Chapter Text
January 13th, 1987
Adhara's life revolved around two concepts: Things She Learned and Things She Knew.
For example, she learned that six o'clock was not a respectable time to be awake and noisy. And she knew her dad was probably waking up at that exact time, rubbing his eyes and streching in every unholy way his body was able, because she was doing exactly that.
But she was not with dad. She was at Saint Mary's Home for Children, and at Saint Mary, the Things She Learned and the Things She Knew were everything.
She sat up, relishing in the cave-like feeling her bottom bunk bed provided for her. She loved her little corner against two walls, sandwished between her bed and the one above it. It was dark and cozy, especialy with the blanket-thingie she had knitted over the year, during those awful handcraft classes Matron made all the kids take. It was made of mismatched squares of colorful yarn, and acted like a curtain on the open sides of her bed, shielding her from the bright, cold world ouside. It made her little cave warmer and darker, and she loved it. It would be a nightmare on summer, but she had not learned that yet.
For now, her yarn shield was only cool for her, annoying for the Matron, and motive of envy for her roommates, who all wished for a little of the warmth and a lot of the privacy it provided. Maybe, if she was careful and smart, she could knit another one and sell it, without the Matron knowing. And she was smart. She knew it.
Outside of her little corner of the world, it was cold, and not yet bright. Inside, she was confortable, half under the covers and surrounded by her most tresured possessions. Right over her pillow, stuck to the white wall, there was a beautiful Queen poster, old and a little battered, with marks where it once was folded. On the bigger wall, a couple of booklets from various rock bands were held up with lots of tape, and among them, the most precious things she owned. Three polaroid pictures.
The first one had two babies in it. One was clearly a boy, with dark unruly hair and bright green eyes, smiling brightly to the camera with a paper crown in his head and a stuffed deer in his tiny little hands. The other one was way younger, and had that posture of a baby who just know learned to sit on their own. They had gray eyes and unrully golden locks, with way too much hair for a baby that tiny, and were with their whole fist into their mouth, happily chewing it.
The second one was clearly taken in the same day as the first, because the baby boy still had his crown. Both infants were in the arms of a red headed woman, who smiled warmly to the four man surrounding her. One was clearly the boy's father. They were carbon copies. But all of them looked close, like a big, happy family.
The last picture was her favourite. It had two people in it. One was the tallest man from the first picture, the one with golden skin, caramel locks, and scars all over. The other person was a toddler, who looked just like the man, except the kid smiled way more, and had way less scars. The kid was her, and the man was her dad. Adhara thought they looked happy, both wearing matching sweaters and matching haircuts and matching freckles. The picture was taken in her three years birthday, back when she lived with her dad in their tiny home. The older kids often looked with pity to her, whenever they catched a glimpse of the photo. She learned that there was no going back, once you were in Saint Mary.
If you were very lucky, you would be adopted by a nice family, but this was once every blue moon.
If you were lucky you would be adopted into a family that would give you the minimum, and maybe beat you. And sometimes you'd be sent back to Saint Mary.
If you were not, you would stay there, forgotten, until you aged out of the system.
Most children were not lucky.
That's what she learned.
What she knew, however, was that her dad was still out there, and still loved her, and that one day they would be together again.
She was close to the point where she would die of boredom when the bells in the curch tower announced it was seven o'clock.
She learned that, when this time came, the Matron would wake up, witvh meant she could wake up too.
She slid off her bed and quietly walked to the wardrobe she shared with her roommates, and picked up some clothes from her pile. She climbed up her little cave again and changed there, appreciating the warmth her bed provided her. She didn't care if the other girls saw her changing, she had learned not to care, when she came to Saint Mary, but she cared about the cold outside. It was freezing! She quickly put on her pants and coat, then made her bed and folded her pj's neatly. Matron disliked messy things, and she learned not to annoy Matron.
Ready to star the day, she said goodbye to the picture of her dad, and if the man in the pic waved back, well, it was no one's busyness.
