Grimness was a tiny town in South Ronaldsay in the Orkney Islands. Though it's name would lead one to believe otherwise, it was a cheerful little village of less than a thousand people, all weaving their own stories and lives amid the backdrop of the sea and tiny cottages the British township boasted. One such cottage housed an Orphanage, "Mercy on the Hill", so named for it's location on a hill overlooking the sea. There, small school age children could be seen running about, not a care in the world aside from when bath-time would be and if they'd soon find parents. The latter matter didn't seem to phase most of the children. As far as they were concerned, the many nurses and maids running the orphanage served as parents enough, and they'd made a family themselves. One child, however, garnered a lot of attention from the care takers.

She'd been sent back and forth between the island and hospitals at Inverness on the mainland a number of times, the list of procedures performed on her going on and on in a dizzying laundry list that would make most medical professionals nauseous. She was a brave girl though, at only four years of age, she had a determination in her to live and live fully that inspired the orphanage staff. When she came to them, she had no name, leaving the staff to choose a name for her. They decided on Nona Mercy Hill, after the short name for the hospital and the medical code in their records for a child with no name: No/Na.

The children treated Nona surprisingly well considering how different she clearly was. She walked rather duck-legged, bowed legs making it difficult to walk straight. Her arms bent at odd angles while at rest, giving her a rather daunting appearance alongide the many scars she bore all over her body, the worst of which being the angry-red scar that ran from her lip to her nose. Despite the grotesque disfigurement, it wasn't difficult to see the pretty little girl beneath the scars. Her close-lipped smile and bright eyes could practically dry the rain, and in fact, in one case it had.

Many of the Nurses at Mercy on the Hill had noticed the tendency for strange little 'happy incidences' around Nona. Where two children would fight over a toy, Nona would appear and suddenly there would be two of the same toy. They'd once had an issue with the heating system one particularly cold winter, and Nona had but to stand in front of the radiators for them to mysteriously begin working. It was easy to brush most things off as coincidence- perhaps a staffer knew that a toy was popular and bought a second, maybe the radiators were just a fluke, but the day it began to rain during what was supposed to be a picnic for the orphans that had been planned for months was hard to explain.

All the children were deeply upset at the loss of their planned outing— all but Nona, who simply replied that the rain would likely clear soon. To all the children, this seemed plausible, but the adults knew better. When it rained in Grimness, it poured. And once the monsoon began it would take days to end, and weeks yet for the muddy little village to dry. But the moment Nona declared the rain would dissipate it actually did so. The rain stopped abruptly, the clouds parted, and the grass returned to its natural matte green, lacking any hint of being wet. Before the nurses could protest the children set about running into the fields, placing their picnic blankets and demanding that the feast begin.

The Nurses never knew what to make of these incidences, deciding the child must have simply been blessed by the good lord and not pushing the issue further.

The busiest days at Mercy on the Hill, however, occurred on the third Friday of each month. On this day, hopeful mothers and fathers to be poured into the orphanage from all over South Ronaldsay and the mainland, hoping to make a connection with a child and bring them home. Some of the villagers of Grimness detested this display, feeling that the children were being treated more like puppies up for adoption that human babies in need of loving homes. Nevertheless, the children were dressed in the best clothes they owned, hair tidied, scrubbed squeaky clean, and sat in a large "observing room" where the prospective parents watched through a one way mirror.

It was on this day that Nona always felt the loneliest and where how different she was was made plain for everyone to see. One by one, the children would get requests to meet potential new families. The adults would choose a child they found interesting, and off they went to a private room to introduce themselves and see if there was a connection. If there was none, the child was sent back to the observing room. If there was, adoption papers were quickly drawn up, and the child was never seen again by their housemates after they left the observatory room. Because of this, each time a child was called out of the room there was typically a delay during which the rest of the children would hug the leaving child and give them well wishes should they be chosen.

Nona, however, was never chosen. It hurt her heart to watch her new found friends go over the months, but it hurt more that there wasn't even a single adopter willing to even meet her. On several occasions, when saying goodbye to child headed to a private meeting, she heard parents gasp audibly at the sight of her. Once, Nona caught a quiet whisper of "look at that little demon!" from an adopter as the door opened. Rather mysteriously, the one way mirror shattered not long after.

It wasn't long before Nona took to sitting under a table in the obervation room, wrapped in a blanket where no one could see her, a picture book in hand. Though she could read better than most at her tender age, the little book depicting groups of animals playing together always made her feel better. Her favorite page was the last one, where a wolf, a flamingo, a snake, and a lion all sat curled together as a little family of misfits. For whatever reason, the little mismatched gathering gave Nona hope that she, too, would find people out there as 'different' as her, and that maybe they'd ask her to be family.

Four years passed like this. On the third Friday of the month, all the children were gathered and cleaned and, though she'd be scolded for it later, Nona hid under the table with a stack of books. The little picture book was always close by, opened to the last page. On that fateful day, Nona had been nodding off when she heard the sound she'd been desperately waiting for. The sound of the door creaking open and a cheerful cry of "Nona?".

She looked up in disbelief. As she stood, the children backed away from her. At 8 years of age, Nona wasn't the oldest child in the orphanage, but she had been there the longest. The children had come to believe she was never to be adopted. No one hugged her or wished her luck as she slowly walked toward the door. As the nurse closed it behind her, Nona looked up at the adopter wishing to meet her.

