a way out. She has no interest in yielding to guilt-filled attempts to gain her trust, and quietly counts down the days till Hogwarts begins and she can stay away from anybody remotely associated with the Potter family. Caught between her desire for her old life and the ever looming presence of her biological family, Alex must navigate a world where magic doesn’t ease pain, and blood doesn’t guarantee trust.

Chapter Summary:

“You aren’t under arrest.” He repeated and she smiled at him mockingly, all sharp canines and cruelty. “So I can leave?” She moved to take a step toward the door. “No.” He answered, and she turned her predatory gaze back on him, he shuddered and her grin widened. He was afraid. Good. “Last I checked, that makes me a prisoner.” Her tone was condescending, all kindness had left her now. She was a weapon, and weapons had no care for feelings.

a/n: Hi! I'm in that weird limbo between exam season and the start of the new semester rn, so I have ample free time to write. Comments are always appreciated: let me know what house you think Alex will be in! Enjoy the new chapter!

Chapter II: Alexandria II

The entrance to Diagon Alley was through the Leaky Cauldron, and finding it was a slight hassle. Alex had gotten to London by muggle means simply because she hated apparition, it was not as fun as everyone thought it was, and it made her nauseous.

She found it eventually, nestled between a muggle bookshop and a record store. She walked in, surprised to find that the very famous pub was dark and shabby. It was filled to the brim, the old barkeeper with grey and balding hair, looked exhausted and merry all at once.

There seemed to be a large crowd gathering around one person, she moved forward to the bar, ready to ask for instructions into Diagon Alley, and then she heard a man’s voice.

“Harry Potter, such a pleasure,” Alex turned sharply to see an old, withering man, dressed in expensive clothing shaking a boy's hand vigorously, “such a pleasure.” He repeated before pulling back, due to the glare of Harry's parents.

She looked at Harry, he had sharp features, bright emerald green eyes and messy, curly, black hair. Her eyes moved to his forehead wherein lay a scar that spread over his forehead like lightning. The white of the scar tissue shone against his dark skin. He looked well-fed and cared for. She swallowed the bitterness that rose within her at the thought.

James Potter was identical to Harry, it was no secret as to where Harry got his looks, the same dark hair, same skin colour, same build, same sharp features. The only difference was the eyes – James Potter had soft hazel eyes, and Alex wanted to scream again. She could picture her actual body now, she looked like the man, exactly like him, the only difference was the hair colour and the eyes. Well, and the cacophony of scars that littered her body.

Her eyes were an emerald green, identical to Harry, identical to Lily Potter. Her natural hair was red, but she’d been changing it to black for as long as she could remember, she’d only ever seen the red fleetingly, when she was so hurt her magic didn’t have enough strength to keep her alive and keep the illusions on all at once.

Now though, looking at Lily Potter, with her round features and emerald green eyes and pale skin and freckled face. She knew her own hair was the same shade of flame red, she knew it without a doubt, she had the freckles too, they were covered now, but she knew she had them.

She tore her eyes away from the family, she had vaguely collected information on those around them, and she had no desire to know more. She turned back to the barkeeper.

“Sir, how do I get into Diagon Alley?” She asked, her voice was soft and she could feel several eyes move to look at her, she ignored them.

The barkeeper laughed, “call me Tom, sir makes me feel old.” He stepped out from the bar, “follow me.” Alex followed him, swallowing the bitter comment that he was old. Her anger wasn’t meant for him.

“Where are your parents anyway? Did you get lost?” He asked, leading her to a brick wall and tapping them in an order she instantly memorised.

Alex shook her head, not answering, eyes wide at the view that was in front of her. The bricks had spun away to reveal rows and rows of shops, people running around, it was prettier than she had expected it to be, and completely inundated with magic. She could feel it beneath her feet, all around her, in every crack and crevice of the brick walls, and for a moment she was tempted to take off all the illusions she kept so she could see the power that ran through it.

She was broken out of her thoughts by Tom's laughter, she turned to him, answering his previous question, “I don’t have parents, sir, I’m an orphan.”

He gave an apologetic smile, “still, shouldn’t you have someone with you?”

She shook her head again, “man who takes care of me is working, I know the way and I know how to get money out, I should be fine.” The lie made people frown, but it was the only slightly believable one that would not get her thrown into an orphanage.

Tom nodded, leaving her with a frown, he didn’t seem pleased by her answer. She refrained from rolling her eyes and started walking through Diagon Alley, she had barely made it a metre out before she was stopped by a tall man in a leather jacket.

He looked at her with a grin, sharp features that made her straighten her spine on instinct, his dark hair was less unruly than the Potters, and was shoulder length. He had multiple piercings and tattoos littering his arms, his wand was in a holster in his boot and she was sure she wasn’t supposed to be able to see it.

“I can show you around if you like,” he offered, and she didn’t even have time to shake her head before he continued. “I’m Sirius Black,” he introduced himself needlessly and she swallowed thickly, her back throbbing with the reminder of the last Blacks she had known. “We’re just getting my nephew his wand, we’ve got everything else on the list, we wouldn’t mind showing you around.”

Alex looked at him for a moment, his demeanour was nothing like the other Blacks, and as much as she knew rationally that he wouldn’t hurt her she couldn’t shake the learned fear ingrained in her.

She shook her head, “I’m sorry sir, I’d prefer to go alone.” She side-stepped him, walking at a fast pace and missing the way his face dropped at the answer.

Gringotts was beautiful, tall marble pillars and a glass ceiling that made the sunlight only seem brighter. The goblins seemed pissed to be there, but Alex supposed she would too if she had to serve people who thought she was below them. She did, after all, have some experience in the matter. There were aurors everywhere, littering the walls and peering carefully at every child that walked past. Alex sighed internally, this was not going to be the peaceful shop she wished for.

She was met with the warning on the second pair of doors, silver this time, as opposed to the bronze doors on the front of the building:

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

She almost laughed at the warning, if it was true she would not have nearly as many scars as she did. Magical creatures and their ingrained arrogance, it was a trait all magical beings shared, although she doubted the goblins would ever admit they had anything in common with a witch or wizard.

She was bowed in by a pair of goblins into a vast marble hall. There were dozens of goblins sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining jewels and gemstones through magnifying glasses. Alex went up to one of the goblins, he peered at her carefully, not even bothering to mask his disdain, she grinned at him, glad to see his surprise. “I have two keys to vaults, and I would like to see what money is in them, if any.”

The goblin nodded, and Alex stood there awkwardly as he inspected the keys. “I need your name.”

“Alexandria,” she answered, he looked at her, waiting for her last name, “I wasn’t named at birth sir, I don’t have a last name.”

“Well you must have gotten the keys from somewhere, what was the owner’s last name?” The goblin only looked more curious with every answer she gave him, although he hid it well.

“Black.” She answered simply, “at least that’s what they said.”

“I’m acquainted with all the living members of the Black family, I don’t remember you being one of them.” He peered down at her, his expression getting darker with each passing moment, a scowl perfectly aligned on his features.

“That’s because I’m not,” she answered simply, only serving to further vex the goblin. She rocked on her heels slightly, hoping it worked to make people think she was innocent. “They took me in, sir. They died in a hunting accident.” She responded vaguely, leaving out the part where they were hunting werewolves and she was the one to kill them.

The goblin however, seemed to understand the situation quite quickly, rushing away from her, and whispering to another goblin, who then rushed off to presumably do the same. Alex huffed when an auror started stalking towards her, guessing she'd be getting to meet the family sooner than anticipated, but that wasn’t what happened. The auror moved straight past her, going to talk to a different goblin, who she could have sworn shot her a look of appreciation. What for, she had no idea, and she had no desire to find out right now. 

Goblin number two had come back only to whisper something in goblin number one’s ear, ignoring Alex completely and leaving promptly after. Goblin number one spoke, more politely this time, “my name is Burgock, your vault numbers are 327 and 459, I will lead you to them.”

