Rise From The Ashes

Chapter One: Nobody's Child

She would always remember the journey to Hogwarts. It wasn't the sort of thing you'd forget. Sightless, gagged at the mouth and bound at the wrists, Florence stumbled as she walked. When she fell, the man behind her jerked her up by seizing the back of her neck, clawing into her skin until she felt the warm blood flow down her back. She bit her lip, and felt her eyes begin to water under the blindfold, but she remained as silent as death. She would not give him the satisfaction. She would not. If she was going to die, there would be no sound, and no dramatics to satiate whatever perverse compulsions this sick little man had; if she died, she would be as silent and impassible as stone.

She didn't know why he was taking her here, deep into this... forest, or whatever it is was - the night noises around her told her she was in a wild, woody place. She stopped moving for a moment, to listen more closely and find some further clue of her surroundings, but the man behind her pushed her so hard she nearly fell down again, only just managing to catch herself and stagger blindly on. She thought once more of the orphanage, with its gray walls and its hospital smell. Had it been only one day since she had so gratefully turned her back on that 'prison'? It seemed a very gilded cage when compared to the trap she was in now. She had had suffered several foster parents, their vices ranging from benign neglect to bloody noses and broken bones, surviving each new home only to return to the dull safety of the gray walls. Now, all that bouncing back between abuse and boredom appeared to be coming to an end, once and for all.

She did not think she would have much trouble with this one when he first came for her. A small, nervous looking man with dirty-blonde hair and dull brown eyes, he hardly said a word to her, even after they arrived at his surprisingly large and impressive house. He made her a large dinner, but did not eat anything thing himself, merely sat there watching her with an expression that she found unreadable. She had gorged herself, as she usually did whenever the opportunity arose - rations were very skimpy at the orphanage - pausing only to flick her wary, streetwise eyes over the man sitting across from her, keeping a close watch for any indications that she was about to be throttled or hit with something ... he didn't look like the sort who had enough nerve to do it, but you never knew ... after she had finished, he showed her to a bedroom, where she fell asleep quickly despite her apprehension.

When she was jerked awake again in the middle of the night, her heart caught in her throat, but deep down, she had expected that sooner or later it would come down to this sort of thing. She knew there were worse things than being beaten, though up until now, she had never experienced anything else first hand ... as she felt his hot breath on her neck, she toyed sleepily with the idea of screaming but discarded as hopeless ... please god, just let him be quick and not give me time to feel too much ... she braced her body for its impending violation, but instead, she found herself being jerked into an upright position. It was then that she reconsidered screaming, and bit down hard on the hand that closed over her mouth to silence her. The man swore loudly and punched her in a sensitive spot with his free hand. She loosened her jaws, but not before she tasted his blood on her tongue with a savage sort of satisfaction. Still cursing, though not as loudly, the man quickly gagged her mouth. He then bound her wrists, put a coarse cloth around her eyes, and shoved her off the soft bed. He dragged her down the stairs, and then, they were outside.

She was not sure how long she had been bumbling along like this, pushed and prodded by the man behind her, but she assumed he was forcing her to walk because it would have been too difficult dragging her already-dead body out into the woods for burial ... hardened at she was, she still shuddered inwardly at the thought of what he was going to do to her. If only she could get angry, work herself into a rage, maybe that thing that sometimes happened would ... but no not this time, she was just too damn scared. And that 'thing' hadn't happened in a long time. She'd probably just made it up in her head when she was a little kid.

She kept walking until she felt the talon-like hand on her shoulder, clenching her skin just painfully enough to give her an idea of what would happened if she tried to go any further from him. Then, as she began to hear and sense other people around them, he forced her to a kneeling position on the ground. She felt a circle of people gather around her - had he brought her here as a sacrifice to some kind of cult? She waited, and the whispers around her quickly faded to nothing when one of those around her suddenly called out "Silence!" in a strangely high-pitched voice. Everything went quiet: the forest itself seemed to be obedient to this voice, all of its elements terrified and listening:

"I told you to bring me an infant." Despite its high pitch, she recognized the voice as being masculine, and as the man spoke, she felt her fear begin to grow. "The youngest you could find, a newborn if possible ... and yet..." he paused dangerously, "what do I see here before me?" The voice was soft, but the words were twisted with a malevolent anger that made Florence wish she were already dead. "You have brought to me, your lord and master, not an infant, but a useless, skinny little muggle girl who is already half-grown! Is this how you repay me for all I have done? Is this your idea of the loyal service you so eagerly pledged to me just two nights ago?" The voice faded maliciously into a soft hiss. "I have killed my followers for lesser degrees of ineptitude, when they have proven themselves unworthy to serve me - do you wish to join them?"

