The Black Witch

Hair as black as ebony. Skin as white as snow. Lips as red as blood.

Grace Potter-Black had all of these fairytale qualities, but whoever said that she was as good and pure as Snow White?

Because behind the lovely face, Grace was a demon, and she knew it.

It had all, perhaps, began, when Grace's school hosted a play. 

With her waterfall of dark hair and her dramatic tendencies, Grace looked like a perfect contender for Snow White, but of course, she was given the role of the Evil Queen. Saying those lines, dressed in a long cloak and hood, Grace had her first taste of power.

It was purely for the show, of course. But Grace vowed, as she handed the famous apple to Marielle Golding, who played as Snow White, that she would feel that thrum through her veins again, the feel of a wicked smile curling her lips.

Two years later, when mysterious letters began arriving at the Dursleys and a tall woman in a pointed hat and emerald green cloak showed up at the front door, Grace remembered the thrill that coursed through her as she watched Snow White fall to the floor, imagining a dead body, murdered by her hand, collapsing in Marielle's place.

It was maybe not the perfect dream an eleven year old girl would have. Disturbing, most would say. But Grace was different.

She had always known.

"When will you take me to Diagon Alley?" she asked Professor McGonagall, her bright green eyes eager.

"Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, wishes me to come back tomorrow and take you for your supply shopping," the professor replied, looking at Petunia, who was sporting a rather sour look.

"Tomorrow, at three o'clock."

Grace couldn't wait.

The next day, precisely on the dot, Professor McGonagall showed up. Petunia's mouth twisted as she slammed the door. The professor gave her a weary look.

"Is your aunt always like that?" she enquired. 

"Only with freaks," Grace replied innocently. She saw McGonagall's brows furrow and smiled.

Taking McGonagall's hand, Grace found herself immediately nauseous, bending over only to discover that she was, in fact, standing on dusty wooden floorboards, instead of the smooth path outside the Dursley's house. Forcing herself to straighten, she saw McGonagall talking briskly with an old, hunched man.

"I'm taking Grace Potter on her shopping trip, if Professor Dumbledore wants to see me at any time, make sure to send a Patronus immediately."

Wondering what a Patronus was, Grace took a couple of deep breaths, willing the last urges to throw up away before following McGonagall to a brick wall. The woman drew a thin, wooden stick - a wand - and tapped some bricks in a strange pattern.

And all of a sudden, Grace was seeing not a wall, but a whole new world, full of colours and people and shops.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Professor McGonagall smiled.