Chapter 1
The past five years had been the very best of her life.
“Don’t forget your lunch, dear.” Yor said, as she handed her lunchbox.
“Did Dad cook?” Anya asked?
Yor looked a little embarrassed. She knew what was coming. “Yes.”
“No.” She thought, sadly.
“Sorry, I don’t want it.” Anya said, as she set the box back on the table. “I’ll eat when I get back.”
Yor tried not to let her disappointment show on her face. Even after all these years, Anya would never even try her cooking.
It was hard to believe they had been a family for five years now. Following the unification of the countries of Ostania and Westalis, the seemingly never ending demand for spies had come to a sudden end. Although he was the best there was at what he did, her adopted father, the legendary Agent Twilight, had no work left to do in his home country. And so he and his family re-located here, to England. Where he continued his façade of being an ordinary psychiatrist while handling sensitive matters of state on occasion.
His wife, Yor, the assassin Code named ‘Thorn Princess’ had taken to jetting around the world to perform her work. It was not unusual for her to get a summons in the early morning just after Father had gone to work, to catch a jet two hours later, sleep the entire plane ride to wherever she needed to be, step out of the airport, kill her target, and then come right back with no one but Anya herself being the wiser.
It was remarkable. Anya thought to herself, how even after genuinely falling in love the two of them still had no idea about the other’s double lives. She had long ago given up on wondering when the secret would come out. She was certain it never would. And what was more she wasn’t even sure she wanted it to be.
Despite her background in some of the most elite private schools in the world, Agent Twilight’s sudden re-assignment had led them to choose to enroll Anya in an ordinary British primary school. She had initially relished the chance to be a normal kid for once, but was taken aback when she realized that because of her background and family, she was the ‘rich kid’ of her class. Considering how she had grown up surrounding by the children of some of the richest and most powerful families in Ostania, it was quite a startling change. She began to really appreciate how Becky Blackwell must have felt being friends with her, back when her family was considerably less well off.
Well, Becky had been friends with her in spite of their differences. She was sure that among the children here she would find at least one friend.
Her first few days at this school had been relatively uneventful, by her standards anyway. She met her class and teacher, and was beginning to settle into her daily routine. She was beginning to memorize names, and taking note of the friend circles.
It was not long until she noticed the one boy sitting on his own.
“Who’s that?” She asked, inconspicuously pointing at the black haired boy sitting by himself in the corner of the classroom.
“Don’t point.” The girl next to her snapped, as she raised her hand and swatted it down. Anya frowned, as the girl’s thoughts flowed into her head.
Dudley will see you.
“That’s Harry Potter.” The girl said. “We don’t talk to him.”
“Why?”
Because Dudley doesn’t like it, that’s why.
“He’s a creep.” The girl told her. “Stay away.”
Anya frowned and glanced back at the boy.
I wish someone would come and talk to me.
“I’ll be the judge of that.” Anya decided. Ignoring the girl’s protests, Anya made her way over to Harry Potter and sat down next to him. She had to stop herself from giggling when he let out a surprised jump.
“Hello!” Anya said politely. “I’m Anya Forger. I’m new here.”
She focused her mind reading powers on the boy, trying to keep her expression blank and unreadable. She had found that often (Not always, but often) she could judge someone’s character based on their first impression of her. It was her dirty little secret: If Harry had nothing but crude thoughts about her, she would get up and leave him on the spot.
She was surprised, though, that his first thoughts were out of concern for her. “I better get her to leave before Dudley sees.”
“Hello.” Harry said, his voice dull. He was a very small and skinny boy, smaller even than Anya herself. His clothes were dirty and ragged, and his glasses looked as if they were duct taped together. Anya’s first impression was that he was an ill cared for child from a destitute family.
“May I sit here with you?” Anya asked politely.
“No.”
I can’t let her get too close.
She had to stop herself from laughing. He sounded just like her Father back when she had first been adopted.
“Don’t be silly.” Anya said. “You look like you could use a friend.”
He started at that, and stared at her. She smiled at him winningly. She had long been told that it seemed like she could read minds, and she could tell that Harry felt the same way.
“I’m sitting.” Anya said, and she sat. “How old are you?”
“Ten.”
“So am I!” Anya said brightly. “Where do you live?”
He hesitated.
“With my Aunt and Uncle…”
“Number Four, Privet Drive.”
“Privet Drive?” She repeated, sharply. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“I live down the street!” She told him. “We just moved in!”
He looked very startled at that. He gave her a look, and looked about as if he was about to say something, when a shout rang out from across the room.
“Get away from him!”
She turned up, startled, as a large blonde boy, flanked by three goons, was making their way to them. He was naturally strong and hefty: Meaning, he looked as if he could beat up anyone up in the room simply due to being much heavier than anyone else. He certainly didn’t look like he was a trained fighter, with his bulging stomach and flabby arms, but at the school yard level you didn’t need to be.
