Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.

1. Welcome

All sense of time was lost. The icy chill that nipped at my numb body was all that consumed my mind. My stomach ached, seeming to close in on itself from the lack of nourishment. Had it only been hours since I was exposed to the gruelling winter air? Or had time eluded me so that it had, in actual fact, been days since I was removed from the confines of my home? I couldn't tell.

With frost bitten fingers I rummaged through my pockets and pulled out the apple I picked up from a stall around the corner and bit into it, the juice running down my chin. I would have felt guilty for stealing had I not been so hungry.

Moments passed as I greedily ate the apple and flung the core away into a nearby bin. The thin cardigan I wore did little to protect my small frame from the raging snow despite my efforts of containing as much of my body heat as possible. But still I trudged on, unaware of my destination but praying for a place with a small fire and bed; desiring anything more would surely be selfish. Even the thought of curling up by a warm fire made my body tingle in anticipation.

I looked up to the darkening sky and realised I should be getting somewhere safe to rest for the night. I thought back to my bedtimes at home and how father would tuck my sister and I in bed after playing flying dragons atop our beds, and then mother would read us a quick story before they both left to their party downstairs with friends. I remembered how we would stay up in the dark whispering about anything and everything so the monsters that lurked under our beds could not get to us, that our happiness and love would repel them from our house like a wild tornado. Most mornings my parents would find us cuddled in the same bed for extra protection and, as the older sibling, we would most likely be in my bed with a broomstick lying idle on the floor beside us. I had to keep a weapon with me; no way was anyone going to take my sister away from me.

A powerful gust of wind smacked against me and I tumbled to the ground from the impact. I tried to move but my muscles and joints ached and relished in the comfort from the thick snow blanketed beneath. So I laid there, too weak to move, my mind void of any thoughts apart from my heavy lids shutting out the scene before me.

Many shops by now had closed and people were resting in their homes by their fireplaces draped in warm blankets. Anyone out in the January night would have to be mad. The street lights illuminated the roads but the wind and snow were so strong that it was impossible to see very far. No doubt I would not be able to be seen my anybody but I could not seem to care.

Succumbing to my bodies fatigue I allowed my eyes to firmly close. I was so comfortable and tired, surely a few minutes rest would not hurt. I snuggled further into the snow and before I knew it I was dead to the world.

The sounds of pots and pans clattering and a low whining roused me from my sleep. The effort to open my eyes was sluggish but once my vision cleared, I found myself encompassed in several blankets.

It was all a dream. Of course I was still at home. What was I thinking? I chuckled to myself for even thinking my parents could ever leave me. They loved me. It was obvious every day through the love and affection that they bestowed, whether it be through random kisses and hugs, or their soothing words. They were not evil. They would never abandon me. A sleepy grin took over my face and I snuggled further into the warmth, glad to be away from the vivid torture my mind had conjured up. Had I eaten something bad before bed?

The smell of food alerted me to the rumbling of my stomach. Nothing like a good old hearty breakfast to clear away the aftermath of a nightmare. Blearily blinking out the sleep from my eyes, I sat up and stretched my sore muscles, mentally cringing at the sound of my joints popping. I turned my head to my sister's bed beside my own: my bed was not as warm as when she was with me and I was always up before her.

Instead of the familiar large purple bed, I found myself meeting a lop-sided grin and a lolling tongue staring back at me.

I gaped at the dog sitting on the floor beside me. Had mother and father gotten a dog? No, of course they did not, they hated animals.

I tilted my head and stared at the dog. It copied, tilting its own head to the same side. I sat up straight again. The dog followed. I leaned forward slightly only for the dog to move in even closer, almost licking my face in the process but I was able to move back in time, gasping from the sudden action. The dog let out a great bark and trotted out the room.

Questions soared through my mind all at once, all an echoed incoherent jumble of noise fighting for answers.

I whipped my eyes around my surroundings. Panic flared through me as I was not met with the usual red walls of my room.

No. It was all just a dream, these past few days – or was it weeks? Wasn't it? Mother and father wouldn't…they couldn't…

Panic.

The room looked very old-fashioned compared to my lavish home. I found myself resting on a worn pistachio coloured sofa instead of my bed. The walls were a warm lavender although a few scorch marks stood out against the soft colour on the wall to my right. The living room, I supposed, was very plain and contained a sofa and two armchairs, all different textures and colours, a fireplace on the wall where all the furniture faced and several bookshelves against the back wall behind me. From the looks of it, the people who lived here did not appear to be kidnapping murderers, a thought which somewhat soothed me. But then again, I had yet to meet them. And looks tended to be deceiving. I gulped, once again being engulfed in panic.

Then everything came crashing down. It was not a dream. I had been abandoned. Left to roam the streets on my own, to find my own way in the wicked world at only eight years old. They really did it.

