Ivy Potter lives in an orphanage- oh wait, sorry a 'children's home'- her parents are vegetables in St. Mungo's and the Girl-Who-Lived is a stuck up, constant pain in her arse. She's a ward of the state, is notorious for her anger 'issues' and might be, just might be a homicidal maniac. Unfortunately for Ivy, dark forces are at play and she can no longer sulk about her miserable existence in the dungeons. AU 4th Year Girl!Harry.

Name: Ivy Dorea Potter

Age: 14

DOB: July 31st, 1980

Parents: James Potter (Father), Lily Potter (Mother)

Current Status of Parents: Mental Incapacitation

WARD OF THE STATE

"Is this information correct?" the receptionist at the front desk asked me.

I nodded and pushed the paper back to her, "Yes, it's all here."

The receptionist pushed up her glasses, which had been slipping off her nose, and grunted at me without looking up from her computer, "Take a seat. Dr. Thomas will be with you shortly."

I turned away from the front desk and scanned the room for somewhere to sit. In one corner, there was a man with scraggly grey hair rocking back forth in one corner. A young woman with a heart shaped face was trying to calm him down, but he kept moaning. I knew you couldn't get me to sit next them for all the galleons in Gringotts. Towards the center of the room was a worn out looking woman trying to calm down her wailing baby. I immediately scowled. Babies were one of my least favorite creatures on Earth. They smelled, they cried and they burped up constantly. I could not stand them.

The only viable option was the seat next to the office's exit. I was out of arms length from crazies and babies and the only pitfall was that every time the door opened, I would be assaulted by the stifling summer air. It was a downside I was willing to accept though and with my mind made up, I sat down in the hard plastic chair out segregated now from my other annoyances.

Once I took a deep breath, inhaling the stale waiting room air, I leaned back against the rigid surface and closed my eyes. I did not get a lot of sleep last night. Little Jenny Hamilton's screams had rattled the entire orphanage and kept me from enjoying the few hours of peace I have at St. Mildred's Home for Children.

Unfortunately, with the baby still screaming its head off and the mentally ill man now yelling about the Nazis coming to get us, it was hard to find my happy place to fall into unconsciousness. From the way my hands began to tremble, I could tell my feelings of discomfort in the doctor's office were quickly turning into feelings of aggravation. I could suddenly hear Snape's silky voice in my ear, reminding me to employ "mental arts" to control my temper, but I could already hear the windows rattling in the office.

"There must be construction going on outside," I heard someone remark and I had to dig my nails into my palm to take my mind off my current frustration and onto the sensation of pain. It wasn't the right way to focus myself and Snape has berated me enough for it, but it was the only proven working method for me the last fourteen years and I was going to stick to it for now.

Only when I drew blood did the windows stop shaking. I opened my eyes and saw the five nail marks in my skin, each of them slowly oozing, but I did not flinch. It was a common occurrence for me, which is why I decided to spend some time with Madam Pomfrey my first year at Hogwarts and acquire some basic healing knowledge to prevent myself from "dying from an infection" as the dramatic nurse used to say. Unfortunately during the summer months I could not fix my hand with magic. It was off limits. Instead, I was forced to rely on the Band-Aids I carried in my knapsack.

Just as I finished applying my bandage to my hand, the receptionist called, "Miss Potter, Dr. Thomas will see you now."

I stowed away the box of Band-Aids and then followed the receptionist to the back of the office just as I did every week during the summer. She stopped outside a closed door and knocked.

"Dr. Thomas, Ivy is ready for you," the receptionist said through the door.

"Send her in Marianne," I heard a familiar voice reply.

The door swung open revealing a modest office with a faded oak desk near the far wall and two plush brown armchairs at the center of the room. Book shelves lined the walls that I could not help but stare at every time I entered the room. Ever since I was a little girl, I always had a special place in my heart for books. My feelings had not changed since my fourteenth birthday a few weeks ago.

