Richard Harper and Aubren Anson Solo Finished

A baby girl had been born in the late afternoon of November. Although the many other newborns wailed and cried in the Hospital that very afternoon, the little one made no sound. She was in a peaceful sleep, undisturbed by the beeping machines and the many hands that grabbed and held her. She was smaller than they had expected, but it wouldn't matter then, for as soon as they handed the child to the mother, nothing in the world seemed to have mattered at all, only the child.

They knew the moment the child's small baby hands grasped gently onto the father's larger finger that things would change forever. The bundle that slept on the mother's chest would never understand what life she had been born into, and would not comprehend what fate had lay out for her, even for the years to come. The future was hers, a future she had control of and able to plan herself, a future that shined just as bright as the morning sun.

Months before, a boy had been born. Not a peaceful state of silence rested upon him, for he would wail and scream and cry for hours on end, giving everyone a rather painful head ache. He would only settle when the night had arrived, in which the cries were silenced by a couple of soft yawns before the child would fall into a deep sleep in the clutches of his mother's arms. The father did not reach for his son, instead, he only paced the room in deep thought, planning the boy's future himself, giving the child no option but to follow the order of the father, strictly assisted by the mother.

The girl grew in a warm household, a home nesstled in the calmest part of the London city. She was raised by a large asortment of family, in which they would always visit during the holidays. Despite being the only child, she never felt alone. The nature walks she took never left her in boredom, the games her father would play with her were playful, but would always end in a tickle fight. She had been taught the values of kindness and respect, traits that fit well into her personality. The girl was smart as she was kind, and there was no doubt that she would recieve the world's love for being so.

Then, there was the boy.

His home was large, and although it may be large, it was empty. Emptiness was all that filled the Harper manor, an emptiness that would soon live in the heart of the boy. He had been raised by the strict hand of his father, being told what certain types of people were considered less, that power was favored more over then kindness. The lessons corrupted his mind, filling it with the cold air of a winter night and the cruelty in which he had been taught to be right. He was the opposite of the girl, a darker night to the sunny day, thorns to a rose.

The boy was named Richard Harper, and he despised the girl with every atom in his body.

He saw her at St Mungo's, a place his family rarely went. It was where all types of blood types go, including the lesser ones, the ones he had been told to stay away from. If you asked him why he was there, he wouldn't tell you, instead, he'd most likely would lie about it, or  pretend he wasn't there at all. When really, he was there because his father had fallen down the entire flight of stairs at home, and had twisted his ankle to the point it began to grow in plum color. The family had no other choice but to go to the hospital, something his family were greatly disgusted in. They would sneer as the doctors, patients, and other staff went about their day, muttering every now and then about the "scum-blood types" and how humiliating it was for them to be there, what with their precious Pure-blood reputation.

Richard was only eight years old at the time, but he still understood his father's concepts about the wizards and witches that weren't a pure blood. He wanted to be just like him, in fact, as he was his only idol. He acted the same way, dressed the same way, and even sat the same way, and in this case, he sat outside his father's hospital room with his back straight and staring out at the crowd with a permenant cold glare. He was content, a serious attitude postured his facial features as he judged, thinking the same words his father would most likely think.  He had been undisturbed in his judgmental state for a good fifteen minutes until a soft and joyful voice appeared by his side, a lovely "Hello!" coming from absolutely no where.  Startled, the boy Richard jumped in his seat, his mimicked posture ruined as was his train of thought. He looked sharply to the left, where a girl, smaller than he was, sat in the identical chair right next to him.

She wore the biggest grin he had ever seen. The girl seemed to be radiating warmth and loving feelings, for the temperature risen in that cold hallway, consuming the hospital with a brighter atmosphere then before. The girl before him looked so...happy, so happy, that it overwhelmed the boy with concern for her well-being. It wasn't natural, for him it wasn't, anyway, for someone to be this happy. As he had been scanning her, his eyes fell upon a stuffed elephant in her thin arms. A toy? Was she from Mars? Richard had no toys, he had no sports or games to play, he had Dark Arts books and potion kits. The darkness he enjoyed so much was his childhood, not some small, blue, stuffed elephant.

