Chapter Text
Nora Bloodgood buried her face in Nightmare’s purple mane as she wrestled back tears. It was times like this she was glad she didn’t actually need to breathe.
It should have been a routine check-in. Reports had reached her school of a young werewolf child living alone in a shack out in the wilderness. No other monsters in the area, and only a small human town nearby. Naturally, she’d saddled Nightmare up immediately and headed out, leaving Mister Rotter in charge of the school. A simple task: ensure the apparent child was safe and either capable of living alone (appearances could be deceiving when it came to monsters - after all, Nora herself was far older than she looked) or bring them back to the school and get them settled with Kindergrübber.
As she rode, a sense of foreboding settled within her, growing stronger and stronger as Nightmare galloped over bracken and road alike. The air felt heavy, a cloak of unease and shadow settling over her. A sensation she instinctively recognised. Death was coming, and as its portent she was powerless to stop it. She tried anyway, desperately urging Nightmare onward. But she could not defy her nature or deny her master.
When she reached the shack, it was already ablaze. Mortals surrounded it, jeering obscenities and hurling objects to fuel the flames. They screamed and scattered at her approach; doors slammed and tires squealed as cars hastily drove away. She dismounted before Nightmare even skidded to a stop, rushing towards the shack. A high, piercing scream ripped through her, and she staggered. The wail of pain and fear was swallowed up by crackling flames and the smell of burning flesh.
And Nora knew. The knowledge, the certainty, was in her bones, her blood, in the line of severed flesh separating her head from her neck. The child was dead.
Nightmare whickered softly, her long nose resting down her back in a horsey hug.
“How could someone do this to a child?” Nora whispered.
Nightmare whickered again.
“Yes, you’re right.”
She pulled back and wiped at her eyes. It was easy to forget sometimes, how bad things used to be. Monster High had been wildly successful, bringing together all monster kind and promoting tolerance between the various species, humans included. That’s not to say it was perfect - old grudges, family expectations, and teenage hormones were a potent cocktail that bubbled over regularly. But things had been a lot more peaceful than a few centuries ago, and the Board of Deaducation were pleased with her results.
“Misunderstandings between peoples lead to fear and hatred, and hatred inevitably explodes into violence,” she murmured to herself - part of the speech she’d originally used to convince the Board to back her idea in the first place. She shook her head, then reached up a shaking hand to steady it before it could fall off her neck.
"Is that why they killed me?” a soft voice whispered next to her.
Nora jumped and spun around to see a little werewolf girl cringing away from her. She had greyish blue skin and a multitude of burn scars, and one of the large ears poking out of her curly brown hair was ragged and smoking slightly. She couldn’t have been older than six.
Nora sucked in a breath, then knelt down so she wouldn’t tower over the little thing.
“Yes, I think so. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
“Oh.”
The little girl turned to look at the burning shack. A wall collapsed inward and flames whooshed out. She flinched back into Nora, who instinctively wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“W-where do I go now?” she cried softly. “They didn’t… want me after that big dog bit me, said I was a monster, so I ran away and hid here. B-but they came after me, and now my hiding place is gone and I feel all different and weird!”
Nora froze, glad the girl was turned away from her so she didn’t see her thunderous expression. Someone had been irresponsible enough to bite a child and then leave them by themselves? They hadn’t even explained what they’d done to the poor girl!
“If you like,” she said, soft and slow to not overwhelm the now sobbing child, “you can come with me. I run a school for people like us. You’ll be safe there, and there’ll be other children just like you.”
The girl turned in her arms to stare up at Nora with big watery eyes.
“Like us?” she whispered.
“Yes. My name is Nora Bloodgood and I’m a headless horsewoman. And this,” she gestured to Nightmare, who bent her head to snuffle the girl’s hair, “is Nightmare, my steed, companion, and sometimes secretary.”
The girl giggled.
“I’m Arabella,” she murmured, reaching out a hand to pet Nightmare’s snout.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Arabella,” said Nora, with a soft smile. “Now, how about it? Did you want to see my school?”
“Yes please,” was the quiet response, Arabella still focused on stroking Nightmare.
“Alright! You’ll ride with me then - ever ridden before?” A headshake. “Not to worry, I’ll keep you steady and Nightmare will be gentle. Up you go!”
