After Amaryllis had left with the promise of catching up with lovelle on the train, the latter of the two girls couldn't help but to wonder if the twins and Maggie would be okay with that. The aristocratic female did agree to sit with the three, after all, as Percy would be joining Penelope Clearwater in a separate compartment. (Charlie had to sit with the other prefects so he would not be joining the newfound quartet either).

Anyhow, lovelle really couldn't see how having Rye- (the nickname she'd given to the blonde after admitting that Amaryllis was just too much of a mouthful. Saying how she'd gotten that quite a lot, the raven-haired girl suggested a shorter version: Mary, but the Malfoy girl instantly rejected that one, having hated it. Several attempts later, Rye became an option and the grey-eyed first year decided to settle then, saying how it was the best choice so far. She surprisingly didn't even care that the name was a type of bread. Amaryllis justified her thought process by saying how her original name was that of a Greek flower anyways) -accompanying them would be an issue. She seemed kind enough, unlike her creep of a father (an opinion lovelle had kept from his daughter, of course). That being said, what problems could possibly arise?

It's not like she knew anything about the Weasley-Malfoy family feud, afterall…

…

The next morning, lovelle awoke in the same room she'd been in prior to her disaster of a time in Diagon Alley with her dad.

Dad…

Only mentally was lovelle barely beginning to think of the man with that title. Calling Severus 'father' or anything of the like aloud (let alone in his presence), would most surely not be happening soon. She hardly knew the potion's professor, at any rate.

Maybe after the official adoption process had been taken care of, those feelings would change

…Maybe.

Sighing at the inner debate taking place within her head, lovelle rolled over in the bed she'd slept in to get a glimpse of the time: 6:11a.m. 'Really?' she sighed again. What on earth was she doing up this early? The eleven year old couldn't recall having had any nightmares (thank goodness, for that would have been terribly embarrassing. Her father would have definitely overheard any and all possible screams; and the last thing she needed was to go into an explanation as to why these disturbances of sleep occurred so frequently. Lovelle was not ready to own up to anything…especially not her most dark, secret memories).

Not being able to return to the world of unconsciousness as her brain was reeling to the point of no return, lovelle opted to remain in bed, nevertheless, and reflect back on the previous evening's events. Besides, departing her room at this hour was out of the question. Certain that Severus was anything other than a morning person, lovelle had absolutely zero interest in facing him until at least another hour passed by.

He was getting better though; his daughter would be the first to confess. To look back at yesterday night would prove a perfect example, believe it or not.

Flashback

After the Malfoys had departed, lovelle went to ask if Severus had told Lucius the truth in regards to their relationship as father and daughter, along with the honest details behind it, when she realized that whether or not he did, didn't matter. She'd told Amaryllis nearly everything. The greenish-eyed girl didn't go into detail about her half-brother's identity or his status inside the wizarding world. She truly did not want Rye to befriend her simply because Harry was a 'celebrity'.

It was stupid, really; how everybody considered her sibling to be some sort of hero. A baby somehow defeating the 'darkest wizard of all time' unknowingly was hardly heroic. If anything, that night was just an odd twist of fate or something of the like. There was simply no way Harry, or any one year old for that matter, could be so powerful.

Perhaps she'd ask her father or Minerva for more details on the story sometime. One of them was bound to know of the honesty behind that tragic night.

Those thoughts aside for now, lovelle had turned to face Severus, unsure of what to do next. She'd already eaten plenty as Mrs. Weasley had brought her a second bowl of soup, (she'd ruined the first; her slightly marred arms held proof of that) so now all that remained was the need to bathe and retreat to bed; and being that it was only six o'clock at the time, both options were clearly moot.

'If only they weren't,' lovelle had ruefully thought after awkwardly asking Severus what they were to do with their free time.

His answer was simple: preparing potions ingredients (one of the two punishments she'd been given) was what the duo would be doing that night until it was time for sleep.

And never had lovelle ever been made to partake in something so disgusting. Even cleaning the mess hall at Wool's hadn't been this gross.

"It's too slimy," she complained, her face scrunched up whilst feeling the goo slide between her fingers. For the past ten minutes lovelle had been trying to chop up parts of this rather large frog and within that time, hardly a thing was accomplished. The warty creature proved merely too slippery, thus disallowing her from holding it still so that she could cut it properly.

