Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Deep Roots	By : FemmeBono Category: HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters > Het - Male/Female Views: 3186 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: No I'm not making money off JK Rowling's work, this is pure (free) fanfic and I own nothing to do wif Harry Potter stuffs.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
A/N: Okay, I lied about the last chapter being the end of her background
info, but this still needed to get out there and it felt like a good time... now
on with the show. And next... our hero enters the picture more fully. Oh and btw, by suggestion I am uploading all my work onto FF.net also, so heads up.
Expanding Horizons
"God Almighty knows," she said in awe. Rising over a cliff on the
edge of a lake towered the most rambling morass of a castle she had ever seen,
peaking high above the land with turrets and gothic arches, complete with great
oak paneled doors. Alyssa was amazed that parents would send their children to
such a dreary looking place, way up at what seemed to be the ends of the earth.
Clutching the woolen pea coat closer around her, Alyssa trudged up the steep hill
beside Dumbledore wondering briefly if Harry had brought up the streetlight
incident and the wand. The wizened man had not said a word since they had made
their trip to Hogwarts, other than to announce in the green flames that they
were off to Hogshead Tavern. Once they stepped out onto the stone hearth in the
dingy little pub, he directed them onward, simply telling Alyssa that the town
was called Hogsmeade and was the closest village to Hogwarts School where Harry
attended. Apparently, they liked hogs quite a bit, Alyssa thought as she passed
through a set of iron gates flanked by winged boar statues.
When at last they had plodded up the great hill through the double doors and up several
flights of stairs, Dumbledore finally ushered them into an office lined with
moving portraits, strange gadgets, and a phoenix, which apparently was not a
fantasy creature. Sinking into a wide leather armchair by the fire, Alyssa shook
her head.
"I tell you, the foothills of Georgia got nothing on this place."

Dumbledore chuckled a bit at this. "One gets used to what one must. So
tell me, dear child, how long have you known you were a witch, and why is it
just today you have taken up a wand?"

"Uh... well," she said, casting a surprised glance at Harry, who
seemed just as nonplussed as she. "I don't think I've ever really called
myself a witch. This whole idea of witches and wizards is really new to me. I've
always been able to do some magic though. I mean, even growing up I could do
things if life at the foster homes wasn't going well or if the people at the
state facilities weren't on the up and up, you know?"

"I see," said Dumbledore as though he really did not.
"Typically here we have people in place in such organizations who watch out
for children with your rarified abilities. I find it interesting that no one
ever noticed and made sure you were trained."

"Erm, well, usually I only magicked in self defense I guess. But I was
trained, sort of, once I was adopted."

"In self defense?"

"Well, things pretty much stayed on an even keel when I was in school or
with other kids or something. I usually got on well with everybody, so there
were no major problems. And usually even with adults things were okay, but
if things weren't okay or they started going south in a home or something, then
if I could I pulled a runner. I'd go to my case worker and she'd yank me out and
find somebody she thought was better."

"And if you couldn't run?"

"Then I guess I kind of lashed out... magically speaking. You know, uh,
somebody would have a cane in their hand--a good thick one--they wanted to beat
me with, and it would just snap in three different pieces. Or, ah, some guy's belt
started attacking him. One time, this foster mother I had was going to let her
boyfriend put his hands on me, but the covers on my bed kind of wrapped around
him and started suffocating him. I was about thirteen then, and that was pretty
much my last foster home, so... "

She threw Harry an apologetic look, as if it were her fault the subject was
broached. He did look distinctly ill, and had seemingly tried to make
himself look smaller by scrunching down in his chair. Dumbledore, however,
seemed intrigued and doggedly continued.

"And none of it was on purpose?"

"No."

"The foster parents never said anything?"

"My case worker probably would have thought they were stoned if they
had. And that just would have gotten me out faster. Thinking about it that way,
maybe some of them did, because I sure didn't last long in those houses."

"And when you ran, where did you go?"

"I had some friends--I mean, you could loosely call them friends. They
took care of me, after a fashion. At least they had my back when I was staying
on the streets, or if one of my foster
parents came looking for me."

As she said this, Dumbledore noticed her run her thumb over a small tattoo on
the webbing of her left hand.

"That's quite small compared to some of the Muggle tattoos I've seen.
Where did you get it?"

"Ah... from the so-called friends I had. It was meant to represent a way
of life I don't really subscribe to anymore."

Dumbledore gazed intently at her for a long, uncomfortable moment. Did he
realize how deep those eyes seemed to penetrate? she wondered.

"I see," he said simply. "And what of the training you
mentioned? Did your friends do this as well?"