Sitting in one of the armchairs was my psychiatrist, Dr. Howard Thomas. He was a muggleborn who had fled into the Muggle world during the Dark Lord's reign of terror. Even though Voldemort was gone thirteen years now, he had grown comfortable with muggles and decided not to return. When I first started having my accidental magic episodes at the orphanage when I was seven, my Ministry of Magic sponsor, Ted Tonks, had tracked him down for me to talk to and I had been going to his office ever since.

"Hello, Ivy, please sit," he motioned to the chair across from him.

I obliged immediately. After years of talking to Dr. Thomas, I was long passed the days where I would rather blow up things in his office and scream my head off than listen to what he had to say.

"You look tired," he commented, taking in my physical appearance. I was certain he was right. Under my mother's green eyes, I had bags from my previous sleepless night.

"A girl from the orphanage has been having nightmares," I told him with a scowl. I did not appreciate being called out for looking like shite. "She's been keeping up our entire floor."

"You know it's not an orphanage, Ivy," Dr. Thomas reminded me gently. "There are other children there with parents who are still alive."

"Alive is a loose term, doc," I said with my arms crossed over my chest. This was a frequent argument my psychiatrist and I had. Dr. Thomas and I would spar back and forth about the state of my parents- Lily and James Potter, until the older man usually gave up and decided to steer the conversation elsewhere.

"Do your parents still breathe?" he asked me calmly, which I gave him credit for. I knew his frustration about falling into this argument once again was just below the surface. It would take some button pushing to let it see the light of day but it was going to feel so satisfying to see Dr. Thomas eventually snap.

"Yes."

"Do their hearts still beat?"

"Yes."

"Do their brains still function?"

"Barely," I muttered and rolled my eyes. Of course, he used those lines. It was the same shite week after week. The psychiatrist never came up with anything original. At this point, we could have this argument in our sleep.

"Then, by medical definition your parents are living beings, Ivy," Dr. Thomas told me.

"Well, by my definition Dr. Thomas, they're dead. No one should be a prisoner in their own bloody brains," I growled and I noticed the glass on the psychiatrist's table was starting to vibrate. "My parents don't remember Hogwarts. They don't remember their families. They don't remember each other," The glass was now rattling, "And they certainly don't remember me!"

CRACK!

The glass had suddenly shattered and the contents began to spill all over the carpet, soaking it. I immediately stood up, pushing the chair back and stalked across the room to stand next to the window.

I couldn't look at Dr. Thomas right now. I would only make more things in his office explode. Instead, my gaze fell to the London street below me. There was a girl around six years old and her mother enjoying ice cream cones and a couple about three years older than me holding hands and giggling.

You're a fool, Ivy Potter, Snape's voice echoed in my skull. You're just like your murdering leech of a godfather. You persist on letting your emotions dictate you and that will be your downfall.

I growled. I hated when his voice came into my head. It wasn't as if my thoughts weren't already dark enough as it was, but add my brain's attempt to have a depressed alcoholic serve as my conscience and it was a miracle I wasn't already turning into the next Dark Lady.

I continued to gaze down at the cheerful scene before I decided I could take it no more and I had to push away from the window to face my psychiatrist. Apparently, not much had occurred since I left the sitting area. Dr. Thomas was still on his knees picking up glass.

"Are you a wizard or not?" I snapped. "A 'Reparo' would have made quick work of that."

"Ivy, we are in the muggle world," Dr. Thomas reminded me, looking up from his carpet with a gaze that was definitely a lot wearier than before. "I don't need my wand here."

I gaped at him as if he grew a second head, "You don't keep your wand on you at all times?"

"Why would I need to do that?" Dr. Thomas asked me. "He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named has been dead for thirteen years thanks to Callie Longbottom. I have nothing to be afraid of anymore."

