Five more minutes…

It's only 5:21, I'll move at 5:25…

One for Sarah…one for Chelsea…cream and sugar – easy does it…

Breathe deeply…you can do this…you will pull yourself out of bed and you will make sure those children eat breakfast and – oh…oh, Henry how do I look after all of these kids by myself? Where do I find the strength to get out of bed when I know I'll never see you again?

As the sun began to rise and turn the sky beautiful hues of red and purple, the minds of Number Nine, Aster Lane began to wake and form. All around her, Delphini could feel the nebulous clouds of quiet dreams sharpening slowly into consciousness – pressing in on her mind as she buried her head in her pillow. It was no use though, no matter how hard she pressed the pillow over her ears or how loudly she turned up the volume of her small cassette player – it was never enough to block out the thoughts completely.

They were always there, sometimes whispered voices of thoughts and other times the hazy pictures of memories, but always there – always warring for her attention and distracting her from whatever it was she was trying to do. Once she had forgotten she was cleaning dishes and had washed the same plate for nearly an hour while she had been distracted by a girl's racy memories of her boyfriend. Even harder than focusing on simple tasks like chores, was reading.

Now that the cover of darkness had been dispelled and the noisy thoughts of her new foster family were beginning to wake and take shape, she had no choice but to close her book and lay back on her pillow with heavy lids. Around her, her newest home began to stir with life as little Penny prepared coffee for Sarah and Chelsea while she fed the two young early risers.

Mrs. Taylor was still struggling with herself to get out of bed. All her will to live had apparently died with her former husband who had passed away a couple of days before Delphi had shown up with her case worker in the middle of the night, mid thunderstorm. They had been soaked to the bone and even though Mrs. Taylor had been glassy eyed and completely distraught she had offered them tea and towels.

One more day… Mrs. Taylor decided as Delphi slipped out of bed and grabbed a towel. She sighed as she stepped into the bathroom to shower. So today would also be another day without supervision and that was grand – she could use the fancy computer she saw in the study to scour the internet for anything related to mind reading – but it was also sad. Mrs. Taylor's thoughts were not ones that she – or anyone else, she'd wager – wanted to hear.

I could join you Henry… Mrs. Taylor had lamented often over the last week that Delphi had been there. She wished often and had more than once taken an old razor of her husbands to her wrists. Delphi had sat awake late at night twice since she'd arrived, listening to Mrs. Taylor's cries of sorrow and wondering if this was to be her briefest home yet. But, in the end, it was always the thought of the foster kids finding her that stopped her from pressing the razor in too deep or from only taking a single Valium at a time.

Mrs. Taylor was worried she'd turn them all into serial killers by traumatizing already at-risk youth with the scene of a grisly suicide. She wanted to go quietly, to fade into the wind like smoke – never dissected or observed and scrutinized in death. Mrs. Taylor's greatest fear was people recognizing her utter lack of remarkability in anyway.

She was not intelligent because she was lazy, she was not rich, nor particularly beautiful anymore. All in all, when Mrs. Taylor looked into a mirror all she saw was her utter lack of accomplishment or beauty and she felt so old. She had wasted her life – her youth away and now her husband was dead and she had nothing to fall back on.

Her life was destroyed, Delphi had realized one night as she lay listening to the tormented thoughts of Mrs. Taylor, but only because Mrs. Taylor had made her entire life around her husband. She had few friends and no true hobbies or passions to fill her mind while her emotional wounds started to scab over. She was wallowing and wallowing never helped anything.

"Good morning, Delphini," Penny piped cheerfully with a front tooth missing in her bright smile. "Help yourself to cereal, I've gotta get Ben into the bath."

"Morning," Delphini greeted as she made a beeline for the juice in the fridge. Ben hopped out of his chair as she poured a glass and went to take Penny's hand so that they could climb the stairs together. "Looks like it's just you and me then," she turned to the other young boy who was eating a bowl of brightly colored, sugary cereals.

He didn't answer. He didn't even look at her as he took bite after bite, mechanically swallowing as he stared into the milk. His thoughts were dark and stormy – a choppy sea of bittersweet memories, he missed his parents and he wanted to go home. Delphi shook her head bitterly and huffed into her juice before dumping it in the sink.

She didn't know if the ones like this little boy were the lucky ones or the cursed ones. The ones who remembered what having a family was like. Delphi had never known any family herself, it had always just been her and the endless stream of foster homes. Maybe it was her who was the lucky one, she had no great loss to suffer – she had never known and would likely never know anything about her parents. She could long for her parents secretly all she wanted but she did not mourn them. Their absence was not a sudden jarring loss but rather an inevitable fact of life that had always been.

But did that also mean she wished to be cursed? She wished desperately for just a single memory…the boy before her could recall the sweet smell of his mother's perfume as she sang to him and he still remembered his father's strong hand tousling his hair affectionately.

