I was floating. The world seemed hazy, someone's face hovered over me, but it was dim. Voices were muffled, there was screaming, but it all seemed so far away. Blackness started to seep into the corners of my eyes. The noise was softer, I felt like I was falling down...
Two Years, Three Months, and Four Days Before
I really hate the cold. There's something so distant and unforgiving about it, how it nips at you every time you go outside, like it has some kind of vendetta against you and the rest of the human populace. That's why I guess I kept on fidgeting in my father's frigid 'office', his little museum full of precise bookshelves and dead bugs, a place I usually avoid. "Sylvie!" Comes a hiss and a nudge, a sign to be still, from my left. It was my oldest, blondest, with the biggest-napoleon-complex cousin Clara. (Don't get me wrong, she's very nice but y'know... a bit high strung.) She came with me to a meeting that was supposed to be happening between myself, my father, Clara, and a headmaster to a boarding school that I WILL attend or else I WILL have therapy every day for the rest of my life. However, daddy dearest seemed to be trying out his favourite technique, the delay-and-let-child-stew-in-guilt-and fear, something he has mastered over the years. I strained my ears. He HAD to be coming sometime soon. I mean, enough is enough right? I discreetly checked my watch, Clara gets edgy and strict every time we go to see my father, and movement of any kind makes her snap. It was twenty two minutes after we were supposed to have started. He usually waits around twenty two to twenty four minutes. I guess you could say I've been to several of these little group sessions. Waiting a couple more seconds, and then I hear the tell tale noise of people coming up the hall. See? Like clockwork. The doors opened automatically as my father strolled in, and following closely behind him was an older man, with the longest beard I have seen in my life, striking blue eyes, and wearing the strangest get-up I have ever seen. Oh boy.
"Clara, Aubrey, meet Albus Dumbledore!" My father announced jovially, using the tone he uses when he knows he's sorted away a particularly difficult problem.
"Pleasure," Clara said quickly, standing up and practically lunging her 5'2 stature at Mr. Dumbledore. As I said, she gets excited.
"Oh no, I am certain it is mine." He replied, his eyes sparkling in amusement as he shook her hand.
"Hi." I said, hanging back.
"And you must be Sylvia." He said pleasantly, holding out his hand to me.
"Yeah," I said, shaking his hand abruptly. Kind of bratty, I'm aware, but I'm not looking to be holding hands and singing kumbaya with this guy, he's going to be my principle, someone who will most likely give me detention.
"Sit down, sit down," My father said cheerfully, sitting down himself in his favourite stiff leather chair. Mr. Dumbledore sat next to him, Clara sat across from my dad, and I was stuck sitting across from my new headmaster. This is just peachy.
"So, Sylvia," Mr. Dumbledore started off, "I was made aware that you are not informed about the... special situation about Hogwarts." Oh jeez. I knew the outfit was a sign. "You see," He continued, "We're a magic school, we don't teach geography and math, whatever that is, we teach charms and defense against the dark arts. You do know about magic do you not?" Craaaaap.
"Um, yeah, yeah I do." Better than some, that is. "I can do some spells, but I'm not like... a pro or something."
"Don't worry about that," Mr. Dumbledore said smiling, "I'm sure that won't be a problem after even a few weeks at our school. We originally wished for you to attend when you turned 11, but circumstances, and at the request of your father, we decided we would withhold your acceptance, for any time your father saw fit."
"Right on then..." How does one respond to being told that you're going to a magic school, even after knowing about witches and wizards?
"Excellent. Oh, good gobstoppers, look at the time!" Albus Dumbledore swiftly stood up, leaving me hardly any time to wonder about, good gobstoppers? "I must fly, not literally though of course." Here he paused to laugh at his own joke. "I have a list here, Markus, for her school supplies." Hovering it over to my father's desk, he paused once more and did a funny little half bow to me and Clara. "It was highly enjoyable to make your acquaintance, Clara, Sylvia." And then he was gone. Wizards and their theatrics.
