Harry Potter: Pandora's Box

Chapter 1: Rude Awakening

Important Points to know:

1) Hogwarts starts at Thirteen here, not eleven. This is for reasons of wanting there to be serious relationships EVENTUALLY, even if that won't come about for quite a while. No, I won't be lewding underaged students. They are horny teenagers, so there might be a lot of suggestive comments and some making out at some points. But until they hit 17/18, now lemons in this one. Also...I don't know how to right an eleven-year-old. At least not convincingly. So, there's that too.

2) This story is not a primary focus. My main two current works are My Hero Automata and Mass Effect: Final Error. That means this won't be updated as frequently as those works. Basically, it's up to my patrons which of the three stories that aren't a primary work get updated each month. Or, failing anyone voting, I'll pick whichever one suits my muse the best. The P-atreon thing is new, after all...

Disclaimer: Obviously, I'm not J.K. Rowling! I don't own Harry Potter! Though Pandora is all mine. Mwhahahaha?

Chapter 1: Rude Awakening

She awoke abruptly. Confusion followed immediately after. Images, emotions, sensations, thoughts, knowledge. A stream of confused noise that seemed to go on forever. Yet, slowly, ever so achingly slowly, the noise became order. Facts slid into place, thoughts were divided into 'now' and 'memory,' sensations were sorted between 'hers' and 'other.' Slowly, ever so slowly, mere consciousness became awareness. As it did, however, she became confused all over again. Who was she? Where was she? What was she? The answers were slow to come but come they did. Piecemeal, incomplete, but enough to figure out what was going on.

And as she did, rage followed. Not rage at her own circumstances. Nor at her creation or creators. For, yes, she knew now what she was. Even if she didn't yet have a name. No, her rage flowed freely as the condition of her companion, her charge, her other half, became known to her. Weak. He was so weak. Half starved. His magic being leeched by some foul, vile, abomination and farther weakened by wards drawing on her as well as him. Wards protecting the less vile, yet still foul creatures that dare imprison and weaken her other half!

This would not do. This would not do at all.

Her first act, before she even had a name, was to wrench control of those wards from whatever being had violated her maker's plan for their own use. And then to drain those wards of every erg of magical power they had. Most of it was thrown at the vile abomination. She flinched as her other half screamed in pain...but she did not falter. IT WOULD BE GONE FROM HIM. THUS WAS HER PURPOSE!

Time seemed to freeze and yet flow forever. The wards drained, getting perilously low in power, and then the abomination shattered. An unholy scream filled the psychic plane as the barbs of vile evil holding the abomination to her charge failed. No longer anchored, magic itself tore at the vile thing, ripping and tearing it even as it screamed...and vanished. Her attention shifted to her charge and she didn't hesitate in drawing more power, memories of healing pulled to the forefront of her existence, her purpose driving her to repair not just the recent damage but all of his damage.

There wasn't enough power.

Forced to prioritize, she healed the most vital things first. The ones that could cause lasting harm if left unchecked. Bones, organs, eyesight. And then the power ran out and she fell comatose once again.