It all started years ago, or, well, years from now, really. On Halloween in the year 1981, a terrorist fell, a war ended, a savior was celebrated, and a little girl lost her parents.
The terrorist, a man, if you could even call him that, by name of Voldemort, attacked the house of two of his enemies.
They were James and Lily Potter, but he didn't care about them. No, specifically, Voldemort attacked in order to kill their daughter, Hariel Lilia Potter.
James was the first to die. He had been killed in the hall, in between the front door and the stairway, a stubborn expression upon his pale, aristocratic face. He had died trying to make sure Voldemort didn't reach his wife and daughter.
Lily was the next to die. She had fallen in the nursery, arms thrown out, as if to protect her daughter from danger. She had fallen, pleading for the man to spare her daughter, to not hurt her little girl.
Voldemort had laughed and killed her.
Though, when he turned his wand on the little girl and incanted the killing curse- for he was a wizard, and could do magic, as could the Potter family- it, miraculously, didn't work.
Lily had woven protective magic around her daughter, to try and save the little girl from the psycho that went by the name of Voldemort. Protective magic sparked by the ending of her life, using her sacrifice to save her daughter.
Avada Kedavra. Two words, a green light, and one was greeting death (or having their soul judged by grim reapers, as the case really was). It had never failed to kill someone until then.
But, magic always has a price. This price was one that, brilliant she was, the twenty-one year old hadn't expected.
The protective magic, the lingering power of the killing curse, and the shard of Voldemort's soul that had escaped all had a unique effect in which Hariel was sent back in time.
The protective magic tried to move her from the area to protect her from the soul shard, the shard and the killing curse's power combined to find a soul compatible with Hariel's, and those things combined to throw the fifteen month old girl 104 years back in time, to Halloween, 1877.
Little Hariel ended up in the sitting room of a large manor, where a woman and a man (an Earl and his wife) were playing with their son, who would turn two, in a little over a month's time.
The parents, while shocked, weren't overly so. For the father was one Vincent Phantomhive, and as the Queen's Guard Dog, all things weird and unnatural were essentially his job.
Going over to quickly pick up the crying girl, he turned to his wife and sat back down next to her and his son.
His son, Ciel, looked at the girl curiously. Vincent's wife, Rachel, took the little girl from his arms and gently calmed her down. When she was calm, Rachel set the little girl down.
Ciel grinned a toothy little smile at her. "Hi!" He gave a small wave.
The little girl smiled shyly at him, opening and closing her hand in a baby wave. "Hiii." She drew out the 'i' in it.
"Excuse me, miss," Vincent began, feeling rather foolish for referring to a child who couldn't be any older than his own son that way, "can you tell us your name?"
The little girl had looked over at miss, though, as if she knew he was talking to her. Looking at her now, Vincent could tell she was intelligent. Good, that would help to figure out who she was and how she had gotten here. "I'm Hawiel." She said, with just a small lisp.
So her parents had taught her how to speak, interesting.
"Well, Hariel, can you tell us where your parents are?" He asked. Rachel and Ciel watched their interaction.
Tears welled up in Hariel's eyes again, but she didn't cry. "Dere was a bad man, he said stuff, and Daddy fell." She rubbed at her eyes, hard, and continued. "He told Mama to move, but she say no. He did same thing to her. He twied to do same to me, but it no wowk. I got scawed, and poof, hewe I am." Apparently, she was actually rather well educated and had some amazing diction for a child her age.
Exchanging a glance with Rachel, they both agreed that it sounded as if someone killed her parents. "Well, then, can you tell us your last name?" This time Rachel asked the question.
Hariel shook her head. "No. It stawts wid a P." She added the second sentence after a second's thought, as if she just remembered that.
Vincent went to his desk in the room, and pulled out a very small syringe, and sat next to her again, holding out his empty hand. "Well, Hariel, can I take a little bit of your blood then? I'm going to take it to a place so we can find out who you are, and try to find someone to take care of you."
Hariel looked as if she was thinking it over, before she put her hand in his. Using the syringe, Vincent carefully got a little bit of blood in it.
"I'll be right back then, love," he said to Rachel, before leaving the room. "Tanaka!" He called to their butler. "Prepare a room for a child around Ciel's age next to his room, we will have a guest for the night, and possibly longer."
Hearing an affirmative, Vincent put his coat on, put the syringe in a pocket, and went outside. He signalled to his coach driver that he would be taking a trip, and told him to take Vincent to his friend Aden's house.
Once at Aden's, Vincent swept inside without bothering to knock. "Aden, I need your help." He called into the seemingly empty house.
There was a thump, some muffled curses, and then some footsteps, and a man in nightclothes came to the door. Obviously Vincent had woken the Gringotts employee from an early sleep.
"Vince? What is so bloody important that you had to wake me up?" He asked, though there was no anger or annoyance, just fond resignation.
Vincent explained what had happened, and handed over the syringe. "Test the blood. Tell me all you can figure out about the child. I need to know whether or not she has a family to take her in."