Intro: Okay, this is an AU of an AU. My story CUB and it's sequel TCL talk about the Pack which is a group of five orphans that Harry meets at the beginning of CUB. When I asked for challenges at the end of TCL, I received only one: what would happen if Harry had never met Vaughn and the Pack, but they did exist. This is that story, enjoy!

If I Had Never Seen You

Chapter 1

Lynette sighed as she did the dishes for Old Lady Mitchell, an elderly woman who had lived alone in her house in Surrey before she had adopted Lynette. Lynn was fourteen now, nearly fifteen, and had been living outside of the Pack for two years now, and could barely remember the last time she had been called Lulu, her Pack name. The whole Pack had been dispersed around the world when they had finally gotten caught, all five of them. The worst part had been her separation from her younger sister Vaughn, who would be nine in a few days' time.

She'd been sitting in the dark interrogation room for hours, alone and waiting nervously, when two officers finally came in. One stood with his arms crossed by the door, while his younger counterpart sat across from her at the table. It was the one sitting who spoke, "Hello, I'm officer Whitman, and this is my partner, officer Sykes. Sorry you had to wait so long."

"I'm sure you are," She said bitterly.

"Why don't we just get this started, what's your name?" Officer Sykes demanded, casting a disapproving eye on her.

"Lynette Milthorpe."

"And the girl with you?"

"Vaughn Milthorpe,"

"Your sister?"

"Obviously."

Whitman took over asking questions, all the while scribbling on a little note pad. Age, time with the Pack, how did her parents die. Whitman sighed heavily when she answered no when asked if she had any living relatives. Whitman stood and talked quietly to Sykes. The room was wearing on her nerves, and the bandaging on her elbow and both knees itched. She had gotten hurt when she tripped while running from the cops, that's when she had gotten caught.

"When can I see my sister?" She asked, unnerved to see both officers turn to her with matching looks of pity.

"You can't." Sykes answered bluntly, "Our psychological examiner has declared her mentally unstable and depressed. Since she has no living relatives, other than a twelve year old sister, she will be sent to an orphanage made for mentally unstable children."

Lynn had known Vaughn was depressed, she spent all her time with the Pack, all of which were at least six years older than her. She may have come to see the Pack as her family, but a girl that young needs to be around kids her own age. Running away from the police doesn't give you those kind of opportunities.

"But what about me?" Lynn asked after the shock had worn off.

"We're going to introduce you to Ms. Mitchell," Whitman replied in a reassuring tone, " She's getting to be up there in age and wants to adopt a girl about your age to live out her days with."

Lynn blanched, "That's… great."

Ms. Mitchell had adopted her almost immediately. Lynn hadn't even seen Vaughn before she went to an orphanage out in the country that was paid for by this rich old man. Orville's Orphanage for the Mentally Unwell. As for the rest of the Pack, they're spread out. Stalker got adopted by a latino family and is living somewhere in South America. Sable had tried to make a life for himself, he had a job and had gotten a flat in London, a few months back he had sent letters saying the Pack could visit or move in if they wanted to. Lynn never did hear the final outcome, but Ferret was either living with her grandparents in America, or her Aunt in St. Ottery Catchpole.

Orville's Orphanage for the Mentally Unwell

Ms. Jacobs, headmistress at the orphanage, wondered for the umpteenth time why she hadn't retired during the last two years. Mentally ill enraged children, she could handle, but one small eight year old girl, she could not. The girl was quiet, and seemingly one of the more sane children at the orphanage, but odd. She would say the most bizarre things, and sure enough, they would happen. Like the blizzard last June. Other times, violent or inexplicable things would happen that the entire staff thought was her fault, but there was no proof. Today, it was the mysterious death of a pet mouse that belonged to a girl that had always clashed with a certain troublesome eight year old.

"Vaughn!" Ms. Jacobs called sharply as she entered the first floor girls' dorm.

