Ink and Parchment ~ blood and bone

1

Eliza was roused from her sleepy daze by a banging at her cupboard door, her aunt Petunia's screeching waking her up faster than any alarm clock. Not that she had an alarm clock, not that she had much of anything actually. Aunt Petunia had told her that freaks like her already had more than they deserved just by living. Eliza had learnt not to argue with that even if she didn't agree with it.

She had learnt a lot of things in her time at the Dursley's even if she was only 6. She had learned how to cook and clean and that she shouldn't ask questions and that Freaks like her weren't worth anything. She had learnt her name, Eliza (she had never learnt her last one although she had taken to calling herself Astra from the Latin 'stars' as she was terribly fond of them) and that her real parents were good for nothing drunks who had left her in the hell that was number four Privet Drive. And even though she didn't agree when the Dursley's called her a freak she did know one thing. She was different. And after stumbling upon a collection of old books Dudley had thrown away one day, The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, she had dubbed what she could do as magic.

She was magic.

So she didn't let whatever the Dursley's said get to her, she was better than them. Different. And so they couldn't do anything to effect her. No more than they already had.

It seemed today that would change.

She was pulled out of her cupboard, as it was a cupboard and she refused to call it a room, by Aunt Petunia. But instead of being shoved into the kitchen she was pushed out of the front door where Uncle Vernon was waiting, moustache twitching dangerously.

"Get in the car Girl" he commanded gruffly, furtively looking around to see if any of their neighbours were spying on them. That was one of the things the Dursley's couldn't stand, being seen less than normal, and Eliza, in all her freakishness, was the very antithesis of what they strove for.

Uncle Vernon slammed the door behind him as he settled into the car, the blue vehicle wobbling dangerously as it got used to her Uncle's weight. Eliza slipped in quietly behind him noting that her aunt and cousin weren't coming with them but knew better than to ask any questions. That was rule number one, not asking questions.

When her Uncle dropped her off in London she wished she had asked questions after all but found she didn't need to when her Uncle spoke

"We're getting rid of your freakishness girl, once and for all. You won't come back to us if you know what's good for you" he said menacingly. He chortled, seemingly incredibly pleased with himself, before suddenly driving away leaving Eliza on the doorsteps of her new home.

The Orphanage.

The years that passed after that were some of the hardest of Eliza's life, she had given her name over to the matron and in return was given second hand rags, a shared dorm with five other girls and meagre portions of food. She was used to the uncomfortable gnawing feeling of hunger thanks to the Dursley's but she was not used to fighting for whatever scraps she could get. Every day was a battle, a battle for safety, for food, for the best chance to get adopted and to be free of Eliza's new hell. Every Sunday she was forced to go to church and she was bruised and beaten and kicked by the other children who did not like the strange young black haired girl with the glowing green eyes and the lighting shaped scar that ran down the right side of her face. They thought she was a freak.

And then she used her freakishness against them and they had had a lot more reasons to hate her.

But then they were too scared to act.

Fear was a powerful motivator Eliza had found. A few broken bones, mysterious accidents, one boy had even been hit by a car as he walked into the road. A tragic accident. They were all still alive of course, but all now a bit different. Warier, too wary for it to just be coincidence. But Eliza was happy, she now had her own room and always had a seat at the table for whatever meagre food there was and she was now no one's victim.