A/N - Welcome to the world of Albus Dumbledore in a way that you may never have considered. This story can stand on it's own, but was also written as a prequel to the "Creating a Ghost" trilogy. The first chapter is a bit tough to get through as it contains a lot of information, but stick with it. I think you'll enjoy the ride.

Dani

1 - Elizabett

Elizabett Morgana Celestia Castlewood was a pure blood witch, so pure that one could investigate for generations without finding a single drop of Muggle or mixed blood in her line. Her family was old, and the sort that had every right to feel the way it did about Muggles. For centuries, they had watched events and retold stories of friends and family members who had been persecuted and who had suffered at the hands of the fearful and ignorant. The stories were horrendous, and were told in a way of a warning to be wary of those who were different from them – different often being exchanged with inferior, depending on who was telling the tale. Many had lost their jobs, lost their homes, lost their lives. Some had fought back only to strengthened the non-magicals' fear of magical folk, but in the end, those who sought vengeance found betrayal in their own government as punishment was issued for what was often considered self-defence. The situation seemed unjust, and the Castlewoods and their small group of friends slowly withdrew to their rural homes. They rarely socialized outside of their circle, and held hope that the Three-Fold Law would one day return the negative energies sent in their direction, and in the future, Muggles would suffer as they had.

~~~***~~~

By the turn of the twentieth century, a large number of Wizard family estates had spread throughout the rolling hills and lake districts of Great Britain, some even reaching south toward the bustling city of London. They lived completely apart from Muggles, and Protective Shields and Muggle Repelling Charms were instinctively and strategically placed to guard their existence from prying eyes. They had certainly lived through enough, and wanted to be left alone to live in peace.

Elizabett was raised in such a society. Social contacts with friends or family members were few and far between. Her parents entertained little and educated the child in a multitude of subjects in the isolation of their home. The massive fields that surrounded the dwelling were a spacious place for Elizabett to run and play, but she was warned never to venture further than the hedgerow that outlined the property. She was a curious child, though, and would often stand at the wrought iron gate at the end of the crushed stone path and watch as the local farmers and their children went about their business, unaware of the lonely child that stood beyond their line of vision. She would imagine what it would be like to talk with them, to have other children to play with, but she also remembered the horrible stories that had been told, and this made Elizabett bolt to the safety and seclusion of her home.

Yet, as cut off as she was, Elizabett loved where she lived. It was pretty, a large, grey stone structure with big windows and jet-black shutters, bright flowers lined the walkway that led to the painted black door, and wonderful window boxes exploded with colour. It was three stories high, with four airy bedrooms on the top most floor. On the second floor was a study for her father that hosted wall-to-wall bookcases, a polished, mahogany desk and a warm fireplace, and across the hall was a brightly lit, well-stocked library. A large, comfortable kitchen was on the main floor where a devoted house elf often scooted her out when she wanted to "help". The sitting room was to the left of the kitchen, and a reception room was to the right. This was one of Elizabett's favourite rooms. It was only used only when company came to visit and was decorated with rich, cranberry-colour velvet draperies that matched the twin wing chairs and settee by the massive stone fireplace. The heavy, wooden mantle was the same dark timber as the dining set that dominated the centre of the room, and a glittering tiffany-style chandelier hung over the table to give just the right ambiance to the chamber. A cranberry, black, and cream-colour area rug covered the dark, hardwood floor and nearly stretched to each wall. The room gave off a warm, inviting feeling, and Elizabett would sometimes sneak in to curl up in the settee to read.

Another one of Elizabett's favourite rooms was not really a room at all but a bright solarium at the back of the house. Her mother grew the most wonderful collection of plants there, and when the sun beamed through the glass, the child would spread her arms to her sides and soak up the energy emitted by the warming rays of the Sun God as he kiss her skin.

As the child grew, Elizabett's abilities became more pronounce, much to the pride of her parents. She was well educated and rapidly devoured the elementary books in the second floor library, and by the time she received her letter from Hogwarts, she had begun the more advanced literature. She had also developed a natural skill for wandless magic and a propensity toward Earth magic. Her mother delighted in this and would invite Elizabett into the solarium, encouraging the talent with the plants that she tended. Elizabett flourished as much as the plants did under such gentle and supportive guidance.

On September first, when the Castlewoods brought their daughter to Platform nine and three quarters, they had no idea how their child would integrate into such a foreign world. There would be so many people, so many new ideas different from their own, but they were confident that their firm foundation and ideals would ground her and lead her on the right path. They held their heads high and waved proudly as their little Elizabett stepped onto the train with the bright red engine. The child nervously returned the wave taking a step into a whole new world.