Nona felt a chill go down her spine. The man was incredibly tall, but his shoulders hunched over slightly, giving him a look of permanent leering. His boots were so worn and caked with mud that they'd turned an ashen brown rather than their original black. He wore a long black trench coat that hung from him like a cloak, clearly a size too large for him. To top it all off he wore a sort of fedora which concealed much of his face, excluding his patchy dark stubble and scarred, lopsided mouth.

The nurse seemed nervous as she guided the two to a private room, looking rather dubious as she bid them a good visit and closed the door. Nona stared at the nurse desperately through the door's screened window, but the nurse simply smiled back encouragingly. The man made an odd movement with something concealed in his hand, mumbling to himself, and suddenly the window went black, and the room seemed oddly quiet.

"You...like snakes?"

The question made Nona jump. Something about the man's voice was incredibly wrong to her. It was mid-toned but hollow, and seemed to rattle and echo in the back of his throat as he spoke. It was less the voice of a young man, and more that of a sickly man with ordinarily deeper tones. She stared at him for a moment, unable to answer his question or understand it, until he brought up his hand, pointing at the book she didn't realize she was holding. She's read it a dozen times: a coffee table book on classifications of snakes. Not knowing what else to do, and too scared to speak, she simply nodded, holding out the book to the odd man.

He didn't take the book, but instead raised his hand to it again, this time with the object. Nona recognized it as a smooth piece of long, pale wood, with an odd, sharp bend about an inch from the end, the end itself carved to a menacing point. With this wand he touched the image of the viper on the page, mumbling something unintelligible. Instantly, the snake came to life, wriggling off the page toward the man, causing Nona to scream and drop the book. The man seemed unphased, a large grin creeping across his face.

"Tell me, is she the one?"

The snake turned slowly to Nona, who'd backed herself into the corner.

"Can you hear me?" The snake hissed at her.

Frightfully, Nona nodded. At this the man let out a gleeful cackle , scooping up the snake and bringing it just inches from a cowering Nona's face.

"Do you know what this is? What you're saying?" He asked in an excited his, smile growing wider, his face seeming like it would come apart at the scarred seams.

Nona shook her head.

"Has something like this ever happened to you before? Something you couldn't explain? Something odd? Something...magical?"

Slowly Nona's shoulders relaxed as she thought of all the odd little incidences that seemed to occur around her. Things began to click into place.

"Am I...am I different?"

The man nodded.

"Are...are you different too, then?"

Again, he nodded, grin growing ever wider.

"Are there other people like us?"

"Oh my dear. My sweet, sweet girl..."

The man set the snake on the ground and removed his hat. Beneath it, the upper half of his face was equally scared, one dark eye holding a white cast and lolling in it's socket, the other staring intensely at Nona.

"Hundreds. Thousands. Millions. And you're meant to rule them all! You're a like princess in our world my dear. What we call Pure of Blood. And our world needs you dearly. But you can't possibly be trained up living here. Come with me. Come let me show you our world and your subjects."

"A princess? Pureblood? Are you-"

But as Nona spoke she looked back at the snake, still slinking on the ground, that had just been born from a book. Clearly there had to be some truth to what the man said.

"Are...are you going to adopt me?"

As she said it, it was as if the world had been taken off pause. The snake disappeared, the window cleared, and the man stood, placing his hat back on his head as the nurse walked into the room.

"And how are things going in here?"

"Perfect! I'll take her!"

"Err...take her?"

"Adopt her! Make her mine! Whatever it is! Just give me the papers to sign!"

"Oh! Of course! If you'll just get your wife to come down to the orphanage, you can be on your way!"

"Wife?"

Whereas a moment before the man spoke in rushed but excited tones, he now seemed angry.

"Um, yes sir, your wife? We here at Mercy on the Hill, Home for Impoverished and Displaced Youth prefer to adopt out our children strictly to...um, traditional homes, you understand?"

"I see...very well. My...wife... was quite ill this morning. She sent me away for a child regardless. I'll simply have to return with her again next month."

"Certainly! We hope to see you!"

The nurse whiskey Nona away as fast as her legs could carry her and returned her to the observation room, vowing that something was off about the man and that no child of Mercy Hill's would be going home with him or anyone affiliated with him. As Nona walked back into the observation room, unadopted, the other children averted their eyes. Nona crawled back under the table that gave her comfort for years and sobbed.

In the weeks that followed Nona didn't know what to believe. Was the man real? Did the snake really come out of the book? Was she really some sort of magical princess meant to rule over other people like her? The more she thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed, and because none of the other children would discuss the failed adoption for fear of upsetting her, it just felt that much more imagined. Nona had resigned herself to live in the orphanage forever until the night before the next adoption day. As she climbed into her bunk she heard a quiet whisper of "don't scream."

She lay stiff as a board as a small snake wound its way up her top bunk before resting beside her ear.

"I've a message for you. We are coming. Time to join our world."

Nona's heart thumped in her chest. She couldn't believe. She didn't want to believe.

"Is it him? Is it that man in the coat and hat?"

"Yes."

As the snake slithered away, Nona's heart sped on, tears welling in her eyes. It hadn't been imagined. She really did meet the strange man. She was going to have a family.

The next day all was very quiet. For several hours not a single person came to see the children. As the hours sped on, Nona began to lose hope. Perhaps she had imagined everything? Perhaps after being left alone for so long, she was beginning to lose her mind? But as the clock ticked down the final minutes of adoption day, there was a great commotion in the hall.

