An Angel For Mia

Disclaimer: Firstly, the idea for this story was taken from a book called An Angel for May, written by Melvin Burgess, as well as the movie based off of it, directed by Harley Cokeliss. I've only seen the movie, but I feel obligated to give both the movie and the book the credit they deserve. Secondly, this story is going to, after all, contain the Harry Potter characters, of which, one you will see in this chapter briefly, although it will be a bit unclear. So, on that note, I don't own Harry Potter, and I'm in no way making any money off of this story. It's just pure fun. The brilliant and delightful J.K. Rowling has thought up all of the Harry Potter characters that are written in throughout this story, and therefore, they are hers.

Author's Note: This story is a bit A.U. but not much at all. The only real difference that was made to the Harry Potter world is that Hermione hadn't gone to Hogwarts, and Harry had never seen her or met her prior to the events of this story. Ron is still Harry's best mate, just like he's always been.

An Angel For Mia

Chapter 1: Prologue

She wandered through the ruins, in the precise area where the dreadful bombs had hit, seven days prior. The reason she was there almost seemed silly, but a continuous unexplainable jolting within her, which she simply refused to ignore, had led her here, to this exact spot, where she was now standing, her feet glued to the soil, refusing to carry her any further. She began turning left and right in quick succession as paranoia consumed her. It was that feeling that told her she was not alone. That same feeling that caused chills to radiate throughout her body, as the hairs on the back of her neck stood erect. She didn't know what it was that was making her feel this way, or why she was trembling, but she knew she had to find whatever it was, and quickly.

Her name. It was Alison Wheeler. And the year. It was 1940, and the terror of World War II had only recently set in, but already seemed as though it had gone on for much too long. Alison Wheeler was the only daughter of Sam Wheeler, a man who owned a large farm and was well known in the town in which they resided. He was not rich, not rich at all, quite the contrary, but they were able to make a living. They had shelter, and food, and that was all that mattered at a time like this. Nothing was to be taken for granted.

Sam Wheeler seemed lonely these days, which can be easily explained by his wife's early death. Alison could hardly even recall knowing her mother. And the reason to which she had died was unknown to her. Her father had never told her of the illnesses her mother faced in her youth. She presumed he had kept it from her to protect her. To save her the terrible worry and pain it would have caused, knowing the horrible ways in which her mother had died. She simply knew she had been dreadfully ill for months prior to her death, and nothing more was to be said about it. Her father hated to speak of it, for the terrible memories often invaded his dreams.

When Alison was only a child, she had already been aware of the terrible depression that her father faced regarding her mother's death, and dreadful sensations passed over her as she remembered how hopeless she had felt all along. Then a sudden pang of guilt hit her directly in the center of the chest, and she felt as though her heart was tearing apart within her. She felt so helpless. She knew her father must feel so alone, and she would have never left him, if it weren't for her obligation to join the army. She hadn't wanted to, and she had spent many lengthy nights crying herself to sleep prior leaving her father's house. She was dreadfully frightened, and that's how it had always been. No one felt safe during a horrific war such as this, and a dreaded feeling of tension stood over the small town in which they lived, refusing to let them be, causing them all to think of the worst.

She worried constantly of her father, and found herself often wondering whether his sorrow would soon become too overwhelming for him. Yes, he had already lived with it for so many years. But now was different. Then, he had had Alison, and although she had only been a child, she had been there for him, and she was a brilliant distraction. Alison reminded Sam greatly of his dearly beloved wife, whenever he looked into her darling little face. The days he and Elizabeth had spent together in their childhood, laughing and playing, without a care in the world, and despite that it only made him more aware of what he had lost, it brought back happy memories that kept him in the fight.

Alison knew that her father would be safe for the time being, which lifted a slight weight off of her shoulders, as she thought of how truly, he wasn't alone. He did have Susan, and having her there, meant he wasn't physically alone, even if he felt it.

Susan Higgins was a wonderful woman of her father's age. She had initially come to the farm when Sam Wheeler had been desperately searching for someone who could help to prepare the food, to clean the clothes, perform all the household tasks that he himself, had terrible trouble doing. At the time, Susan Higgins had been looking for work in this precise field, and had come to the farm attempting to find just that. When Sam Wheeler had seen her, something within him clicked, and he had even offered her a place to stay, along with the salary that she would be receiving. After many months of getting to know Sam, and Alison, as well, she had approached Sam one afternoon, and returned to him the money that he had given her as payment, saying that he needed it far more than she did, and that she would continue her services the way she had all along. Initially, Sam refused to accept the preposterous offer, but Susan put up a great fight, refusing to keep the money, and finally, Sam was forced to agree. Susan hadn't needed the money at all, and it was of no assistance to her when she had had it. The soul reason she initially wanted the job was in order to support herself and make a living, but now that Sam had given her all that she needed, she no longer wished for him to pay her for her services as she had taken pity on him, along with the realization that currently, he truly did need the money far more than she, herself, needed it.

Of coarse, she was no replacement to his late wife, Elizabeth, but he found himself falling in love with Susan. Alison knew her father would never be capable of loving another women as much as he had loved her mother, but he found peace with Susan, and that was reassuring to him in ways. Although, Alison worried it would never be enough.

Alison sighed. She had been frozen in that same dreaded spot, that same horrifying feeling of insecurity and paranoia shooting throughout her body, never resting. Currently, Alison stood on the dirt road, which was clear of ruins, although the same thick dust filled the air, nevertheless. Wherever she looked she could see scattered wooden planks, broken down cottages, as well as all those who had perished during their collapse. Their cold eyes staring back at her as she observed her surroundings. She began to tremble once again. She was alone, and yet she was not. She felt alone, yet there were multiple corpses in her presence, gaping at her, rotting away in the heat of the sun, most looking as though they had suffered terribly during their time of death. The smell was dreadful, yet there was nothing to be done about it. She was here to look for survivors, though she knew it was irrational to believe that someone could have survived this long within the ruins. But nevertheless, she was here, and she was going to do the job.