She had dreams and he had memories, but those memories came at a cost. They weighed him down in despair and while Delphi had her mind set on becoming rich and successful this little boy wanted nothing to do with the world. Mrs. Taylor wanted nothing to do with the world.

Delphi didn't have time for the kind of grief that weighed down your soul. The next ten years of her life were crucial. In every adult mind that she had ever encountered Delphi had found the undercurrent of regret that tinged everyone she had met. Her teachers regretted settling into jobs they hated, Mrs. Taylor resented building her entire life around her husband – though she would never admit it aloud, it was always the same. Cokesworth was full of middle-class underachievers who resented their dull, boring lives.

Not her.

Delphi promised herself she would be different. She wanted to be an expert in something, somebody important and well-known – famous for contributions to human history and rich enough to live wherever she wanted. She wanted to be great at something – currently it was math and the dream of becoming a famous physicist but last week it had been a diplomat and the week before – a surgeon.

It didn't matter what she did as long as she was astounding at it – as long as people stopped whenever they heard her name like they did for Einstein, Churchill, or Shakespeare – names forever immortalized in history. She would work hard, travel the world – build herself a fortune and she would cling to the vigor of life with all her strength.

But the memory of that sweet-smelling perfume lingered heavily on her mind. Even as the older girls dragged their feet on the worn linoleum rubbing sleep out of their eyes and reaching for the coffee pot for a jolt of caffeine to chase away their dreams, Delphi was lost in the warmth of a mother's love radiating inside the boy who mechanically chewed his food. She was conflicted, unsure whether she was the blessed or the cursed child.

"Do you think she'll come down today?" One of the girls with mussed auburn hair asked as she blew into the steaming cup.

"Who knows," the other girl shrugged her delicate shoulders with an air of haughty annoyance, as if the grief seeping through the walls was merely a hinderance to her life. "Poor bitch can't even get up to brush her teeth. I can't believe we're made to stay here with that nonsense."

Her nebulous outrage churning silently alarmed Delphi more than her words. The girl truly lacked any empathy for the grieving soul upstairs, too distraught to even contemplate leaving the comfort of the pillow that still smelled like her husband's cologne. Would she be so callous if she could see and feel the aching void in Ms. Taylor's chest as Delphi did?

How easy it would be to be so callous when other's most personal anguishes were silent. Was it fair to dislike them when she was the abnormal one – the singularity amongst the normal. Sometimes it was so easy to forget that it was their self-absorbed callousness that was normal.

The smashing of the ceramic bowl and the startled screams of the older girls broke Delphi out of the haze of too many thoughts suffocating her. To her surprise, the little mechanical boy was crying and yelling all the while Delphi opened her hands and stared at the little crescent marks where her nails had dug deep into her palms.

"I want to go home," he cried as he stood abruptly, knocking over his chair. "I just want my mom."

His mind was an amalgamation of rage and grief – but it was alight with growing terror. As the girls whined about the mess of milk and the broken dish, Delphi's gaze travelled to the small boy whose chest was rising and falling in deep pants as he raged. To see him like this, so utterly terrified of death and losing his mum before he could ever find his way back to her, was about as clear an answer as she was ever likely to get.

And yet, if she was the lucky one…why did she feel so impoverished?

What did it matter anyway? Whether or not she was cursed was out of her control. There were no records of her birth or of her parents and not one of her endless string of social workers knew anything of where she came from. Time and time again she had asked the same questions and she'd always received the same answers. There is no record. No one alive who remembers that night ten years ago. You were left at a police station on November 5th, 1981 and there's no names listed in the file.

And once they referred to her immensely thick file, full of documentation on disciplinary reports but sadly lacking in substantial information, they tended to stop caring.

There was nothing she could do and logic told her to stop dwelling over facts she could not change. Most days she could, most days Delphi was content to be the child-adult who was planning on making a life and a name for herself.

Today was just not one of those days.

Maybe it was the rain splattering heavily against the windows that brought about her melancholy. Or maybe it was the little mechanical boy with so much longing in his big heart. Whatever it was, the heady air was heavy with sorrow and suffocated her mental alacrity. Not much would be accomplished today, perhaps she should make some cocoa and fish out her battered copy of King Lear.

Delphi was brought back to the mess in the kitchen when she decided on tea instead of chocolate – and found herself quite alone. The milk and cereal were still spewed all over the floor, the pieces of the bowl still lying haphazardly, and the chair was still on its side – but the others had fled. With a deep sigh she realized she'd be the one to have to clean up and reached for a rag.

Before she could make it to the counter, the doorbell rang.

"I suppose I'll get that too," she muttered under her breath as she left the mess and headed out into the living room.