The next week went fast. I was rushed in and out of stores, even when I was trying to slow down to get a good view of all the merchandise. I had been on Diagon Alley once before, but it was briefly, and it being like, the shopping destination for all your wizardly goods, I would've liked to have had a better skulk around. When I told my Aunt Marie this in a moment of defiance, (One of my only concerning her,) She just laughed at my usage of skulk, although abated me by giving me a small locket, one that I had been looking at especially pointedly in the shop windows. And then I was rushed onto a train, which was strange because I was practically the only person there, aside from a lady pushing a trolley cart, and then I HAD to buy something 'cause I was practically her only means of profit if I really was the only one on the train.
After a terrifying experience with a moving chocolate frog candy, (They really expect you to eat something that squirms?) I closed my eyes for a minute and then when I opened them, the fog and overcast skies that seemed to be going on for miles were gone, and I could clearly see the rolling hills and clear lakes we were going past at a superman in hyper drive speed. Oh dear. Having movement sickness on this type of vehicle was deadly. Closing my eyes again so I didn't throw up on my new robes, (Robes. I'm seriously wearing ROBES to school) I drifted off again.
Opening my eyes in what seemed like a couple seconds later, I was confused to find myself in complete darkness. Putting my hands in font of my face, I felt smooth wood. I heard clattering of dishes that seemed to be coming from in front of me, and a young boys voice yelling my name playfully. The voice sounded familiar. I wanted to get closer to it, and pushed against the wood. The voice suddenly stopped, harsh breathing replacing it. And thudding footsteps were coming closer. I tried to push harder against the wood, what if the boy was hurt? And then I was jerked awake, the train had stopped. I blinked a couple times. What had happened to the lights? I could see twinkling lights outside the window, presumably a little village or town. Getting up to look into the hall, I hauled myself to my feet. And then foze. I could hear footsteps coming closer. But it couldn't be the same person from my dream, and who's to say he was evil anyways? I mean, I just felt he was. I closed my eyes tightly. The footsteps stopped right outside my door, the door opened, peeking through one eye I saw a tall figured silhouetted, his whole front hidden in shadow. I heard a scream, and I felt myself stumble back, and then....
Ew, did I ever feel icky. My head was throbbing, and my hair was all sweaty and gross against my neck. Reaching my hand over to my nightstand to get a hairband, I was unpleasantly suprised. My nightstand, that had not moved in the 7 years that I have, (Okay, on and off,) inhabited that room, was not there. Finally opening my eyes, I was greeted with the promising sight of grey walls. Swiveling my head slightly so as not to increase the pounding in my ears, I could finally pinpoint my location. In a bed on a stone floor surrounded by more beds, with a large wooden door at the end of a long room. And a nightstand on the other side of the bed. It looked rather clinic-y to tell the truth. And oh, hey! Another person! Practically on the other side of the room, and with his nose burrowed in a book, (I mean really, I didn't think actual people read with their noses physically touching the page,) but another human being nontheless. Over the top of the book I could see light brown hair, slightly tousled, as if he just woke up from a very stiff position on a hospital bed. Which makes sense, considering. "Hello?" I called over. His book lowered a bit so his eyes were showing. His nose was still stuck to the page.
"Oh," he said, his voice muffled by the book, and I leaned over closer to try and hear, "You're awake."
"Yeah, so it would seem." I said cheerfully, "Um, anyways, do you have any idea where we are?" His eyebrows creased together in confusion, but before he could respond three boys came bounding into the room like eager little puppies. Which was kind of halarious because they all looked about 17.
"Why my goodness Moony, in your bed at this hour!" Exclaimed one with bushy dark hair and spectacles slighty askew.
"Yes Moony, did Mme Pomfrey keep you up last night?" The second one grinned, elbowing 'Moony' on the shoulder, who still had his book rather protectively around his face. The third one, shorter than the others and rather rotund with blondish hair looked confused, but started laughing anyways when the first one was practically in stiches at the joke. Oh geeze.