"I'm Aubren! My friend calls me Aububble, get it? It's a mix of my name and a bubble!"

She was nice, too. Richard could only stare with a terrified expression at the girl Aubren, not being able to comprehend everything he was seeing. Before, he tried to be as witty as his old man was, but now? It was impossible to focus in his cold, dark, void when there was a girl in front of him radiating like sunlight. Aubren had been rambling on and on about the stupid elephant, did he even care? He was so lost at this point, he didn't know if he should.

"What's his name?" Richard stumbled out, the girl overwhelming him completely. It was like someone gave him a test he hadn't studied for. He had no idea what to do, all of his father's words and orders left him in those moments. The only thing he could think of was asking something simple, and of course, the only thing there was was the elephant.

She beamed at him again, making the boy shrug his shoulders up slightly. The girl took her elephant and pressed it against her, hugging it with no intention of letting go.

"Pistachio." She answered, hugging the elephant even tighter. Richard could only watch in complete awe and confusion, his eight year old mind having the capability to believe that she must have been a loon. You couldn't blame the boy, he had, and was never going to have, a normal childhood. His was darker, darker than the ink splotches from smudging pen, darker than the deepest ocean, darker than his own heart.  He wouldn't have been that way, if only he wasn't a Harper.

"He has big ears." Richard noted, pointing a small index finger at the animal. Indeed, the ears were quite large, bigger than the head of the actual elephant. It's ears were so large, in fact, the head tipped and swayed as the girl moved, making the elephant look as though it was a broken bobble head. The girl simply nodded at his statement, and once again, Richard felt awkward to be there. He didn't belong with her, he had a feeling of that. He could almost hear the echo of his father's voice, telling him to ask what family she comes from to see if she wasn't the garbage blood types he had been warned about.  The thoughts settled on him like a cold wave, but once again, as he tried to gather up the witty and sly comments his father would be proud of him for, the smile on the little girl's face made him freeze up again, shutting down his act once again.

"What's your name?" The girl asked him, looking up at him as she placed the elephant in her lap and began to play with the enormous ears. Richard gulped, his mind fuzzing once again. He knew he was supposed to say something to her, something mean, but he couldn't remember what. Her kindness was evil, he thought, it was blinding him. Yet still, the young boy folded in once again, rubbing his clammy hands against his navy jeans.

"Richard, every body calls me Richie." He said, his voice squeaky as he felt himself crashing down. It was horrifying, what trap did she get him into? What was happening? Why was he forgetting the words his father constantly reminded him of? He was squirming in the plastic chair, shifting his small weight as little Aubren looked at him again. Oh, how he wished she'd stop smiling.

"Wanna play?" She asked him, looking over at the corner of the waiting room. There, in a small basket by the TV stand, were dozens of toys. Picture books scattered, cars layed about, yo yo's...the list went on.

Despite his maturity, especially for his age, the eight year old couldn't help but widen his eyes. It was like Christmas, only this time, there were toys. No potion kits, no dark art books, no talks about the agreements on Voldemorts acts years and years ago...just joy.

"Yes, please. I'd very much like to." Richie said to Aubren, nodding his head furiously. She giggled and stood, the elephant's head bobbing as she did so. For a moment, Richie could have sworn there was a twinkle in the black beady eyes of the elephant, but he had payed not much attention to the fact. The bin called to him, and he desperately wanted to go over.

"Come on, then! We'll play the Princess and the Knight. You have to be the Princess."

Richie frowned as he stood, waddling after Aubren as the two made their way to the ABC lettered rug. He wore the funny look for quite a few moments as he thought about what she said. Play a game? Imaginary? It was out of his style, something he never did at home, and was not allowed to do...

But the wantings of a young boy never failed, and he sat down beside the girl on the letter B.

"Wait, why am I the Princess? I'm a boy!"