As she walked she smoothed out her wild platinum curls and pulled the ends of her zip up sleeves down over her hands, feeling irrationally nervous. She had been here such a short time that she still felt like a guest in the house, it felt wrong for her to be answering the door to a house that wasn't hers.

But that was dumb, she told herself, because none of the foster homes had been hers. She'd only stayed long enough to get comfortable before being shipped off to the next. Besides, it wasn't like Ms. Taylor was going to answer, the poor woman hadn't even registered that someone was at the door.

"Hello," Delphi greeted the oddly dressed woman civilly and tried to maintain focus despite the harrowing emptiness that disconnected Ms. Taylor from the world. She took in the frumpy looking pant-suit and the out of fashion square spectacles with a mixture of humor and pity. The poor woman was probably from the church and here to comfort the heavily medicated woman upstairs. "Sorry, but Ms. Taylor isn't up for visitors."

"I'm not here for Ms. Taylor," the woman told her with a frown that creased her face unpleasantly. "I'm looking for Delphini Riddle, is she here?"

"People usually just call me Delphi," she told the woman as her focus sharpened and the thick haze of sorrow that lingered in the house began to clear. "Are you a new case worker?"

"A social worker?" The lady seemed aghast and her wrinkles grew deeper as her lips thinned into thin lines. "No, I'm a professor."

"A professor, huh?" Delphi almost choked on a laugh. "Well, by all means professor, come in professor."

Delphi stepped back and let the door open wide so the professor could step through. "Thank you," the professor said briskly, stepping in and for the first time Delphi noted the lack of coat or umbrella despite the heavy rainfall.

The professor was completely dry.

As they made their way into the living room Delphi knew she had to put her game face on. Government doctors were always egotistical and narcissistic but they were rather observant when they wanted to be. Yet the rain beat heavily against the windows and Delphi found herself unable to focus on the story she had repeated countless times. The professor hadn't been hit by a single drop of water, her maroon jacket was completely dry. Not even her glasses were wet.

But where was her umbrella?

The woman seemed uncomfortable under Delphi's gaze and she cleared her throat to get her attention. "Sorry," Delphi shook her head even though there was something niggling in the back of her mind, as if her brain itched. "Are you here to talk about Heather?"

"Heather?" The professor's frown deepened and Delphi watched as her face transformed into suspicion. "Who is Heather? Miss Riddle, my name is Professor McGonagall and I'm here on behalf of a school."

It was Delphi's turn to frown. While she was certainly smarter than her peers, she had never filled out any applications for school. As a foster kid, not only was she undesirable but she couldn't afford the tuition at a fancy institute until she was old enough to get a job. "What school?"

Professor McGonagall straightened her spine into a rigidity that made Delphi uncomfortable just watching. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," she said very matter-of-factly. "I've come to inform you that you are a witch and that you have been offered a place to learn to harness your magical abilities."

In the half-second space between breaths Delphi felt realization wash over her. She could feel the sincerity of truth in the professor but there were no accompanying thoughts or impressions. Her eyes widened as she stared, focusing more and more of her considerable talent towards the woman sitting across from her but to her amazement, there was nothing. It was as if a wall separated her from Professor McGonagall. Never in all her life had she ever encountered such a thing and she eagerly pushed, trying to test out this new magic she'd never seen before. She had dreamed of it of course, almost daily she wished others could silence their noisy minds and here it was.

The girls' self-absorbed anxieties, the mechanical boy's yearning, even Ms. Taylor's anguish faded away like fog as the sun rose - as Delphi focused intently on breaching the barrier. "Miss Riddle," Professor McGonagall gasped and Delphi reared back, her concentration shattered as the fog of sorrow descended over her once more. "That is quite enough of that, you rude little girl."

"I'm sorry," Delphi apologized immediately even as her mind spun. No one had ever detected her ability before. Sure they had guessed at it, some had even gone so far as to try and test her – as if she'd be foolish enough to admit it even inadvertently – but no one had ever realized when she was actively perusing and not just listening. "It's just – you don't know what it's like. I hear everything, all the time. I can't help it – but you…I can't hear you."

At her confession the severity of Professor McGonagall's expression softened slightly and her hazel eyes warmed. "It has been a very long time since I've met a natural Legillimens," she said with small, sad smile. "They are very rare. I had a friend in Brussels like you, she was the one who taught me some rudimentary Occlumancy, shielding my mind from Legillimancy."

Instead of the relief Delphi expected to feel her hands balled into tight fists, still hidden by the long sleeves of her zip-up jumper. There was an unexpected tightness in her chest as she realized there were others like her, others who could delve into her mind as she delved into others. "And I can learn this…Occlumancy at Hogwarts?"

"Heavens no," Professor McGonagall looked aghast at the very idea. "Occlumancy and Legillimancy are dark arts. The Ministry of Magic has banned the teaching of them." But her lips twisted into a grimace and her brows furrowed behind her spectacles. "But I suppose I could talk to Severus, you'll be needing to learn Occlumancy if you are to have any hope at all of focusing on your studies at Hogwarts and he does live a few blocks from here."