"What on EARTH is all this?!"

"I told you my wife and I would be back!"

Curiosity peaked, one of the more poorly behaved children cracked open the door to the observation room. The children gathered around the open door, shoving each other as the tried to get a better view, eventually knocking one of the kids into the door, making it fling open.

Outside the door in the hall, the nurses stood in a defensive line, staring in disbelief at a gathering of roughly 50 people crammed into the tiny corridor, holding balloons and signs with "welcome home!" splashed across the front. Leading the pack was the man in the trench coat, hand gripping the hand of a petite blonde woman who looked rather dazed.

"Mrs. Catchwater? What are you doing here? Who is this man? Where is your husband? What's going on?"

The overlarge grin the man was sporting dropped at an instant. At once, he flung the dreary-eyed Mrs. Catchwater to the floor, where she lay prone, unmoving.

"Of course," He snarled, "Small town and all that. You would all know each other, wouldn't you? Well I suppose we'll do this the hard way then."

He rose his wand, pointing at a child over the nurse's shoulder.

"Give me the girl."

"No! Call the authorities! Who do you think y-"

There was a flash of green, and the little boy behind the nurse fell to the floor, eyes open but unseeing. The rest of the children began to scream and cry in confusion and terror.

"Give me the girl. I won't ask again."

The man made a move toward the door, but the nurse flung her arms open, standing in the way of the door, shaking her head.

"You will NOT harm another child! I won't allow it."

The large gathering behind the man in the trench coat all began to chuckle in an eerie unison.

"On the contrary," the man hissed, "I think I'm going to harm all of them."

Behind him, several more people raised wands.

Flashes of green light flooded the corridor. Nona stood, mouth agape as the nurses she'd known her whole life and the children she'd considered family fell one by one, their faces frozen in terror as the life was blasted out of them. Once they all lay dead, the strange man turned his wand on her, a sick grin curling across his face.

"You'll learn," he hissed, "that people like them, muggles and mudbloods, are all expendable. People like us have the power to take what we want. Oh, and we certainly will."

"I don't want to be like you! Fix them! Put them back like they w- AGH!"

Nona raised a hand to her burning cheek where the man had just slapped her, tears flooding her eyes.

"Silence, you silly girl! Look at them! Do you really think they cared about you? They left you all this time, alone, unchosen, and didn't even have the decency to give you a proper name!"

The man shoved old, rumpled papers into Nona's hands. They were the original record of her receipt by the orphanage, the code "No/Na" for a nameless child circled in red ink with "Mercy Hill" scribbled hastily underneath, as if by a careless hand.

"These people didn't want you. Never encouraged a family to take you, did they? Never fixed you up properly either. Now you have us. And many more. Or would you rather stay?"

Nona stared into the papers disbelievingly, and then down at the pile of dead caretakers at her feet.

"Come with me, child. Or would you rather stay in this hovel and never know what you're capable of?"

Nona paused for a long moment before slowly reaching out and taking the man's hand.

"Good. Now let's be off, shall we?"

Before she could realize what was happening she felt herself being tugged away from what felt like the fabric of reality itself. Darkness swirled around her for several gut wrenching moments before she found herself in a dimly lit room somewhere that must have been far from Grimness.

"Wilmerta?"

"Of course."

Nona scarcely had a moment to take in the room: dark with only a shabby bed squeezed into a corner by a window looking out into a forest before she was lifted involuntary onto said bed by a hag-like woman approaching her fifties. Conjured seemingly out of no where, ropes wound around her arms and legs, no sound coming from her mouth as she tried to scream.

"How bad is it?" The man rasped.

Warm light poored over Nona as the hag-woman scanned her body with a strange wooden instrument of her own.

"Bad. It'll take weeks to put this undo this muggle-medicine and get her in working order."

"I haven't got weeks, Wilmerta. She's eight with no knowledge of the wizarding world or magic, and we've much to do."

The man stood unnervingly close to Wilmerta as he spat the words out, twisted face growing darker with every syllable.

"Well...it's risky...but..."

"But?"

"Removing all her bones save the most vital ones and regrowing them could speed up the process. The rest can be reset. I can fix most of the scarring too, but the worst of it she'll have to learn how to camouflage-"

"How. Long. Wilmerta."

"...Three days. Give me three days and I can get her in fighting shape."

"Don't disappoint me."

Wilmerta seemed to relax some as the man left the room. She took little time rounding on Nona, wand raised.

"I do apologize for what you're about to endure, but his will must be done. Someday you'll even thank me for it."

With one wave of a wand Nona felt herself in blinding, panic inducing pain. Three days seemed a lifetime as she endured bones neing regrown, broken and reset, as well as the worst of her scarring being burned away by strange magic. The strange man seldom visited her over those three days save to check on her progress and urge Wilmerta to work faster. When the final day of her treatment came she was bathed and given a simple, short velvet dress to wear before being presented to the man.

"And now she finally bears a vision fitting of her true name. That would be Gaunt, so you know. It's the only name that matters and the only name you'll ever need."