Alex nodded, deciding against saying anything, lest she accidentally insult Burgock. She followed him down a narrow path of corridors, down into a cart. The cart itself did not look stable whatsoever, and the glint in Burgock’s eyes told her it was going to be anything less than a smooth ride. Nonetheless, she got in, and was not at all surprised when it felt like she was being hurled off a cliff, her stomach lurched but she was used to things worse than mild discomfort so her body remained stiff and her back straight. 

The ride was long enough that she pondered over what to do about the illusions she kept on. She immediately decided against taking off the ones covering her scars, but if anyone asked, she would show, they didn’t need to know how she got them after all. She decided upon changing her hair colour back to its natural red, she’d never worn it like that before but she’d look less like Harry with bright red hair. Not to mention it would mean she’d finally be rid of looking how they had wanted her too.

After a relatively short ride, the cart came to a sudden halt, and Alex relished in the way even Burgock seemed to hurtle forward slightly whilst she remained perfectly in place. She followed him out, noting the scowl on his face had reappeared. She swallowed the laughter that threatened to bubble out of her quickly before she found herself at the bottom of Gringotts with a charred body, courtesy of the dragon she knew they had somewhere.

He led her to a vault, turning the key and then opening it with a fingernail, Alex almost shuddered at the vicious glint in his eyes as he spoke. “If anyone that wasn’t a Gringotts goblin tried that, they would be sucked through the door and trapped there.”

The doors to the vault opened to reveal piles upon piles of galleons, her eyes widened slightly, she’d been poor as dirt, if only she’d gathered the courage to use the money before. She had, after all, been the one who was sold to gain it. She walked through, shovelling piles upon piles of gold into the pouch she had brought with her. The one Mcgonagall had sent was in the pocket on the inside of the jacket she was wearing.

She walked out, and let Burgock close the vault before she spoke, “can I just know how much is in the other vault without having to open it?”

He nodded, “I can have that done right away.” Seeming more polite now that he’d seen how much gold she had access to, and she supposed that was fair, her appearance was slightly raggedy. Although, in her defence, she had received life-altering news today so she was allowed leeway.

He took her in the cart back to the entrance, where he had her wait behind the desk she was originally at before leaving for a moment. He came back with a letter, “vault number 459’s details.” He handed her the letter, and she looked at it for a moment, blinking at what was more money than she had ever seen.

There were millions of galleons in that vault, and suddenly she was a lot less worried about the amount of money she was going to spend today. She didn’t even need to exchange her muggle money for galleons. “And your keys.” She took the keys, putting them in her pouch in a slight daze, nodding at the goblin in thanks.

“May the blood of your enemies flow as freely as your gold.” She knew better than to be rude to a goblin, but this one didn’t seem accustomed to her politeness, blinking for a moment before nodding back at her, not even bothering to hide the surprise in his eyes. 

“May your axe stay sharp.” He replied, his voice losing some of the edge, and Alex bowed her head slightly before turning to leave. She felt dozens of eyes on her as she walked out, but she didn’t give them the satisfaction of making her cower.

She made her way to Ollivander’s without a second thought, she’d been anxious to have a wand of her own, the one she’d been using for years was stolen from Gregorovitch and the other two she kept on her belonged to them. They had her make them both, their old ones were destroyed when they bit off more than they could chew. She had hoped, when they first waved the wands, that they would be blown to pieces by the wands rejecting them. Her hope was lost as soon as the first crucio hit her. 

She walked into Ollivander’s, ignoring the looks the aurors shot at each other as she walked in alone.

Ollivanders was tiny, tinier than it looked from the outside, although that could have been due to the hundreds of small boxes lining the walls and piled on the floor. The place almost seemed bare apart from the boxes, and a small, rickety desk in the corner, with a spindly chair to match. Alex had expected to find the room bare as she walked in, everyone that couldn’t wait would have come before two in the afternoon, and those who could wait would have arrived later in the week.

However, once again, she was faced with the Potter family, she had hoped they’d be put of there by now, but she had no such luck. They seemed to be following her everywhere. She suppressed a sigh as she noticed them all stop in their tracks to look at her, moving her eyes to Ollivander instead.

He was an old man, with greying hair, although he wasn’t balding. His face was etched with lines that showcased his age and his eyes were wide when they looked upon her. She was slightly unnerved by his wide-eyed gaze, he looked like he thought blinking was a suggestion.

A large colourful bird flying over his head broke her out of her thoughts, her eyes followed the myriad of colours in poorly concealed awe. A phoenix. She held out her left arm, hoping it would land, and when it did she smiled softly, not quite used to smiling in front of strangers, especially ones that were from the Black family. She was still on edge.

She petted the phoenix absentmindedly, marvelling at the softness of the feathers internally as her eyes moved back to Ollivander. He seemed almost as shocked as she was. She looked at him curiously, pointedly ignoring the other people in the room.

Ollivander cleared his throat, “I must say, miss, it’s no small accomplishment you have gained, you have managed to tame a bird that up until now has only managed to bring me ire.”

Alex’s lips twitched, and she tried to ignore the anger that rose in her at the sight of her parents looking proud, as though they had given anything to the accomplishment. As though they hadn’t left her to fend for herself. 

“He seems quite nice, though,” she replied eventually, trying not to turn and glare. She refocused the anger, choosing to turn the energy into petting the phoenix, who only preened under the attention. “Aren’t you?” She asked the bird, a small smile fixed in place, the phoenix let out a short song as an answer and Alex chuckled lightly.

“I assure you miss,” he trailed off, looking at her expectantly and she gave an apologetic smile.

“Alexandria, Alex is fine though, I don’t have a last name, not one I’m willing to go by anyway,” she answered, and Ollivander tilted his head slightly, his eyes flicking beside her, she knew who he was looking at and so she elaborated, hoping that the guilt would make the Potter’s stay away from her. “I’m an orphan, sir. I wasn’t named before I was dropped off and I was taken in before I was legally named, and they just never did it.”

“Ah well, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he peered at the phoenix, who promptly flew off her arm and onto the desk beside him, he didn’t move to pet it. “I’m assuming you’re here to get your wand.” 

Alex nodded, moving forward, “I got my Hogwarts letter this morning.”

“Which arm is your wand arm?” He pulled a tape measure from the desk, and the phoenix glared at him for the noise as a bunch of stacked objects fell.

“Mainly left,” she supplied, trying to stifle her laughter as the phoenix started picking up small objects from Ollivanders desk and pelting them at him.

“Well, hold it up,” he said, ignoring the objects that kept pelting him on the head, eventually the phoenix got sick of his lack of a reaction and stopped, settling for curling up on the desk and going to sleep. She held up her left arm, trying not to wack away the tape measure as it started to measure in all sorts of weird places.

Ollivander had moved away from her, gravitating towards certain boxes, before pulling one out from a stack, taking the wand out once he stood in front of her. Just when she thought she was going to be handed the wand he stopped, tilting his head at an angle as he scanned her carefully.

“That won’t do,” he muttered, placing the wand in the box and dropping it unceremoniously on the desk. Alex was surprised when it didn’t collapse under the weight.

He moved forward again, one long finger reaching out to touch her right eye, tracing the scar she knew was there. They had tried taking out one of her eyes when a wendigo had attacked one of them and almost taken out theirs, and she had failed to stop it. Her magic made sure she could still see through it, but it wasn’t in any way a pretty sight. She shuddered slightly and Ollivander looked at her knowingly. 

The scar burned underneath his calloused hand, the fingernail scratching the skin slightly, enough for her to feel her magic crackling beneath her skin, sensing a threat. He moved away then, as if knowing he was dancing on the precipice of a very high cliff.

“You have to take your illusions off, Miss Potter.” She kept her face strategically blank, but nodded, accepting her fate.

“How are you with gore Mr Ollivander?” She asked, not wanting to make him vomit from the horror of her scars even if she felt like throwing him through the wall.

