The Strange Black
Chapter 1
Wools Orphanage
Wools Orphanage seemed to be falling apart when Minerva McGonagall arrived. The Orpahange was located in a fairly ancient building located in Barking and Dagenham, which, Minerva McGonagall had learned, was about to be demolished. It walls were gray and cracked, and the air around it smelled strongly of dirt and mud, although the place seemed to be fairly kept.
Minerva adjusted her muggle coat before knocking on the battered wooden doors, silently cursing the itchy attire that Hogwarts had provided her. She didn't understand why muggles, particularly female muggles, insisted on wearing so many layers of clothes when they could simply wear a robe and a cloak. Of course, nowadays even the uniforms of Hogwarts resembled muggle attire, so the battle was lost for old wizards like herself who insisted on keeping certain sense of wizarding etiquette and tradition. She straightened up when she heard rapid footsteps approaching the door.
"Ah, you must be Miss Cole." Minerva McGonagall greeted the middle aged muggle who opened the door, offering her a polite handshake "Professor McGonagall".
"Yes. Yes. Good Morning Professor, I am so glad you could make it. Miss Black is already waiting for you." Miss Cole said, as she let McGonagall through the door and up a dusty staircase to the third floor of the building.
"I was wondering, Miss Cole, if you could be so kind to tell me about Miss Black?" McGonagall asked, trying not to seem very wary as she recalled her last conversation about the girl with none other than her friend and mentor, Albus Dumbledore.
"Well…" Miss Cole seemed uncomfortable. "Will any of this affect the scholarship you told me about on your letter?"
"Nothing you may say will affect the scholarship we are offering her, I assure you."
"Well then, she is a little bit strange." Miss Cole finally admitted. "She is very well mannered and spoken, and she is very, very smart. I think she is the smartest girl we have ever had here at Wools. But she doesn't get on well with the other children and is very quiet. She never plays and doesn't do any of the things that most normal children do. Still, it must be hard on her, she is one of the oldest kids we have."
"So she is shy?" Minerva inquired.
"She is very uninterested on children that are her own age." Miss Cole explained. "And lately, she is being challenging adults a lot. She is has gotten into many fights."
"Fights?" Minerva frowned.
"Yes, I am afraid. She needs a strong hand."
Minerva didn't answer. Her mind flew back to another orphan that Hogwarts had picked up from Wools almost sixty years ago and her heart clutched with worry and –even if she would not admit it—a pang of fear. She wondered what Albus had felt all those years, knowing that he had been the one to introduce Mr. Tom Riddle –Lord Voldermort—to their world. She wondered then, in front of a wooden door that could have perfectly belong to young Tom all those years ago, if she too would have to watch a monster growing inside of another student.
"This is her room." Miss Cole said. "I'll come back for you in half an hour. The door needs to be open at all times, I am afraid."
"I understand". Minerva gripped her wand inside her coat as Miss Cole knocked on the old black wooden door.
"Miss Black. This is Professor McGonagall, she is from the school I told you about" said Miss Cole, opening the door for Minerva. "I will come for you in half an hour, Professor McGonagall."
Minerva stepped into the room cautiously and her eyes immediately found the girl she had come to see, sitting on her bed, watching her with expectation. The girl was a bit small for her age, but undoubtedly beautiful. She had a mane of long curly hair of a light brown shade, and her skin was so pale that Minerva thought that the girl looked like a doll. Her lips were full, of a dark pink colour which stood from the rest of her features. Perhaps, the most striking feature of the girl were her eyes, round and big, of a very pale blue colour. Those eyes, Minerva noted, were full of fear and anticipation.
"Hello, Miss Black" said Minerva, offering her a small smile that the girl didn't return. "May I have a seat?"
Morgan sat right up, still looking somewhat questioningly at the professor, and obviously still wary of her. "Yes, please, er, Professor. Just sit wherever you want."
"Thank you" Minerva answered, slowly relaxing around the girl, who seemed to be as harmless as any young wizard could be. She decided to sit across from Morgan on the bed. The transfiguration professor looked around the room, which was full of books and notebooks, all of them perfectly classified and in order. She noted that the girl didn't seem to own any toys or posters.
"You like to read, I see."
"It's okay. There is nothing much to do here anyway." Morgan shrugged.
"Do you know why I am here?"
"Miss Cole just said that you were a professor at a boarding school in Scotland and that you wanted to see me." Morgan truthfully answered, staring right into the woman's emerald green eyes. "I have done it this time, haven't I?" she finally asked.