The girl in question was sitting on the bed at the far end of the room, closest to the windows. She turned around to look at Ms. Jacobs, but didn't say a word.

"Rebecca's mouse was killed," Ms. Jacobs began, "Do you know what happened to it?"

"It deserved to die," Vaughn replied darkly, "But I didn't touch it."

Ms. Jacobs was not amused, "Well, someone did."

"Perhaps it was an animal."

"There was no blood or any marks on it at all."

Vaughn raised an eyebrow challengingly, "How on earth could a kid like me kill something and not leave a mark? It was probably just sick."

"It wasn't sick, it was an unnatural death."

Vaughn shrugged innocently, "It was evil. Besides, how could a girl like me kill it without leaving a mark?" Ms. Jacobs realized that she wouldn't be able to make a valid, so ordered Vaughn to make her bed, and left.

A smile slid onto Vaughn's face when Ms. Jacobs was gone, she had talked her way out of trouble again. Besides, Rebecca's mouse had been evil, it had bitten her ten times in the last week alone, and Rebecca was covered in bite marks. Vaughn had never been fond of rodents, which is why she had slain the evil mouse, Sir Wiltshire. Vile Beast. It hadn't been hard, she had started a fire amidst it's vital organs, turning them to ash. Vaughn could do that, she was special. And not like the other orphans.

She made the last crease required for properly making her bed and noticed her left hand was trembling. That hand was one of the last parts of her that felt guilty. She shouldn't feel guilty though, she had been wronged worse. How? Well, she wasn't particularly sure, it was just a subconscious feeling that things weren't as they were supposed to be, like fate had been tricked and she was the victim.

"Vaughn," A male voice called from the door of the dorm. Dr. Fried, resident trauma psychologist at the orphanage. Of course, he wanted everyone to call him Alan instead so they would feel more comfortable around him. Vaughn hated him. Especially because he was always smiling, "Come, Vaughn, it's time for your weekly appointment."

Every kid at the orphanage had to see Alan at least once a week so he could evaluate any progress, or notice that they were slipping away from sanity. Vaughn reluctantly stood to follow him, "Might as well get it over with,"

His mouth twitched at her blatant disregard for the sessions, but regained composure and walked beside her smiling as they went to his office, or as Vaughn referred to it, the Room of Terror. The room was painted a bright yellow to try to cheer up the kids (Vaughn found the color ghastly), the room had toys and bean bag chairs for the kids to sit in, to make them more 'comfortable'. Vaughn felt it was too happy and sneered as she sat in the blue bean bag chair. Generally, the girls sat in the pink one, but after her first session, Alan had never tried to make her sit in that one again.

Alan sat in a regular office chair, got out her file and a pen, and asked the traditional first question, "How are you feeling today?"

It was the only question she consistently answered truthfully, "I feel alone."

Usually she had let her other emotions mask her loneliness, but today it wasn't enough, and Alan ran with the new information, "Why do you feel alone? The orphanage has one hundred and fifty-four children as well as twenty-seven adults on staff."

She glared at him, "I'm different, the kids here are trivial, weak-minded, infantile. I've seen every other person cry. I feel like I'm inhuman, I don't belong here."

"Where do you belong?"

"Somewhere that I'm not treated like a child half my age, and don't have my sanity questioned on a weekly basis."

Dr. Fried looked taken aback, but quickly made a jump to a conclusion, "Do you think any of this is because of your repressed feelings about your parent's deaths?"

"I wasn't even four years old at the time, the only things I know about my parents are what I've been told by people like you," Vaughn said sharply, "They may, however, have to do with being taken away from my real family, the Pack."

Alan sighed, "The Pack should not be thought of as your family, they were a group of delinquents running from the law that your wayward sister brought you into. You'll be better off forgetting about all of them."

"Sure, right after you forget your own family. I'm not going to get rid of every happy memory I have just because you think I'll be better off." Vaughn said sternly.