He chuckled lightly, silver eyes sparkling with mirth, “I have been through war, Miss Potter, your scars will pale in comparison to mad-eye Moody’s I assure you.”

She looked at him seriously, “I’ve met him, and they do not, you can ask him next time you go to talk to him.” She didn’t give him time to process the answer, “and I did tell you I don’t have a last name, did I not?” She didn’t glare but her eyes narrowed on him, her hand flexing at her side, wanting to reach for her wand.

She decided against it, turning to the desk, pulling off her gloves and the jacket she was wearing, dropping them on the desk. The phoenix quickly claimed her jacket as its new bed, and she let out a small huff of laughter. 

She turned back around, her eyes moving to her mother, scanning her closely for any signs of malice. She didn’t find any. It didn’t make her feel any better. She called the knife in her boot to her hand, closing her hand around the hilt of the dagger without moving her eyes away from her parents. She relished in the surprise on their faces, and the feel of the wood against her palm: she let the blade hover in mid air for a moment, pulling up the sleeves of her button up shirt, before grasping the dagger again.

She kept her eyes on her parents, even as she dragged the blade into her forearm, carving a rune she hadn’t initially been in control of. She traced the rune from memory, never once moving her eyes to look at the blood dripping from her arm onto the floor.

When she was done, the rune glowed slightly, burning itself into her skin, and she could feel the chain reaction, could feel the burning spread across her body as all the others were switched off. Then she could feel the scars appearing, and there were thousands, all piled upon each other, every one reanimating the pain she first felt when she got them. Her face didn’t so much as twitch.

The eye was the worst of the pain, it felt worse than a crucio, her head feeling as though it was going to explode from the pain, She could feel her eyes watering slightly and she blinked back the tears quickly. She could see the strings of magic and immediately closed her right eye to avoid the incoming headache.

Lily Potter was covering her mouth, looking like she was going to cry but was trying not to for her son’s sake. She was leaning into her husband, who looked equally as horrified. Good, she thought, let them know what their actions wrought. She looked at Harry, he was angry, glowering at her, and she almost scoffed, how was any of this her fault? They didn’t have to stay.

She turned her eyes to Ollivander, and he looked horrified, although he did try masking it, she felt a sick kind of satisfaction at being right. It didn’t last. He looked at her for a moment, before grabbing the wand he previously placed down, “Blackthorn and unicorn hair. Eleven inches. Supple. Try –” 

Alex had barely managed to take the wand in her hand before it was being torn back out and replaced with another. “No, no – here, ash and dragon heartstring. Ten inches. Quite whippy.”

Again, she took it in her hand, she could feel the magic in the wand, but it felt like the other, she had barely raised it when Ollivander snatched it back, getting her another. This process repeated so many times Alex thought she should have left it till last, it was taking quite some time. The pile of boxes on the desk, the chair and around her grew and grew, she had expected Ollivander to get annoyed, or at the very least frustrated, but he seemed to get more excited with every failed match.

“You and your brother both seem to be very tricky customers,” she ignored his comment about her brother, wanting to put the illusions back on, but the rune was still burning on her skin, and her magic was protesting against it ever being activated again. “Don’t worry, Miss Potter, I shall find your match eventually, even if we have to be here until it gets dark.”

“I’d prefer to get my other things too, Mr Ollivander,” she answered, her voice tight at the way he chose to address her. He waved his hand with a smile.

He picked the next wand with the utmost care, walking around the boxes longer than he had since she walked in, her hand twitched, she could feel something calling to her.

“I wonder,” he picked a box off the shelf, it was absolutely caked in dust and Alex was immediately intrigued. She promised herself that if it wasn’t this wand she would walk out and come back another time. She hated being met with the reminder of the life she could have had.

“What do you know about wand woods, Miss Potter?” He asked, and she had to stop her eye from twitching at the name.

“I know the basics, I know how to harvest wand wood and each one's properties, both alone and paired with the traits of its wielder.” She kept her voice flat, her back straight, the aurors had turned around to look at her curiously, probably wondering why the other family hadn’t left. She watched as more of them joined the two that were standing out there when she entered. Seething internally, she turned her eyes back to Ollivander, who was looking at her in surprise, not even bothering to hide it.

“And where, may I ask, did you come to learn these things?” He moved closer to her, eyes glowing in the dark room, a dusty box in his hands. Alex wanted to tear the box out of his hands in her impatience, but she knew how to control her temper when she needed to.

She shrugged, acting nonchalant, “the people who raised me made sure I knew.” It was a vague answer, and would do little to satisfy Ollivander’s curiosity, but she cared little for that right now. Her mind was flicking with images of the torture she endured when she got something wrong, and she worked to suppress a full body shiver at the memory. She could still taste the copper on her tongue.

Ollivander didn’t ask anymore questions. “Try this,” he pulled a wand from the box, a cloud of dust covering the air as he lifted the lid. The others in the room immediately started coughing, as did Ollivander himself, but Alex simply blinked a few times, not a single spasm going through her body. 

He finally handed her the wand once he was done coughing, and even before Alex had touched the wand, she knew it was hers, it was pulling on her magic, calling to her. She took it carefully, not expecting the warmth that spread from her fingertips to all through her body. She felt the magic that had faithfully kept her alive for years tingling, waiting. She could feel it just beneath her skin, like she did when she was an inch away from death, or angry enough to burn an entire country to the ground.

She brought the wand up, bringing it swishing down in a gesture she knew was not definitive of any spell. She could feel the magic leaving her through the wand, the wand crackling with an energy that she knew to be hers. The room exploded with an array of colours and Alex could make out a picture of a thestral and an abraxan amongst the myriad of colours. Ollivanders was drowning in light, her magic exploding all over the place, she had managed to knock down quite a few shelves, but when looking at Ollivander he looked as though he’d seen the second coming of Merlin right in front of him.

He clapped, and Alex blinked in surprise. “Oh Bravo!” He exclaimed, moving to take the wand off her, she let him. “That was an incredibly impressive display of magic, Miss Potter.” His silver eyes didn’t move off her own emerald ones even as he moved to wrap it in brown paper. She fixed her clothing as he did, returning it back to its original, slightly scruffy, state.

“What is it?” He looked at her surprised, “you never said what wand it was.” She elaborated and he laughed, his smile wide, almost splitting his face in two.

“Your wand is quite peculiar Miss Potter, made from two types of wand woods, and so it is incredibly rare. I am lucky as a wand maker to have come across more than one wand with this feature.” He seemed incredibly happy as he spoke, she supposed she would be too, waiting for decades for a wand to find its match must be exhausting.

The wands she crafted had yet to find their true match, maybe she could give them to Ollivander. Although his insistence on calling her Miss Potter was certainly lowering the chances of that.

“Your wand is made of Aspen and Alder, the core is a tail hair of a thestral. I have made very few wands with the core. And I am one of the very few wandmakers to try, after all a thestral hair paired with the wrong wand makes for a terrible combination.” His voice dropped to a serious tone, almost a warning, before he continued.

Alex almost laughed at the needless warning: even she wasn’t curious enough to make wands with thestral hair, it was notoriously volatile when paired with wand wood of any sort. Having it not explode just for being in the vicinity of wandwood was quite the accomplishment. “Suited for charmwork, duelling and non-verbal spellwork. I’m sure you’ll do exceptionally well, with a wand like yours. It has taken me over half a century to find its match.” 

Alex nodded in appreciation, filing away the information for later. “Do you have any wand holsters?”

“I do. For your wrist?” Alex nodded, trying to ignore the fact that James Potter was moving forward, he stood beside her, an inch behind when Ollivander spoke again. “There are ones with spells to make them last longer and remain concealed, they also have anti-theft charms in place, just in case.”

She nodded, “I’ll take two of the wrist ones, and two for my ankles if you have them." She knew he did, but she didn’t want this conversation to last any longer than it had to, far too eager to get out of this bloody shop. “I’ll take whatever ones you recommend, in black.” She said, before he could even get the question out, he nodded, waving his wand and packing the object’s he’d conjured.