As she boosted the little girl up on to Nightmare’s back, she took one last look at the burning shack.
Never again, she vowed. There must be a way to find abandoned young monsters before someone hurts them. If there isn’t already, I will make one.
Albus Dumbledore’s gaze bored into the slip of parchment with an intensity to rival his youthful obsession with the Hallows. He barely noticed the door to his office being blown open as an angry Scottish whirlwind billowed towards him.
“Albus! What is the meaning of this!”
“Whatever do you mean, my dear?” he replied, eyes still fixed on the neat handwriting spelling out Harry Potter’s name.
“This Tournament is for those of age! Three participants from three schools! So how did a fourth name, your protégée no less, make its way out of that blasted cup! If I find out you had anything to do with this-”
Behind her, shadowy robes pooled ominously in the shape of his potion master and spy. His usual scowl marred his face.
“Perhaps the little brat decided he wasn’t getting enough glory from private tuition with the great Albus Dumbledore. Perhaps he wanted the attention of his adoring fans, and snuck his way into both castle and tournament. A futile attempt to satisfy his bloated head, without any thought to the consequences.”
Minerva whirled on Severus. “Don’t you start! If the boy had snuck into the school, surely Albus would know and stop him from doing something so bloody foolish. Honestly, Severus, you haven’t even met the boy, you have no idea of his temperament!”
“I don’t need to meet him to know he’s the spitting image of his arrogant, strutting father, thinking the world is owed to him because of his-”
“Enough.” Dumbledore’s voice was quiet but firm, and both his subordinates fell silent. Finally satisfied with his calculations, he pulled the Elder Wand from his sleeve and pointed it at the slip. “Harry’s entrance into the Tournament was necessary.”
Minerva’s nostrils flared. “And how could pitting a 14 year old boy, no matter how talented or well-trained, into a dangerous tournament designed for adults, be necessary?”
“It was the only way to find him.”
Silence met his proclamation. Albus took the chance to begin his casting, drawing on the magic linking Harry to the Tournament.
“Find him? What do you mean find him?!”
Dumbledore winced at Minerva’s volume. Fawkes sang a few soothing notes, and he refocused his efforts on the spell.
Magic crackled, the air thickening under the weight of the spell work. Albus felt when the spell locked on to Harry, tendrils of tracking magic curling around the Tournament bond and extending outward towards the missing boy.
Albus looked up to meet the wild eyes of his deputy. “I mean that he is not where I left him, 13 years ago.”
Minerva blanched. Even Severus’s scowl seemed to freeze upon his face.
“He did not attend Hogwarts, not because he was being privately tutored, but because the owls could not find him. I could not find him.”
Minerva put a hand over her mouth.
“All these years,” she said, her words muffled by her fingers. “All these years, you claimed he was well, happy, safe. And it wasn’t true.”
Dumbledore’s shoulders slumped.
"I hoped it was true, for all our sakes."
“Why did you inform no one of this,” said Severus in the silken voice of a potion’s knife slicing through flesh.
“The Wizarding World is fractured, barely recovered from the last war. If it was known that the Boy-Who-Lived, their saviour, was gone - it would have destroyed everything we have worked so hard to build. It was better that no one knew, so people did not lose hope. Rest assured, I have not stopped searching for him since I discovered he was gone.”
“You should have told us! We could have helped search for him!” snarled Minerva.
“If whoever or whatever has taken him can hide him from me, assistance in the search would only have drawn attention to the fact he is missing.”
Minerva looked ready to argue, but Albus held up a hand.
“It is done, and cannot be changed. What can be changed is the future. I have linked a tracking spell to the magical contract that binds dear Harry to the Cup and the Tournament. As soon as it reveals his location, I shall be departing to retrieve him.”
“I’m going with you!” Minerva glared at him fiercely, daring him to argue.
Albus sighed and conceded with a nod. “Severus, I must insist you join us as well. We do not know what manner of Dark wards he may be hidden behind, and we may require your expertise.”
Severus jerked his head, his features still carved in stone.
The sudden snap of the spell connecting had Albus snatching the parchment slip up.
He blinked, and reread the information again.
“Well?” snapped Minerva. “Where is he?!”
Albus slowly turned the parchment over to show her the baffling script.
Harry Potter Castor Lilypott - Monster High