She focused on his mind to get a read on the situation.
“Gotta teach the new girl a lesson.”
Anya stood up, stiffened her face, and stared out across at them defiantly.
“Yes?” She asked. “What is it?”
Dudley faltered. Clearly he wasn’t used to a girl standing up to him in this way. But it didn’t take long for the sneer to fall back on his face.
“Step away from the class freak.” Dudley said.
“Yeah, the freak!” The rat faced boy behind Dudley piped up.
She put her hands on her hips. “And if I don’t!”
Dudley raised his fist.
“The five fingers will meet your face.”
They stared at each other. Anya weighed her options. There were no teachers around. None of the other students were coming to their aid. She really only had one option.
She sat back on the chair next to Harry and gripped his hand in hers. He flinched, a little bit surprised, as she smirked at Dudley.
“I’m not afraid of you.” She said.
Dudley lumbered forward, his fist raised. Anya leapt out of the chair, rolled over, grabbed the legs, raised it above her head, and then brought it down on his back.
“CRACK!”
Dudley staggered, face planting into the floor as his gang surrounded Anya. Armed with nothing but the broken chair legs, she turned to face them. Despite being twice her size and boys, they seemed reluctant to get close to her.
“What on Earth is going on here!”
Anya gave a small start, dropping the legs on the ground on the spot. Almost by magic, Dudley burst into tears.
…
“What kind of school are you running here, Madame?” Vernon Dursley roared, as his wife wrapped her arms around their still crying son. “My son is being attacked by hooligans in your classroom, and-“
Anya sat quietly in her little wooden chair, watching the events unfold with the cynical eye of a telepath who had been raised by a spy and an assassin from countries that had been at war. Dudley Dursley was not really crying: He was faking to garner sympathy from his parents, who would fight tooth and nail for him to avoid punishment from outside authority figures. His Mother wholeheartedly believed that he had been attacked for no real reason, and was treating him like a child much younger. His father, she was disgusted to learn, was well aware that his son was a bully, but encouraged his actions.
A knock came at the door. She felt a twinge of nervousness as her father, Loid Forger, stepped into the room. Dressed in an immaculate suit and gloves, he looked rather intimidating even in his civilian life.
“Oh, you must be Mr. Forger.” The teacher said, relieved, as she hurried over to him. “Your daughter-“
“Is a stark raving lunatic!” Vernon Dursley roared. He had refrained from attacking Anya directly, perhaps because she was so young, but he rounded on her father with full force. “She could have very well killed my son!”
Loid didn’t even flinch as the red faced Uncle Vernon’s spit fell in his face. Not for the first time, Anya admired how cool he was under pressure.
He turned to look at her. His gaze was cold and calculating.
“Is this true, Anya?”
She bent her head. “He was bullying another boy.” She said. “So I thought-“
“Apologize now.” Loid told her. She felt herself shrivel up.
“Sorry.” She said, her voice quiet.
“What will be her punishment?” Loid asked, turning back to the teacher. “Anything you think is appropriate should suffice.”
“Now listen here.” Vernon Dursley began, butting into Loid’s face. “Your daughter ATTACKED my son. I think anything less than an expulsion would be criminal!”
“Mr. Dursley, I don’t think that will be necessary!” The teacher said, shocked.
“She will be punished at home, of course.” Loid said, ignoring Dudley’s loudening wails. (He was trying to get those present to feel more sorry for him)
“You won’t do a thing to control your hooligan child, and you know it!” Vernon barked. He turned back to the teacher. “I will be filing a complaint against the school!”
He and his family left, Dudley’s wails following behind him as they left the room. The teacher’s shoulders fell and she offered Loid a shaky smile. Anya was amused to see that she was wondering whether he was still married.
“Expulsion will not be necessary.” She said. “But please understand that violence is not tolerated in my classroom. Your daughter will need to behave herself for as long as she is with us.”
“I understand.” Loid said curtly, tipping his hat at her. He gestured for Anya to come to him, and she did so. She gripped his hand and held it. The teacher beamed at them, as she sent them on their way.
“What happened?” Her father asked, as she was led out of the classroom.
Anya shrugged. “I stared talking to a boy named Harry Potter, and that boy Dudley didn’t like it. He came after me and told me to stop.”
“He picked the fight?”
“Yes.”
Loid sighed. “I thought so.” He said. “You don’t pick your fights without reason.”
Anya giggled.
“But that is no excuse.” Loid said. “I don’t want you fighting again, is that clear? I don’t want you to get hurt.”
More like you didn’t’ want the guys I fight to get hurt. Anya thought to herself, bitterly, as she stared out of the car window. She saw little Harry Potter walking up the steps to Number Four as they drove by, and they met eyes for a second. They smiled at each other, and from that day onward they became best friends.
Even after Harry received his Owl from Hogwarts.