She made her way to the bathroom she shared with all the girls, and took her time in there, washing her face and brushing her teeth, doing everything to procrastinate the painful job that was dealing with her hair. At Saint Mary, girl's were expected to wear their hair in braids, almost as if was part of the gray uniform they all had. Braids were a nightmare for Adhara, with her thic, crazy hair. She used to love it, back when she lived with her dad. It was brown-black-blond-copper-bronze-gold-caramel-soil-wood, with soft curls that kept falling in her eyes. It was short, like a boy's hair, because she wanted to match dad. Now it was thic, dull, and restless, fighting against every brush and easily breaking. She hated her hair now.
But still, she braided it, taking her time. An older girl, Jen, came in, and kindly offered to do it for her, but Adhara refused. She could very well do it on her own. It would just take some time.
When she finaly had her hair in a neat braid, it was already seven thirty, and downstairs was full of life. Girls and boys ate together, being as loud as Matron would allow them.
"Good morning, Matron" She had learned to be polite.
The woman gave her an aknowledging nod, and she sat among the other children. She ate her oatmeal like there was no better food on earth, and felt very content. For all the other children that might have been a very normal tuesday, but for her, it was very special. After all, it was her seventh birthday, a day when she could secretly pretend that the whole world existed solely for her, and secretly enjoy being the main character for twenty four hours.
Of course, none of the other children in Saint Mary knew it was her birthday. No one really cared. She learned that she was quite invisible, like background music. Nice enought so people enjoyed her presence, but uninportant enought so no one ever remembered the lyrics. She knew, however, that her dad remembered. He had an amazing memory. She wondered if he had quietly sung happy birthday for her over his coffe in the morning. Sounded like a very dad thing.
But no birthday would stop Matron from sending her to school with the other kids. So off she went, with her brown backpack over her shoulders, the same one she carried with her on the day dad left her under Matron's care. The whole world felt quiet, because of the snow that had fallen during night. The children's steps were muffled by it while all of them walked to school. The teens took the bus to their building, further away into town, and the rest of them walked, under one of Matron's accolite's dutiful gaze.
School was fun, Adhara thought, but she knew not everyone agreed with her. She liked it though.
They sung happy birthday to her in class. The teacher, god bless her heart, had made a calendar so no student's birthday was ever left forgotten. Miss Ellis was always so kind to all of them. She was actually the only adult she felt completely safe with. So, miss Ellis knew a lot more than others about Adhara's life. Miss Ellis knew her dad always gave her chocolate for whatever reason, when she was sad, or when she was nervous, or when she did something great. She knew her favourite song (I Want To Break Free, from Queen, a song from the last album she heard with dad), and her favourite book (Howl's Moving Castle, because it had a cool wizard). And, on top of everything, miss Ellis knew about Adhara's dad (how he was tall and strong; how he liked coffe, but loved tea; how he loved to teach).
And of course miss Ellis knew her birthday. So, she got a chocolate bar from his teacher (a sweet thing, considering she knew the meaning), and two cards from the most exited girls in her class (Alice, who loved birthdays, and Samira, who was quite an artist already).
All acounted, it was a pretty good day. Uneventful, really, but nice. The good part was yet to come. And it did come.
It was a little after dinner when Matron called. Adhara was usually nervous to be at Matron's office, but not on that particular moment. No, in that moment, she only felt exitement.
"Here" Matron said "It arrived this morning, when you were at school."
She held out a package wraped in brown paper, and Adhara had to use all her self control not to rip the wraping right on spot.
"Thank you, Matron" and sheleft to her room, hugging her package tightly. She hid on her make-shift cave and carefuly tore apart the paper, so she wouldn't rip her name, written in a messy handwriten font. It was only a 'for Adhara', but she could recognize her dad's handwriting anywhere.
Inside, there was an old but well kept book, a book she knew all too well. She opened it, and almost cryed at the unfamiliar caligraphy, neatly arranged in a note for her dad, and scattered around the book, as it was once given to her dad. She could feel her heart tightening. It was not just a present. Her dad had given him his most precious thing to keep. It had been his, and was hers now.
That old copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.