Hatchling outside its nest

The white-haired woman ran without ever glancing back. Dressed in nothing but hospital gowns and with nothing on her feet, she sprinted down the street, clutching a bundle to her chest.
But no matter how hard the young woman ran, the white clouds of mist crept closer and closer.
Suddenly, with a greenish flash, the surroundings changed. Instead of the tarmac road and concrete buildings, they were now surrounded by a dark forest.
But the woman didn't even stop to catch her breath. She continued her run, uncaring when the thin gown she was wearing got caught on branches of shrubbery.
Only when she reached the end of the forest did she dare to pause for a moment. From a hill, she looked down on a small village, light shining through the windows of the houses, almost like little beacons of light in the darkness of the night.
For the first time she looked behind herself.
Only to see that the wise mist had returned and was again slowly creeping towards her.
She was out of breath, clearly exhausted and seemed distressed as her breath began to form wispy clouds.
With a quick glance, she looked at the bundle in her arms. An expression of deepest remorse formed on her face.
The surroundings changed again.
Now the woman was standing in a deserted street. Various houses with dense front gardens stood on both sides of the street.
She chose the only one that was still lit and ran to the door.
“I promise I'll get you back.” She whispered and planted a kiss on the thing in the bundle. “I am sorry, but they can’t know about you.”
A tear ran down her cheek as she gently placed it in front of the door and knocked vigorously on the door.
She did not wait for a response.
Rose woke up as if in one fell swoop.
It had been another one of those dreams. She had suffered from vivid nightmares for as long as she could remember. Some of them were about such unbelievably terrifying phenomena that the mere thought of going back to sleep and dreaming of them again terrified her. Others were more pleasant but more confusing.
The latter often centred around the white-haired woman.
An impatient knock snapped Rose out of her thoughts.
“Are you still not awake, girl?” shrilled an impatient voice. “Hurry up, you have to take care of the bacon while I mix the batter!”
“Coming Aunt Petunia!” shouted Rose as she struggled to the cupboard door in the narrow space of the cupboard under the stairs.

Rose Potter was in many ways a peculiar six-year-old girl.
Of course, neither she nor her neighbours in Privet Drive Little Whinging were aware of just how strange she actually was, but some of her peculiarities would have been immediately obvious to even an uninvolved observer.
The first thing you would probably notice was that Rose didn't really fit in with her family. Although her aunt and cousin Dudley both had blonde hair like herself, Rose's was so light that she had essentially white hair. Her eyes were such a deep green that many people stopped when they saw them, but her stature also made her stand out among the Dursleys. To keep it simple, while Mr Dursley and his son aspired to be human bowling balls and Mrs Dursley's would remind you of a distorted image from a hall of mirrors, Rose was a surprisingly pretty girl for her age.
In fact, some parents would have been proud to have such a beautiful daughter and would have spoiled their child rotten – but here came another interesting thing about Rose Potter to the light:
Most of the time her family seemed to prefer to forget about her.
It were little things one would stumble upon in the beginning. A lack of photos of the girl in the Dursley living room or a missing seat at the table when guests visit Mr and Mrs Dursley.
Should someone actually try to invest more about Privet Drive number 4, they would discover more worrying scenes. Mr Dursley only bringing his son to school, while little Rose Potter actually went by foot, The fact that while Dudley Dursley wore new and nice-looking clothing, Roses shirts and dresses were more often than not second hand and those of a boy of a much larger frame.
All of this may have given a observe spectator pause, but in Roses eye this was hardly anything extraordinary.
She lived with the Dursleys since her parents died when she had been just an infant and while she had never seen photos of them, she was certain that she had inherited her features from one of them much like her cousin had gotten so much from his father.
To her it wasn’t that strange that the Dursleys hadn’t any photos of her or gave her any new clothes or toys. She had been given to understand early on that the Dursleys hadn’t wanted to take her in and had only done so out of obligations than anything else.
As such she did her best to act as if she wasn’t there. Any task that demanded her to be in the house she did at fast as possible so that she could disappear back into her cupboard and any in the garden was stretched as long as feasible to avoid going inside.
Some people would have described her life as sad or unfit for a young child, but Rose wouldn’t have agreed with that view. As long as she didn’t show herself to often and didn’t ask any question her aunt and uncle would let her alone and at peace and her peace was something rose had greatly learnt to value after having Uncle Vernon screaming at her for any misbehaviour.
In fact - and this thought brought a small smile to Rose's face as she climbed onto a stool to reach the stove- her life had recently improved a lot.
Two months ago, Dudley and her had entered Little Whinging elementary school. This meant she had to stay outside of the house for hours while being praised for asking smart questions or giving right answers! School was great! They taught children how to read and to write! And reading was something she could do when she was sitting in her cupboard and that was far more interesting than watching spiders weave their webs over her head.