Severus was beyond agitated. He'd already been up from his desk twice in order to show her how to do this.

"The arms and legs," he frustratingly began, making his way over towards the insolent girl, "are you pinning them together as I instructed you to do previously?"

"Yes!" Lovelle defended herself, pointing at the frog she'd stuck to the cutting board, "but the knife still keeps slipping."

The professor looked over her shoulder, easily noting the mistake that had been foolishly made. "Perhaps if you tried using the proper blade, this would not be a problem."

Lovelle peered down at the ridged utensil she'd been trying to work with time and time again with resentment. "Well, how was I supposed to know?

"By paying attention," Severus ground out, "Had you listened to me the first time-"

"I was listening! You never said anything about having to use this specific knife," she protested, dangerously waving the bit of metal about.

Severus snatched the item commonly used as a weapon from his daughter's hand, not needing nor having the patience for the accident that was likely to occur. "No?" he spat back, displeased by the insinuation that he'd lied. "Tell me, why would I not inform you of the proper instructions? Do you honestly believe that I have nothing better to do with my time or are you laboring under the delusion that I take pleasure in having to correct you every five minutes?"

Insulted, lovelle huffed angrily and crossed her arms, soundly stopping one foot. "It's a wonder how your students actually learn anything," she sarcastically drawled on, "What with you constantly glowering and towering over anybody who makes a mistake," the girl shook her head with pseudo sadness, "Teachers are supposed to kindly correct kids, not call them names and make them feel like their hopeless."

As lovelle waited for a scornful retort, she was completely surprised when her father appeared amused rather than infuriated. It wasn't that she desired another argument (because she most certainly didn't…the man was just such a git at times and the stubborn eleven year old couldn't always hold her tongue) she merely didn't expect this sort of reaction.

"What?" Lovelle snapped, looking up at Severus whom was currently smirking at her.

The professor simply turned away, deciding to retreat back to his desk as the child now knew how to properly slice the amphibian. There was no need for him to waste time standing beside her when he could be working on more pressing matters; such as the paperwork he needed to complete before the start of term.

Lovelle glared at his back, hating being ignored. "Fine," she muttered as her father took place at his chair, quill now in hand whilst he started to write, "It's not like I wanted to talk to you anyways," she silently ranted, taking all of her frustration out on the poor frog.

All the while, despite his earlier hostile emotions, Severus couldn't help but see the likeness between lovelle and himself; as much as he may have hated to admit. While the whelp undoubtedly inherited her mother's persistence, temper, and modesty; his impatience, dry sarcasm, and interest in potions could only come from him. Sure, Lily had fared well in the subject, but lovelle's fascination was not something the redhead would've been able to relate with.

Initially, the girl had asked countless questions on the topic: "Polyjuice potion turns you into another person? How does it work? Why do you have to stir counter-clock wise when making pepper-up potion, but not while you brew a calming draught? What would happen if you didn't? Love potions? Those have to be illegal, right? And why would somebody want to make a potion that would cause the drinker to hate them?"

The list went on and on until Severus was sure he'd breached insanity. Typically, Snape would encourage enlightening oneself on any matter that would increase their knowledge, but he couldn't take so many questions from such a shrill little voice.

It was maddening.

And while she remained disgusted by the preparation process, lovelle still wished to learn more about potions, already having stated how intriguing it all was. She believed it to be less abstract than waving a wand and casting spells, which the child oddly preferred. Clearly, the raven-haired girl wouldn't be taking after Lily in Charms.

Yet she definitely had the woman's taste in friends…or so he'd originally thought.

Associating herself with the Weasley's may not have been of lovelle's own doing, but she quite evidently didn't mind that fact. Severus suspected that with or without Minerva's meddling; his daughter would have befriended the oversized family.

Ultimately, it was the girl's alliance with Amaryllis that took him slightly by surprise. The elder Evans had hardly been one to spend time with any Slytherins (which he suspected Lucius' daughter would soon be). Their ambitious and cunning ways caused her to believe them all heartless and dark; himself included. It pleased the professor to know that their offspring wasn't nearly as judgmental.