Florence felt her heart thud painfully against her chest in the thick silence of the night. The whole group of people encircling her seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for the other man to respond. When he did, it was in a shaky, tremulous voice: "Please... my lord ... she was the youngest child available ... all I could find ... it's just ..." she heard him swallow convulsively. "Your request came so suddenly ... if I had just had more time - "

"Avada Kedavra!" shouted the high-pitched voice. Through the cloth, Florence thought she saw a flash of green light, and she felt something rush past her face, like a strong gust of wind. The man hit the ground with an unmistakable thud. She found she couldn't stop shaking. Was her kidnapper now dead? Had this man with the high-pitched voice used some kind of weapon him? And we he now use it on her? The muscles in Florence's body clenched against the familiar threat of pain. Her hands twisted furiously against the ropes binding them, and as she struggled, the man who appeared to be the leader of the cult spoke again:

"You will have plenty of time to contemplate my demands now." He laughed suddenly, a cold, echoless laugh that frightened Florence far more than his outburst of anger. "Now... I suppose we shall have to make due with this ... this..." he paused, his horrible voice full of disdain, searching for the right words to describe her. "This pathetic little scrap of flesh," he finally finished, and his followers broke into a shaky sort of laughter around them.

At that moment, Florence felt fury boiling up inside her, a fury greater than she had ever possessed in all her years of abuse and neglect. How she hated being powerless! She wanted to rip out all the throats from which the soft, mocking laughter came. But first she had to free herself. She had to get free... she had to -

Florence had no idea how it happened. One moment, her hands were bound so tightly they were beginning to go numb; the next, the ropes had been loosened. She felt her blindfold and her gag fly off her face as though whipped away by strong hands; pausing to breathe, she was only vaguely aware of the crowd around her, gasping and shouting in surprise ... she focused her attention on the man standing above her, his face half-hidden in the shadows ... a pair of red, inhuman eyes gleamed at her impassively, filled only with an indescribable malevolence ... she opened her mouth and let out a scream.

The group around her had become confused; She heard them shout things she didn't understand: "How did she do that?" "I thought she was a muggle!" "Is she one of us?" "My lord, what should we do?" This last question was repeated by everyone, until the leader's voice cut through: "Stay where you are, all of you!" he hissed, "And do nothing unless I command you to! So..." he whispered sinisterly, his awful eyes flickering over her face. "It seems you are more than you appear to be, little girl."

Florence's rage was being rapidly replaced again by fear. Even so, she struggled to her feet, looking at him defiantly, forcing herself to meet his nightmarish gaze. "I..." She swallowed, marshalling her courage, remembering how he had insulted her. "I'll ... I'll show what this little scrap of flesh can do!" He laughed his horrible laugh, and raised something in his hand, a knife - a stick? - as Florence instinctively shrank back, fearing a blow. "Oh you will, will you, girl?" His voice was full of cruel amusement. "Then you had better do it quickly, because very, very soon, you will be dead." She knew he was trying to intimidate her further, so her power would retreat back into the furthest recesses of her mind... she forced herself to concentrate, to look for an opening in the circle of people surrounding her. She was only half-aware of what she yelled back at him.

"I won't let you kill me, I won't! I'll kill you first, all of you, I'll scratch your throats out with my bare hands, I'll break your bones! I've survived worse than this! I have power, I can do anything I want, anything!"

She knew it was nothing; insane, boastful rubbish, but she didn't care. She had nothing left to lose except her life, and her plans for a silent death melted in the fires of her rage, as she felt a rush of power course through her. She expected him to laugh at her again, but he did not; oddly enough, he seemed to be contemplating her words ... a horrible smile twisted his features, and he looked on her with something like approval. "Ambitious, aren't you, my girl? Anything you want, hm? If only more of my followers had your drive, your fire..." his eyes flickered disdainfully over the people around them. "What a pity you aren't a pureblood ... but they're can't be any exceptions..." he raised the instrument in his hand with a cold finality, and Florence felt her last scream catch horribly in her throat as he began to repeat the strange words he had said earlier. "Avada Ked - "

"Lumos!" shouted a voice, one most unlike any she had heard that night. She was blinded by a sudden flash of light. Then more voices, saying more nonsense words: "Stupefy!" "Impedimenta!" "Expelliarmus!" People running in every direction, people seeming to disappear into thin air ... no sign of their leader, that man with the horrible voice and inhuman eyes. Shouts of frustration: "They got away! They all got away!" "Wait! Look here, I found one!" "Is he dead?" "Check his pulse!" Damn it, we were so close!"