Before Nona could consider the revelation of knowing the name of her birth family, a floor length mirror was brought before her. She marveled at the vision of herself:

She was paler now than she had ever been. Awkward bowed legs were turned straight and slender, a stark white jutting out from under the collared black dress. Her arms, too were straightened, and the scars that once marred her body were nearly invisible. It was plain to everyone now that she bore a pretty face, though the scar above her lip had been left virtually untouched-too difficult to remove without risking damaging her mouth according to Wilmerta.

"She's a young girl, Forneus, she needs a name," Wilmerta muttered, averting her gaze from the twisted man's face.

"Gaunt is name enough!" Forneus barked, stalking towards a cowering Wilmerta.

"But fine. Let us return one of the names granted by that accursed orphanage. You'll be Gaunt, here, if you're anything at all. But should we have need to call you something out in the world, let us call you Mercy. You're to show enemies of our kind none."

Nona, now deemed Mercy, slowly raised her eyes to Forneus.

"And...what am I to call you. Father?"

Forneus let out a bark of a laugh.

"I'm no father to you, girl. I'm the lord of this order. Master, your lordship, and Sir shall do fine. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. We'll begin your training easy then. Wilmerta, you'll care for the girl, you've done well enough thus far. Teach her what we are and keep the others in line while I'm away."

"Y-you're leaving?"

"Yes. I have a number of matters to take care of before I can oversee her...education. More importantly I need to pay Gregorovich a visit. She'll be needing a wand."

Forneus turned on his heel and disappeared with a pop, leaving Mercy and Wilmerta alone in the dark house.

/

"I told you before they didn't give me a name," Noctua sighed, wringing her hands and avoiding Sirius's eyes. "It's only technically true. 'Mercy' was still a name the orphanage gave me. Forneus, nor any of his disciples ever used it, save Wilmerta. It wasn't until they sent me to Hogwarts that anyone ever called me that."

"Forneus... it's not a name I've ever heard. Who was he?" Sirius asked.

Noctua shrugged.

"A very powerful, very dark wizard. I don't know anything outside of that. I suspect no one knows who he really is outside of his innermost circle. On few occasions he brought me with him to... run errands... he took great care to conceal himself or obliviate those he interacted with. If the bastard didn't outright kill them."

"What was all his talk of 'training' you?" Tonks questioned, resting a hand comfortingly on Noctua's thigh.

"Forneus knew I was a Gaunt. I don't know how, but he knew. He meant what he told me at the orphanage: he viewed me as some "dark princess" destined to rule over the Wizarding World. He fantasized about a world with a set hierarchy— pureblood families as a ruling class with everyone else filtering into a caste system beneath us. I don't think he even imagined muggles as servants or slaves, either. I believe his end goal would have been genocide of those he deemed 'unworthy'. He needed me to fulfill his vision, and that meant being fully knowledgeable in the dark arts. I spent my first few months away from the orphanage tucked in my room with Wilmerta, pouring over Pureblood family trees and books on the history of magic. My knuckles are still stiff some mornings from her whapping me with her damned wand when I forgot the name of some obscure wizard, or the year Hogwarts opened. Some of the tomes I read through contained families long forgotten and spells abandoned years ago. I remember it all, but I refused to use most of that knowledge after I escaped.

"What about the others? You said Forneus had disciples, and clearly Greyback was working with him before joining Voldemort. Why hasn't anyone heard of him?"

"It's as I said," Noctua sighed in answer to Tonks, "Forneus valued secrecy above all else. He saw how far a publicized movement went for Grindelwald, and he believed Voldemort's quest was about to end the same way. He wanted to hide in the shadows and let his wrongdoings be attributed to his followers and not him. It's the reason why he employed so many werewolves— there was already so much prejudice against them in the Wizarding World. No one would have considered a death here or a disappearance there to be a part of some greater conspiracy if it could be blamed on the wolves. They just brushed it off as typical violence. Forneus was able to hide in their shadow while he made moves."

"And what was he doing?" Sirius asked.

"Searching for people to fill his hierarchy. He had records of old Pureblood families and was tracing their lineage to find living members. The way he saw it, if they were forgotten, they were likely destitute. It wouldn't be hard to convince them to join his cause if it meant returning power to them and restoring the family name."

"Hence, why he sought you out," Sirius finished.

Noctua swallowed thickly and nodded.

"Of all the families on his list, the Gaunts would have been the highest in name. If Voldemort failed, which he did of course, I would take his place as the Dark Mistress overseeing all magical people and creatures."

"Forneus was mad, then."

"He was. And I wish I could say I didn't want to be a part of his plan from day one, but I'd be lying to myself. I saw the horrors of the future he desired when he murdered every muggle in that orphanage, but then...He fixed me. And all at once I was being educated on a world I couldn't have imagined in my wildest dreams. All the talk of magical schools in castles and families with the respect of the whole of Britain and beyond— I wanted to be a part of it. I wanted to help him. But bit by bit he reminded me of how cruel he could be. It took time but I began to truly resent him. But by the time I realized I needed to run, it was too late."

"What did they do? What made you realize how grim it all was?"

Noctua stared into the fountain's respite, the water churning, just as unsettled as her mind as she reached back through her memories.

/

Mercy had had her wand for three months now. 14 inches of ornately carved black oak, with a hellebore petal core. Though Forneus had no use for its description when he retrieved it from Grindelwald, even he recognized its unique nature. "As romantic as it was deadly, in the right hands", the wandmaker had said.

Though it resulted in quite the scolding from Wilmerta every time, Mercy casted with it near constantly. She seldom used actual spells, but she cast sparks and soft light whenever she could, in awe of the magic she produced.