I scowled at the mention of one of my least favorite people at Hogwarts- Callidora "Callie" Longbottom or as she's more commonly titled, "The Girl-Who-Lived." Callie was the savior of the wizarding world, the defeater of the darkest wizard of the 20th century and Albus Dumbledore's golden child. As an infant, her parents were brutally murdered by Voldemort but when it came time to kill her, the Dark Lord's curse had rebounded and struck him down instead, ending a nearly ten year reign of terror.

Of course that's very good and all, but Voldemort's death brought on a lot of confusion and desperation on the part of his followers- the Deatheaters. Instead of going quietly into the night, four of the little shits- Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, and Bartemius Crouch Jr, insisted their leader was not dead and for some reason, they decided the next best course of action was to question my parents about it. They tortured them for hours under the Cruciartis Curse until they both broke- their minds destroyed forever.

I wish I could say that was the worst part, but it was not even close. A day after my parents lost their minds, one of their best friends and my godfather, Sirius Orion Black, was arrested for the murder of twelve muggles and my Uncle Peter Pettigrew in the middle of a busy London street. It turned out that he had led his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange and her friends' right to my parents. The monster had betrayed them and then murdered another one of his friends. Just the sound of his name still makes my blood boil.

"Do you not read the bloody Daily Prophet?" I asked him. "It's not only been over a year since Sirius Black escaped from prison, but the Death Eaters became the main act at the Quidditch World Cup a week ago and the dementors almost sucked out Callie Longbottom's soul in June by 'accident.' There's plenty to be afraid of now, doc."

"How do you feel about Sirius still being out there?" Dr. Thomas suddenly asked me. I think he was glad to change of our current topic- which was attacking his life decisions, but I was not. The idea of discussing my raging, homicidal maniac of a godfather did not enthuse me. "You must have been upset when he escaped Ministry custody in June."

I glared at him. Of course I was upset, but not for the reason he believed- for the sake of truth and justice and all that codswallop. What I had wanted was to find Black and spray his brains all over the ground. Instead, I got to hear the tale of Callie Longbottom facing the traitor with her dunce of a sidekick and her muggleborn pet, while I was holed up in the hospital wing with a Quidditch injury. Apparently, the foolish Gryffindors barely escaped Black's clutches alive and only made it through because Snape showed up to save their hides.

"I'm disappointed," I admitted, clenching my fists to prevent me from spewing out the full contents of my murderous rage. If I let it all go, I was certain Dr. Thomas would go run off and tell Ted Tonks about how much of a bloodthirsty freak I was and I certainly didn't need that. My Ministry sponsor would force me back on those mind potions and I did not want that shite back in my system again. It was vile.

My psychiatrist's eye brows rose a quarter of an inch. I think he was shocked nothing had exploded in his room at the mention of my parent's betrayer. Last year after Black escaped, Ted Tonks had to come into Dr. Thomas's office and repair all the damage I had caused after my psychiatrist tried to broach the topic with me. I swear if I close my eyes, I could still picture the old man's desk burning.

Dr. Thomas decided to push his luck, "Do you still want to look for him?"

Last year, I repeatedly screamed in this office I would hunt Sirius Black down, even if it took me to the gates of hell. Luckily for me, Black seemed pretty persistent on trying to kill Longbottom and had come to Hogwarts- and by extension me, to do it. Unluckily for me, I never got the opportunity to lay my eyes on Black the entire year he terrorized the school. I am still kicking myself for missing his randevu with the Gryffindors in the Shrieking Shack.

"I figure at this point doc, he's going to come to me first before I find him," I told the psychiatrist, who frowned.

"You almost sound excited for that possibility, Ivy," he remarked, scribbling something down on his pad of paper.

I rolled my eyes. That comment was definitely going straight back to Ted Tonks. Bollocks.

"I mean if some psychopath was the reason why your parents were rotting away in a hospital and you were forced to live in an orphanage-

"Children's home," Dr. Thomas cut in.