“27 galleons,” Alex nodded, hand moving to the inside of her jacket, to pull out the pouch Mcgonagall had sent. A larger hand caught her own, she looked up to meet hazel eyes, she refrained from glaring at the man, moving her hand out of his grasp.

“Would you let me pay?” He asked softly, his voice was kinder than she ever imagined her parents being, nothing like the monster he had been in her mind for years.

She pushed away the harsh words that had sprung to mind, “No. I can handle myself. I’ve been doing it for years.” Without your help.

He flinched at the insinuation, looking at her pleadingly, “please? I can explain after, and if it’s not good enough, you can pay me back.” She didn’t ask him what he meant to explain, the list ran far too long but the first question would always be why they left her at the orphanage and clearly, he knew that.

She held his gaze for a long time, it seemed like a fair exchange, and she would have to go with them anyway, she might as well do it on her own terms. She nodded, albeit begrudgingly, just because it made sense didn’t mean she would like it. 

James Potter brightened immediately, giving Ollivander the galleons, and Alex took her things, placing them carefully in her shoulder bag. They were the most expensive things she’d ever paid for. She could get some books from the school cupboards, she was sure they’d have some lying around, and hopefully she could make some robes. She didn’t quite feel comfortable using the blood money unless she absolutely needed to, and she didn’t need to yet.

She looked up at the man, he looked far too happy at the circumstances, but when he turned to walk out the door, his entourage followed him, and she followed them, working not to drag her feet and curse the gods for giving her one horror after another.

They ended up outside the shop eventually, the aurors outside waiting for the Potter family. Whilst they stood, Alex had to work not to laugh at the difference between her and her brother. The differences were night and day: he was carefree and childish, he felt things freely without fear of punishment and unlike her, his clothes were well kept and perfectly tailored for him. His robes fit perfectly and were made of expensive fabric, the gold thread used to stitch his name on the right side only made the bitterness Alex had worked to squash flare up again.

She turned at the sound of someone clearing their throat, “what about your…” Sirius Black trailed off, and gestured vaguely to her face, Alex ignored the feeling of a thousand blades digging into her back as he spoke.

“If anyone is bothered, that is on them,” she answered, working to keep any and all emotion out of her voice, her tone and pitch flat, perfectly even, never wavering once. The accent was the most difficult when she was filled with enough anger to tear apart the entire country, but she managed to keep her accent English and fairly vague in terms of social class. A win, as far as she was concerned.

Mr. Black cleared his throat again, and his younger brother peered at her carefully, they were almost identical, she noted, but she knew everything about the Black family tree, how it linked into other families, how old each of the members were, how old the previous generation had been when they died, what they died of. If there was anything non-violent she was an expert in, it was the Black family tree, and so she knew the slightly less lean of the two boys was Regulus Arcturus Black, born June 25th, 1961, two years younger than Sirius Orion Black, the heir to the Black family, born November 3rd, 1959.

She moved her eyes around the group, applying the information she had long since memorised to their now aged faces: she noted that Narcissa Black Malfoy was nowhere to be found, and neither was her child or husband. The heir shifted slightly and she looked at him blankly, waiting for him to say something. She had only been staring for five seconds when his brother spoke, “so you aren’t going to put the illusions back on?” He asked, and Alex noted he emphasised the word illusions as though he did not quite know what type of magic he was referring to.

Alex hummed noncommittally, her arm was still burning, her magic protesting against the very thought, she made up her mind. “Not for now, I will cover the scars once I get to Hogwarts.” She kept her answers short. She could feel dozens of eyes on her, families joining the one she had left with, hushed conversations taking place. Alex could hear them, but even if she had been unable to, it was no surprise that they were talking about her.

“Who raised you?” It was Walburga Black who spoke this time, her eyes were different to her sons and her husband: a sparkling blue instead of a stormy grey, and Alex silently praised the Gods for at least one Black who did not remind her of the ones who raised her. Walburga’s voice was soft, her eyes questioning, searching for an answer, Alex worked not to tense her muscles further.

“They’re dead now.” She answered flatly, making sure to keep eye contact with the woman, she wanted to smirk when the woman shifted in discomfort.

However, when she had expected further questioning or a reprimand on her standoffish behaviour, all she received was a curt, “good.” Walburga Black seemed pleased with her answer, even with the lack of detail it had provided.

“Nice to meet you, dear.” A redheaded woman greets her, with a family of freckled redheads behind her, Weasley, her mind provides. A pureblooded family, one of the sacred twenty-eight but not one that prided themselves on blood purity. The woman is slightly plump, with kind features and a smile that takes some of the threat she poses away.

Alex nods stiffly, not quite sure what to do when faced with someone she doesn’t know and doesn’t pose even the slightest threat. “This is the Weasley family,” Lily Potter supplies, and Alex nods again.

“Molly and Arthur Weasley,” she starts to recite, before pausing to look at them for a moment, moving her eyes to their children, noting two of them are missing. “William and Charles are not here, or should I say Bill and Charlie?” She keeps her tone even and her face blank but the taunt is clear, it hangs in the air as she continues.

“Percival, or Percy,” she nods her head toward him and he blinks in shock, she resists the urge to open her other eye, to see the magic trailing between the family, to see how much they have, how much of a threat they could be.

“Fred and George,” she scans them carefully, noting they were identical in everything but the way they stood, one of them stood leaning to the right, as opposed to standing evenly. She’d have to figure out which one.

“Actually,” the one who stood straight interrupted her, “I’m George and he’s Fred.” He pointed at his twin, Alex trailed her eyes across his face. He’s lying, her mind whispered and so she simply blinked, not bothering to shake her head. She trusted the years of torture, as horrible as they had been, she could not deny that they had yielded results.

“No you’re Fred,” she corrected, not bothering to amuse them, the twins looked at her, not even bothering to conceal their shock. “He’s George.” She pointed to the other one, “and then there’s Ronald, and the last twins, Ginevra and Genevieve.”

The last girl was only a year younger, but as Alex’s birthday had yet to pass, so they were the same age, but it wasn’t any of this that drew Alex’s attention. It was the knowing look in her eyes, the demeanour that suggested this girl knew far too much about her despite having only met her mere moments ago. She moved her eyes away, feeling unnerved and on edge in a way she had never been.

She met Lily Potter’s eyes, and the woman looked almost as distraught as she had when Alex had taken off the disguise, showcasing her eyes. “Nice to meet you,” Alex turned her eyes back to Genevieve, who seemingly did not like it when she was turned away from her, and nodded. “How did you lose your eye?”

Alex turned back, scanning the girl, she seemed older than she was, more mature for her age, Alex opened her right eye, regretting it almost immediately. The myriad of colours was blinding and she could feel a headache forming already, but the sight was gorgeous, almost like a painting of lines binding everyone around her together. In half a second of opening her eye she learned exactly why this girl had her on edge. She was a seer.

Alex closed her right eye again, she could feel the headache slowly getting worse, the dull pain behind her scarred eye, the stinging on her forearm only getting worse as she thought about covering the scars up again.

“Somebody took it out with a knife,” she answered simply, and the look on Genevieve’s face almost made her grin, it was clear the girl was unnerved and Alex relished in the fact that she could surprise even a seer.

“Did it hurt?” It was Harry who asked, and Alex turned her sharp gaze towards the child they had chosen to keep.

“Yes,” she was tempted to ask if he would like to find out but she swallowed the comment as soon as it rose. He was a child, he had as much say in being kept as she did in being abandoned. She turned her eyes back to Harry’s parents, “get on with the explanation then.”

“That’s rude,” Ronald commented and Alex looked at him flatly.

“So is being abandoned and then finding out they kept your twin brother,” she narrowed her eyes, her jaw clenched slightly. “Shut your mouth when things don't concern you.”

She turned back to the parents who were staring at her like kicked puppies, she fought the urge to laugh at the pathetic action. How dare they look at her like that when they had wronged her? She swallowed her anger, even as she felt it burning through her body, her magic crackling at her fingertips.