Briefly gazing up from the parchment he'd been scrolling upon, Severus watched as lovelle intently diced a frog (no longer seeming to be disheartened by the task) and carefully weighed its pieces on a scale before bottling them into a phial; not even remotely noticing her small audience.

Snape sighed.

Lovelle still proved a puzzle that her father feared he'd never riddle out.

End Flashback

After reminiscing, the soon to be Hogwarts student looked to the clock placed beside her bed once more, only to discover just ten minutes had gone by.

Now lovelle sighed.

Sitting up and looking about the room, she noted the small differences between this and her previous stay within it: An averagely round, golden clock had been placed on the miniature dresser beside her (still full-sized) bed; per her request. The small lamp held its place in the far right corner, like last time. There was now a wooden wardrobe on the opposite side of the bedroom, just off beside the doorway a bit, which held the clothes lovelle had been fitted for but a day ago. (The memory brought back a wave of guilt, if only momentarily).

Other than that, not much had changed. She assumed that after her shopping spree with the William's later this morning, that statement would rectify itself. Soon enough, this new bedroom of hers would feel homier; the prospect giving the girl a warm feeling inside. Despite not getting on entirely well with her father, it was still nice to have a place she could call her own.

Though, not snapping at her sarcastic rant last night proved that things were progressing positively between the two, lovelle knew, even if it was at a painfully slow pace.

Still not wanting to leave the warmth of her blankets and face a crabby potion's master, lovelle ran a hand through her sleek black hair and tried thinking of something that would bore her back into sleep.

The rules from last night, she'd immediately thought. Severus had listed more than several before she bid him goodnight. Apparently, the man was as uptight as she'd guessed, having many regulations for how to live not only in his quarters, but with him in general: No leaving clothes on the floor, always wash up before each meal, refrain from sweets, maintain sufficient grades, make your bed before departing the room, never enter my room unless there is a dire need to do so…Lovelle had dived back into the sea of dreams before she knew it.

…

It was about five hours later that Maggie found herself strolling through Diagon Alley with her best friend. Already, the two had purchased quite a few necessities; such as the required books, cauldrons, robes, quills, parchments, and a trunk each in which to hold said items. Now, all that the duo needed was a wand and pet (if they so desired).

So, of course, this fact is what led them to Ollivander's later that day.

"Twelve inches, a core of dragon heartstring, made of spruce," Ollivander gave the wand he currently held a bit of a wave, "and it is surprisingly swishy," he'd concluded, thereafter handing it over to Maggie. "Use it well," were his last words of wisdom before the blonde happily stored it away.

"Ah, Miss Snape," the elder man had started to say before lovelle politely (yet quickly) corrected him.

"It's actually Evans, sir," she stepped to the counter Ollivander stood behind, "lovelle Evans," she smiled, outwardly confident while inwardly feeling nothing short of nervous.

At Maggie's (and her parents) confused looks, lovelle simply mouthed 'later' to her friend as she knew her father would deal with Mr. and Mrs. William's questions about that.

"Miss Evans," Ollivander accepted the correction without divulging further into the matter, "Let us get started, shall we?" he grinned reassuringly at the girl (who almost always wore her hair in a side braid these days) and left for the back of his shop to retrieve one of the many wands.

…

What seemed like two hours later, lovelle finally succeeded in finding her proper wand-match (with the complete help of Mr. Ollivander, of course).

"Twelve and a half ," (lovelle  really wasn't that tall) "core dragon heartstring," he'd brushed the wand under the tip of his nose as he said this, "made from sycamore wood, therefore being quite bendy flexibility," Ollivander handed the stick of wood back to its rightful owner. "Never store this in your back pocket," he jokingly advised, still meaning each word. Lovelle merely smiled back, silently agreeing to obey his small command.

Now that she finally had a wand, all Miss Evans had to do now was…well, figure out how to use it.

Several Hours Later

Returning back to the castle for the night, lovelle made way into her room in order to 'properly' (as her dad had instructed) put away all of her newly purchased belongings. At first, she'd felt slightly greedy for allowing Severus to buy everything, but she then told herself that it was his job now and money was simply not something she, as an eleven year old, was expected to have.

Safely tucking her wand under a pillow, (why hold onto something she didn't know how to use yet?) Lovelle thought back to her conversation with Maggie prior to saying their goodbyes.

