Christine Daa had always been a dreamer. Head in the clouds, her imagination running wild, the only

time she'd break away from her own thoughts would be to sit on her mother's lap and to listen to

stories of grander times and fantastical adventures. Born towards the end of the Second Wizarding War,

one would expect children of Christine's generation to be more optimistic, more hopeful, but naivety

was not considered a positive trait in this new era, not after all the pain that had been caused by a

similar blindness to the dark lord's actions just that past century. People were angered by the small

Daa girl, prattling on about the romance and the intrigue of the war, completely unaware or uncaring

about the lives that were lost as a result of it.

They were angered by Christine but it was her parents that they were angry atletting the young

dreamer grow up without a realistic bone in her body was as good as neglect in the eyes of the

wizarding world. Christine's parents, who had only ever wanted to foster their daughter's innocence and

open heart for as long as they could, paid no care to this negative view of their parenting skills. Quite

rapidly, the Daa family fell from grace. Their invitations to big events became few and far between, and

even their own family became estranged and no longer wished to be associated with that particular

Daa trio. Not even when Christine's mother passed away when the little girl was just six.

Christine was changed by her mother's death, the reality that her mom was no longer around sobering

the young child to near depression. It was her fathers soothing voice that pulled her out of it, his lies

that renewed her faith in hope and happiness. Your mother will always be with you, he told her, and

when Christine asked why she couldnt talk to her mother then, the answer was just as simple: Her

father was there. There was no need to speak with the spirits when there was someone there for her.

And once he too was gone, An angel with appear to you when you need us. His words had been firm

and no-nonsense, a blatant display of simply saying the words she wanted to hear, and Christine

believed him with all of her heart. I want to hear about the angel, shed cry when she was six. Please,

tell me the story of the angel, shed beg when she was twelve.

After his wifes death, Christines father would do anything to please the only girl left in his life. They

traveled Europe together, visiting the states once or twice and spending months at a time in Asia if that

was what young Christine desired. Together they experienced new cultures, living from one day to the

next, and visiting music festivals where the two would occasionally enter as a father/daughter duo.

Christine was no longer 100% optimistic about life, but she was still free-spirited, imaginative, and a

maybe a touch shy. It were these characteristics that got Christine Daa placed in Hufflepuff her first

year at Hogwarts, and it really was in this house that Christine began to thrive.

Her first year at Hogwarts was the longest time Christine had ever stayed in one place since she was six.

With her father they were always trying new things and exploring at a very surface level, but with her

new friends, Meg Giry in particular, Christine felt like she was seeing things deeply for the first time.

Contrary to the glares she got from her peers parents, the other students themselves took quite a liking

to the thoughtful first year, and Christine to them. Her father had been the only person in her life for so

long and shed become quite the daddys girl, but as she continued at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and

Wizardry, Christine found that their relationship began to slip. No longer did they send letters back and

forth every day. Once or twice, Christine even imagined hearing the voice of the Angel though her father

was still very much aliveAnd then he wasnt.

The summer before Christines fourth year, she found her father, dead, on their front porch. It all

happened so quickly, pouring in: the guilt at leaving her father to visit a friends home, and the tears at

losing the one person Christine knew to have always been there for her. Most of all, Christine felt as

though shed been swept back to the past. All of those feelings that had emerged when her mother

died, those feelings that her father had hushed with white lies and untrue promises, came rushing back

to her, but this time she didnt have someone to lie to her. There was no angel or it would have come to

her already. There was just Christine Daa, lost in her own world.

And then there was the Angel, just as term was about to begin. She clung to the whispers in her ear. It

was the first time she felt safe since her fathers pulse had slowed to zero. Hearing voices in your head

is never a good thing, a friend told her once. But Christine didnt respond to her. Speak to me, Angel,

she whispered.