Alison swung herself around quickly, gasping, as she heard a low moan of utter distress sound from within the boards of the broken down cottage directly behind her. Disbelieving her ears, Alison began a slow and cautious walk toward the cottage. Everything about where she was made her tremble violently in fear and anticipation, all of the hairs of her body, now standing on end, as she became covered in a cold sweat.

“Dear Lord,” she whispered in silent prayer, hoping desperately that her mind wasn't playing cruel tricks on her as she neared the ruins from which she had heard the choked plea. It had sounded like a child. How in heaven's name could a child have survived these conditions?

Alison shivered suddenly. She wasn't made for this. This wasn't meant to happen to her, but the moment she had turned eighteen, she had been forced to leave for the army, and there was no choice to be made on her part. She dreaded every moment of this. She had always feared death. That precise fear being magnified greatly when her mother had passed. Just the thought of being in a place with so much death caused tears of fear and helplessness to sting at her eyes.

And there it was again, that horrifying plea for help. It was a child. A choked sob wrenched itself from deep within Alison's throat, and she sped her pace, but only slightly.

“I-Is someone there?” Alison choked quietly, shivering again, as the tears began to leak from her eyes. She couldn't stand being in that wretched place any longer, though she knew leaving now wasn't an option on the list.

There was no answer to her question, so Alison tried again, this time louder, her voice sounding terribly desperate of its own accord.

“I-Is someone there? Please - If you're there, make a sound - any sound. J-Just let me know you're there,” Alison continued to speak, each word coming out slowly, her voice shaking, as she continued to tremble, her heart beating so violently she felt as though it would burst forth from her chest at any moment.

“Help me,” the quiet strangled pleas of a young girl broke forth, reaching Alison's ears, as she hastily moved closer to the spot from which the sound that been emitted. Alison was beginning to panic. She swallowed the lump in her throat determinedly, realizing that she had to be strong, as she choked back yet another sob that threatened to break forth.

“I'm here to help you,” Alison's voice came out quicker and exceedingly more panicked that she had wished for it to. She cleared her throat and continued to speak, suddenly feeling empowered, no doubt an after effect of the desire to help this child and be strong for her in this time of need.

“Please, make another noise, knock on something if you can, tell me in some way where you are!” Alison exclaimed, no longer sobbing, she herself surprised at the sudden strength that filled her, although silent tears continued to make their trails down her cheeks.

There was a slight knocking on the boards, and Alison quickly rushed over to where the sound had been coming from.

“Do that again,” Alison pleaded, knowing she was drawing closer to her goal.

She heard the knock again, and now knew exactly where she should have been looking all along. She neared her destination, moving the destroyed wooden planks aside, to reveal the face of a young girl, soiled with dust from the debris. The child looked no older than twelve years old, her normally soft, smooth skin, covered in rugged scrapes and wounds, that would no doubt scar if not cleaned and bandaged quickly.

Alison hastily removed the remainder of the planks from atop the child's body, setting her free from the dreadful trap that had almost become her grave. The child looked terribly skinny, and utterly helpless, as well as on the verse of losing consciousness. An effect of her malnutrition and dehydration. She was shaking violently, a train of dried tears on her cheeks, the only part of her that wasn't covered in the thick dust, which had risen from the ground as the cottage fell.

Alison lifted the terrified child into her arms, caressing her cheeks, and speaking comforting to words to her, as fresh tears silently made a slow, agonizing path down the young girl's once porcelain cheeks, stinging at the cuts and wounds that now covered her face. The child clung to Alison's uniform desperately with the little bit of strength that she had left within her, as Alison felt her heart give an unpleasant jolt, realization hitting her square in the chest. The child must have lost her parents to the bombs, leaving her orphaned. Alison was desperate to calm the girl, even slightly, as she held her in her warm arms, embracing her comfortingly, continuing to speak soft gentle words of reassurance into the child's ears.

“What's your name, darling?” Alison asked gently, her voice no louder than a whisper.

“M-Mia,” the child answered, her voice shaking as yet more tears pored down her cheeks.

“Hello Mia, my name is Alison. I'm going to help you, all right? I've got you now, and everything is going to be okay. I'll take care of you,” Alison spoke in soft and reassuring tones.

Alison watched as Mia nodded slightly, almost in approval, and Alison couldn't help the tears, that continued to make their way down her own cheeks.

“Let's get you out of here, darling,” Alison whispered, cradling Mia in her arms.

“B-But, my mum and dad…” Mia emitted a soft sob, her voice dangerously week, as she trailed off, leaving her sentence unfinished.

“I'll send someone for them,” Alison assured her, not saying more, as though she did not trust her own voice to continue, though she meant the words she spoke. And at that very moment, Alison swore to herself that she would not rest until she was sure that the child's parents' bodies were recovered and resting peacefully within their graves.

Alison bit back a sob, as she watched Mia nod softly once again.

“Let's go darling, I will send someone for your mum and dad,” Alison repeated, this time with a bit more confidence weaving through her words, as she began to walk back the way she came, hoping that she could get Mia the medical attention she so desperately required, though Alison was certain Mia would make it. She was much stronger than many of the people she knew.

“My mum and dad, are they-gone?” Mia choked out, burying her face into Alison's bosom.

“I'm sorry, darling,” she whispered, aware that Mia knew the answer but refused to believe it until she was told.

Mia nodded slowly once again, this time in acceptance, knowing there was nothing to be done, as Alison continued to walk off, cradling Mia's frail frame in her comforting arms.

-->