Flashback

"So, what's this about you being an Evans?" blue eyes pierced into lovelle's own, shining with both utter confusion and betrayal for not hearing of this sooner.

The shorter girl sighed, "It's a long story," she glanced over towards her father whom was speaking with Maggie's parents; no doubt about the same thing. "I'll tell you all about it on the train, okay?" she'd tried, not wanting to repeat herself again with the twins. As it were, she had already explained this to Amaryllis and the wand-maker to an extent.

"Fine," Mags accepted in defeat, knowing no argument would change lovelle's mind. Also, her parents were surely in on the whole story by now as Severus seemed to be discussing it with them. She'd just wait to ask later.

"You will have to tell me about your meeting with Harry as well," the blonde added knowingly.

"What meeting?" Lovelle inquired; both feeling and appearing clueless. Severus hadn't mentioned anything about Harry since yesterday when she'd brought him up.

"Well," Maggie began, dragging out the word, "I may have talked with my mum and dad last night," she innocently smiled, "and they could have possibly spoken with your father about how important it is that you meet your brother before school starts…"

Lovelle blanched. "When did this happen?"

"While we were browsing Flourish and Blotts, I believe."

"And he just agreed with them?"

"From what I heard, yes."

"So, when-?"

"Tomorrow," Maggie excitedly interrupted, unable to hold it in any longer. "You're going to see Harry tomorrow," she happily exclaimed.

Her heart racing in anxiousness, lovelle didn't know whether to thank her friend for managing to arrange this all or if she should rather berate the opposite girl for doing so behind her back.

"Thank you!" she obviously opted for the first option, hugging Mags tightly after expressing her gratitude.

"Promise to tell me all about it?" Maggie asked over lovelke's shoulder.

"Of course," had been the expected and received reply.

End Flashback

Monday morning (precisely six days before she was meant to board the Hogwarts Express) lovelle got up, made her bed according to the professor's standards, and headed for the kitchen, only to find her father gone and an ugly farm-owl atop the chair he typically occupied at this early hour.

"Errol, right?" she asked the bird, fully aware that no verbal response would be given. "How on earth did you find your way in here?" Lovelle  wondered aloud. It was then that she noticed a folded piece of paper tied to the owl's leg. This confirmed her earlier assumption of this pet being Errol as she knew that bit of parchment had to be the letter Fred and George had said they would write.

"Okay," the timid girl took a step forward, not wanting to frighten the creature holding her mail. "I'm just going to untie this from you," she reached out her hand, beginning to undo the piece of yarn holding the parchment in place, "Don't be scared," lovelle attempted to comfort Errol when, in reality, she was trying to calm herself. Birds just didn't fly with her. Maggie may have decided to get one yesterday, but she most definitely wouldn't be doing the same; not then, not ever.

Just as she nearly finished detaching the string, someone knocked upon the door leading into the dungeon room, frightening the bird away from her reach.

Shrieking in shock, lovelle ran for the hills (aka, the door), not wanting to be anywhere near Errol as he clumsily flew about her dining room.

Several hours earlier

As expected, Severus did not manage a good night's sleep. Having awoken on the brink of four, the potion's master had never felt so worn (and this was certainly saying something). Not only had the weather been atrocious with rain, lightning, and thunder booming and barreling all throughout the late hours (how anybody could sleep through such a storm without silencing charms was beyond him), Severus could hardly say his meeting with the Dursley's was one he was looking forward to. With his deep dislike and sincere hatred for Petunia and Potter, anticipation for the moment he'd have to see them kept him awake, leaving him in his current position: four a.m., black coffee in one hand, an unread prophet in the other, whilst he sat in a previously vacant armchair beside the fire.

Reading the article within his left palm had unexpectedly made the professor's morning worse.

On its second page displayed a photograph of not only him, but of lovelle and the three William's, as well. The segment spoke of the oddness in such a group associating themselves with one another, being that they were all so unalike. It talked about just whom these people could be, his daughter included.

Not that she'd been given said title here, thank Merlin. Rita wasn't insightful enough to ever guess such a thing.

…But other people were.

If Lucius Malfoy, of all wizards, had managed to make the correct assumption between the two, surely others would eventually do so as well. The picture posted to the left of Skeeter's words may have showed the entire quartet, but it was obviously focused more so on Severus and his child.