She often stayed for hours longer at the small library her school had and tried to advance her reading skills further. As a result, she was perhaps the only child in her class who could already properly read. This went in no way unnoticed by her teachers who continued to praise and motivate her for this.
Sadly, Dudley didn’t like that she was better than him at something and proceeded to introduce a new game at the playground: “Rose-hunting”. It included a lot of hunting, a lot of hair pulling and often ended with her old clothes getting dirty. Little surprising that the other children preferred to keep away from her so that Dudley and his new friends wouldn’t include them too in their game. So much for her hope to find friends of her own.
But Rose was nothing but resilient.
If you don’t like one thing then try to focus on the things you do have fun with. It was a simply as that she told herself. Work hard enough and aunt Petunia will leave you alone, put up with Dudley's teasing long enough and you could go back to class where the teachers would praise you for your hard work.
Of course, sometimes she had to endure for longer than she thought she could bear. As such Rose Potter was perhaps the only six-year-old that hated weekends.
“Stop dreaming, girl! You'll burn the bacon!” Aunt Petunia pushed Rose aside and took the pan away from her.
Uncle Vernon and Dudley had already taken their seats at the table. With a smile, she gave up her man from the pan while she asked Dudley how much he would like.
Unsurprisingly, there was nothing left for Rose. Instead, Mrs Dursley pressed an apple into her hand. “You've wasted enough time daydreaming again this morning. Get dressed and take care of the front garden when we later go grocery shopping.”
Being send outside to do some tasks for her aunt was not uncommon for her. In fact, it was the norm that the Dursleys tried to avoid having her around them for long periods. This included Saturday morning breakfast.
Biting into her apple did Rose leave the house and went for the garden shed. With a little effort, she managed to push the heavy mower out. The electric mower was heavy and had seen better days, but if she made an effort, she could mow the front garden before lunch and grab a sandwich from the fridge before the Dursleys returned from the shops.
In fact, if Aunt Petunia forgot to give her another task, she might even be able to get back to her cupboard early and be ignored by the Dursleys for the rest of the day.
Well, the hope for the latter was dashed when the three Dursleys left for their shopping.
“And clean the windows. You were such a slob last time that Mrs Evergreen asked me about streaks on the glass.”
Rose suppressed a groan. This would take forever! She just wasn't tall enough to reach the windows properly, and if she crushed Aunt Petunia's roses under the window because she was using a ladder, Uncle Vernon would give her a hard time.
But she was nothing but persistent. If she had started to try something, she would do her best to achieve her goal.
With great effort, she began to push the old mower over the front garden of Privet Drive number 4.
Something was wrong with the wheels of the lawnmower, instead of turning properly they kept getting stuck. Forcing Rose to push the petrol-powered device harder instead of pushing it comfortably across the lawn.
All of a sudden, she paused in her task.
Something was different than usual.
Not the mower, which had been rubbish for as long as she could remember. Once even she had almost lost her fingers when she had tried to clean the blades, even though she had switched it off.
No, it was something else.
She looked around cautiously.
Years with the Dursleys had given her an almost supernatural sense for when someone was watching her.
Several times she had caught Aunt Petunia looking down at her from the window with her eagle eyes when she was gardening - just waiting for Rose to slip up. To commit some grievous crime like stepping on one of her flowers for which she could punish the girl.
But the Dursleys had all got into the car, so it couldn't be them.
Then Rose saw her.
And in that moment, it seemed as if the ground had disappeared from under her feet.
Behind a car stood the white-haired young woman from her dreams.
It couldn't be. She wasn't real. Uncle Vernon had drilled that into her when she had screamed the house awake after one of her crazy nightmares.
Was she going mad? Her breathing quickened.
The Dursleys had told her that her parents hadn't been right in the head. Maybe she had inherited that somehow?
No, surely she had only been mistaken.
But there she was. White hair tied back in a loose bun, a scar across her left cheek and with green eyes, so similar to her own, focussed solely on Rose.
A thousand thoughts flushed through Rose's head.
She had dreamed of the woman for as long as she could remember, clinging to the image while unnameable horrors swallowed worlds or stars became cold piles of dust.
But the woman wasn't real. When she was younger, Rose had liked to believe that the she was real. That one day she would come and protect her just like her appearance replaced the horrors in her dreams. Uncle Vernon had taught her better.
“No.” Realized Rose as she sunk down to the ground. “I have finally gone mad.” Fear began to grip her as she began to shake.
For the Dursleys was nothing more important than their good reputation. As such they hated the very idea of anything abnormal or -as they called it- “freakish”.
Was there something more freakish than an insane niece? What would they…?
“What is happening to you?” a panicking voice ripped through the fog of her own thoughts.
