Rhea Potter could taste lies.
It was a strange gift, and one she wasn’t initially aware of. The taste of blood wasn’t unusual to her, after all, not with the number of split lips and bloody wounds she received at the hands of her Uncle Vernon.
It wasn’t until she was two months shy of seven years old and heard her Aunt Petunia boasting about Dudley to one of the neighbours, that Rhea finally connected the sharp and cloying taste on her tongue to deceit.
“He’s such a kind boy, always helping others.”
Lie.
After that, Rhea began picking up on other things.
“Ah yes, I’ve recently been promoted at work!”
Lie.
“Oh, I have that skirt at home.”
Lie.
“You look lovely, dear. That haircut really suits you.”
Lie.
Rhea soon came to realise that everyone was a liar… And after that, everything seemed to unravel.
“Her parents died in a car crash, poor thing, so we agreed to take her in.”
Lie.
“My sister fell in with a bad crowd. Always drinking, I believe. She would have been a poor mother anyway.”
Lie.
“Yes, the girl’s father was unemployed. A good-for-nothing drunk. She’s better off without him.”
Lie.
Every word uttered by her Aunt and Uncle, in regard to her parents and their deaths, was untrue. Considering how hostile Vernon and Petunia were, Rhea didn’t find this all that surprising.
What did surprise her, however, was when Uncle Vernon yelled at her for turning her teacher’s wig blue (Rhea didn’t know how it happened! Honest!), and…
“There’s no such thing as magic!”
…the familiar taste of blood flooded her mouth.
Lie.
At first, she thought it was a fluke, that she had bitten her tongue when Vernon hit her, and this was the reason she tasted blood. But no. Barely a week later, he’d said it again…
“Magic doesn’t exist!”
…and she tasted it again.
Lie.
Again. And again. And again.
Lie. Lie. Lie.
Even at a young age, Rhea learnt to understand the limitations of her gift. She could only detect lies when the person spouting them knew it was a lie. If they believed what they were saying to be the truth, then Rhea would never know it was false. She couldn’t divine facts, and all opinions were based on personal thought anyway. But if someone knew the truth, and decided to say something different anyway, then Rhea would taste it and know it to be untrue.
Which, in the case of her Uncle Vernon, could only mean one thing…
Magic was real.
Magic was real, and Rhea’s Aunt and Uncle were purposefully hiding it from her.
But why?
It wasn’t until her eleventh birthday that Rhea finally received the answer, when a giant man bust down the door of the hut on the rock where she and the Dursleys had been staying in an attempt to escape the letters.
The giant man – he’d introduced himself as Hagrid – had been the one to officially welcome her into the world of witches and wizards, potions and broomsticks, magic and wonder. He’d taken her shopping, gifted her an owl, and answered every question she had.
Rhea didn’t taste blood once, in the entire time they were together. Everything Hagrid said was true… or at least, what he believed to be true.
Rhea was hopeful that this world of magic would be better than living with the Dursleys. She hoped to find peace and freedom, perhaps even meet others with the gift of tasting lies.
She dreamed of a better life for herself, one where she could actually trust the people around her. One where the taste of blood didn’t taint every conversation.
Entering Hogwarts was the first step in that dream, and everything seemed to be going well.
Until it wasn’t.
For all witches and wizards claimed to be superior to muggles, they lied just the same. Rhea spent her days with blood on her tongue and hatred in her heart. Lies were told so frequently in her presence, that the taste lingered, and she struggled to differentiate between the true and the false. She was so lost in this world, where strangers praised her for a day she couldn’t remember, where people sneered at her for things she couldn’t control. Where adults she was supposed to trust lied straight to her face – about her parents, about her life, about her name.
Rhea told no one of her ability. If they were going to lie to her, then she felt no need to be honest in return.
She had no friends, no one she trusted enough to get close to.
She focussed on her studies, breathing magic like oxygen, and grew in both power and knowledge.
The Lions may have claimed her as one of theirs, but she got along best with the Snakes. The language of lies was oft spoken in the Snake Pit, after all. They did not hide behind pretty words and sincerity; their dishonesty wore no mask of love. Rhea came to appreciate their company.
It was her time spent with the Slytherins that led to Rhea discovering the first of her future family.
The honorary brother of her late mother.
Severus Snape.