“You ingrate! Get out! Get OUT!” my mother yelled drunkenly. I ran to the coat room, grabbed a small yellow jacket, and ran out into the rain. I don’t know what I did. I didn’t know what I did to deserve all the things I heard from my mother. Ingrate. Failure. Incompetent. Freak. I sat on a swing in a nearby park, head in my hands. My mother could never understand me. She was always in a drunken stupor. The last time she was sober was during her labor with me, 11 years ago.  The minute I was born, the first thing she grabbed, was a beer. Not her newborn child. A beer. My father and I had a much better relationship, but he was always off at work as an Auror. So I had one person to turn to. Myself.

“Come on Faye. Get yourself together. She’s not worth it.” my eyes started to fill with tears. “She’s not worth the tears.” I sat on the nearby park bench and hid my face in my hands. After a couple minutes I felt a cold hand on my shoulder and a burn on my neck where my raven birthmark was located. My head snapped up.  A woman wearing a cloak was above me.

“Are you okay?” she said. She took off her cloak’s hood and smiled down on me. She looked oddly familiar.

“No. I’m not. My mother hates me, I never see my father, I can only depend on myself. I can’t be a normal kid.”

“I always hated that Hannah Abbott. I told Neville that she was bad news.” the lady mumbled.

“What?”

“Nothing dear.” the woman took a deep breath, as if she was going to regret something. “Here. Go to these coordinates. This should help you whenever you’re in a situation like such.” the woman handed me a piece of paper, flipped her hood’s cloak, and walked away. I looked at the paper.