Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe.

Chapter 1 – Vision Unbridled

The day was drawing to a close fast. She needed to find shelter quickly. The east side London streets were anything but inviting and she was dirty, alone, and an immediate target for those with low intentions. Not to mention the more innocent enemy: London's legendary fog and chill. She clutched her tattered and insufficient overcoat close around her tight-skinned and bony body. She had little under it. As she trotted along a lonely alleyway she pondered how she had gotten here, to this exact point in her life. She saw things others couldn't see, and she was sure that if she hadn't chosen to run away all those years ago she would've ended up discussing her imbalanced brain cells with a lot of obtuse doctors. They didn't understand. She knew she wasn't crazy. Still, she had to scurry about from slum to slum avoiding predatory attack like some sort of animal. She was so tired. She was tired of it all.

She came upon a spot she believed would suffice for the night and settled comfortably in dark shadows. No one would see her until morning and she could forget who she was and where she was. She let her eyes drupe. After a few short flashes of men with long wooden sticks emitting colorful lights she awoke sweat drenched and scared. It had seemed like a strange dream, but it felt like more. Her family had thought her odd dreams were nightmares but when they'd started coming true her parents got scared. They decided to deal with it by sending her away to a mental hospital.

She looked around quickly, feeling ill at ease. She heard footsteps and lowered herself even deeper into the shadows waiting for the figure to pass, linger, or otherwise make life hard on her. She saw two men coming from opposite ends of the alleyway towards one another and mentally cursed her position. She was a sitting duck crouched behind a dumpster with no escape in either direction. She silently slipped her hand into her padless shoe, withdrawing a small pocket knife she had had since childhood. It was her only memento from her beloved father. Opening it carefully so as to prevent it from squeaking in protest, she waited and watched each set of feet progress down the long alleyway. They suddenly stopped as they reached each other and a deep baritone voice began carrying on a muffled dialogue she couldn't quite understand from the short distance. After the exchange, of which she only caught odd sordid words such as 'Raid' 'The Order' and 'Anger the Dark Lord,' she suddenly could not see one pair of feet. They had vanished, and she became even more uneasy wondering if the owner of said feet had somehow discerned her hiding spot. For a short moment she panicked before spotting a small gully beneath her dumpster just big enough for her body to squeeze into. It was an excellent hiding place! Even if the man sat next to the filthy dumpster he would not see her. She quickly and silently smashed herself through the entrance of the gap and settled herself on her belly, so she could peer out at the man left standing in the middle of the alley. She kept a sharp ear for any sound besides the man she could now fully see from under the dumpster.

He was oddly dressed in long, hanging, high-collared coats which reached to the ground. He looked like some sort of dark angel. Every stitch of his clothes were a deep black. His shoulder length hair was also black unlike his pale face which was in sharp contrast with the oblique black depths of his eyes. She was inexplicably transfixed by this strange persona of sorrow and strength, pain and predator. He suddenly seemed to sense eyes on himself however. He looked about sharply, the worried pensiveness from a moment ago entirely gone. He withdrew a thin wooden stick from an inner pocket and took a turn about the alley before stalking back into the shadows of the opposite wall and taking a stance of patient waiting.

'Oh joy!' she thought. Though she was intrigued by this man, she would much rather have her alley back to herself for the night without the unsurety which comes with company.

Sleep was forgotten, and after a time she heard more hushed voices coming from a group of men this time. The Dark Angel was center most in the conversation. He seemed to be the leader, seconded only by a man with long blond hair.

Suddenly the sound of thundering footsteps like a charging stampede shocked her senses. It all happened so fast. The group of men in long robe style coats turned in immediate action, all withdrawing identical wooden sticks like those she had seen in her dreams. BANG! The alleyway was a flood of many colored lights flashing in all directions as all the men in the original group scattered and took refuge in corners and behind the plentiful rubbish scattered throughout the long alleyway. The blond man dashed behind her dumpster, where she had previously taken refuge mere feet away.