My breathing began to hitch in my throat as a lump formed. What was I going to do? I was only a child! So consumed in my mental panic attack I did not notice the tell-tale signs of my oncoming tears: the stinging of my eyes and my face flooding in suffocating warmth. But just as my sobs were on the verge of bursting out, a figure entered from the same archway which the dog had retreated to moments ago.

"Oh, hello dear! How nice it is to see you awake and healthy. You poor thing, sleeping out there in the cold. But don't you worry my love, this is sure to warm your cockles." A small plump woman put down a tray of assorted foods on the table in front of me.

The smell of the food momentarily distracted me and my stomach howled. I peered up at the woman, a gentle smile playing on her lips, as she gestured to the array of foods before me. Slowly, I reached out for the fork. The pancake drizzled onto the plate as I carefully placed it into my mouth. Another howl tore through the air, this time from the pleasurable sweetness. Without another thought but on satisfying my hunger, I proceeded to inhale the food. The toast smothered in butter melted down my throat, soothing the dryness. The orange juice helped to wash down the food and moistened my sore lips. I was sure there was more food but I could not recall all that there was.

Within moments my stomach ached uncomfortably from the mass of food, crumbs littered the sofa and myself, remnants of food all around my mouth. I sighed contentedly before noticing the dog sitting by the feet of the woman.

No longer distracted, I noticed the eyes watching me. I looked up at the woman and wiped my face with the sleeves of the enormous jumper covering me. My mother's etiquette teachings were bought back to the forefront of my mind and my face began heating up as I realised how silly I must look, eating like an animal and then wearing it all over me.

"Oh dear, no need to fret about the mess," the old woman smiled. "Here, let me clear this all up now."

She left the room with the tray. The dog stayed watching me curiously, tilting its head once again and I couldn't help but breathe out a small laugh at the cuteness. The dog's ears pointed up, big black eyes and the pink tongue salivating all over the floor just seemed to scream adorable.

"Tha's Jimmy," a gruff voice called from the archway. I turned to see an old man leaning on a wooden stick wearing tattered overalls over a shirt and a heavy coat. He limped into the room and threw his coat off and onto an armchair before sitting down on it. The dog instantly went to his side and lay down by his feet.

My throat was still aching from being exposed to the chilling air for who knows how long so I couldn't form a reply. Not that I wanted to anyway, his presence seemed to scare me into silence. Instead, I looked on at the exchange between the man and Jimmy; the dogs attentiveness to any movement or noise from his master and the man's gentleness in stroking the dogs shaggy black and white fur.

The woman returned within minutes, patting her hands on her apron and sat down on the remaining armchair after greeting the man with a brief kiss to the temple.

"You all better love?" she asked.

I roughly cleared my throat before replying with a meek, "Yes, thank you." The old woman beamed in response.

"What on earth were ye doin' out there? Did ye not see the snowstorm comin' in? And what would yer parents be thinkin' righ' now young lass?" the man asked not roughly, but curiously. At the mention of my parents my shoulders slumped and I could feel the tears welling up all over again. I still couldn't comprehend why it happened. Why me?

"Oh, Bill! Look what you did now, silly man." A comforting hand was placed on my shoulder and I looked up to see the woman sitting beside me. "There, there love, we'll help ya get home now."

That was all it took for my tears to leak out. What home? I had no home, not anymore. Without thinking I buried my face in the woman's bosom, wrapping my arms around her middle with everything I could. My crying intensified when I felt her arms hold me back, rubbing my back and stroking my hair, and heard her soft murmurs. A nudge on my arm notified me of another presence and I winked an eye open to see Jimmy rubbing his nose against my arm.

"I'll er…just put some tea on," Bill said and hobbled out the room. I could barely even hear him over my own crying and the kind lady's whispered words.

I began to calm down and slowly my crying stopped until I was left hiccupping. I moved away from the woman's arms and noticed a huge wet patch on her top.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I managed to whisper. Embarrassed by my actions yet again, I looked down at my hands in my lap. A finger under my chin tilted my head up to look in the woman's brown eyes.

"It's not a problem dear. Don't fret. Now then," she used the pads of her thumbs to wipe the tears from my cheeks before continuing, "You want to discuss this over a cuppa? Or would you rather some hot milk?"

"Milk please," I replied.

The woman called out to the old man still in the kitchen, "Bill, love, will you warm us up some milk please!"

A gruff, "'course," was heard before the sounds of dishes clinking together and thudding footsteps took over. Within seconds Bill returned and handed a mug to me. I sipped on it as Bill sat back down with a mug of his own with Jimmy following.

"What's yer name?" Bill asked after a few seconds of silence as I drank my milk, revelling in the warmth it was bringing to the rest of my slightly chilled body.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. "Ella."

"Well, Ella," the old woman said, "that over there is Bill, my husband, and I'm Annie, but everyone around here calls me Nanny Anne. Feel free to call me whatever you feel most comfortable with."

"Thank you…Nanny Anne," I smiled.