"I'm always the Princess in this game! I play with my cousins when they come over, I wanna be the Knight, Pleeeeeeassseee?"

Aubren blinked her doe eyes at the boy, making sure to stick her lip out in an upset pout. Richard glanced at her, refusing to let a simple look break his ground. He wouldn't let it, it was only a dumb game anyway, why was he even playing?

"Fine, I'll be the Princess." He said, sighing. Try as he might have, there was no way he could have held back from the pout she gave him.

"Yay! Okay, go over there- No, near the chair!"

Richard grumbled under his breath as he crawled on all fours to the ordered spot. She was bossy, but none the less, he sat in the corner where the two chairs had space between them. Feeling stupid, he called out in a shrill voice, imagining to be in a metal cage up high in a stone castle.

"Help! Help me! I've been inprisioned by a..a...Uh, I don't know- ELEPHANT!"

Richie faked a gasp, pointing towards the elephant named Pistachio. This made the girl giggle loudly as she placed the elephant on top of the near by table. Skipping a bit farther away, the girl cleared her throat and spoke in a deep voice, trying her hardest to impersonate a man.

"Don't worry, fair lady, I shall save you!"

"I'm not a lady!"

"Hush now, I am busy slaying the elephant!"

Richie sighed as he watched Aubren grasp her elephant toy and begin to violently shake it. By shake, I mean shake. The girl seemed to have a desire to actually strangle the thing, for she preformed the weirdest combination of shaking and trying to speak. The sight of it alone made Richie crack out into a fit of giggles, which only lead to even more giggles and hiccups as he watched Aubren get dizzy from the shaking. He enjoyed every moment. He wanted to do this forever. Richard didn't mind being the distressed on in the imaginary game, as long as he was playing, nothing really mattered. Nothing at all.

Then again, children are foolish.

Their game distracted them, silencing the outside world. Too busy were they fighting Pistachio; The Deadly Elephant. They were content, out of sight and out of mind. So involved with the play pretend, that they didn't notice the arguing from the hospital room, which had turned to shouts, before a tall honey blonde man walked out of the room with a twisted foot, untreated and unmanageable. He barked at his son, who was shocked, if not terrified, to see him. Quickly, Richie forced himself to say goodbye to the girl, who waved at him without a second thought. She smiled at the boy's father, with a polite, "Have a nice day!" The comment, sweet to hear from an eight year old, seemed to have only angered the father more. He glared a snake like glare at her as he grabbed his son by the shoulder, forcing him to come along.

Shortly after, a nurse exited the room the man came out of. She yelled something as the back of the twisted ankle patient went out the door.

"Horrible! You're horrible, Johnathan Harper! You "

The girl knew what her mother had said (if not still did). It confused her, if not frightened her. Why would her beautiful mother, the kindest person she knew to everyone and any thing, say such a thing? She looked up at the brunette with light curls, a perplexed expression on her small child face. The mother heaved huge gasps, her cheeks burnt red with mixed emotion.

"Mummy? Why did you-"

"Oh, my sweet!" The mother had scooped up the child into her arms, hugging her tightly in the same manner Aubren had done to Pistachio. The hug was tight, but it was loved. The girl could smell the hospital smells from her mother's uniform, things like medicine and alcohol wipes, but the familiar smell of her mother's lavender perfume still remained.

"Was he mean to you?"

"Who, mummy?"

"The boy. Did he call you names?"

"No, he was nice to me. We played with Pistachio."

The mother turned to look at the elephant on the table. It sat, alone and untouched, as it stared straight back with beady little eyes. The stuffed animal saw everything, even if it was not alive, it had perfect view of what happened in that hospital room.

Elephants don't forget.

The nurse carried her daughter over to the chair next to the table, sitting down with a great heave as the child's weight settled into her lap. She was too young to know, let alone remember, the incident that happened in Room 329. She was too young to understand what it meant for her mother to be a muggle-born, she was too young to understand what the term the father had used meant.

Mud-Blood

The muggle-born combed back her daughter's hair, giving pleasant tingles to the girls scalp.