Gathering his thoughts, a conclusion was quickly reached: something needed to be done about this newfound attention; and soon. For if…no, when the Dark Lord rose again, both Potter and lovelle would be in grave danger.

…

"Ah, Severus," the headmaster had just opened his office to a quite angered looking potion's professor, "is there something I can help you with at this early hour?" Early, he had said, because it barely just turned five thirty.

Severus, who had yet to forgive this foolish old man for the abrupt meeting he'd secretly planned for he and his daughter, let those memories momentarily surpass him as there were more pressing topics to discuss.

"The prophet, Albus," he entered the overly decorated quarters, "surely you have seen it," he hissed, practically throwing the paper onto Dumbledore's desk.

Skimming the article behind his half-moon spectacles, Albus did not come off as surprised, despite this being his first glance.

"I fail to see a problem here, my boy," he said simply, setting the prophet back down.

"How could you not?" Severus retorted; feeling frustrated now. He sighed, "Has it ever crossed your brilliant mind that if others learn of the child's relation to me, she would be put in danger? That, when the Dark Lord learns of this connection between her and Potter, the girl will become a target?" he tried getting Dumbledore to notice the gravity in this situation.

With Lucius already aware of lovelle being Snape's child, should Tom Riddle rise, (as Albus long ago predicted that he would) he'd likely be the first to share this news with his master.

"Voldemort is not yet a caution to mind," the headmaster pointed out, "and even if he were, Severus," Albus looked to his colleague gravely, "what could be done to change anything?" he questioned; silence being the answer which caused him to proceed. "I'm afraid, as with lovelle, we will simply have to do our best to protect her. The past cannot be rewritten."

As an adult, the potion's master held his tongue. In truth, he wanted to repeat how he should have known about lovelle long ago. How, if he had the chance to raise her, the task could've been done safely. She would have been trained and prepared. The girl would have known about her past, along with the consequences and risks behind it.

Finally, and above all, lovelle could have been kept a secret. With no one to know she was his daughter or Potter's sister, the eleven year old would be in no more danger than any other Hogwarts student. But now, thanks to the Lily, Albus, and Minerva, his child's life would have to be lived cautiously upon the Dark Lord's return.

Those bitter thoughts in mind, Severus realized he had nothing left to say to his past mentor. Having basically said there remained nothing that could rectify his predicament; there was no reason for the younger man to stay any longer.

Sad blue eyes watching his retreating form, Severus knew that his status as a spy had just become exceedingly more critical, causing the weight on his shoulders to increase profusely.

Present Time

"He's not going to be coming down any time soon, is he?" Lovelle asked, looking up at Errol who had managed to land atop of the dining room's ceiling lamp.

"It would appear that way, Miss Evans," Minerva agreed.

Just ten minutes ago, lovelle had learned McGonagall to be the one awaiting her on the other side of the door. After running to greet the woman; Errol, she'd noticed, had finally settled down. Unfortunately, the bird did so in a place where he could not be reached.

So, it was while the two females awaited Severus' return (as the transfiguration professor would be joining them to Privet Drive, per lovelle's request) that they spoke of the child's new last name, along with the reasons behind it. This conversation had led to the matter of adoption, of course, and how the potion's master needed to officially do so prior to the new school year; father or not. By law, it was still a requirement.

Lovelle had agreed, only not so much to the meaning behind being adopted, (making Severus her legal guardian) but to the fact that it also meant she'd never be expected back into the orphanage again. This whole process, to her, was nothing more than an official affair that certainly didn't imply an instant change of heart towards Severus. Lovelle knew that she and her father still had a very, very, long way to go.

"Can't you use magic to get him down?" she asked hopefully, really wanting her letter from the twins.

Minerva shook her head, "It would be too much of a risk, I'm afraid," she informed the child. Errol was quite an unstable creature as it were. Using any sort of spell upon him would be beyond reckless.

"Guess I'll just have to wait then," her student muttered in sheer defeat, causing McGonagall to smile amusedly.

It was but a moment after that when the third person in their party decided to make an appearance.

"Where were you?" Lovelle inquired curiously as he approached her.