The woman had run over to where she had fallen to the ground and picked her up.
Rose couldn’t bring a word out. Was it normal for hallucination being able to touch you? Perhaps this was just one big dream…
The person opposite her was not at all reassured by her silence and her wide-open eyes. The opposite in fact, she grabbed her in her arms, ran to the front door of Privete Drive number 4 and stormed inside.
Rose was fully aware of what was happening around her, she just couldn't make sense of it. Why was the woman carrying her? Why did she bring her into the house? The Dursleys would be furious if they realised Rose had let a stranger into the house.
The woman placed Rose on Aunt Petunia's trademark soft sofas and proceeded to pile the expensive cushions under her feet.
Strangely enough, this and the strange woman's persistent talking actually seemed to help. Her pulse calmed down again and it was only now that Rose realised that she had hardly been able to breathe.
The woman too relaxed visually. She dropped onto the sofa next to Rose and let out a sigh of relief.
“You have really scared me.” She said while she stroked Rose's ashen blonde hair without thinking. Realising what she was doing she stopped herself.
“You still look rather pale, do you night something to drink?” She jumped up again, looking at Rose with worry. “Water. Do you want water?”
Seeing someone looking at her like this was strange for Rose. No one had ever looked at her like this before. It actually was somehow nice.
Yes. She wanted to say. I would very much like a glass of water right now- was she wearing shoes on aunt Petunias white coach? She was so dead.
“O my god you are shivering.” The woman stormed out of the living room, opening all drawers or cupboards on her way, until she reached the cupboard under the stars. Gazing a look inside she dragged Roses blanket out and stopped still.
When she returned, the expression of worry had made place for something Rose couldn’t properly define. It looked a bit like when her aunt was truly angry at her but more controlled, more dignified.
Looking at Rose the woman schooled her expression and forced a smile. She started to wrap the little girl in the blanket she had brought with her. “So, you should be warmer now.”
Rose continued to stare with big eyes at the her. What was happening here? Was she suppose to say something now? But what?
The woman seemed to be unsure what to do herself. “Your name is Rose, isn’t it?”
Rose nodded silently, her mimic unwavering.
“I see…” The woman cleared her throat, clearly unsure how to ask the following. “Could you tell me why there was ´Rose room´ written on the inside of the cupboard under the stairs?” She pulled out a picture Rose had painted at school.
It depicted the colourful words ´Rose room´ over a picture of Rose holding the hand of a certain ashen-blonde woman.
“You draw this didn’t you?” Again, rose could only nod in silence. “I imagine you have many questions. You are most likely con- “
Rose interrupted her. “Are you my mother?”

Rose wasn’t stupid. Her teacher would testify that despite what the Dursley may claim.
And she wasn’t blind. Nor had she ever met anyone else that shared the same striking features as her and this woman.
So, she liked to think that the dreams about the white-haired woman may actually be memories of her mother. Of course, Mrs Dursley immediately corrected her when she asked her if her mother had white hair like her. “No, she hadn’t and now stop asking stupid question and start peeling the potatoes.”
But what if she didn’t tell the truth? If she wasn’t going crazy -which at this point Rose was still contemplating- then her was the woman from her dreams that uncle Vernon had claimed to be not real. Yes, her parents were supposed to be dead too, but what if not?
A small spark of hope, long since extinguished by the cruelty of reality, had reignited.
What if…
“Are you, my mother?”

The woman opened and closed her lips without a sound passing by. A thousand expression seem to flicker over her face. Rose already expected to be screamed at, to be called an idiot for asking such a stupid question.
“Yes.” She almost whispered. “I am your mother.”
The next moment Rose found herself in a tight embrace, wet tears dripping down her head.
For a second, Rose was confused as to what was happening. She had never been hugged before. It was warm and cramped, but in a good way.
If this was a dream, she hoped she wouldn't wake up yet. It felt so nice, so safe.
The mere thought that this would disappear any second and she would wake up in her cupboard again opened a hole of despair inside her.
“I am so sorry, for leaving you behind. I just wanted to keep you safe. Please believe me.” Pleaded her mother while she hold Rose in her arms, tears now freely streaming down her face.
Rose didn’t care for it though. This woman claimed to be her mother and was hugging her so nicely. Instinctive Rose pressed herself closer against her.
“Are you going to stay with me?” Rose brought out. Tears had started to leak from her now too.
“I am sorry.” Said her mother. “You are safer here, very bad people are searching for me and…”
“Please don’t go!” The tears were flowing freely from Roses cheeks now, looking into the eyes of her supposed mother. With the desperation of a thirsty man, she clung to her mother’s white shirt. She couldn’t lose this! “Take me with you!” She started to hiccup.