She'd been given more freedom as well, allowed to roam the ramshackle house in the countryside of some undisclosed wilds of Britain, often finding herself hiding away in the home's ill-kept garden. Many people lived around the property, sleeping in tents and gathered around campfires at night, whispering Merlin-knows-what to each other and howling with laughter late into the evening.

Wilmerta told Mercy these were the werewolves gathered by Forneus to aid him in his cause to "set the world right."

"Ornery bunch they are," Wilmerta snorted, "but that may change with you around."

"With me? Why would I change how they behave?"

Wilmerta groaned, cloudy eyes rolling back in her head.

"Don't you pay attention to anything during our lessons, girl? You're a Gaunt! But you've also got Rosier blood in you, yet. And the Rosiers of old?"

"Had a strong connection to werewolves?"

"Now she remembers. Yes. You'll need to re-read those old books from the Rosier coven. Forneus wants you to use that connect to help tame that bunch. They're a bloody mess on a good day, but during the full moon? There's no controlling those animals. Been ruining the errands Forneus has been out on, that lot has."

And so Mercy took to sitting with the wolves in the late evening, listening to their tales of turning young children and stealing goods from the town nearby. To their credit they did their best to keep conversations tame around the young girl, but every now and then some baudy joke or another slipped through. Mercy's favorite of the bunch was a young lad of around 17, who took to stealing bits of chocolate for her whenever he could. Unbeknownst to her, he wouldn't be with the group long, destined to die on a run gone bad with Forneus.

The worst of them all was their leader. A great hulking man who looked part beast even when the moon wasn't full, Fenrir Greyback absolutely terrified the girl. More than once she caught him staring at her, eyes usually drifting to wherever her skin was bare. She made a point to tug her dress over her legs whenever she joined the camps at night.

When she wasn't sitting and listening to the wolves stories, she was training with them, learning how to use the abilities gifted to the Rosier coven. She learned quickly how to calm the group when friendly spats turned violent, and how to comfort newly turned werewolves in their first days. The first full moon of her training left her scrapped and scarred, but she had successfully managed to bind one of the youngest wolves mind to Wilmerta. This earned her quite a bit of praise.

"Forneus will be elated when he finds out," Wilmerta said the morning after, cleaning the girl's wounds. "You're progressing faster than we expected."

To her shock, Forneus was proud of the girl, bringing her a gift she'd have never expected: a dog. More than likely it was a mutt he found out on his mysterious adventures, but he presented it to her like a thoroughbred straight from a breeder. After Mercy lavished the dog with plenty of love and pats, he cleared his throat, getting her attention.

"It's time I take over your training. You're getting good but this was only the basics. Now it's time you learn the ropes."

The next morning Wilmerta scrubbed her from head to toe and placed her back in her newly cleaned dress. She joined Forneus in the shack's large fire place, spinning away in a haze of flame and floo powder.

When they reappeared they were in a bustling business district, witches and wizards of all walks of life plugging away at their errands, paying them no mind. Mercy was in awe of all the shops and all the people with magical abilities gathered in one place, eagerly taking it all in.

"Diagon Alley," Forneus rumbled, sounding rather unimpressed. "All magic people do their shopping here. Even the mudbloods. That will change with us, some day."

Mercy followed him down the busy street, grinning at all the storefronts and waving at people as they passed. They swept into an empty store at the end of the alley, a tiny boutique of clothing and candies.

"Good afternoon! May I help you?"

"You may. Pick out anything you like."

Mercy stared up at him, mouth agape. The whole of the place was littered in expensive dressed and chocolates, the stuff of any young girl's dreams. She approached a set of pale green dressrobes at the front of the store, marveling at the soft fabric, feeling rather poorly by comparison in her shabby black dress.

"I like this one."

"That's fifty galleons," the shopkeep sighed, shooting Forneus a look that clearly said she didn't believe he could afford it.

Forneus pulled Mercy to the back of the store, the shopkeep satisfied, believing he was about to shoot the girl down in private as so many other parents often had to in her pricey store.

"We don't have fifty galleons," Forneus began, "but people like us don't need money, eh? We take what we want. There are spells we know that allow it. Watch."

Forneus raised a wand at the witch behind the counter who was paying no attention.

"Imperio!"

The woman dropped the magazine she'd been reading at once, turning back to the pair with the same dreamy eyes Mrs. Catchwater had had all that time ago in the orphanage.

"On second thought," the woman said in a stilted, distant voice, "you can take it. You can have anything in the store you'd like, dear girl."

Mercy stood shocked as the woman swept up the green dressrobes, beginning to carefully wrap them for her.

"The Imperius Curse," Forneus continued, considering another set of robes for Mercy and snapping his fingers for the woman to package them. "One of three 'illegal' curses. It'll make anyone do whatever you'd like, and they won't remember any of it. So tell me, girl, what else would you like? The store is yours."

Mercy hesitated at first, but the allure of all the pretty clothes silenced any protests she had. It ended up being a wonderful afternoon, Forneus actually laughing along with her and seeming more like a father as she tried things on and they opened candy, eating it on the spot. They took turns placing the Imperius Curse on the shopkeep, Forneus being sure that they spell didn't wear off when the inexperienced witch cast it. By the time they left the store was in ruins, but Mercy didn't care. It was the most fun she'd had in ages.