Minerva was startled. "What do you mean you have done it?"
Morgan suddenly seemed to be utterly sad. She looked away from the professor before answering. "Well, everyone says I am a freak. No one likes me."
"And what do you think?"
"I think I am different" Morgan answered truthfully. "But I am not crazy. I am not bad either, but I don't like the girls here, and the boys don't want to play with me anymore because I am faster than them."
"I see. Why don't you like the girls?"
"They are very stupid. They don't like learning new things, and they only play dumb games and talk about boys. They are lame." Morgan answered, hoping not to put off the woman, while hiding the real reason why her fellow classmates didn't like her.
Minerva couldn't help but laugh at that. "Indeed, they sound lame. You have very good grades. Are you usually bored in class?"
"Teachers here don't know many things." Morgan shrugged again. "Am I in trouble, Professor?"
"No, lass. You are not. As you said, you are different, but being different sometimes is very good. What do you think makes you different, Miss Black?"
Morgan didn't know how to answer. She looked out of the window, into the clouded heavy sky, and then ran her eyes through her bookshelves. When she was really young, she had tried to tell adults around her of the strange things that she could do, but neither had paid attention at first. They had told her that she was just trying to get their attention, and when the other children at Wools had become afraid of her, she had just started to try to stop the "incidents" altogether. Of course, it had not worked as well as Morgan had expected. As years went by, the incidents grew stronger and more difficult to hide, so she had turned to her books in the hopes that she was not discovered –or worse- hurt a fellow student and, surprisingly, she had realized that she loved them. Morgan Black still didn't know what to make of her magic.
"Miss Black, Morgan… It is really okay to tell me. I believe that you can do things, things that no one else can do, perhaps?"
"Maybe." Morgan half admitted, looking at McGonagall again. She could indeed do things but she didn't believe it was safe to tell the professor just yet. She could not tell her that one time, when she was three, she had made Miss Cole's ruler disappear just as she was about to hit her. She couldn't tell that she had shattered countless glasses and plates when she was angry, or that somehow, she seemed to be able to materialize every book she needed from the library without having to go there. She couldn't tell her about the one time were she pushed Jimmy Moore away from her when he wanted to hit her, and he had suddenly ended up flying across the room and hurting himself badly. She, like everyone, would tell her how utterly insane, how utterly a freak, how utterly a liar, she was. However, like every other time that she had been let down by the adults around her, something in Morgan burned in hope because maybe, maybe she would be able to find an adult to confide in after all.
"Do these things happen when you are frightened? Or perhaps, when you are really, really angry?" Minerva tried. She was never really sure on how to approach young children about their magic. "I know it is very hard to believe, but that is normal in people like you and me."
"You can do things too?" Morgan asked with a hint of hope in her young voice.
"Yes. Would you like me to show you?"
Morgan nodded enthusiastically, hope and longing rising in her now like an inferno. Minerva drew her wand from her coat, earning a muffled scream from the girl, that sounded much like an "I knew it." Her pale blue eyes twinkled and she could not hide her long repressed curiosity. "This is a wand," Minerva explained, and then pointed it towards the door and silently whispered "muffilato. I don't think it would be wise for them to hear us."
Morgan kept her silence as the professor stood up. "What type of dog do you like best?"
"Labradors" Morgan instantly answered.
Minerva directed her wand towards a writing table that was placed just below the window, across from the bed, and flicked it elegantly. Morgan had to muffle her scream with her own hands as she watched the beat up table slowly morph into a bouncy, barking, black Labrador. She jumped from the bed and went for the dog, just to check that she wasn't dreaming. The dog jumped onto her and barked, wagging its strong tail. Minerva McGonagall smiled with contempt.
"This is magic." Morgan sentenced, slightly short of breath from the extreme emotions she was feeling, and still searching for a table that she knew no longer existed.
"It is magic, indeed." Minerva said, flicking her wand again to turn the dog back into the table that it originally was. "You are a wizard, Morgan. A witch, to be more precise."
Morgan was stunned into silence. She sat down on the bed, suddenly feeling very conflicted. It all made sense now, but she just couldn't bring herself to believe it. She had always feared that she was somehow different, and now it turned out that she had been right all along. It made her feel extremely uneasy because a part of her – a very small, yet powerful part of her, told her that she was indeed different, especial, and better than the people around her—and still, it was somehow maddening her too because despise everything, another part of her, bigger and more conscious, had always told her that she was undesirably, unlovingly, undeservingly freaky. Minerva McGonagall was confirming one of the two hypothesis, she just didn't know which. She took a deep breath and wrapped her thin arms around her head in the hope that she could bring herself to breathe and calm down. She shook her head and closed her eyes tightly. Maybe it was all a joke –but she had seen the Labrador, it couldn't be, could it?