~~~***~~~

Elizabett's placement in Hufflepuff House shocked many, including her parents, as the Castlewoods were well known Slytherin supporters. But, she proved herself a dedicated, hard-worker who silently took on new challenges and succeeded in all she set out to do – top of her class in all subjects. She was quiet but not entirely withdrawn. Those she had known from the circle were in a different house – Slytherin, and were older than her. Aryanna Malfoy graduated the year Elizabett joined the school. Aryanna was a beautiful girl with long, white-blonde hair, and a pert little nose, but her beauty was marred by the fascist ideals that she held. Evan Rosier, who had bullied Elizabett as a child, graduated the year after, but Thomas Cresswell was only two years ahead of her and took her under his wing, thus forming the one crucial link to her former way of life. His housemates often made fun of him for if was seen as a Slytherin weakness to associate with anyone from Hufflepuff House. This concerned Elizabett, but Thomas would casually wave it off. He was strong-minded enough to make his own decisions. She liked his confidence, and he encouraged her in any field that she took on. When he graduated, it was Elizabett he invited to the Graduation Ball. Then, he would return to visit with her on the occasional Hogsmeade weekend, but they were never more than just friends.

The remaining years flew by as Elizabett buried herself in her studies. She preferred to work alone and had few friends, but was gracious and accepting of others, often tutoring the younger members of her House. The professors loved her for she was focused in her work and could speak intelligently on almost any subject. Although reserved, she was a very articulate young woman, and they often forgot that they were speaking with a student when she was around. Professor Merrythought, the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, constantly regaled to the staff the new and interesting ways the little Hufflepuff could defend herself, and she could be counted on to remain even-tempered and calm even in the most trying circumstances. Boring, some would say.

It was during her final year, when the new Transfigurations professor caught her interest. He was an older man; quiet like her, but with a mischievous glint in his light blue eyes that told of a simmering wit brewing gently under the surface. He was a man that her father had mentioned many times at the dinner table, a man who curiously refused to take the position of power as Minister of Magic. His list of achievements was long, and when Elizabett wrote home and told whom her new professor was, her father wrote back underlining the words "Listen to him. He's brilliant." She did as she was told, and her father was right. She would sometimes stop the professor after class to discuss his expertise with the wand, but would skilfully steer the conversation toward his view on Muggles. Sometimes, he would let his guard down, but more often than not, after realizing where the conversation was going, he dismissed her. He had once chuckled that she should have been in Slytherin with such placid cunning.

When Elizabett graduated, she was offered an apprenticeship in Herbology at the school, as it had been a subject she was most proficient at, but she declined. She had an agenda that was preordained from younger years, something that she always knew she would have to do. Elizabett would go into the Muggle world. She wanted to know everything she could possibly know about these people who tried so hard to destroy her world. She wanted to understand, why. She had heard her circle's side, now she needed to know more.

~~~***~~~

The following eight years found Elizabett living near and closely watching the non-magicals. They were odd creatures, and it was no wonder they couldn't get along with wizards when they couldn't even get along with each other. The strife, both on personal and political levels, was unreal. She studied philosophy and religion, politics and social interactions. She read every newspaper and literary piece that was available to her and worked at a variety of Muggle jobs from waiting tables in a small village cafe to clerking at a large, downtown London library. She even ventured abroad to continental Europe to examine the different cultures, meeting new people along the way. The growing understanding and sympathy that she was developing toward those who, for centuries, had been considered the enemy astonished her parents. They couldn't understand her interest and warned her to be careful. She would smile meekly and nod. She was more careful than they knew, and shrewder than they thought. Her experiences had made her strong, and she was confident in her abilities, knowing what she wanted to do.

It was at a family Yule party in Elizabett's twenty-fifth year when she sought out certain individuals who she thought might help. The Blacks were there. Dogma Black worked in the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but his callous view on Wizard supremacy held her back from speaking with him. The Rosiers and Malfoys were in attendance but had no connection with the Ministry. The Cresswells were there, and it was Thomas Cresswell, an old friend who now worked in the Goblin Liaison Office that she chose to speak with. She had an idea and needed to know who to contact. Their reunion was sweet as Thomas fondly took her hands in his, but his smile faded, and the room fell silent as Elizabett explained her plan. Heads turned, and her mother's cheeks grew scarlet, but Elizabett was convinced that she was doing the right thing. At first, Thomas was reluctant to help, he had a growing position in the Ministry and didn't want to jeopardize it, but several days after the gathering, an owl arrived addressed to her with the name of the department and the person to contact. A simple "good luck" was scrawled across the bottom of the parchment.

~~~***~~~

Dressed in a classically fit, navy blue robe, her wavy, dark brown hair pulled back in a matching snood accentuating her heart-shaped face, Elizabett boldly strode through the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic and waited for the gilded lift to take her to the appropriate floor. As the lift ascended, the butterflies in her stomach began to flutter, but she never wavered from her decision. Stepping into the corridor that led to the wizard's name on the slip of parchment in her hand, Elizabett made her way through the dividers that separated various workstations. She had an appointment, and when she reached the door, she knocked softly, waiting to be received. The stout, little wizard who greeted her smiled encouragingly and ushered her into the small office, offering her a seat opposite the untidy desk. Presenting her hand in a professional greeting, she accepted the seat, and confidently pulled her proposal from her briefcase. She had spent years preparing it. He took the document and flipped through the pages, stopping every now and again to reread or examine a statement more intently. He nodded, seemingly impressed, and they discussed some of the finer points in more detail. To her surprise, the meeting lasted well over an hour. He appeared very interested, and the proposal seemed to follow the Minister's present agenda, especially with the unrest that was currently brewing in the international world. Elizabett was right. The Wizard world would benefit from this knowledge.