Days spun on after the visit to Diagon Alley, and Mercy had a new dress to put on each morning. She hadn't given a single thought to the fact that she'd used an illegal spell to get them: Forneus knew more about the magic world than she did. If everything was ripe for the taking, what was there to question? Weeks went by without another trip out with Forneus, then months, but she didn't care. She took to her lessons with Wilmerta with more excitement than ever before, desperate to learn more spells, hungry to know more of the Wizarding World. At night she ran around the campfires with her dog in tow, joining the laughter and madness of the wolves, running through the trees with reckless abandon. It wasn't until Forneus returned with another lesson that she sobered.

"I regret my long absence, but it's been busy. I hear I missed your ninth birthday? A pity. But no matter, I've a gift. Are you ready to learn another spell?"

Mercy practically leapt out of her desk chair when he returned, following him deep into the woods with her dog beside her.

"Ever come up with a name for that thing?" Forneus grunted.

"Wilmerta calls him Mange. I don't like it but it stuck, huh boy?" Mercy said, patting the dog on the head.

"And is he loyal?"

"Yes, sir."

"He may not be after this. Come here." Forneus stood behind Mercy, holding her arm up, wand leveled at the dog.

"There comes a time when you need something from people and Imperio isn't enough. Sometimes you have to bring people to their knees. To put them down like a dog."

Mercy winced at the way he spat out the word, frowning as Mange began to whine.

"I want you to think about whatever makes you angry. Whatever makes you hate. Let it fill you. Let it consume you. And when you can't contain it any longer, cast 'crucio'. Begin."

Mercy couldn't think of anything at first. Then thought of the adopters at Mercy Hill. How they gawked at her. Leered at her. Called an innocent child names. Hot tears started to well in her eyes until the vision if Mange before her grew blurry. Soon, she saw the faces of the parents who treated her as less than a person instead. Anger boiled within her threatening to burst.

"Crucio!"

She snapped out of her trance instantly as Mange began to cry and contort, barking and howling in pain. She raced over to him, but he backed away, loving eyes now welled with fear.

"That was awful! Why would you tell me to do that?!"

"Because you need to LEARN girl! Not everything is sunshine and fairytales! We are at war! There are plenty of innocent faces willing to do the same to you. Will you defend yourself or tuck tail and run?"

Mercy turned back to Mange, but he was already gone, running as fast as his legs would carry him. He never returned, and whenever she thought of the dog she felt the same hatred she used to harm him toward Forneus.

Time marched on in a sickeningly slow pace from then on. Her demeanor grew cold, but she continued her lessons, obeyed Forneus and Wilmerta's every word, learned and practiced dark magic until it came to her as easy as breathing. She joined Forneus and the wolves on their raids on villages, watching with cool indifference as men and women were torn to shreds and their children ripped from their arms, turned into werewolves. The year passed on in a slow haze, Mercy feeling less like a person and more like a tool: a razor brought to a razor sharp edge. Her pretty face grew harder with each passing day, and soon people became numbers to her. She didn't even cry when the boy who'd given her chocolates died on a raid gone sour. She stared down into his unseeing eyes with disgust and walked over his corpse.

Forneus was delighted with the change, gleeful that his future leader of the Wizarding World was emerging from within the sheltered girl he once knew. It was then that he decided she was ready. He stood her behind an unaware Wilmerta, the old woman doubled over the sink, washing dishes. He crouched down to Mercy's level, whispering in her ear.

"Wilmerta has been a noble ally to me, but I find she's no longer useful. It's time we say goodbye to the old woman. I trust you know what to do."

Mercy leveled her wand with Wilmerta's back, a single tear sliding down her cheek as the flash of green filled the kitchen.

/

"Wilmerta was awful, but she cared for me. She was the closest thing I had to a mother aside from the nurses at the orphanage," Noctua whispered, wiping tears from her cheeks. "Killing her finally woke me up. I'd become a monster. It was then that I knew I wanted nothing to do with Forneus's plans. But I was trapped. Killing her under his orders proved that anyone and everyone was dispensable to him, even me. I had to run, but I didn't know how to get away. But then I had my out: I turned eleven and they sent me away to Hogwarts. I thought maybe I could survive the summers with him if it meant spending the rest of the year away. And then by the time I graduated I'd have a solid plan of escape. Sadly, Forneus had other plans."

/

The prospect of attending Hogwarts reawakened something in Mercy. Finally getting away from Forneus and his hive of wolves to learn magic properly around students whom were likely not murders excited the girl. What was more, it meant an escape from her newly burgeoning problem.

Greyback had been a constant terror over the years. Always looming. Always lurking. Wilmerta seemed to scare him off from his undue attentions toward Mercy, but with the old woman gone, he grew bolder. It wasn't abnormal for Mercy to catch him just outside the door as she left the bathroom after a shower, or otherwise hovering near her ramshackle room while she dressed. Often at night while she sat amongst the wolves' campfires he'd make some passing comment about how she was 'taking a womanly shape' or how she'd make a wonderful werewolf herself. He was careful never to make these comments around Forneus, but still every eerie compliment would make Mercy stiffen in fear. The worst were the nights when Forneus was away and Greyback was left behind. Though she'dbe careful to lock her door she would wake in the middle of the night to him watching her sleep. Several nights she pretended to stay asleep as he climbed on top of her, hot, foul breath washing over her face. Some nights she couldn't pretend, waking up from a nightmare to find him on top of her, whispering about his plans to make her his, to turn her.