"A wizard lives in Cokesworth?" Delphi couldn't keep the incredulity out of her voice. Of all the places in the world, a wizard chose this grimy industrial town where the sun hardly ever shone and nothing exciting ever happened?

Professor McGonagall hummed lightly and nodded, "Professor Snape teaches Potions at Hogwarts, but during the summer he stays here."

"When I graduate I expect I'll live somewhere exciting – like Moscow or New York." Delphi couldn't keep her contempt of Cokesworth quelled. She had tried not to dwell on the dreary, dirty down too much because she didn't expect to stay long, but she couldn't imagine any wizard worth his salt staying here voluntarily.

"So, I take it you will be accepting your invitation to study at Hogwarts?" Professor McGonagall asked with a tight smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Delphi's own lips quirked up and she rolled her eyes, "Have you ever had anyone say no?"

Professor McGonagall shook her head, "I've been teaching a very long time and I've never had a muggleborn turn down their spot at Hogwarts."

She hadn't expected anyone would ever turn down a chance to learn magic. Magic. A single, two-syllable word held so many possibilities that her head spun. A thousand questions were trying to claw their way out of her but she could scarcely focus under the thick haze of sorrow that clung to her foster home. "What is a muggleborn?" she finally asked, as the next question, and five others, all lined up in order – her mind ready to absorb as much as she could. "And how did you even know about me?"

"Someone with nonmagical parents," Professor McGonagall explained with a sniff. "Some are born from long lines of witches and wizards and some are born from muggles – nonmagical folk. It's why I'm here in person talking to you, students who are raised in the magical world receive a letter on their eleventh birthday but I always visit those who are unaware of magic in person, so that they know it is not a hoax. Hogwarts has magic that detects the birth of all witches and wizards in Britain and that's how we found you."

All of her questions died away as a new one brushed them all away. On most days, she never would have asked. On most days, she was content by herself. But today was not most days and there was sorrow seeping from the walls, suffocating her…and there was a little mechanical boy remembering the sweet smell of his mother's perfume right above them.

Was she blessed or was she cursed? Did she dare find out?

Her heart began to race and her hands balled into tight fists as she tried to decide whether or not to ask. The professor had said she had been teaching a long time…there was a possibility. But did she want to know? Was she better off not knowing, was ignorance really bliss? Would she turn into the mechanical girl who hated the world and festered in longing?

It was easy not to miss what you never had, but once you knew…there was no unknowing.

"Did you," she paused, unsure if she really wanted to know – but the words continued to pour out of her without permission, "Did you ever teach anyone named Riddle?"

The telling signs of a lie were all there. Professor McGonagall stiffened, her color paled, and her lips thinned – and Delphi was already opening her mouth to call her professor on the lie – but she shook her head and when she spoke, Delphi could feel the truth ringing in her words. "No, I've never taught a student by that name."

She deflated like a balloon. All the air left her and the spark of nervous hope that had been kindled to life was snuffed out. She shouldn't have asked, she should have just left her parents in obscurity where they belonged. She didn't know if it was the melancholy atmosphere of Cokesworth, the grief of Ms. Taylor, or the little boy who moved like a robot and felt more deeply than anyone she had ever met – but she found herself unable to let them go.

And now she was facing the disappointment she should have expected. She couldn't keep doing this to herself, she had to move on. Nothing good ever came from dwelling on the past, she had a future to make. She wouldn't let herself turn into the mechanical little boy who would never be more than his anger and grief.

"I should be going," Professor McGonagall stood and her rigid posture towered over Delphi. Delphi stood, suddenly anxious and reluctant to let her new professor leave when she still had so many unanswered questions. She couldn't believe she had wasted time over ghostly figures who didn't matter when so many more important issues needed to be discussed.

"But how do I get to school?" Delphi cried in alarm as she fought the urge to take hold of Professor McGonagall's hand and pull her back. "And what do I tell the muggles and – you really haven't told me anything at all. Where is this school and what do I need? I don't have any money to pay for tuition or books –"

Her panicked rambling was cut short as Professor McGonagall raised her hands and bid Delphi to stop. "Quiet now, Miss Riddle. Hogwarts is in Scotland, it is a tuition-free school, and there is a fund to help the less-fortunate students buy their supplies. I'll collect you on Monday when I escort the other muggleborns to Diagon Alley. For now, let your guardian know that you've been accepted into a boarding school and I shall answer all their questions when I return. Is that sufficient?"

It really wasn't but Delphi nodded anyway and watched the professor leave with a heavy sigh of disgust. She couldn't believe she'd wasted time on people who were probably long dead when she could have been learning more about magic.