I scoffed and continued, "Orphanage," I repeated, "please don't tell me you wouldn't be planning out exactly what you would say and do to the person who was behind it all. Your self-righteous act is bullshit, Doctor Thomas."

To his credit, my psychiatrist didn't blow up at me, which a lesser tempered man would have definitely done. He just nodded and kept scribbling away in that wretched notepad that I desperately wished to set aflame.

"Are you excited about starting a new year at Hogwarts?" Dr. Thomas asked, probably anxious to change the topic again.

"Yes," I admitted. "I do enjoy playing football in the park with the muggles, but nothing beats Quidditch."

At Hogwarts, I lived and breathed the wizarding sport of Quidditch. Ted Tonks had introduced it to me when I was seven and I was first having my "anger issues." He thought it would be a good release for me and for once, he was right about something. I love Quidditch. The control I felt on a broom compared to the control I felt over my life on the ground were two separate entities. It was a freedom I cherished above all other things and I would never let it go as long as I lived.

Dr. Thomas smiled, "What position do you play again, Ivy?"

"Seeker," I told him. "The first female seeker Slytherin has ever had."

Quidditch had never been a popular sport amongst the Slytherin house females. It was deemed too 'barbaric' and 'unladylike' by the girls in my house who had sticks constantly up their arses. Fortunately, I was never one for following traditions, especially Slytherin ones, and when I was in my second year, I eagerly gave my house a good, old fashioned middle finger after I made the team. Wiping the floor with the Malfoy brat during tryouts was just an added bonus.

"Excellent," he said. "How about your friends? How are they?"

I scowled at the sneaky bastard across from me. He knew very well that I had not acquired a single 'friend' during my time at Hogwarts. Sure, I had allies. Tracy Davis was the only Slytherin girl in my year who would talk to me since we were both half-bloods, but all we usually did was spend hours in the library trying to best our classmates. My teammates respected me- sans Malfoy (who did become a Chaser last year), but only for my Quidditch skills. And some weird Ravenclaw girl always asked me how my Nargles were doing in the corridors, so I guess that counts for an ally, right? Otherwise, I barely interacted with anyone at Hogwarts besides Snape, who declared when I was a first year that he was 'taking an interest in my development' and hasn't left me bloody alone since.

"They're alright," I lied. "Tracy went on holiday to Australia."

In reality, I had no idea what Tracy Davis was doing. We only wrote to each other during one period of the summer and that was to exchange a few messages about the Arithmancy number chart we received at the end of the school year from Professor Vector. There was no mention of her holiday plans and I certainly didn't bring up the orphanage. It was way too embarrassing.

"Good," Dr. Thomas said, scribbling something down in his notepad again. "I heard you visited your parents with Mr. Tonks yesterday. How was that for you?"

I thought about my once brilliant mother, whose green eyes never sparkled with intelligence anymore and instead remained dull, and my father who was once an Auror and a record-holding Quidditch player but was now throwing tantrums when the nurses tried to get him out of bed. I felt nauseas just thinking about them.

"It was nice to see them before I left," I told my psychiatrist. "I always miss them when I go off to school."

I was proud of myself for giving Dr. Thomas a nice, safe answer. I did not tell him how after my visit, I spent an hour locked in my room because my mother recognized her nurse before she did me. I did not tell him how I set the picture of my teammates and I aflame after my father did not even react to us hoisting the Quidditch Cup above our heads after our last game against Gryffindor. If I had, he probably would have had me committed.

Every time I visited my parents at St. Mungo's, I returned back to the orphanage even more furious than before. The desire to destroy those who ruined my parents grew every single time and at this point, I was frightened that soon I would try to break into Azkaban to murder the three still living torturers- Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange. Hopefully, Snape and I would make greater progress with Occlumency before I went that far. I really did not want to spend the rest of my days rotting away in wizarding prison.

There was a knock on the door and both Dr. Thomas and I looked up. The receptionist was back and was peeking her head through the doorway.