Mercy saw some of the wolves as family, having grown close to them over the years, even in her stony state. That love ended at the line of becoming one of them. Though she may have admired their strength, the curse of lycanthropy was still just that- a curse. She began pouring over books and tomes about werewolves— becoming one. Controlling them. Killing them. Anything that might help her get Greyback safely away from her. Finally she found what she believed to be the answer in a book on shapeshifters: becoming an animagus. Perhaps, Mercy thought, if she could take on the aspect of a wolf in a different way, Greyback would be satisfied. It may be just enough to stop the threats of turning her. And so, in every private moment she had, she worked on transfiguring herself, shifting painfully into the tiny, white-coated wolf. When she had successfully learned to hold the transformation, she asked for Greyback to meet her alone, deep in the woods surrounding their shack and camp. She wasn't foolish enough to let Forneus know about her newfound ability, fearing she may one day need it in her plot to escape for good.

"What is this about, cub?" Greyback asked once they were truly alone. Mercy tried to ignore the way his eyes danced with excitement, clearly imagining her asking him to meet alone meant more than it did.

"I wanted to show you something. You keep telling me you want me to join the wolves even though Forneus won't allow it. I think I may have found a work around."

She shifted, world swimming briefly before snapping into place. She took a few paces around Greyback, allowing him to get a good look at her as the white wolf, hoping he would find her satisfactory. She shifted back after another moment, hastily tugging her dress back into place where it fell awkwardly off her shoulders from the transformation.

"Well well well. It seems you've given it some thought, cub. I'm glad to see your enthusiasm to join us... but it's not quite enough. I hope you'll at least run with is the next full moon, but one day I'll see the transformation completed properly."

He said nothing else, simply grinned his sick, twisted grin, brushing his knuckles against Mercy's cheek, then turned to leave the woods. Mercy could feel vomit threatening to pass her lips. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough for him until he violated her in every way possible, right down to her dna.

It was with the fear of that reality in mind that Mercy eagerly packed her trunk for Hogwarts when the day came. Forneus was there to escort her to Platform 9 3/4, watching her every move with a careful eye.

"Don't get distracted while you're there," he rasped just before she boarded the train. "You're there for a reason. Remember, they have you registered under the name Mercy Hill. Do not tell anyone the truth of who you are. Remember your true goal. We'll see you for the winter holidays. Do not disappoint me."

That 'true goal' had been established several weeks prior: find the Chamber of Secrets. Once done, Forneus would send along a package containing an adolescent basilisk. It wouldn't be strong enough to kill mudblood students, yet, but strong enough to petrify. From there, Mercy would need to finish the job. It threw a wrench in all of Mercy's plans: she had daydreamed of a simple life as a student— taking classes, making friends, living a perfect lie as long as she was away. With Forneus's instructions, that dream was shattered. He fully intended to use her as a weapon at every turn.

She sat on the train alone, trying desperately to hang on to her daydreams of friends and a normal life. She was sorted into Slytherin before she knew it, though the hat agonized over the decision.

"A brilliant mind, already open to learning. But brave, oh so brave... and yet cunning... dangerously so..."

She whispered to the hat in her mind. Slytherin. It has to be Slytherin. And though the hat was the first syllable into shouting "GRYFFINDOR!", he changed it to Slytherin at the last moment for her. It took pity, undoubtedly knowing the hell she'd face otherwise.

The other girls in the dormitories seemed happy to ignore her, gathering in tiny groups already formed on the long train ride into the castle. She sat in the common room for hours into the night, feeling the safest she ever had in years, but also the saddest. This was supposed to be a happy occasion, a chance for her to get away from the reality of her horrible deeds in the real world, but she couldn't shake the memories. The room glowed bright green as she sat wiping away tears, the full moon cutting beams of light into the lake. She could swear she heard wolves howling.

If nothing else, lessons took her mind off of things. Normally, she'd be brewing death potions and learning curses, but now she learned simple charms and counter spells. She was years beyond anyone in her class, Flitwick constantly lamenting that she hadn't been placed in his house. Though she didn't get along with many students, most electing to ignore her as she wasn't of much interest, the professors seemed to adore her. She spent most free afternoons helping grade papers or volunteering to clean up after potions lessons, already used to spending most of her time around adults. She'd fallen into a rhythm: take breakfast late in the morning, attend classes, find a professor who wouldn't mind her company to stave off boredom, then spend the rest of the late evenings exploring the castle until curfew. In the letters she wrote back and forth to Forneus's camp, she did her best to make the latter seem as though she was earnestly searching for the Chamber of Secrets. In reality, she just liked the quiet of the less-travelled halls of Hogwarts, learning to enjoy time alone away from the wolves. Forneus's letters, however, became more and more insistent after a time, warning her that if she didn't find the Chamber by holiday break, he'd take matters into his own hands. Viewing it as an empty threat, she ignored the missive, deciding instead to throw herself completely into being a normal child. She finally wrestled together some friends: a bookish 3rd year Ravenclaw named Thomas, and a rather sly 1st year Hufflepuff named Brienne. The three of them were all rather solitary, but they didn't mind bringing food from the Great Hall out by the lake to eat together, and often discussed sneaking off to Hogsmede when Thom's year were finally permitted to go. Their first outing together as friends was to a quidditch match— Hufflepuff vs Gryffindor— which ended in much good cheer as the badger house took the win. Mercy lapped up every moment like a dying man to water, finally feeling that she belonged.