"Promise me something, darling. When you go to school, you must never speak to the boy. Do not go near him, do not even think about him. I know you love to make new friends, but..."
She sighed and reached over for the stuffed animal, staring into the black eyes before holding it for Aubren to take, which he happily did.

"...He is from a cruel family, and he will no doubt grow up to be just the same. You will understand, when the time comes. Just say that you will."

This saddened that little girl. She enjoyed his company, a lot. He was fun, a little strange, but fun. Why was he going to grow up to be a meanie? She had thought, but clearly, she was going to have to wait for that answer.

"I promise, mummy." The girl said, disapointment filling her voice.


Oh, how it was so much different for that Richard boy.

His father  kept that rough grab on his shoulder, all the way until the parking lot, where he knelt down and stared his son in the eyes.

"What have I told you about talking to strangers?" He asked. He wasn't loud, but the fierce tone was still there, making Richard;s small shoulders cringe.

"Ungrateful, I taught you my ways and you throw them away like they are nothing? I thought you were better than this."

Richard didn't answer, not right away, anyway. He only stared at his father's dress shoes, his ankle still blooming dark purple shades. He knew his father was right, he should have remembered.

"Do me a favor, son. Now, I want you to listen, and listen good this time."

His father suddenly stood tall, peering down at his son with a serious cold stare, if not almost disgusted.

"The nurse that tried to help me was someone I knew back in my school days, a mud blood. The trashed magic users, the ones we talked about. I did what my father had told me to do before I began my years at Hogwarts, I mocked her for it. She humiliated me greatly in our seventh year, mind you, and we have not stopped hating each other since."

Richard blinked a few times up at his father as he told the story. His father paused for a few moments to check if he was still listening.

"That girl you played with is no doubt a Half-Blood. I'm ashamed that you didn't do what I would have done."

Richie looked down at the ground, flustered. A Half-Blood? He knew he was in trouble now. The only problem was, he actually liked the girl. She was nice, she played with him...did it even matter what blood type she was? No, it didn't, but that wasn't how things were in the Harper family.

That's not how things were at all.

"Dad? I'm sorry." Richard said, his voice small and shaky. His father only glared down at him.

"You should be."

The eight year old boy felt his eyes stung, but refused to cry. It wasn't something his father would approve of, plus, he was in enough trouble as it was.

"Do you hate the nurse because she didn't care about you making fun of her?" The boy asked.

"Yes."

"Why do you hate her still?"

That was when his father pulled him down the sidewalk, beginning to tell a story from when he was a teenager, back when the Harper family's true colors had been exposed, and how. The story contained the nurse, the mother, Anna Anson. He told his son how she found out about his family helping muggle-borns an half-bloods lose their jobs, he explained how she told the school, the headmaster, and how that was the end of Jonathan Harper's legacy.

The man was good at twisting his words. An expert at lies, a venom. He made himself the victim, only trying to do what was "right", and how well it did work? Too well. For the eight year old had quickly forgotten about the fun he had just had with that girl, no longer did she affect him with her kind ways.

There was only hate in his eyes for her, a burning hate. So much hate, that it was sickening to see from a young boy. It burned like the fires from within the Earth, the tales his father continued only got him more worked up. How could someone do that to his father? He had been humiliated, by a Mud-Blood, no less. Richard was listening the whole time, when an idea, a horrible idea, struck is youthful mind. The thought gave him some hope for redemption, to make his father proud.

"Don't worry, dad. I'll get revenge for you. I'll help you make our family better, I'll humiliate the girl for you, and I'll-"
The list went on. The boy desperately wanted his father's approval, more than anything, and if he had to bully a girl throughout school years? Then so be it.

Humans can be cruel.

They walked together, his father patting him on the back with approval. He told his son that it was something he would do, and oh, how big the grin was on Richie's face.

The cost to get affection was high, and that girl was the only thing that would help him get it.

He was a determined boy, that Richard Harper, and he was relentless.

Absolutely relentless.