She looked at them expectantly, not moving her gaze even as she heard a sharp crack cut through the air, “I want answers, considering I’m going to be forced to live with you, I’d say I’m owed them.”

“Dear,” a soft voice echoed from behind her, a hand moving to touch her shoulder. Alex caught it as soon as it touched her, twisting the arm of the person who dared to lay a hand on her. She turned to see Andromeda Black, her face twisted in pain, Alex let go of her wrist.

“I’m sorry,” and she was, she promised herself she wouldn’t hurt an innocent person without cause. “You should refrain from touching me,” she offered, “I do not know you well enough.” 

Andromeda nodded, offering her a smile, Alex held out her hand and Andromeda held her arm out, albeit with an expression of confusion. Alex healed her quickly, she could feel the magic on this woman easily, as nobody here had been trained on how to hide it, finding the strands that could help her get rid of the injury was easier than usual, Andromeda Black was exceptionally suited to healing magic.

“Thank you,” she smiled, and Alex was confused at the lack of fear or apprehension on her face, “you’ll have to teach me how to do that.” Alex thought of how she learned, blood dripping from her back, a body so weak she could barely keep her eyes open, broken limbs and ribs, she thought of the full-bodied fear she had felt.

“I don’t think you want me to teach you the same way I was taught.” She answered flatly, and before she could catch the pity that found itself in Andromeda’s eyes, her eyes caught the cracked pavement. Her magic had lashed out. She straightened her back, she knew she’d pay for that later, their niceness was a lie, she would still have an eye if it wasn’t.

Still, they were Gryffindors, and their punishments would pale in comparison to the one’s she was used to, she turned her gaze back to them, cold and unfeeling. “I want my explanation.”

“You need to accompany them to the ministry first,” Remus Lupin said, it was the first Alex had heard him talk directly to her, and she fought the urge to throw a knife at the werewolf. She was adept at hunting, and she had started with werewolves. Kill or be killed, weapon. Which is it? The cruel voice rang through her mind, and her hand longed for the dozens of silver daggers she kept on her.

“I don’t need to do anything, wolf.” She looked him straight in the eyes, she could see his surprise quickly turn to fear. Good. “If you want to make me, you can try, but I can tell you I’ve faced worse than a werewolf who cannot shift upon will.”

Lily Potter cut through, “the ministry-”

“Are doing this to avoid public scrutiny, which they won’t have to do if you’re all dead.” She looked the woman straight in the eyes, “there are many ways to avoid this situation, they are simply gruesome, and you were expecting a child. It is the biggest mistake you have made since beginning this entire PR stunt.”

“You won’t be able to go to Hogwarts otherwise.” James Potter said, trying to bargain with her, it was a foolish bargain, she scoffed.

“I didn’t ever expect to,” she answered honestly, “they took my eye out, you think they would have let me attend a school?” She chuckled then, the sound bitter and cruel, “and why would I want to go somewhere where I could only exist in the shadow of the child you chose to keep?”

The couple flinched, and she wanted to continue, to hurt them just as they had hurt her, she was interrupted by a band of aurors. “You need to come with us.” Kingsley Shacklebolt said, his voice deep and gruff.

She waved her hand, sending the aurors that had circled her flying back. “I’ll come with you so long as you don’t try touching me, Shacklebolt.”

He got up, as did the others, circling her once again. “I know my rights, why do I need to come with you?”

“To talk over the matter of your guardianship,” Shacklebolt answered, and Alex raised a brow.

“I have guardians, my biological parents left me at an orphanage, therefore resigning any rights they had to me. What is there to talk about?” She answered, she thanked the cruel men who raised her for making her memorise every inch of the law, both magical and otherwise.

“Where are they?” Lily Potter asked, and Alex could hear the confrontational tone in her voice, the accusation only made Alex more angry.

“I asked them not to come, and they’re working.” She answered, not bothering to keep the anger out of her voice this time, she spat the words as though they were acid in her mouth.

“You still need to come with us, Rosalie.” Shacklebolt looked slightly regretful now but Alex simply glared at him, her back straightened, the mask of impassiveness fell back into place. She could leave, but she’d have to face this eventually, and she still wasn’t done shopping so eventually would still be before she got to Hogwarts.

She nodded, not saying a word, “you have to hold onto my arm so I can take you to the ministry.” A blonde woman said, her face was round, her features kind, Alex nodded again, taking the arm that was offered. Amelia Bones was no threat to her.

Apparating was as uncomfortable as it always was, the Potters and their group had apparated with her, they were standing in an empty room, it had chairs and a large table but no one new was present. Alex flexed her hand slightly to rid herself of the sickly feeling that came with apparition, the other children obviously weren’t nearly as used to apparition as she was. Harry was kneeling over on the floor, heaving, and so were the younger of the Weasleys, barring Genevieve. 

Percival stood quietly as his mother cleaned up the vomit and made sure her children were okay, George and Fred were laughing at their brother's misery, until Genevieve pointed out their slightly pale complexions.

Lily Potter cleaned up Harry, caressing his face and smoothing his hair. Alex turned to look at Amelia Bones, who smiled softly at her, the pity was evident in her eyes, Alex was far too familiar with the emotion today.

“Shall we all take seats?” Kingsley’s voice was booming, and everyone clambered into their seats, Alex remained standing. He turned his brown eyes to her emerald green ones, she stared at him unbothered, almost smiling at the small sigh from Amelia Bones. “Are you going to take a seat?”

Alex stared at him and he sighed, “Miss Potter–” Alex raised her brow at him, her gaze going from impassive to furious in a split second, he went flying back into the wall, his chair clattering to the floor.

He got up from the floor, picking up his chair, his chest rising heavily with each breath, he met her eyes again, and she simply stared back, her mask back in place. He sighed again, “would you please take a seat?”

She stared at him for a moment, watching him shift uncomfortably in his chair, preparing to be thrown into the wall again. “I’ll take a seat once I make my call.”

Kingsley furrowed his brows slightly, “you are not under arrest Miss-” he stopped there, clearly remembering what happened the last time he called her a Potter.

She took a step forward, “then why on earth were the aurors sent to grab me, and why did I not have a choice about coming in? I want a lawyer, and my call.” Her voice was sharp and demanding, he sighed again.

“You aren’t under arrest.” He repeated and she smiled at him mockingly, all sharp canines and cruelty.

“So I can leave?” She moved to take a step toward the door.

“No.” He answered, and she turned her predatory gaze back on him, he shuddered and her grin widened. He was afraid. Good.

“Last I checked, that makes me a prisoner.” Her tone was condescending, all kindness had left her now. She was a weapon, and weapons had no care for feelings.

“Would you please take a seat?” She met his defeated gaze, the grin slipped back into an impassive mask, though her eyes still glittered with cruelty. She put a hand on the back of the chair, and waited for the relief in his eyes, waited for his muscles to relax, then she threw it right beside his head. It hit the wall, cracking it.

“You missed,” George commented, and Genevieve elbowed him, she turned her gaze to him, delighting in the way he shrunk slightly.

“He’s no use to me dead.” Her cold voice made him shrink further into the chair, and her eyes moved back to Kingsley. “My call, Shacklebolt, and a lawyer.”

“He can’t give you either, kid.” Amelia Bones’ voice was softer, no order in her words but they made Alex burn with anger either way. She turned her gaze to the woman, who, despite the wariness evident in her eyes, refused to back down.

She chuckled, stretching her arm out and letting the chair fly into her waiting palm without moving her eyes away from Amelia Bones’. She placed the chair down, pulling it back and turning to take a seat, she called the dagger into her hands once more, dragging the blade across her left forearm this time, a different rune being traced. Once it was traced, she put away the blade without a word and turned her eyes back to Shacklebolt.

He cleared his throat nervously, clearly wondering what exactly she had just done, but far too scared to ask. “By Ministry decree, you have been placed under the care of Lily and James Potter, you will have to legally abide by this decree by moving yourself into their house until the age of 18.”

