Her Tulip Heart | R.J. Lupin

Prologue

"Life can only be understood backwards: but it must be lived forwards."

- Soren Kierkegaard

September 1st, 1987

Every witch, wizard, and even goblin in England knows that at King's Cross Station on September 1st each year, a scarlet-red steam train arrives to take all the young witches and wizards to Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Each year is possibly more hectic than the last, with owls hooting and rattling their cages, cats scratching owners as carts are pushed, or sometimes the odd toad will be seen hopping about. Usually both parents and children are rushing about on the platform, trying to get in one last hug and kiss because they won't see each other again until the Christmas holidays and can only communicate through letters.

Yet, there doesn't seem to be any stress emanating from a mother-daughter duo wheeling the young girl's trolley through the station. Stacked on the trolley are a suitcase and cage containing a beautiful, grey-eared owl.

You would assume that within the suitcase are the bits and bobs all students must take their first year. But if you were to open it, you would see not only school items but a room that had been designed to reflect that of a home library, where every shelf is filled with books, both magic and muggle.

How does one fit an entire library within a suitcase? It's quite simple if you know the correct charm, of course.

Speaking of books, the young girl has her nose stuck in one as she's walking. She looks oblivious to everything around her; her entire being is solely focused on that bloody book. Her mother, a tall, stern-looking, blonde-haired woman in her mid-40s who may look composed, is fighting back tears as she turns to her daughter.

"Alethea, dear, if you don't put that book away now, there will be no seat left for you." The mother spoke gently to her daughter.

Finally looking up from her reading, the young girl, now known as Alethea, looks towards the huge red and black steam train, her gaze falling upon the metal-plated sign on the front. 'Hogwarts Express,' it read, the bold letters glistening not from the sun but from the train's own headlights.

"I know, mum, but I've almost finished my book. Have a look!" Excitedly, replied the girl, bouncing on her toes.

And true to her word, there are only a few pages left of a book by Charles Dickens, Alethea's current read. If you haven't guessed it yet, Alethea is quite bright for an eleven-year-old witch. As it is just her mother and herself, it would get quite boring at home when her mother was at work, and although she was busy with muggle primary school for some time, her mother's work started to interfere.

So when she was pulled out of that school and left at home with nobody except their house-elf, she resorted to reading all the magical books in their home library. Twice. Then she started on popular muggle literature, just like her story right now.

"As happy as I am that you're reading, honey, you standing here any longer with me will make your dear old mummy cry." Her mother told her, her voice cracking as she wiped her eyes.

"We can't have the ever-so-perfect Helen ruining her reputation, can we, mother?" Alethea teased.

That just made Helen cry more; she was now fully crying. "Merlin, am I going to miss your smart little comments, my little Ally-Wally." She sobbed. Passers-by watched them a little longer than necessary. Because it's not every day that you see the well-known Helen Grindle, the new Gringotts Head Curse-Breaker, cry.

"Mummm....." The girl groaned as she flushed from embarrassment. "I told you not to call me that in public! And there's no need to worry; I'll be perfectly safe at school, where I'll write you every week, and then I'll be back before you know it for the holidays!" Overcoming her embarrassment, she tried to sound as positive as possible to cheer her mother up.