"Hey," said the bushy haired one, "What's with the face mask man? Bare your war wounds with pride." Trying to lift the book from him, Moony/Book man turned his eyes towards me, looking for something to distract the boys. Oh don't you dare. A hand that had formally been clutching a side of the book reached up and poked Bushy in the arm, saying indistinctly, "There's another person in the room you know." He dared. All eyes turned towards me, and I got a better look at goon number two. Dark hair that hung to his chin, tanned, white staight teeth, and pretty attractive in a I-Know-I'm-Hot-Ladies-Come-And-Get-It kind of way.
"Uh. Hi." I said, doing a little half wave.
"Who are you?" Asked Bushy, in more of a curious than a interrogate kind of way.
"Um, Sylvia Thermompolis. Who are you?" Not rude, but understandable in the situation. Very FBI.
"Oooh, I like a girl who's straightforward." The I-know-I'm-Hot one grinned. "I'm Sirius."
"I'm sure," I replied quizically, arching my brow in my patended-uh huh look.
"No, that's my name, cutie," He smirked, making 'Moony' snort. Oh, my bad.
"Anyways," continued Bushy, "I'm James Potter, he's," here he pointed to 'Moony' "Remus Lupin, he's" pointing now to confusion boy, "Peter Pettigrew, and you've been introduced to Sirius Black."
"At your service," Black said, wiggling his eyebrows.
"So," said Pettigrew, who had been fairly quiet through this whole exchange, "You're a new student huh?"
"No shit sherlock," Black interjected, "But what I wanna know is how you got that bump on your head, cat fight? Girl on girl mud wrestling?" Beside him Potter started to snicker. Jerks.
"Uhmm-" I started, but was cut off by a youngish looking woman who came bustling in, rather out of breath. "Potter-Pettigrew-Black!" She said shrilly, her chest heaving, "What have I told you about bothering other students in the infirmirary!"
"Not to do it?" Suggested Potter meekly.
"That is correct Potter! I would reccomend now that you leave Lupin and our new student to recuperate please." As they shuffled out meekly Black turned and gave me a wink. The gall!
I was still fuming when the woman briskly came over to me after seeing to Lupin, still hidden behind his book. "Hello dear." She greeted me pleasantly, "I'm Madam Pomfrey. Now you got quite a large bump on your head, and if you don't mind, I can reduce the swelling, and give you a potion for the amnesia." Amnesia? I guess that kind of explains my 'kidnapping.' Figures I would suspect that someone was holding me ransom when I really just hit my head and forgot.
"Thank you," I said, smiling wanly at her. The little dwarves in my head had upped their tempo, and I eagerly took the potion she gave me, swallowing the greenish fluid as fast as I could. Ew. "Mmm." I said thickly once I swallowed. "It's... very good." "It's not supposed to taste good, Miss. Thermompolis, it's supposed to heal you." Madam Pomfrey said, pulling out a wand (A wand?) from inside her pocket and tapping it on my fist sized bump. "There," she stepped back to admire her work, and patted me reassuringly on the shoulder, "Now does Hogwarts ring a bell?"
I scrunched up my face... Hogwarts.... hogwarts.... hmmm, I remember a man in flapping robes and with a long white beard.. a train... more robes.... Oh! A magic boarding school in exchange for not going to therapy for the rest of forever! "Ummm, it all seems to be coming back now." I smiled at her gratefully.
"Good." She smiled back, "Now you should stay in bed for another half hour or so, to not aggravate the bump, and you can then clean up and I will bring you someone to show you around!" Smiling at me once more, she bustled out the doors again, leaving me alone with book boy. Wait, his name was Remus Lupin. I really don't want to call him book boy to his face, considering I already made myself look like an idiot by hitting my head and ending up in the infirmary the day I get there.
Sigh. This is going to be a long year.