Severus, who had just returned from an unpleasant meeting with the headmaster, managed absolutely no sleep the night prior, was having to deal with Minerva for the day, and had to embark upon a trip to the Dursley's, was far from in a pleasant mood as his reply had been short and rude (in his daughter's opinion). "That is none of your concern," he'd told her.

"Someone's in a mood," lovelle mumbled back quietly so that only she and Minerva heard the snarky remark, which the latter of the two disapproved of.

"Why, pray tell, is an owl residing in the dining room?" he asked, obviously failing to hear that comment. Severus then looked to his daughter, his obsidian eyes now level with her own.

"That's a good question," lovelle said, not having a proper answer. She honestly didn't know how Errol had found his way into their quarters, really.

Having known the man for many years, Minerva quickly caught on to the look of disbelief etched upon her colleague's face. "There is no time to hold an argument, Severus," she reminded him, also interrupting his words to come. "We need to be leaving shortly."

The potion's master now turned to McGonagall. He quite sincerely did not want this visit with the Dursley's to include her. (The stubborn feline had not only kept vital information from him in the past, she'd also gone behind his back and lied once more by sending his child to the Weasley's…and he despised deceitful people). The idea would have never crossed his mind had lovelle not practically pleaded for the blasted woman to accompany them. Why, he'd never know. There held only two reasons for Severus' reluctant consent: One being that he desperately wished for the child to shut it and retreat to bed for the evening, the second being how much easier the entire meeting would go if Minerva were to join the duo. Gryffindor's head of house would, as much as he hated to admit, keep his head somewhat level as he had a strong dislike for at least two of Number Four's occupants. And he genuinely didn't have time for dealing with whatever consequences may come his way should he 'accidentally' bring harm upon one of them (Petunia in particular).

Recognizing that fact, McGonagall had become a part of this whole ordeal now. She had the moment Evans sent for her last night, just before nine.

Looking between the set of elders she currently stood between, lovelle became increasingly uncomfortable as she watched them stare each other down.

"I'm going to get changed," she said, having still been attired in her sleepwear. Shortly after stating this to the professors (who did not reply), she scurried out of the tensed room.

Twenty Minutes Later

Flooing into Hogsmeade and apparating to Privet Drive hadn't taken long for the trio; although it felt as if it had to lovelle, who loathed both means of transportation. Using the floo was always awkward with her trait for clumsiness and disapparating never ceased to make her ill.

"Are you alright, dear?" Minerva had asked as they were about to approach Number Four.

The girl in question merely nodded her head, waiting for the dizzy sensation to fade, and joined her father in walking towards the Dursley's doorstep.

It was shortly after this that they were all greeted by a horse-looking woman with a nose pointed so far up, lovelle could probably see all the way into to her brain if she tried.

"We won't be buying anything it is that you are trying to sell," the woman informed them, eying each person before her distastefully.

"How accommodating," McGonagall stepped from her place behind lovelle to properly speak with the muggle, "being that we currently have nothing for purchase," she stated sternly, not overly fond of Mrs. Dursley's attitude.

"You're one of those freaks, aren't you?" Petunia put the pieces together, just now fully seeing what the other adults were wearing.

"Hey, I am not a freak!" Lovelle  crossed her arms defensively. Why was everyone in her family so mean?

"Mind your tone, Miss Evans," Severus berated the eleven year old, outwardly smirking nevertheless.

"Evans?" the mare-like female appeared confused now. She gazed at the child, seeing if the freak could possibly be related to her late sister in any way simply based off of lovelle's features.

Apparently, Petunia found exactly what she'd been searching for.

"I'm not taking this one in," she spat, "It's bad enough I've been landed with one of her brats," Mrs. Dursley exclaimed, getting the wrong impression from what the three truthfully came to her home for.

"Are you insinuating that you do not wish to care for your sister's child, Petunia?" the potion's master inquired, his previous smirk no longer in place as he was thoroughly angered for yet another time that day.

"Take my words as you will," she spat, not owing these psychos any sort of explanation.

"You know, I told Albus from day one that placing Harry in the care of these muggles would be a grand mistake," McGonagall admitted aloud to no one directly.

"Mummy, what's going on?" a miniature whale came into view from behind Vernon's wife; breaking into their bickering.

"It's nothing, Dudders," the boy's mother tried directing his attention elsewhere. "Why don't you run along and watch the telly for a bit?" she lamely suggested.