She did not like this man. He had cold grey eyes, and though he was quite handsome and distinguished looking, he held a certain something in his face which did not appeal to her at all. His line of vision caught her attention. He was looking straight at the man she had tabbed 'Dark Angel,' who was standing behind a stairwell firing light from his luminous stick when he could avoid being hit himself. Now she knew exactly what she disliked about the blond man - jealousy was not a becoming color on him. Her eyes suddenly became fully dilated as she was overtaken by a multitude of images. This man envied the Dark Angel since boyhood. Though he held a higher status, the Dark Angel had an ability and respect he did not. The fact that they were allies in this battle didn't matter at all. As if receiving transmissions from some unseen telegraph, she knew precisely when and how the blonde would strike and used her position as unseen company to dash his despicable plans. Just as he raised his stick and was about to fire what she knew would be a florescent ocean blue light she reached out and yanked his foot towards her, releasing him as he lost his balance and dropped his stick. It rolled under the dumpster. Shocked at her luck and apprehensive of the dangerous object all at once, she took it and stowed it within the bosom of her thin overcoat. She watched as panic flitted across the man's aristocratic features. He began feeling round for his stick in the gutter, even going so far as to reach under the dumpster and blindly scour the ground there. She was half tempted to stab his offending fingers with her pocket knife but thought better of it. He extricated his hand with a jerk and looked around in dire concern for himself. He slumped further behind the dumpster and for all intents and purposes seemed to have abandoned the battle.

Though she kept a firm awareness of him, she took the opportunity to look round again. These strange lights seemed to have the power to vanish, blast, or sicken their targets. She watched as a man with grey streaks through his short brown hair was hurled against a wall and slumped to the ground. All she could do was watch with wide eyes as the calamity unfolded. After a moment she slipped the stick out of her garment and looked at it closely. It was shiningly black with a silver handle in the shape of a snake's head. It measured about three quarters of an inch in width and well over a foot in length. She was tempted to give it a wave as she'd seen done by these strange people, but who would be her target? She had no idea which side was fighting for what cause. She could test it on its owner. That would at least free her of the danger he posed. He clearly didn't have good intentions towards anyone. She took aim and motioned her hand in imitation. The stick vibrated weakly but did no more. She looked at it puzzled and tried a few more times until it produced no effect at all. She frowned and stowed it back in her coat for safe keeping.

The battle started to wayne. Many of the charging men had departed wounded or carrying victims of their side. Many from the original group had been equally affected by the events of the evening, and finally there was only a few left of the latter peering about for what was left of their wounded. The Dark Angel was among them, and of course the blond man was biding his time. He finally slunk round the other side of the dumpster and showed himself, appearing as if he was searching with the rest of them.

"Well Severus, I believe all have been accounted for. One dead, three wounded, and the rest of us in good form." He had naturally gotten a real good opportunity to keep count from his hiding spot and wasn't wasting it to appear as if he was distinguished in battle.

"Indeed," was all 'Severus' had to say. "I suggest you, Nott and Macnair take yourselves back to the stronghold and aid with the wounded. I shall finish up here and give report on my return."

"Or I could give report. The Dark Lord will not be pleased to find we've taken such a blow in a mere alley-side brawl with The Order. I could spare you the unpleasantness of informing him."

"That won't be necessary Lucius. He'll want to know what occurred from me as I was in charge. And besides, I feel we gave just as much as we got. Don't you agree? You had a wonderful vantage point." He gave his ally a meaningful look which was lost on the others.

'Lucius' gave Severus a scowl and stopped trying to pressure him. He nodded to Nott and Macnair without giving his superior another backwards glance. "We'll use sidelong apparation. No need to waste energies when we've got men to cure. Nott! You take the lead." He grabbed the other man's arm who also grabbed the third's arm, and they all vanished simultaneously. The Dark Angel was again standing alone in the alleyway.

He seemed to ponder for a moment before whipping out his stick and giving it a vast sweep in her direction. Before she could even process what was happening the dumpster was flung through the air, exposing her presence in a most undignified position. She rolled on her back as he came towards her and did the only thing her shocked mind could think of - she withdrew Lucius's stick and jammed it in the air threateningly. She thought perhaps he would believe she was one of the 'Order members' and be sufficiently impressed to leave her be. She'd been in street fights with petty criminals before and wasn't afraid to use whatever means necessary to defend herself. He could see this in her stony stare and stopped his progress as he kept his stick loosely trained on her.

He narrowed his eyes in thought and spoke. "Who are you?" He asked raising an eyebrow.

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