He looked at her, waiting for a reaction, but she didn’t say a word, and when a roar so loud it shook the walls rang through the ministry, he moved his eyes to her sparkling ones in fear. She crossed her legs, moving to sit comfortably in her chair, the door was torn off its hinges.

Jason walked in, his hair falling down to his shoulders, scars littering his body, eyes glowing a dangerous shade of blue, his canines retracted at the sight of her, safe and unharmed. “Pat said she’s gonna kill everyone if you don’t come back with me to at the very least get your things.”

Alex looked at him softly, and he grinned further, “oh and I brought you a lawyer.” The lawyer in question was Lucas, his hair was a light brown, cut short, his light blue eyes shone in amusement at Jason. He was wearing an expensive suit, no doubt given to him by Felix.

Alex rolled her eyes, “I know who Lucas is, Jace.”

“Can I see the ministry decree?” Alex made the piece of paper fly into her palm before Kingsley could even reply, she handed the paper to Lucas, who read over it quietly. She waited a moment, scanning his face as he read the decree, the twitch in his brow, and the fact that he was chewing on the inside of his cheek were clear indicators that she was not going to like his answer.

He looked up from the paper after a while, his eyes shining with a silent apology, “Good or bad news first?”

“Bad,” she replied instantly, she’d rather not get her hopes up.

“Because the wizarding world isn’t fond of werewolves, I can’t fight this upon the condition that Felix is already your legal guardian.” His voice was soft, his mouth turned down into a slight frown, “the good news is that this technically doesn’t come into play until you’re eleven so you’ve got a month before anything in this is required.”

He smiled, “the even better news is that if I can’t fight it based on Pat being your guardian because she’s non-magical, you only have to stay with them for six weeks every year, it says nothing about requiring you to be present for holidays.”

“I suppose I can deal with that,” she took the contract and duplicated it, signing the one she left on the table and giving the copy back to Lucas.

“The even better news is that we get to kill them if they hurt you and their magic doesn’t work against me or Felix,” Jason answered, his mouth turned into a grin, his posture welcoming but his words a threat.

“Magic works against werewolves,” Lupin commented and Jason grinned turning to Alex.

“They’re blood moon wolves, their transition is not completely controlled by the moon, they can shift at will, and can control their wolves, one of the perks is that magic doesn’t work on them in any form. You’re only slightly resistant as a normal werewolf, but blood moon wolves are completely resistant.” She answered calmly, getting up from her chair, throwing a bag of galleons back to James Potter, twenty-seven galleons exactly. “I’ll see you on July 31st. Until then, rot in hell.” She waved her hand, and then she was standing back in her apartment.

Ao3 link here

Feel free to give reviews and suggestions, I don't have a beta reader so if you notice any mistakes please let me know. Be kind, and thank you for reading!

[writer-with-no-home]

Honey, I'm taking no orders (I'm gonna be nobody's soldier)

Chapter I

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Mentions of Rape/Non-Con

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 4k

Summary:

Alex has never known her real parents. She doesn't want to. The men who raised her were cruel and treated her more like a weapon than a human, and she had barely come out alive. The scar tissue that litters almost every inch of her body, layer upon layer, is all the proof anyone needs. When she wakes to an owl with her Hogwarts letter and the subsequent revelation that she's Rosalie Potter, twin to the boy-who-lived, she begins one of the worst days of her life. Suddenly, the family she does not care for wants her back, the ministry is hell bent on making their wishes a reality, and she is suddenly the most interesting topic in the wizarding world. Alex isn't interested in playing happy family: she's bitter and angry and if years of torture have taught her anything, it's that there is always a way out. She has no interest in yielding to guilt-filled attempts to gain her trust, and quietly counts down the days till Hogwarts begins and she can stay away from anybody remotely associated with the Potter family. Caught between her desire for her old life and the ever looming presence of her biological family, Alex must navigate a world where magic doesn’t ease pain, and blood doesn’t guarantee trust.

Chapter I: Alexandria I

Alexandria woke to a sharp tapping on the window, curling back into the warmth she braced for the blow that was bound to fall upon her head. It didn’t. She opened her eyes, sitting up in the sleeping bag and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Her eyes narrowed on the owl tapping the window incessantly, her head turned toward the clock on her wall. 

5:03. 

It was 5:03 in the morning and there was an owl knocking on her window. 

She groaned, closing her eyes and wishing for this to be some annoying dream, but the tapping continued and Alex knew if she didn’t answer her neighbours would soon wake up and become annoyed at her, and she couldn’t have that. 

She got up begrudgingly. “Alright, alright, I’m coming,” she muttered, black curls falling over her face, only to be pushed away by calloused hands. She opened the window and the owl flew in, sitting on the dresser, Alex hastily untied the knot with practised ease, expecting it to fly back out. When it didn’t she turned her attention back to the letter, she dragged her thumb over the parchment, reading the name carefully. She was expecting it to be addressed to them , but it wasn’t, and it wasn’t her name on the front, at least not the one they had called her by. She did not, after all, have a birth name, she was never granted one before being dropped off at the orphanage. 

However, this owl had delivered a letter to Rosalie A. Potter. The address was correct, as were the details of which room she slept in, not to mention she didn’t know any wizards or witches that would send her a letter by owl. The only people she could think of that would use an owl were dead, and even if they weren’t, they were far too ruthless to bother with a threat, they enjoyed the thrill of the hunt far too much.

Her mind flicked with images of two dark haired men laying on a forest floor, blood dripping from their eyes, limbs bent at odd angles. Dead . She mentally chastises herself, eyes lingering on the untouched bed, she had yet to go against the command of not being allowed to sleep in a bed, the courage seemed to leave her in this aspect. 

She had taken their apartments as her own, stolen their clothes to make sure she didn’t freeze in the winter before she found this apartment, with no landlord to question why a child was living alone. Not to mention, all the money they had on them had been hers in a heartbeat but in the two years of her escape, she had yet to sleep on a mattress.

She shook her head slightly, ignoring the part of her that screamed at her for keeping her body the way they liked it, and turned the letter over in her hand. The parchment seal only confirmed her suspicions, the letter was from Hogwarts. She dragged her fingers over the red wax seal, sighing and pulling a dagger from her boot, she cut open the letter.

The parchment was rough against her skin, she pulls out the letter, eyes dragging across the ink with poorly concealed shock.

Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry 

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order Of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc, Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards) 

Dear Miss Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find a list of all necessary books and equipment. 

Term begins on September 1 st . We await your owl by no later than 31 July. 

Yours Sincerely, 

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

She stared at the letter long after she’d finished reading it: she’d known she’d get one eventually, of course, but she expected them to be alive and ready to tear away anything that could have granted her freedom. She’d never expected their deaths to arrive, and she hadn’t thought much about the letter since, more focused on surviving without being put in an orphanage. 

Alex tapped her foot, looking at the envelope that lay discarded on the wooden drawer. Picking it up, she pulled out two other pieces of parchment instead of the one she’d expected. Furrowing her brows in confusion, she frowned, why hadn’t she seen either of them at first? She chastised herself again, they probably arrived in a specific order to avoid confusion. Her eyes lingered on the two pieces of parchment she was holding, why was there an extra one?

She opened one of them by random, pleased to find out that it was the list of things she needed to buy. She frowned, she’d have to find the money for them somewhere, maybe she could finally find out if those keys opened vaults. She shook her head, placing the list next to the first letter, the owl was still staring at her expectantly. She huffed, ignoring the piercing yellow gaze, unfolding the next piece of parchment slowly.

Miss Potter, 

I know you are most likely confused as to why you are receiving this letter, considering you may not even know your true name, but I can assure you that magic does not make mistakes, and this letter is meant for no one but you.

I am assuming that you know of magic, but if you do not believe what I am telling you, another slip should be available. I can explain everything to you if necessary. I am aware that you may require financial aid and am glad to tell you that if you send back a letter with this owl, I will have it deliver some gold. It may not be enough to get everything first hand but you should be able to get everything, some things will have to be second hand.