As her eyes adjusted to the light, Florence could make out people of various ages, all dressed very oddly in some sort of ropes or cloaks in various colors. As the noise died down, they finally noticed her, seeming to turn as one to stare at her questioningly.

"What are you doing here?" barked a gruff voice. "You know the Dark Forest is forbidden for students! Unless... were you helping them! Answer me!" Florence glared at this man, opening her mouth to tell him off -

"Mundungus, of course she didn't. She is not even a student here. Not yet, anyway," said a voice behind her, a voice far more kindly sounding than any she had ever heard. This made her immediately suspicious, though at the same time she felt absurdly comforted. "Look." She and the man called Mundungus whirled around, to face an extremely old-looking man in robes of dark blue, with long white hair and an equally long beard, and blue eyes that flashed kindly at her from beneath half-moon spectacles. In his hand, he held what appeared to be a letter. A tawny gray owl was circling his head, hooting softly, apparently concerned, but he sent it flying into the night with a gesture. Then he walked towards her, smiling.

"Florence Riordan, my name is Albus Dumbledore. I believe you will soon be attending the nearby school that I run. It a school ..." he paused, as if searching for words. "A school for uniquely talented individuals such as yourself." Me, talented? Thought Florence incredulously. Talented at what? Ducking blows? Bragging? He smiled more widely at her disbelieving expression. "I think you will like it very much there. I know there is a lot for you take in right now, and a great deal you must want explained. I am sorry you had to be introduced to our world in such a harsh manner." His expression grew more somber.

Our world? Despite what she'd been through, Florence fought the wild urge to laugh. Last time I checked, I was still on Earth. I mean really, he couldn't have made me walk that far. For a third time he smiled, as if guessing at her thoughts, and once again, she felt a strange sense of well-being. "Well. Perhaps it is best if you start by reading this." He handed her the letter. Her name and the address of the orphanage were on the front. She turned it over in her hands, tore open the flap, and with a growing sense of incredulity, coupled with a strange elation, she began to read:

Dear Miss Riordan,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted in to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Many exciting opportunities and challenges await you....

Florence remembered everything. The night she thought she was going to die was the night her life had finally started. Years had passed, and she had come to love the wizarding world, but she would never forget what had brought her into it ... and now here she was, with another Hogwarts letter in her hand. Just like before, she turned it over and opened the flap, but she already knew what it said:

Dear Miss Riordan:

We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected for the Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching position at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please confirm your acceptance of this position by return owl as soon as possible. Teachers are required to be at Hogwarts two weeks before the start of the term in order to prepare for the new school year. We look forward to working with you.

The letter was signed by both Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall. That made it official. So, back to Hogwarts at last. Smiling slightly, Florence tossed the letter on her office desk. She knew all about the DADA position; and she knew all the details about the professors who had taken on the job. And she knew about Sirius Black, too. That was the sort of privileged information you got when you were an Unspeakable.

Florence's smile widened. She loved working for the Department of Mysteries; she loved dealing in secrets, and playing with power. Even Crouch, that blustering ass who was still in denial about the return of the dark lord, couldn't keep the Unspeakables from learning what they wanted to know. She was going to miss this job.

But Hogwarts ... that was the real challenge. Quickly, she wrote her acceptance letter and sent it to Hogwarts via a Ministry owl. She watched the owl from her window, until it became nothing but a speck on the horizon. She doubted anyone at Hogwarts had been against her appointment. She was more than capable of filling the requirements of the position. Well, maybe one person had objected ... she frowned, remembering. No, best not to think about that. Especially she didn't know what to think. Florence was not used to uncertain feelings, and she did not like dealing with these mixed emotions. She wasn't sure what she would say when she saw Severus again, but it sure as hell wasn't going to be "I'm sorry." Not unless he said it first. And she knew he would never do that.

Florence liked having friends, but she didn't need them to survive. She didn't need anyone. She could do this like just she did everything else: on her own. It would probably be considered a miracle by the entire school if she lasted at her new job for more than a year, but knowing this only strengthened her resolve. She would show them. All of them. She wouldn't be intimidated by her predecessor's failures, She wouldn't distracted by the bittersweet memories of her school years. Florence shook her head. She had accomplished a great deal in her years at the Ministry, but it was not enough. With her drive and ambition, it was never enough. So she would go to Hogwarts, and show them once again what a little scrap of flesh could do.