"Ella, you from 'round here?" Bill asked, readjusting the cushion behind him.

"I don't…I don't know where I am," I said.

"Well, where are yer parents?"

I looked down again into my near empty mug, afraid to see their expressions and not trusting myself not to start crying again. "They don't want me," I mumbled.

No one spoke for a while and I didn't dare to look up. It was the first time I had said it out loud. It made it feel more real now that I had admitted it to others. Nanny Anne was the one to break the silence.

"Now why would you say that dear?" she asked, smoothing back some of my dark hair.

I had to take a few moments to calm my breathing before replying. "They got rid of me."

Bill was the one to break the uncomfortable silence in the room this time. "Wha' kind of nonsense is that? Wha' kind of parents would do that'? Who would ever kick out a li'l thing like you? Tha's absolutely ridiculous!" Bill sounded angry. It reminded me of the horrid moments I so longed to be a figment of imagination and I curled into myself. Nanny Anne noticed my change in demeanour and instantly chastised her husband to calm down.

"You've had a rough night, how about you go on up to bed and get a good rest. You can stay here for as long as you need Ella darling."

Nanny Anne stood and helped me up to my feet as well. After waiting for my legs to relax from being stiff for so long, she led me out the archway and up the stairs. My eyes began drooping before we even made it all the way up. I did not notice myself falling back on a bed.

The table was laid with piles of toast and plates of eggs and sausages. I was sat at the kitchen table stroking Jimmy's soft fur as he sat patiently on the seat beside me.

My sleep had been undisturbed by any dreams or nightmares and I awoke with the recognition of not being home; the odd smell I had woken up to worried my senses before remembering the events before. The feeling had left me somewhat hollow which had dispersed as soon as Jimmy joined me in my bed and dragged me down to the kitchen, as if sensing my unease and coming to my rescue before my over-imaginative mind got the better of me by conjuring up the crazy scenarios which can only be thought up by a child.

Nanny Anne was cooking by the stove and she called out to Bill in the garden once all the food was placed on the table.

"Good mornin' lass. You have a nice sleep?" Bill asked with a small smile as he sat himself down at the round table followed by Nanny Anne.

"Yes, thank you sir," I said around a bite of toast, careful not to make as much of a mess as I had before.

"Please, none of that 'sir' business, call me Bill."

I nodded in reply. Breakfast continued in silence with brief comments about a paper shop from Bill ("We'll need some more shipment of the printing paper, tha' old codger Wilkins came in again askin' for a whole case, the bleedin' bastard") and Nanny Anne speaking about the neighbours in the village. No one mentioned the discussion from the night before on my sudden appearance, and for that I was grateful. I was not sure I was ready to discuss it just yet. Or ever.

My mind was stuck on my future while the adults discussed. Where was I going to live? Surely Bill and Nanny Anne would not want me around them until I was old enough to leave. No, they would probably find me a family to stay with. They would want to know why I was kicked out at only eight years old. What would I tell them? Definitely not the truth. Even though I had been disowned I was not about to go and divulge information on my parents; I could not dishonour them like that.

"So Ella," Nanny Anne called, breaking me out of my internal worrying, "you fancy getting to know some of the neighbours tonight over dinner? It's best you ought to meet them soon if you're to be living with us."

My mind went blank. "Excuse me?"

"Well if it's too soon we could always arrange some other day. I'm sure we can organise something. And don't worry about being around us old fuddy-duddies, there are plenty of kids around your age. Although some are quite a menace but you can-"

"Stay with you?" I interrupted. Was I imagining things? No, she could not have possibly thought to let me stay.

Nanny Anne chuckled. "Well of course. You don't think we'd let you leave without a place do go now, did you?"

I stared at her for the longest time, her smile unwavering.

"It's no problem to us lass, we've got space and God knows it'd be nice to have a young soul around, if not for us for Jimmy," Bill said.

At the sound of his name Jimmy let out a great bark and sat up on his haunches waggling his tail excitedly behind him.

My wind was buzzing with endless possibilities those few words brought. I could not comprehend what was happening. It all seemed so fast. Just yesterday I had been starving in the freezing streets and now, I was being offered a home, more food than I could believe, two caring guardians and a pet above all! It seemed too good to be true. The offer was incredibly appealing.

And yet I found myself hesitating. The thought of being taken in by complete strangers in an unknown town scared me to no end. Could I really do it? It was not like I would have to change my lifestyle, I was always the odd one out, always had been whether it was within my family or the people my parents associated themselves with. I would fit right in here though. No high expectations from my parents, no lying to their colleagues and friends, no petty jealousy. It sounded perfect. My eight year old imagination got away with me and I was instantly taken away to a place where I would live with Bill, Nanny Anne and Jimmy. A family.

I smiled at the two adults watching me carefully. "Where did you say we live?"

Nanny Anne and Bill both grinned at my use of plurality. "Welcome to Ottery St. Catchpole."