Secrets

Disclaimer: Everything, except Ana, belongs to J.K.Rowling. Ana belongs to me. This story is written for pure pleasure and no profit.

Prologue: A Direct Attack

Mother was dead.

On the first day of her second week in London, Anastasia had awoken to find Albus Dumbledore watching her. He had placed himself in the only chair in the room, his eyes dark, mouth slack. He knew how she would react. He knew the news would only take her down another level, into an even darker place then she already was. Albus had considered not even telling Ana, at least, not yet. But he had to trust her, trust that the death of her mother, after all the other things she’d been through, would not deter her from her goal.

“Ana, I am afraid that I have something to tell you, that you will not want to hear.”

She yawned, and then gave a very undignified snort, “whatever it is, I’m sure its not that bad.” That wasn’t true, she knew it was bad. Horribly bad. She could see it in Dumbledore’s eyes. But what could she do? She couldn’t slip, couldn’t let it show that she was afraid of what he had to say.

“I’m sorry Ana, your mother is dead. He found her somehow. He found her and killed her.” Albus didn’t stand up. He didn’t bother to go to her, as she didn’t take sympathy well. Best to let her have her space.

He. He killed her mother. Now Albus knew better than to play that game with her... “You can say it, Headmaster... Voldemort. Voldemort has killed my mother.” She looked down, trying with all her power to reel in her emotions. Clearing her face of any expression, she looked back to Dumbledore, “ Any idea how he found her?”

“We think she might have trusted someone she shouldn’t have. It looks like a Deatheater spy learned of her whereabouts, told Voldemort, and he himself went to America and killed her. The fact that he went himself shows that, he is still very angry about... what happened.”

Ana blanched, “and if he found out my mother was still alive, he must now believe I am, too.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed, glad she had decided to bother with pajamas the night before. It was grey, and raining, and Ana thought of her mother as she watched raindrops roll down the glass of the window beside her bed.

“Maybe. Though, I have no doubt your mother swore to Voldemort that she killed you, just like she told him sixteen years ago. They both knew how powerful you were, and would eventually become. Voldemort also knows that your mother would have killed you just to keep you away from him. He would have brought you up to be his right hand, his ‘super-Deatheater’ if you will.” “Yes, he will be looking for you now. Looking to persuade you, to use you, to take your power.”

She frowned at Dumbledore, “ He’ll never have it, Headmaster, he’ll never take my power. I just won’t let him.” She paused, “I really would rather die, than to help Voldemort in any way.”

Albus sat beside Ana, and put a fatherly arm around her, “ I know, my dear Anastasia, I know we can all trust you to fight against Voldemort and not with him. I trust you implicitly.”

She smiled “ I’ll get to meet Harry soon, won’t I? I’m very interested in, well, just seeing him, really...” “Seeing what he’s like, if we have more in common then just... scars.”

Albus patted the back of her right shoulder, where a thin lightning bolt scar rested, just over her shoulder blade. “ Yes, you’ll meet him soon.”

“Oh, dear me, I almost forgot, Happy 17th Birthday, my dear!” He pulled a tin of lemon sherbert’s out of his robes and handed it to her.

She grinned her appreciation.

“Yes, I always forget your birthday is only two days before Harry’s” he said.

She smiled and helped her self to a piece of lemon sherbert. She shared Dumbledore’s love of muggle candy, though her favorite had always been gummy bears.

“ I believe it is time you pack now. In view of what has happened, I would prefer you be at Hogwart’s. And this will give us plenty of time to get you settled with the grounds and staff.” Albus still wasn’t sure what he would tell the staff. He would probably end up telling Minerva the truth, while the rest would have to except that she was simply a displaced American student, needing to finish her seventh year at Hogwart’s School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He also threw around the idea of letting Professor Snape in on the secret of who Anastasia really was, but he decided it was best left up to her, who she told.

Albus wondered, for the billionth time, if everything was going to work out. But he felt assured that, for the moment, the side of light had the upper hand. He would watch her, as only he could, for now he was the only person left in the world who knew Ana’s secret. He would watch and see what the ‘boy-who-lived’ would do when he was joined in the war by the ‘girl-who-lived’.

“Merlin help us, we just might win.” And with that last spoken thought, Albus got up, and went to wait for Ana in the hallway.


*****Well, let me know what you think... Good? Bad? Complete crap? Yes, this is a Snape/OFC fic, but it might take awhile ( a long while) to get to the good stuff (i.e. the action)... All in all it should still be a good story though...Thanks for reading, and if you come back, I’ll give you a cookie! (Or maybe a lemon sherbert lol)******