The Half-Blood Princess

The Girl Who Was Concealed

Mr. and Mrs. Torrance of Surrey were normal once, except for one little problem: they could not have children. They went to specialists in London, but it did them no good. If they wanted kids, they'd have to adopt.

They went to their local orphanage on New Year's Eve, 1981, and were immediately attracted towards a little girl with fair skin, thick black hair, and dark eyes. She was standing up in her playpen, gazing at them with a stare that was somehow unnerving. She was by far the quietest child there.

"Hello," said Mrs. Torrance, bending down before the girl.

"Hi." Her voice was soft, even for a toddler.

The woman who worked at the home smiled. "This is Harley. She's three, and quite new here. Her parents, God rest their souls, were killed in a home invasion two months ago."

"Poor baby. May I?" Mrs. Torrance gestured towards Harley. When the woman nodded Mrs. Torrance picked her up, and the little girl immediately put her arms around the woman and laid her head on her shoulder.

It was that moment when both of the Torrances knew they were taking her home, but they had no idea how having her would change their lives forever.

Harley was a quiet child, preferring drawing and picture books over playing outdoors with the other preschoolers. She played pretend with various stuffed dolls, having tea parties in the second bedroom that her parents had turned into a playroom. She was loved, not spoilt, and had the calmest disposition a child could have. Often, she helped her mother cook in the kitchen, having an innate love of cooking and baking.

It was one day when she was four and in her playroom alone that her parents knew there was something even more different about her than just her preschool hobbies.

It was Saturday, and Mr. Torrance was home from work. He and his wife were reading in the living room, listening in to be sure their daughter was all right.

"Would you like more tea, Mrs. Pugsley?" they heard her ask one of her dolls.

Neither of them expected a response, but they heard a distinct, elderly voice reply, "Why yes, Miss Harley, thank you."

Both adults glanced up from their respective reading materials.

"Um, hon...since when is Harley that good of a voice over actress?" Mr. Torrance asked, a strange feeling making the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

Before Mrs. Torrance could respond, they heard Harley ask, "And what about Mr. Pugsley? Or is he too full of cookies?"

"Nonsense! Of course I'll have more tea!" said an older male voice.

In unison, the adults leapt from their seats and dashed towards the playroom, their steps silent on the thick carpeting. They had insisted Harley's door remain completely open while she was in her playroom, and she always complied. (They were not prepared for the day she'd be a teenager and would not comply with that simple request.)

When they reached the threshold, they saw something that could not--should not--be possible: Harley holding court with her dolls animatedly drinking the "tea" (fruit juice) she was pouring them. Her teddy bear couple (whom she had christened Mr. and Mrs. Pugsley) were murmuring to each other, very obviously moving on their own.

Harley was unaware of her parents' presence, as she simply carried on as though talking dolls was completely normal for her. To give them more of a shock, Harley waved her small hand and the teapot filled with juice poured itself .

Mr. and Mrs. Torrance just stared, unable to believe their eyes. They backed away from the room, looking startled and shocked into silence. They did not speak till they were back in the sitting room.