The woman wiped away her own tears and brought the girl closer to her chest again. “Shhh. It’s okay. Are you sure that you want to leave your family? They did take care of you. And this has been your home”
Rose only violently shacked her head as tears continued to fall down her cheeks. This had never been her home she realized. If she had a living mother, then her home was with her!
“Well, then perhaps I will have to talk with them.” Her mother’s gaze wandered over the discarded drawing. “Don’t worry about it, everything is going to be alright.” She assured Rose, who was still sobbing into her shirt.
“Hey do you want to see something interesting?” It was clear to Rose that she tried to distract her, but she was willing play along.
Pulling at a thin silver chain around her neck the woman revealed a little a miniature glass vial, set in silver wire.
As Rose inspected it more carefully, she realized that in its centre was a small red drop that almost appear to shine by itself.
Her mother placed the vial on her hand- immediately the glass twitched to the side so that its pointy silvery end pointed at Rose.
“That’s how I found you again. I bought it from a wizard in -what is it called again? - London. It’s a blood-compass. Was quite expensive. If hold by someone of similar or the same blood at placed inside it leads you to the nearest relative of the holder- are you alright?” Rose had clutched her hands over her mouth.
“You said a forbidden word!” The woman blinked confused. “Blood?”
Rose shacked her head. “No wizard! Uncle Vernon says there is no such thing like magic and only freaks and fools use such words.” Other forbidden words included ´monster´, ´alien´ and out of some strange reason ´owls´.
Her mum gave her a smile that didn't reach her worried eyes. “Well, be both are certainly neither freaks nor fools. So, your uncle may know a lot less than he thinks.” She gave the pendant into Roses hand where it swirled around to point at the woman instead. “Keep it. Then I won't get lost to you so easily.”
Rose wanted to ask more, but the sound of a car interrupted her.
Already she could her the angry voices of uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia. They must have seen the abounded mower and her half-finished work.
“It’s alright.” Assured her the woman, squeezing her hand. “I will talk with them. And we figure things out. I can’t promise you that you will stay with me for now, but if you want you definitely have me around more often.”
In that moment the Dursleys broke into the living room.
“Girl! What the hell are you thinking, stopping your work… Who the hell are you? What are you doing in my house?!” Uncle Vernon called out when he stormed the living room and saw the both of them on the couch.
The woman stood up from the couch. “My name is Cirilla, I am Mivas- I mean Roses biological mother. I…”
Uncle Vernon interrupted her, a dangerous glint appearing in his eyes. “Have you come to take her? Then have her and go, before I demand you paying for the years of upbringing.”
The know introduced Cirilla didn’t seem to have been told this twice. With an unreadable expression she gently guided Rose out of the living room.
“Do you have anything you want to take with you?” Rose shacked her head when they passed the stairs. She was surprised how fast this had gone over. Uncle Vernon had actually jumped on the first chance of getting rid of her. Even she understood that this situation was quite suspicious for anyone but her.
But who cares? She was leaving with the woman that had hugged her…
Soon they were outside and leaving Privete Drive number4.
Rose didn’t look back for a second.

A few houses later Cirilla stopped and bent down to Rose's height.
“How are you doing? This just went rather fast right now.” Rose could hear the concern in the womans voice. She was a bit unsure how to handle someone having worryieng about her. What was she meant to do in such a situation? Dudley would have cried and thrown a tantrum until his parents would have made him some promise to buy some toy or to cook his favourite meal, but this didn’t feel right for Rose. She didn’t want to treat Cirilla the way Dudley did his parents.
“My cheeks hurt a little.” She admitted carefully. Her mother smiled and ruffled up Roses hair and laughed.
“Well, if you would grin anymore, your face would potentially split apart.”
Cirilla steeled her face and set up to say something else when a sudden bang echoed through the street. Both of their heads snapped facing the sound origins.
A group of robbed people stood before the house of the Dursley.
Most of these people had faced the house front, but one of them, a middle-aged man using a crutch, had turned to them.
“There she is!” He called to his companions. With a swift movement he pulled a thin piece of wood out of his cloak.
For Rose everything happened to fast to keep track now.
One second the man waved his stick, the next moment she was scoped up into Cirillas arms while a red beam of light hit the place where they stood just moments ago.
Their surrounding disappeared into a green flash and suddenly they stood in a forest surrounded by trees.
A series of bangs followed just a few seconds after their sudden arrival.
Multiple red lightning beams hit their surroundings, burning small black point into the trees behind them they tried to hid.
The white-haired woman cursed as she pressed Rose against her chest as she run with her from cover to cover, trying to shield her from the bombardment. Ironically, she had through this attempt of protection brought the girl exactly between herself and the one red beam that came from a front.
The second their surrounding faded again in an ethereal green flash, that single red lightning bolt hit Rose.
Before she blacked out all she heart was someone frantically calling her name.