Lumiere | s. black

Prologue

Vidalia was a strange girl. Strange even considering she lived in a wizarding village just like other children her age. Vidalia was strange. Her eyes, her hair, her home, her adoptive mother... all of it, strange. But Vidalia was not strange just because of these things. Vidalia was strange simply because she was Vidalia Strange.

The girl had been brought up in River Piddle— home to the Puddlemere Quidditch League— by a thin, haggling Seer, who owned a second-hand supply store on the edge of town.

Cosima Strange had never married. She'd never wanted to. When the woman was nearing her seventies, she'd been blessed with the joy of motherhood when tiny baby Vidalia was placed on her doorstep in the middle of the night with nothing more than a bit of parchment with her birthdate on it. The baby had never cried. Cosima had nearly stepped on the poor lass as she was leaving for her shop early the next morning. Cosima Strange had just about lost her head at the thought of crushing the baby.

Several people around town had offered to take the child off the old witch's hands, to give Vidalia a home with other magical children, to give her a normal home. Every time someone took Vidalia, she would end up right back at Cosima's house within the day.

Vidalia must have gone through at least ten wizarding families in the span of a week or so before Cosima, the only one who could look at Vidalia as if she were completely and utterly normal, took her in and kept her for herself.

This child was so strange that, by the time she was three, was already performing, albeit mediocre, wandless magic. Vidalia could point at freshly baked tarts and find them floating her way in no time. She was often reprimanded for this, as she was too young to be performing magic. Not only that, but freshly baked tarts are hot.

Albus Dumbledore, certainly not the first wizard to show interest in Vidalia— and definitely not the last— made his rounds to the Strange house after a brief meeting with an old friend, Newt Scamander, who lived just a few fields away from the Stranges. Dumbledore, the headmaster at Hogwarts, was very curious as to why this child was so strange. And why, of all places, had she been sent to live with Cosima?

Cosima greeted Dumbledore warmly, happy to be seeing her former teacher and longtime friend. Cosima had this date marked on her calendar, but the meeting had not been arranged.

"A pleasure to see you, Cosima," Dumbledore greeted.

"Oh, Albus, I'm certain you're here for my daughter. Let's cut right to the chase, then."

Dumbledore smiled, a twinkle gleaming in his eyes.

"Vidalia," Cosima called. The child, now nearing six, came walking in as if she'd just returned from a week long stay in the cosmos. Her eyes had a spacey glisten and there seemed to be a halo of light around her, like stardust.

"Hi, mum," Vidalia said, her voice airy and sounding not at all like how a child's should. It seemed there was an older soul inside Vidalia, rather than a young, childish one. No doubt this girl knew a lot of things.

"This is Professor Dumbledore."

Vidalia stared down the old wizard, taking in his starry robes, his half-moon spectacles, his long grey beard...

"I know," Vidalia said, matter-of-factly. She nodded in confirmation. "Albus Dumbledore. I'm Vidalia Strange."

Dumbledore smiled, the twinkling in his eyes never disappearing.

"Vidalia, how are you today?"

"I was looking at the moon. It's quite interesting because yesterday it was more of a crescent and today it's like a sliver of a sickle. I'm quite certain the weather won't be very kind in the coming days."

"Vidalia has a telescope," Cosima stated, although Dumbledore didn't need the explanation.

"And moon charts," Vidalia added. "I study the moon because it's how I can make predictions."

"You can make predictions?" Dumbledore asked, this bit of information not at all surprising. This little girl had been making predictions since the minute she was born, although no one could prove this. From the time Vidalia could talk, it seemed like she knew everything. Although her predictions were never spot on, they were very scarily accurate for a witch her age.

Yes, Vidalia Strange, just like her adoptive mother, was a Seer. Perhaps this was why she had been placed on Cosima Strange's doorstep and not anyone else's. Perhaps this was why none of the other wizard families could keep her more than a night.

As Dumbledore stared into the eyes of this truly remarkable little girl, he seemed to understand just what this girl was about. Her eyes were yellow, not like a cat, but like an owl. They were wide and could stare straight into a soul if they wanted to.

Vidalia was indeed a Seer, but, unlike Cosima, Vidalia relied on the moon for her predictions, much like centaurs use the stars. Although, at such a young age, it was hard for others to tell just how legitimate her Seer abilities were. But Dumbledore knew.

"Vidalia, do you know of a place called Hogwarts?"

"Yes, of course. Mum said I'm going when I turn eleven. I'm going to be in Gryffindor."

"You want to be in Gryffindor," Cosima corrected.

"Yes, but I'm going to be. The Sorting Hat might like me in Ravenclaw, I believe, but I'll tell it I best be in Gryffindor."

"Why are you so sure?" Dumbledore quizzed.

"There's someone special there. He lives by the moon, too. I've seen him."

Cosima looked to Dumbledore. This was the first instance that Vidalia had spoken of a boy. Vidalia hardly had any friends. Most of the other children in River Piddle found Vidalia to be weird, and often picked on her, chanting and taunting.

Vidalia Strange
Just like the name
Swears she's sane
But cannot even tame
Her ruthless mane.

Vidalia, Vidalia
Says she's a Seer
And all the children run in fear
Claims to have moon powers
And wishes for meteor showers
But only during the Witch's Hours.

Vidalia stood straight, the most abnormally exquisite posture for a child. She was adamant.

"Vidalia," said Dumbledore, turning his gaze from Cosima back to the little girl. Her hair was piled on top of her head in curly pigtails. It was so curly, magic itself couldn't straighten it out. Her big yellow eyes stared Dumbledore down, expectant and unwavering. "Vidalia, I have never seen anyone like you before."

"It's because I'm the only one," she replied simply, as if it were obvious. But how could she know for certain? Certainly there were other Seers who used natural elements in their predictions?

After Dumbledore's departure, the house was very silent. Vidalia disappeared back to her room. Cosima watched from the living room as her daughter pored over notes she'd made.

"I think it's going to storm three days next week," Vidalia called to her mother. "Bad storms. Lots of lightning."

Cosima peered into Vadalia's room; the girl was placing storm clouds that she had cut out from craft paper across her walls, a sign that she was sure of her prediction.

"We might want to fix the leaky roof over where all the books are in the shop. They'll be ruined by Tuesday."

Cosima smiled and nodded. "I'll get Casper right on that."

As strange as she was, no one could deny the girl was nothing short of brilliant. She seemed very attuned with the earth and all the things it needs to survive, more so than others: the moon.

The girl, who was fully aware she was looked at through magnifying glasses as though she were some unknown creature in a cage, was very good at reading people. She remained very unbothered by the comments— both by children her age and adults a hundred years older— made about her.

Vidalia knew she was a strange girl, but she didn't care. The things she studied in regards to the moon and the special powers she possessed... she knew she could grow up to be a brilliant witch. She knew she would have to. Vidalia knew lots of things even adult wizards didn't.

Times were about to grow dark. She would need her powers for far more than even she realized.