"Doctor, your four o'clock is here," she told him.

"Thanks, Marianne," he said and when he heard the door close behind his receptionist, he turned back to me. "I guess our time is up, Ivy."

I held back the desire to give him my best Slytherin sneer, "Yes, it is such a pity that I won't be able to see you until the Christmas holiday, Doctor Thomas."

"Yes, it is certainly a pity," Dr. Thomas repeated, though I was certain inside he was jumping for joy. I was definitely not one of his favorite patients. "Make sure you remind Professor Snape that I still need a weekly report while you are at school."

"Okay," I said. This had been a longstanding arrangement between my psychiatrist and my head of house. I then got up from the chair and headed for the exit, "Bye Doctor Thomas."

"Bye Ivy," he returned and then I slipped out, not wanting to delay my departure from this torture palace any longer.

After a short farewell to the receptionist, I exited the office, jogged out of the building and saw that Ted Tonks was waiting for me outside. He was a big-bellied man with blonde hair and a bloody smile that never went away. He annoyed me most of the time.

"Ready to go back?" he asked, ignoring the scowl that now settled on my face.

"Yes," I muttered and followed him around the corner to do a side-long apparition.

I hated side-long apparitions but I knew the alternative was to spend at least an hour in a car with Ted Bloody Tonks, so I sucked it up. The man was so cheerful all the time that it made me sick to my stomach. Honestly, I could only hear so much about his 'wonderful' wife and his 'hilarious' daughter without wanting to jump out the passenger side door. People's lives should never be that great while others' are pure shite. It wasn't fair.

When my feet hit the pavement again, I instantly vomited. As I said before, I hated apparitions and this was the reason why. My stomach tried to murder me every time my world darkened and I felt that awful squeezing sensation. It was dreadful, but it was not even the worst part. Once I got my bearings, I realized Ted Tonks had started rubbing my back comfortingly. I did not like it when other people touched me and had to resist a strong urge to snap at him.

"Here's some saltines, Ivy," he said and pulled out a plastic baggy full of them. "I had Andromeda pack them for me this morning."

"Thanks," I grunted and shoved one into my mouth to get rid of that acidic taste.

After I swallowed the cracker, I looked back up at Ted Tonks who was bloody smiling again.

"Good?" he asked.

I nodded, pushing down a wave of annoyance, "Should we head back into the orphanage?"

A block away was St. Mildred's. When he brought me back from Dr. Thomas's, Ted Tonks always managed to Apparate us into a back alley by a busy road to prevent detection from the muggles.

"Yes, we'll walk and talk," he said, leading me around the rubbish bins and onto the sidewalk that ran parallel to the road. "So, did your visit with Doctor Thomas go well?"

I scowled at the mention of my psychiatrist, "I only broke one glass this time."

Ted Tonks clapped his hands together, "Excellent Ivy, you're making a lot of progress."

I rolled my eyes. The man was acting as if it was Christmas Day.

"What about Hogwarts? Are you excited to be heading back?" he asked.

"Oh yeah, I can't wait for another Quidditch season," I told him.

Ted Tonks frowned suddenly but before I could blink, it was gone, "What about your studies? What are you looking forward to this year?"

"Defense definitely," I told him. Even though we had a bunch of duds as professors (Quirrell, Lockhart and a duffer named Dedalus Diggle last year), I still loved Defense Against the Dark Arts because of its practicality.

I learned quickly my first year that if you didn't know how to defend yourself, you were basically a goner in the Slytherin Common Room. Older years jinxed the younger years constantly for what they claimed was 'practice', but anyone with half a brain knew they just did it for pure entertainment value. Jinxes and curses flew through the common room so often that I had to hold a shield charm when I walked through.