The look on Alan's face told her that they were moving onto ink blots. This was Vaughn's favorite part because she said that she saw the most bizarre and unrelated things just to mess with him. He sighed as he picked out four ink blots, "You know the drill, I show you a card, you tell me what you see. And please take this seriously."

"I always take this seriously," Vaughn replied with a sly smile.

Alan rolled his eyes and showed her the first ink blot.

"A bear riding a motorcycle."

He showed the next card.

"A pile of books, burning."

The third card was revealed.

"A cat caught in tangled Christmas lights."

And finally, the fourth card.

Her rehearsed answer caught in her throat as she saw the last card. For the first time, she could actually see a picture in the ink blot, and for some unknown reason, it scared her. Alan had to call her name several times to get her attention and then remind her to tell him what she saw. She spoke quietly, "It's a wolf, but his leg shouldn't be bending like that."

Number 4, Privet Drive

Harry Potter, who would be turning ten in just two months, knelt painfully in the garden as he did yard work. His leg hurt badly, but he knew the Dursleys weren't merciful enough to take him to the doctor, or at least let him rest. Besides, he wouldn't be fed if he didn't finish his chores. Uncle Vernon might even set Dudley on him, which is how he had gotten his leg broken in the first place. Or, he might do worse. He shook the thought from his head as he remembered his failed escape attempt from two years ago.

Harry had been good all day, and the Dursleys were in an unusually good mood due to their dinner with the president of Vernon's company. Guaranteed promotion, he said. Harry had gone to his cupboard, and, surprisingly, been forgotten about. A few minutes after they left, he opened the cupboard with ease and slid into the hallway. He had been free until Vernon had burst through the door in a rush. He had forgotten the documents his boss had asked him to bring, and had returned to get them. His face turned purple and Harry was once again in his cupboard, this time behind a locked door and with a throbbing bruise on his face. He wasn't allowed food or out of his cupboard for a week.

"Hey Freak!" Dudley yelled from the back door, "Dad says if you aren't done in an hour, you'll wish you'd never been born."

"I already do."

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Dudley."

Venezuela

Sixteen year old Miles 'Stalker' Gonzales was sitting at a table, uncomfortable in the stupid black suit he had to wear for his adopted sister Cipriana's quincenera. A day made perfect for his sister, while he had to suffer ninety-eight degree weather in a black suit.

"I hate it here," Stalker said, "Me odio este lugar. That's probably not the right way to say it." One of his sister's friends winked as she walked past him. Stalker shrugged, "On the other hand…"

Unplottable Mansion Somewhere Near Michigan in the U.S.

"Oh bridget, you used to be such a nice young lady," Grandma Alyss said with pity, "What happened to the bright girl we used to know?"

"She was introduced to the real world, not this fake utopia you make the world out to be." Ferret replied venomously.

"That's no way to talk, even if you are a dirty squib, right Jacob?" Alyss asked her husband.

Jacob looked up, "Eh?"

"See, I'm right."

"No offense grandma, but he didn't agree with you. You may not have noticed, but he went deaf seventeen months ago. Probably from hearing this same argument over, and over, and over." Ferret pointed out.

Alyss huffed, "The fact remains, you come from a prestigious family of wizards, therefore, you should act with pride and be ladylike. Which doesn't include chopping all of your hair off."

Ferret rolled her eyes, her hair and been cut so it was shoulder length. However, her grandmother was insistent that a proper lady have long hair. Saying that she had no desire to be a proper lady hadn't gone over well, either. So, as she had done many times in the past, she ended the argument bitterly, "Why do I even bother arguing, in four months I turn eighteen and will move in with a friend of mine back in London."

"You keep saying that, who is this friend of yours?" Alyss asked.

"It's my friend Sable,"

"Is Sable her real name?"

"No, Sable is not his real name. It's Nigel."

The old woman stiffened, "A man? No granddaughter of mine is living with a man she isn't married to."

"Then perhaps you should disown me," Ferret said, then added, "Or perhaps I should obey your wishes. He is rather cute in all his muggle-ness."