Alyssa gave a short bark of laughter. "Them? No way. That came after I
was adopted. See, after the last foster fiasco my case worker finally came
across Hetty, who actually wound up adopting me. We've been a great match, Hetty
and I. Most people who know her think she's just a strange spinster with strange
ideas, but she and I really clicked. She shaped me into a better person than I
probably would have turned out to be without her. She got me away from the
g--from
the streets. She got me into a new school, so I made better friends. And then,
when she realized what I could do, she introduced me to Waya Adahy. He's a
Cherokee shaman, and his name means wolf. At fourteen I thought that was just
awesome."

Alyssa laughed again, this time more sincerely. "He'd probably say you
look like a did�--a sorcerer. But...this tattoo?" she said, fingering the
dots on her hand again. "He knew what it meant and the day I met him he
drew a fourth dot and told me I had another option. I could survive, live up to
my heritage, and bloom. Then he introduced me to his daughter, Hope, and we
became best friends. They both nicknamed me, Wesa. Cat."
Dumbledore nodded. "It all makes sense then, Native American magics do
not typically use a tool to channel the flow of their spells... leastways not a
wand."
They were interrupted at that point by a knock on the door, followed by the
appearance of a tartan robed woman with spectacles.
"Sorry to interrupt, Headmaster," she said in a thick brogue,
"but Scrimgeour is back yet again and refuses to leave until he speaks with
you."
"If you'll let him know I'm coming, Minerva. I'll not see him here yet
again. It was nigh impossible to rid of him the last time. If you two will
excuse me a moment. Harry, if you will, keep your seat. I'd rather he not know
you're here."
"Sure," said Harry, speaking up for the first time. He sounded as
if he had no better plan than to do just that.
As soon as Dumbledore was out the door, Alyssa asked, "so who's
Scrimgeour?"
"Our newest Minister of Magic. Looks a bit like a worn-out lion.
Apparently he must be quite as bad as the last Minister if Dumbledore says keep
away. Fudge, the last one, tried to make it appear that I'd gone off my knob
last year."
"Really," said Alyssa, already thinking. "I wonder what this
one's up to. The Minister of Magic... I guess that's like the Prime Minister for
magical people, huh?"
"Right in one."

"Tell you what, you stay here. I'll go check it out."

And with that, she slipped out the door and down the stairs. As she did so,
her spine lengthened, her skin covering over with fur as her arms came down to
touch the floor so she walked on all fours. Padding stealthily down the rest of
the way to the entrance hall, she stopped on the last landing and peered through
the balustrade. Dumbledore was clearly arguing with a grizzle-haired man who was
brandishing a walking cane and demanding that Dumbledore give his okay for Harry
to speak with him. Alyssa growled softly at his presumption. Then, as their
voices raised even louder so that it sounded as if it would shake the rafters,
Alyssa flattened her ears and edged toward the top of the stairway.

"Blast it all Dumbledore! If we can't see him, the magical community may
need to have it pointed out that he may be bent after all, how's that
then?"

It was all Alyssa needed to hear. Roaring her rage she bounded down the
stairs and leapt on the intruder, her teeth aching to go to his neck. Instead,
she simply unsheathed her claws and laid down on him, growling low in her
throat.

"Dumbledore," the old wizard rasped. "What in blazes? Get this
thing off!" Thing? thought Alyssa, giving him a silent snarl. I
hope you wet yourself, you ass.

Dumbledore leaned down until he was eye to eye with the huge mountain lion.
And winked.

"Now there, er, pet. Edge off the nice man so he can get up, and perhaps
see if the elves have a nice plump steak for you. That's a good big kitty."
Grudgingly, Alyssa edged off the minister and padded back upstairs, her long
tail twitching with agitation. "There now, Minister, you see,"
Dumbledore said, helping the man to his feet. "She did no harm."

"Dumbledore! Are you barking as well? What do you mean keeping that
thing in a school? I'd heard tell of some of things that go on here--"

"Now Rufus, she's simply staying overnight. Hagrid loves animals, you
see, and he had a friend ask him to keep his pet while he's out of the
country."

"But here, among people! A jaguar!" Scrimgeour exclaimed, apoplectic
with rage as Dumbledore ushered him to the door.

"Oh she's quite tame, I assure you. I'm sure she simply smelled your
lunch on your breath or wanted to introduce herself and got a bit
overzealous." And so he continued to assuage the minister's wounded ego as
the two men stepped out the door.
-------------------------------------------

FYI: All that Cherokee is pretty much the pronunciation, because there's no
WAY I could reproduce the script. Her tattoo is commonly known to be gang
related, depicting a dot for each possible outcome for a gangster's life:
prison, death, or handicapped.
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Deep Roots