The feeling didn't last.

November was winding down, and exams and the holiday break were fast approaching. There was a pile of letters sitting on Mercy's nightstand from Forneus, all ignored, and each time her eyes settled on it, a lump in her throat grew. When she couldn't bear to look at them anymore, she tossed them into the fire, imagining that her life before Hogwarts was burning along with the parchment. She was Mercy Hill, a perfectly happy, perfectly ordinary little girl with friends, thank you very much. Not a Pureblood princess. Not a killer. Not a monster.

So when the howler arrived, screaming "YOU WILL ANSWER ME, GIRL", shattering her illusion of a happy life as students from all over the Great Hall stared at her, she didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

She penned a quick letter home, apologizing for the delay, explaining that she was hard at work searching for the chamber, but didn't want to disappoint Forneus by telling him she'd found nothing concrete. In return she received a letter stating that Forneus understood, and that they'd discuss how to help her over the holiday break.

/

"That 'help' Forneus promised was a kidnapping," Nox sighed, kicking at the water in the fountain. "He was furious with me. He knew full well that I wasn't looking, but to humiliate me, me made me drink veritaserum. Blabbed to the whole camp that I wanted to be normal, that I had friends, hell, even that I had a crush on Thom. Every sticky detail of my life at Hogwarts was recited. Everything except, thank Merlin, that I planned to run away. Forneus told me that he made a mistake sending me to Hogwarts. Told me I wasn't going back. Said I'd finish schooling elsewhere, at Durmstrang. I was sad at first that I wouldn't have my friends any longer, but I thought maybe I could just make a new life at Durmstrang. I was wrong. Forneus was in really good with Karkaroff. Told him all kind of lies about how I though I was above everyone, that I was a monster at Hogwarts, hurting other students and planning murders. Anything and anything vile I'd done under Forneus's orders he twisted to make it seem like I was some out of control, power hungry freak. Karkaroff told the professors and the entire student body before I even got there. I was... made an example of. The students needed to learn a new curse? Use Mercy as a test dummy. Making potions? Make Mercy drink them. Students getting rowdy and out of hand? Beat Mercy before everyone to let them know it wouldn't be tolerated. I went to bed every night battered, bruised, and broken. I wanted so desperately to get away, but I was under watch constantly. Over the summers, Forneus would make sure I was compliant, he constantly plied me with veritaserum. I learned how to fight it, eventually. How to lie under its influence even though it made me feel like I was burning on the inside. Eventually I found my opening to get free: they were training me to be both deadly and elusive. They never thought I'd use those skills to escape them. So when I found out about the little ferry that went from the island where our shack was onto the mainland, I knew what I had to do. Forneus did his best to be sure I never knew where we lived, but I figured it out eventually: a small, uncharted island between the Isle of Wight and Southampton. All I had to do was take the ferry and get lost in the crowds, and I'd be free. I was sixteen at the time. Forneus was too busy arguing with Greyback to notice I'd slipped off. I didn't even take anything with me. Just shifted into a wolf and ran until they were out of earshot."

/

Mercy's legs burned something fierce, back to her human form as she was too exhausted to keep up her animagus form. The trees were thinning, she could hear the water slapping against the rocks on the dock, so close.

The was a rustling in the trees above, the sight of a massive brown owl nearly making her trip. It followed her, sending a chill down her spine, but it didn't appear to be giving chase. It coasted along, not flying back even when she reached the edge of the forest and ran across the pier. It felt right somehow, like a spirit guide making sure she reached her destination. If Forneus and the wolves had noticed her absence, it was too late. She was already on the ferry, the boat slowly making it's way up the channel to Southampton. The owl stayed for a moment, letting Mercy scratch the top of its head before it took flight again, heading back up the path that Mercy had run to freedom. She collapsed once it flew out of view.

I'm free. She thought, in disbelief. I'm not Nona, or Mercy, or any of that any longer. From now on I'll choose. I'm finally free.

/

Nox let out one final, long sigh.

"It was hard, being on my own at such a young age, but I learned quickly. I was always smart, and cunning. Found money doing odd jobs, eventually saved up enough to buy a tiny place of my own. If I thought Forneus's men were onto me, I picked up and moved again. Different place, different name, different people. But I was always Noctua, to myself. I was always 'the Gaunt trying to do better'. Eventually it seemed as though Forneus stopped looking. Until now. And now I'm done picking up stakes and running. This is the life I made for myself, the life I want, the life I'm ready to fight for. He won't take it from me again."

"And we'll be right beside you for that fight," Sirius reassured, rising from the fountain.

The rest got up too, Tonks leaning in to hug Nox.

"It's been a hard life for you, but we're here. You won't go through this alone."

"Thank you, Tonks. Thank you all for listening. I feel like a weight has been lifted."

"If we're all settled, best we return to the main hall," Remus pipped up. "I do believe Slytherin is missing its head of house."

"That it is," Noctua agreed. And she strode out of the Room of Requirement, head held high, swearing to never hide again.

A/N: I am SO sorry I left this for so long. Apologies for any errors, I still need to edit this, but I really wanted it up. Thank you for sticking with me. I'm going to try my best to get this updated every week. Thank you again for reading!