"You are not marrying a muggle!"

"I'd like to see you stop me,"

London

A door slammed closed in a small apartment, and a black haired man of twenty threw down a small stack of letters addressed to Nigel Hawthorn. He hated using that name, but he wouldn't have been able to get the two bedroom flat and his two jobs without it. His main job was as an editor for a local paper, which he loved. His other job was unloading boxes for the four older men who worked at a deli down the street, although he disagreed that Remus could be called old. He didn't need the job, but his neighbor Remus was one of the nicest people he had met, and he hadn't been able to refuse when asked.

Sable leafed through the letters and smiled when he saw one that was addressed from Bridget 'Ferret' Prewett to Nigel 'Sable' Hawthorn. After notifying the Pack over a month ago that he was ready for visitors, Ferret was the first to get back to him. He opened the letter quickly and read:

Dear Sable,

Sorry this is so short. My grandmother is insane. She thinks I'm a disgrace to the family and yelling at her deaf husband. It's a shame that neither of them think he's deaf. Anyway, when I turn eighteen on October third, I was hoping to fly over and steal the second bedroom in your flat. That is, if it's not already taken and you wouldn't mind me in your space. I'd get a job and split the cost of living. Oh, and my grandmother can't know, she thinks you and I will go at it like rabbits and have a flock of bastard children (her own words). She's insane. Let me know your answer and if you hear from the cubs!

Love, Ferret

He gave a small smile, he and Ferret had always had control issues, but at least it would be some return to normalcy. He read the part about him and Ferret again. Them? Together? Like that could ever happen. For a moment he worried about the younger members of the pack, which he and Ferret secretly referred to as their cubs. He then wrote a reply that he would send in the morning.

Orville's Orphanage for the Mentally Unwell (OOMU)

After an afternoon of contemplating Vaughn's reaction to the final ink blot, Dr. Fried was finally able to talk to Ms. Jacobs. Unlike his own office, Ms. Jacobs' was reasonably more conservative, hardwood furnishings with pale blue walls. She looked up at him from behind her desk, "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"I'm concerned about one of the children, Vaughn Milthorpe."

Ms. Jacobs sighed, "What has she done now?"

"Well, nothing," Doctor Fried admitted, "I'm just a little concerned after my appointment with her today."

"Concerned how?"

"Well, as you know, Vaughn has always been a little off, has had a general hatred towards animals and has taken a liking to fire. She also has behavioral problems, but has always been able to talk her way out of it. I find all of this very unsettling."

"I'm not a doctor, you're going to have to tell me what that means."

"These are usually categorized as the early signs of a psychopath."

"It's about time she was diagnosed with a mental issue," Ms Jacobs said, "But why are you hesitating."

Dr. Fried bit his lip, "She actually saw something in the ink blot today, an injured wolf. With my previous diagnosis she wouldn't have reacted that way, she seemed frightened when she should have been unfazed by the image. However, it's unclear as to whether it's because she felt bad for the wolf or because she actually saw something, which is why my diagnosis remains unofficial."

"What do you mean 'actually saw something'?"

"She usually prepares a list of answers, and until today, never actually looked at the ink blots."

"Do you think this is a significant or isolated event?"

"I'm not sure, I was hoping you'd allow me to see her more frequently to make a better judgment of her condition."

"In the morning I'll tell her she will be seeing you twice week from now on."

Dear 'Bridget',

Well, your grandmother seems lovely. I know we've had our differences, but I believe I can allow you to steal my spare room. Remind me about a week before your birthday so I don't forget. I haven't heard from the cubs yet, if I do, I'll let you know. And what was with the whole 'love Ferret' thing? It was a little weird.

-Sable

(A/N: I know this chapter is a little odd, I promise it will get to be more like my usual writing in a couple chapters. I have the first four chapters written, but not typed (don't ask, it's a long story) and I should be posting again this weekend. Please review and let me know that people are reading this.)