If you have any more questions, simply ask them in the letter you send back and I will answer them as best I can.

Yours Sincerely, 

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Alex was only more confused by the end of the letter, why did she get a personal letter, and why was this woman talking to her like she knew her? Maybe she did that with everyone, Alex reasoned, after all, she was the deputy. 

She sighed, turning to the owl, “it might be ages before I figure out what to write back, what do you eat?” She moved to pet the owl and she was surprised by the soft feel of the feathers, the owl preened happily, closing its eyes in delight. “I suppose I’m taking a trip to Diagon Alley later,” she gave the owl one last stroke before moving to the wardrobe, flicking her hand mindlessly, the letters returned to the envelope, gliding into the drawer without her so much as looking back. 

She flicked her eyes back to the clock, closing them momentarily in annoyance, it was too late to bother going back to sleep now. She huffed, picking out clothes and heading into the shower. She came out twenty minutes later, her body still tense, not an ounce of steam coming from the bathroom.

She was wearing light clothes, all of them far too expensive for her wallet, she moved her eyes to the window, debating going out it, her thoughts moved to the security guard, who she was sure could sense the magic on her, he could tell she didn’t look right, and she had no idea how. Nonetheless, she made up her mind quickly, opening the window, jumping onto the balcony below her, to the roof of the shop beside the apartment complex, she could feel the edges of the bricks scraping her hands, her muscles straining slightly with the strenuous movement so early.

She made it to the pavement eventually, and pulled her walkman out of her tracksuit pants, she put the earbuds in, and lost herself in the piano that played through. Nothing mattered then, she could hear her heartbeat drumming behind her ears, could feel her feet planting against the pavement. It wasn’t long before she found herself at the nearest park, it was early enough that no one was out yet, just how she liked it, she ran around and around, not stopping until the dog walkers started to show up beside her. She turned her wrist, checking the time, half-six, her shift started at eight, she would have to make her way back.

And so she did, relishing in the soft drumming of her heartbeat, something that acted as her own personal lullabye when the walkman was unavailable. She wasn’t running long enough to start sweating, but her muscles had relaxed by tenfold, she made her way back to her apartment, this time in a much better mood than when she had left. Her face was blank, just like she had been taught, but she forced a smile upon seeing the security guard. Will was new and had always been nice to her, the night shift ended at six so thankfully she didn’t have to interact with Richard.

“Morning Alex,” Will greeted with a smile and Alex smiled back, nodding in lieu of a greeting. She went to check her mail as he continued, “how was your run?”

“Good.” She answered, trying her hardest to make sure her voice wasn’t curt or monotoned, “how’s Ben?” She turned in time to see him flush from the question, she shook her head chuckling, “see you later Will, have a good day.”

“You too,” his words echoed as she made her way up the stairs, her mind falling back to the letter and the name she was apparently supposed to go by. She sighed, if she was a Potter, was there any way she was related to the pureblood family? She hoped not, she’d prefer her parents dead and away from her, they had done enough damage, she didn’t want anything to do with them.

She shook her head to rid herself of the bitterness that clouded her thoughts, opening the door to her apartment and heading straight for her room, she took a quick shower, hastily throwing on her uniform, and rushing back out the door. She ran just in time to make it to her bus, sitting in her regular seat with relief.

The restaurant she worked at was a high end, different menu every week type of restaurant, and as such, her uniform was probably the best outfit she owned. Everyone in this place knew about the magical world, whether they had siblings that were magical, or were born squibs, or were werewolves, everyone knew about the magical world. It was the only reason she decided to work there. She hated rich people.

She walked in only to be greeted by Jason, he was far too hyperactive for eight in the morning. Jason was a twenty-four year old werewolf who worked as a waiter, he was six foot three and as such Alex had to crane her neck to look at him, his blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, and Alex was tempted every day to grab a knife and cut it off, but he insisted upon it.

“Morning,” his voice was loud and cheery, blue eyes looking down on her, she shot him a glare, moving to the back to drop off her things. When she walked back out, he was waiting for her. She cursed Felix for putting him on the morning shift. Jason frowned, “why are you so grumpy?”

“Because it’s eight in the fucking morning, Jace.” Patricia answered from behind him, he turned to face her, his face turned into a glare.

Patricia was a short woman, only reaching five feet tall, with mousy brown hair, eyes to match and skin that was olive toned, it was amusing to see how Jason cowered slightly when she glared back at him.

She side-stepped him, moving to give Alex a hug, kissing her forehead lightly, “give me a moment, love, I have no doubt we have things to talk about.”

Jason turned his gaze back to Alex, his eyes noticeably softer, “what is she on about?”

Alex sighed, grabbing his arm, “meet me in Felix’s office?” Patricia nodded, heading into the locker rooms, and so Alex dragged Jason into Felix’s office. 

Felix looked up tiredly, his black hair was slicked back, the blazer of his suit resting on a hook in the corner. “I’m not taking him off the morning shift because he’s too cheery,” he held his hands up to quote ‘too cheery’ and Jason turned to look at Alex as though she’d stabbed him.

Alex sighed, turning to Jason,“first of all, I did not say that, he’s just predicting,” she looked back at Felix dropping Jason’s arm, “second of all, you’re going to need to hire a new waiter for after my birthday.”

Jason looked alarmed, “you’re quitting?!” His eyes were wide and Alex moved her hand to cover his mouth to stop the rambling that was about to commence.

“I’m not quitting, would you calm down?” She said, exasperated, she’d only been here for a few minutes, the place wasn’t even open yet. Jason relaxed and Alex took away her hand, “I received a letter,” Felix looked at her in realisation and Jason frowned, taking a seat.

“You received a Hogwarts letter,” Felix said, and Alex nodded, sighing, her hands dragging across her face.

“And that’s not even the best part,” she took a seat, the sarcasm in her voice palpable, the door cut her off from continuing, Patricia walking in.

“What else is it?” Patricia asks, she takes a seat on the leather sofa against the wall, and Alex sighs, she seems to be doing far too much of the action today.

She looks at Patricia, the normally confident woman is leaning to the right, toward the door, her usually lax posture slightly tense. Alex furrows her brows together, her eyes narrowing, Patricia’s blink rate is faster, her pupils constricted, she’s playing with her fingers.

“What do you know?” She doesn’t move out of her chair, her posture doesn’t change but her voice is lower, more dangerous, not a warning, a threat.

“Your name,” Patricia starts, she was aware of Alex’s history, of what makes her a very valuable target, but the anger had never been directed toward her before, and it was, quite honestly, terrifying. “I don’t know for sure, but I’ve heard a few things, whispers really.” 

Patricia deflects and Alex swallows the threat she was about to deploy, these people were kind, threats were not necessary. “Pat, would you just spit it out.”

“I’ve been told not to tell you unless I know the name on your letter,” she answers after a moment of silence and Alex nods.

“Rosalie Potter.” Alex replies, “I’m assuming this has something to do with your brother?”

Patricia sighs, her eyes apologetic, “he’s met you before, and you apparently look a lot like their boy.” Seeing Alex’s confusion, she sighs, hand rubbing her temple, “the Potters, the wizarding family-”

“Notorious purebloods, rich as hell, parents to the boy-who-lived, I am well aware of who they are.” Alex replies, the annoyance in her voice makes Patricia laugh.

“When the boy-who-lived, as you called him, was born, he was born with a twin sister,” Alex’s eyes widened.

“Surely you can’t possibly-”

“The child has a gravestone Alex, they made her one with the name they gave her, if you don’t believe me, think back to the name on the letter you received–” Patricia’s voice is soft and kind and sympathetic, her eyes almost pitiful.

Alex cuts her off in a desperate plea for her to be wrong, “the middle name. I didn’t tell you the middle name, I don’t know it but I know the initial. What is it?” Alex is well aware her voice sounds like she’s begging, but she can’t bring herself to care, she’s only had her freedom for year, she can’t do this.