I know that a shield charm is considered advanced magic for a witch my age, but after I was on the receiving end of a nasty stinging jinx the second week I was ever at Hogwarts, I became a self taught student of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Admittedly, I had Snape give me a few pointers every now and then but I did most of the dirty work, which included countless hours in the library and duels with Tracy in empty classrooms. It required some sacrifice, but no one bothered the half-bloods of Slytherin anymore. People quickly learned that our bark and bite were equally dangerous.

"Yes, Professor Snape informed me you're the top student in your year for that subject," Ted Tonks said, beaming at me. "You must be very proud."

I smirked, remembering the look of dismay on Hermione Granger's face when she realized she wasn't number one in a subject for the first time in her academic career. Though, nothing beat out Callie Longbottom's reaction. Watching the Girl-Who-Lived's eyes water up as she screeched about how much she hated me was one of my favorite Hogwart's memories.

"I wish you would put more effort into your other subjects though," Tonks continued. "You're a smart girl, Ivy. You shouldn't be getting 'Dreadfuls' in History of Magic and Divination. And even your 'Transfiguration' and 'Herbology' grades weren't as high as I was hoping. Those are core subjects."

I scowled, "Why does it matter? I don't need to know Herbology and Transfiguration to be a professional Quidditch player," I reminded him. "All I need to know is how to catch the Snitch."

Ted Tonks sighed, "You never know what will happen in two years or five year or even ten years, Ivy. What if you get hurt and can't play Quidditch anymore? Or what if you suddenly find a love for Healing and discover that your grades at Hogwarts weren't good enough to get you into school? You'd be crushed," I was sure my sponsor could see my glare darkening because he wisely started to wrap up his lecture, "My point is Ivy that things could change in the blink of an eye. Your parents are a prime example of that. You should take advantage of every opportunity you get before it's too late."

The worst part about being lectured by Ted Tonks was that he usually was right. It was easy to blow off Dr. Thomas or Filch or even Snape sometimes because they were either incompetent (in Dr. Thomas's and Filch's case) or blinded by biases (Snape), but it was hard to push aside good advice from my sponsor.

I hated to admit it but in this case, Ted Tonks was right again. My parents had been extremely talented at Hogwarts. They had served as Head Boy and Head Girl in their time and held top marks in their year. Throwing away their gift of intelligence did seem like a slap in their faces, especially when they had possessed the same intelligence and were now incapable of using it.

Even though I secretly agreed with Ted Tonks, I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing it. He was already happy enough without knowing his speech actually made a difference in my attitude towards academics. I would just give him one of my customary surly responses and send him packing.

"Fine," I grumbled.

"Fine, what?"

"I'll put in more effort and all that codswallop," I muttered, slowing down my strides. St. Mildred's was in sight now.

Ted Tonks grinned. Damnit.

"Excellent, I'm glad you see things my way, Ivy," he said as we passed through the gates of the orphanage and my scowl deepened. "I'm going to arrive at nine to pick you up for the Express. Are you packed?"

I thought about my school robes still under my bed and the spell books stashed away in my closet. I was nowhere close to being ready for Hogwarts tomorrow. I would need at least an hour or more until I got all my belongings together.

"You know it," I lied just to get him out of my hair. I did not need another lecture on the importance of preparation. "I guess if that's it, I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Great, I'm glad you're ahead of schedule for once," my sponsor said before I could turn and go. He was used to my hasty goodbyes. He then patted me on the shoulder, which was his version of giving me a hug (since he knows I would probably punch him if he tried to pull that shite). I did my best not to flinch. "I'll see you in the morning, Ivy."

I watched him stumble down the stairs (the man was notoriously clumsy, so this was not surprising in the least) and then disappear out of sight. I sighed as I turned back to face the front door of St. Mildred's, where I could hear a baby shrieking on the top of their lungs. I just had to survive one more night here and then I could go back to Hogwarts.

Only sixteen hours and thirty eight minutes to go….

So, I hope you enjoyed. I can not guarantee constant updates, but I'll get them out as soon as I can. Thanks for reading!