"I am a witch" she whispered, still white from disbelief, as long repressed thoughts wrestled in her brain.
Minerva McGonagall kneeled before the girl and placed a strong, bony had on her shoulder.
"You are a witch, Miss Black" she repeated. "The things that you can do are magic. Accidental magic. At Hogwarts you will learn to control your magic, and to use it wisely."
"Hogwarts is a school of magic? Are there more children like me?" she asked, raising her head to look at the Professor.
"It is, and there are many children like yourself."
"My parents were wizards then?" Morgan asked. It was the question that was burning her insides. If she was indeed magical, she must have inherited that magic from someone. Her parents. That should mean that somewhere –someplace- she was normal and the people around her were not. Maybe, she thought, in that world, people like Jimmy Moore didn't, couldn't, hurt people like her, or maybe, people like her could defend themselves from people like Jimmy Moore without feeling extremely guilty or ashamed. Her parents must have belonged to that world and, thus, she would belong there too.
Minerva paused at this. She had known that Morgan would ask that question, but she was currently unable to answer it. Nor she thought it was wise to attempt to. Black. That last name was famous among wizards, but surely it could not be, because neither Sirius Black –who was currently imprisoned in Azkaban—nor Regulus Black –who was long dead at Voldemort's very own hands—had had any children, to her knowledge. It could all be a coincidence, however unfortunate. However, Minerva McGonagall had taught many children in her career, and she had certainly taught all the Black children. She remembered all of them fondly, regardless of the monsters some of them had become. She had taught a young, explosive and undisciplined, yet highly intelligent Bellatrix Black. She had taught the sweet, rebellious, troubled but innocent Andromeda Black. She had taught the shy, quiet, sensible girl that Narcissa Black had once been. She had taught –endured—Sirius Black, who, along with James Potter, had given her more gray her than all other students in her career (possibly except from the Weasley twins). Finally, she had taught the ever witty, polite, funny teenager that Regulus Black had been before he had become a Death Eater. They all resembled each other in looks and in the way the carried themselves around. Except from Narcissa, who resembled the Rosiers, they all had the same hair, the unruly mane that she was seeing in Morgan. They all had the same full lips and flawless pale skin. They all bore the same regal expression. There was no doubt in Minerva's mind that Morgan Black as, indeed, a Black. Albeit, perhaps, a different Black.
"I am sorry to say that I am unsure, Miss Black."
Morgan tried her best to mask her disappointment.
"I don't think I can go to Hogwarts. There is no way I will be able to afford it."
Minerva's expression softened. "Children should not worry about that sort of thing, Miss Black. Hogwarts has a trust fund for students without means, and there is always scholarships available for bright young wizards who wish to continue their education. Are you willing to attend Hogwarts?"
"More than anything" Morgan sincerely acknowledge.
Minerva offered her a sincere simile and stood up, only to sit back on the bed next to Morgan. She put her hand into her coat to retrieve a heavy looking envelope made of parchment, and handled it to Morgan. "This is your Hogwarts acceptance letter."
Morgan grabbed it with both hands and turned it to examine the wax seal. It seemed ancient, almost like as if it had been brought through time straight from the Middle Ages. The turned it back to see that it was addressed to her. She read the words with reverence.
Morgana Walburga Black
Wools Orphanage
Third floor – Room 5
Barking and Dagenham
London, UK
"It contains your train ticket to Hogwarts, and a list of things you will need to purchase to start your students at Hogwarts. They can be found in Diagon Alley. It is an only wizard location that can be accessed from a pub near King's Cross. I usually accompany muggleborns and their family on their first trip. I will be going with a family next week, do you wish to come or would you prefer to go by ourselves. I could also give you the directions and you could go on your own –although I don't advise it".
"Muggleborns?"
"Magical children with non-magical parents."
Morgan wasn't sure how that was possible but she let it go. As much as she desired to explore that Diagon Alley independently, she was afraid of not being able to find the place, and, even if she would not admit it publicly, she really wanted to be around more people of her kind. If they were a kind.
"I'd like to accompany you, if I am not imposing"
"Not at all. I will be picking you up next Monday at 8:30 in the morning. Please, bring the list with you."