Dudley shook his head, "I can't because the stupid freak broke the remote," he lied, having damaged the item himself but only a few minutes ago.

Petunia sighed, "I'll be in to fix it soon, sweetheart, alright?"

Lovelle was amazed. Her aunt was undoubtedly bipolar.

"You won't be able to find it. Scarhead hid it in his cupboard after ruining it so that he wouldn't get into trouble," Dudley elaborated; only partially lying. The remote was in the cupboard, but not by Harry's own doing. It fell apart when the plump boy chucked it at his cousin whilst he was trying to leave the small space.

"His cupboard?" Snape ground out furiously, his ebony wand drawn.

"Where is Mr. Potter?" Minerva demanded, also enraged.

Lovelle remained the only one to not bother with asking any questions. Instead, she pushed the Dursley woman aside and rushed into the house. In the pit of her stomach, she sensed something was terribly wrong here. Looking around inside and ignoring Petunia's words of protest, the girl wasted no time in calling after her brother.

"Harry!" she frantically peered around each corner, "Harry, where are you?"

"Severus, look," Minerva pointed towards a cupboard underneath the stairway. (After lovelle broke into Number Four, her father and mentor quickly followed).

The younger professor did as instructed, quickly noting the lock on its door.

His heart clenching whilst he imagined the worst scenario of what lay inside; Severus briskly cast Alohamora in order to unveil the truth.

And as the small frame began to open by Minerva's hand, a large, purple-faced man came barreling down the staircase with Petunia in tow.

"I demand you to leave here at once!" he ordered, "Or I'll call the cops," Vernon threatened.

Fully aware that Minerva and Severus could hold their own against her aunt, uncle, and cousin, lovelle used this distraction to her advantage and snuck into the now-unlocked cupboard.

"Harry?" she whispered into the darkness, unable to see a thing. That problem, however, was rectified moments later when a small hand pulled a dangling chain connected to a dusty light bulb.

"Who are you?" the nervous nine year old asked, not understanding why or how this stranger had entered his room.

"I'm lovelle," the older child told him, her heart currently breaking because of what she was witnessing.

Miss Evan's brother was dangerously thin, incredibly pale, had a bruise forming upon his head where Dudley had thrown the remote…It took every fiber of her being not to cry. Lovelle's anger towards this neglect was probably the only thing keeping her from doing just that.

"Why are you here?" Harry, who sat at the edge of his bed, timidly wondered aloud.

Smiling sadly, she enlightened him. "I'm here to take you home."

The boy's eyes (so much like her own, yet hidden behind circular glasses and free of obsidian specks) widened at that. "Really?" he checked in a tiny voice, not even caring that he didn't know this person. He'd take any chance that would allow him to get away from the Dursley's.

"Really," lovelle repeated, her eyes brimming with tears as she couldn't hold them back any longer.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Harry practically shouted, startling the eleven year old. "I didn't mean to make you cry," he appeared to be panicking.

"You didn't," she assured him, bewildered by his actions. "These are happy tears, Harry. I'm just glad that I've found you," lovelle admitted.

Now standing, the frail wizard cocked his head. "…But why? And how do you know my name?" he uncharacteristically inquired. Typically, Harry never dared to ask many questions as his uncle got upset whenever he did.

"Because I'm your sister," lovelle bluntly informed him.

Then, unable to bottle her emotions anymore, she hugged her brother tightly yet gently all the same.

Harry was immediately overwhelmed at that, unsure of how to feel. Nobody had ever embraced him like this before and neither his aunt nor uncle had ever mentioned lovelle.

Then again, he really shouldn't have expected them to. They were never honest with him. So, of course, Harry decided to believe this girl's words as she had yet to prove herself untrustworthy.

Honestly, his sister was the nicest person he had yet to meet since his parent's death in that car crash all those years ago.

And while Harry thought about this, lovelle's mind remained elsewhere.

Still holding onto her brother, she was mentally vowing over and over how she'd never allow any harm to come Harry's way again. Nobody would lay a finger on him. She'd even fight this 'You-Know-Who' person he'd faced as an infant if it came down to it. Lovelle didn't care if he was supposedly the darkest wizard of all time…she'd protect Harry with her life.