Patricia’s eyes shine with pity and Alex feels a surge of anger, she swallows it but she can feel her nails digging into her palm. She has been through worse, she can survive this hell, even if it is personally designed for her. “The middle name is Amaryllis.” Alex sits back in her chair, flexing her hands, ignoring the slight pain from the blood she’s drawn. She’s lost.

Her eyes turn to Felix, “Can you get someone to cover me?” She pauses for a moment, eyes flicking to Patricia’s pity filled gaze. “And Pat, I need to talk to her, and you, and I won’t be able to work today.”

“I already asked Sam and Nat to cover yesterday,” Alex’s stare turns accusatory, and Patricia smiles apologetically, “I didn’t know if it would be you, and neither did my brother, he’s only met you once.”

“The boy’s hair is black, right?” She asks, her throat burning with the strain of talking and not just screaming into the abyss.

“Yeah,” Patricia’s answer is soft, but anything else she’s going to say gets cut off.

Jason pulls Alex into a bear hug and for once, she welcomes it, his body runs hot, and his arms feel like home after so long together, for the first time since waking today, Alex feels safe. “If they want you back, we might not be able to do much, but if they hurt you I will kill them.” His head is resting on top hers, his voice determined and filled with all of the emotion she’s learnt to suppress through years of torture, she hugs him back, her grip tight.

He pulls away eventually, looking more like an apologetic puppy than a wolf, “I gotta go but come round mine tonight and you can stay with me, yeah?”

Alex shakes her head, “I think I need to be alone tonight.” He nods, kissing her on the forehead and nodding towards the others before leaving.

“Your hair isn’t naturally black,” Felix states, he doesn’t speak a lot, which is one of the main reasons Alex likes him, he’s calm and quiet and doesn’t require her to talk if she wants to sit in his presence.

Alex shakes her head and sighs again, trying to relieve the weight on her chest. It doesn’t get any lighter, “there are far too many other coincidences for it to be a fluke, and fraternal twins can be born with different hair colours, so that doesn’t mean anything. Not to mention, magic doesn’t lie.”

“My brother said that too, what does it even mean? Can’t someone make the magic lie, change your name?” Patricia asked and Alex shook her head, rubbing her fingers against her thumb, the skin was calloused but nowhere near as scarred as it should have been.

“Magic doesn’t work that way, and if someone had messed with it, they would have left a signature. This kind of magic is cast by someone and in this case, it probably would have been the deputy who wrote the letter, the magic would have simply filled in the gaps using resources provided by the ministry, and they have no record of me, the people who brought me up made sure of that.”

“That’s why you can cast magic outside of school?” Patricia asked, and she was pleased when Alex’s lips twitched upwards.

“No, that’s because I’m powerful enough not to need a wand to cast spells, for most witches and wizards, the wand is a necessity and wands can be tracked. The torture helped in some ways, I suppose.” She smiles at the disapproving look Patricia shot at her for the joke.

“What if this person managed it without a wand?” Patricia asks and Alex huffed out a laugh.

“As much as I’d love to believe this is a lie, Pat, nobody would have a motive. What would the motive even be? There’s no logical reason for doing this, not to mention, no one can get into Hogwarts to manage doing it, and sending an elf is possible but they don’t have enough power. Messing with the ministry register may be possible, but still, there’s no reason to do it, most people would be overjoyed to find out their parents are rich and famous.” Alex’s voice was defeated.

“You do not owe them anything,” Felix said, “they may be your biological parents, and they may have legal rights toward you that I can’t do anything about, but they do not have a right to any part of you. You don’t need to give them an explanation or a backstory, you don’t even have to go quietly if you don’t want to.”

Alex scoffed, “if you think I’m going quietly, we need to rethink this whole friendship.” Felix smiled, and Alex nodded in thanks. “Now I just need to figure out what to do about the letter.”

“What letter?” Patricia asked and Alex smiled, it felt more like a grimace.

“McGonagall wrote me a personal letter,” she explained, feeling more exhausted than she had in years. “She said to send back a letter asking for financial aid if I need it, and to ask any questions if I had any.”

“Unless you have any questions that you're willing to ask her, just ask for the financial aid.” Patricia replied and Alex nodded, rubbing a hand over her face.

“Everyone’s going to think I’m lying about who I am,” her voice was defeated, “and what if they don’t want me? They left me at an orphanage after all.”

“It might have been because of the war,” Felix reasoned and Alex laughed, the sound bitter and harsh. 

“Then why would they keep my twin brother?” She asked, her voice hollow, “what reason is there to keep one twin and put the other in an orphanage? It’s not as though they would have had any reason not to keep me and keep him. Money isn’t an issue for them, wanting children couldn’t be an issue because they kept him, and safety won’t have been because if they were willing to put me in an orphanage why wasn’t he with me?” 

She sighs, her eyes moving to look out the window, she focuses on the details of the cars that move past, broken tail lights, scratches and dents and new paint jobs. “Maybe they just didn’t want a girl.”

“Whatever it is, it’s not your fault. It’s on them, not you. You were a child.” Felix reassures her, and she nods even though she doesn’t quite believe the words.

She turns her attention back to Patricia, “did your brother say anything about what would happen?”

Patricia hesitates for a second before she answers and it’s enough for Alex to know she’s not going to like the answer. “He said they want to find you, and they are the Potter’s so the ministry has already granted them full custody of you, providing that you are their child. Usually they might ask you about your opinion but he doesn’t think they’ll do it this time. The minister is far too afraid to do anything that would get on their bad side.”

Alex scoffs, “of course. Why would my feelings matter in the face of public scrutiny?”

“They’re supposed to be nice,” Patricia offers and Alex laughs harshly.

“They left me in an orphanage and subjected me to things worse than death.” Her voice was flat, but the anger was visible in her tense frame from a mile away. “If there was a choice between dying at one and going through what I went through, I’d have chosen death in a heartbeat.”

Patricia swallows thickly, and the nervousness radiating off her almost makes Alex run out the door before she can be given any more bad news, but she knows she’ll be faced with the horror eventually. She might as well rip off the plaster.

“They’re also going to be looking for you in Diagon Alley, apparently Gringotts is required to tell them if you walk in with your name,” Patricia says and Alex wants to laugh, who knew that the torture of being denied her actual name would be a mercy now.

“Well, that shouldn’t be too much of an issue, they don’t know my name,” she looks up to meet Patricia’s sympathetic gaze. “Anything else?”

Another beat of hesitation and Alex doesn’t bother to hide her disdain, a weary sigh falling from her lips. “You’re probably going to have to live with them by the first holidays.” 

“Well,” her voice is exhausted, she doesn’t have enough strength to fight anymore, “at least I can stay at Hogwarts until the summer, we’ll deal with that bridge when we get to it.”

“So you are quitting?” Felix asks, his French accent audible now he’s distressed.

Alex shakes her head, “I need the money, I guess I’ll just have to find a way to work and to deal with whatever the hell is going to happen to me. I’ll be working summers at the very least, and I’ll send you letters when I figure out what the hell is going on.” Felix smiled, clearly happy that she wasn’t completely leaving.

“When are you going to go shopping for your school things?” He asks, already reaching for his wallet.

Alex shot him a glare, Patricia laughing at the look on her face. “I’m going today, and I don’t need your money, you pay me enough.”

“Yeah, Felix isn’t going to listen to you, because you’re ten.” Patricia says, her voice teetering on the edge of laughter. “Do you want me to come with you?”

Alex shook her head, getting up and moving away from Felix’s offers of money, she had one hand on the door when she spoke. “I’d prefer to go alone,” her eyes moved to Felix who was moving around his desk in order to reach her. 

“I have money.” Her voice was filled with annoyance as she ran out of his office, quickly gathering her things from the locker room and running out of the restaurant. She knew he wasn’t going to follow her, he knew better than to try and keep up.

Ao3 link here

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