Eavan, only six years old, twisted her hands together at the sight. Green eyes welled with tears as she took a step but then stopped, her hands continue to twist and the first sound left her lips. A small whimper fell past her teeth, her feet finally moving; shuffling to the side of her dog that lay limp on the well mowed grass of her front yard.
"Baylor?" She whispered as she let her fingers ghost through his blue hued fur, her fingernails stopping over a large black spot that rested above his left hind leg.
The dog didn't move nor flinch at her voice or touch, he just laid there motionless with his tongue lapped through his teeth and eyes half lidded. Blood began to seep from his body and pool around him in the grass, darkening the lush green to a muddy brown. Tears spilled from her eyes and down her chin as she wrapped her arms around his thick neck, pulling the limp body to her lap and holding on to his dead weight against her chest.
Peering down to the canine in her arms she stroked his brow and his pert ears that were now relaxed, petting him with a force and begging silently that he would wake up but from the injuries that littered his body; she knew he couldn't.
Only feet away another canine body lay amongst the grass limp but still struggling for breath, a large Coyote that had wandered out of the forest that surrounded her home. She was playing on the porch when she first noticed the growling and looked up just in time to see the feral dog bound toward her and leap. Her eyes never shut, she just watched in paralyzed fear as the animal was leaping up the four small steps that lead to where the little girl sat but before it could cause damage, a bolt of blue intercepted and knocked the Coyote back into the yard; a brutal and snarling fight in full swing.
Now here she sat with her best friend dead in her arms and the other animal trying to pathetically crawl back toward the woods but she couldn't feel hate for it; not when she could only feel sorrow.
"Baylor. . ." She whimpered and pulled the dog's head closer until he was nestled just under her chin. "You need to come back now, okay? Please?" She prayed and rocked the dog softly and unlike anything she has felt before; she felt a pulling sensation just beneath her pounding heart.
It felt like the tiniest of hands was gently poking the flesh of her chest as if to get her attention. Softly placing Baylor back on the grass holding his snout in the palm of her hand, she leaned forward and kissed the edge of his black nose, a small breath falling past her lips from a chocked hiccup. Eavan leaned away from her best friend, her tiny hand still stroking the fur of his neck, and went to call out for her babysitter but a flutter startled her. Quickly snatching her hand back she watched in choked amazement as Baylor's nostrils flared with a breath and his brown eyes opened just as a strand of her hair bled to white.
He came back!
"Now you sit here before the Minister of Magic, an American girl with a letter of acceptance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; am I correct?" The older man never raised his eyes to look at her as he spoke, just stared down and wrote with a frilly feather whilst he spoke and it made the eleven year old girl shake and crinkle the letter in her hands.
"Yes sir, that is correct." She said quietly, politely as she crossed her hovering ankles together and tried to get comfortable in the very uncomfortable chair situated in the middle of a large circle room with many people staring at her.
"How did you come in to possession of such a letter?" Now he looked at her and it was not a look of friendliness but of deep suspicion that brought a lump to the girl's throat. All the other ladies and gentlemen stared down at her from their perches of chair behind the Minister, some with suspicion but others with curiosity of an American girl in their midst.
"I uh an owl brought to me sir." She stumbled then cleared her throat. "An owl brought it to me a few days after my eleventh birthday." She went to add more but a 'humph' from the Minister silenced her as he pulled his glasses down to the very tip of his nose before placing them back up again.
"Please hand the letter in question." He boomed with authority.
Eavan went to scoot her short body off of the chair to walk the letter up to him but to her amazement the letter was ripped from hand, floated before her eyes for a mere second before it was soaring up toward the high desk where the older man sat. Eavan cleared her throat once more and situated herself, lacing her trembling hands together as she waited for the Minister to finish reading the acceptance letter.
"It was brought to my attention that you are already enrolled in a school back in America, correct?" He asked as scanned the letter once more then fixed his gaze on the little girl in his accused seat.
She nodded. "Yes sir. Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters." Her answer sparked a few whispers amongst the many men and women seated on the perched chairs but they were silenced with a sharp 'whack' of the gavel.
"Explain." The Minister commanded.
"I would be more than happy to explain in her stead, Minister." Was said before Eavan could open her mouth to speak and she inwardly sighed of pure relief. Turning to the right she watched as Professor Xavier wheeled himself down into the circular floor and fixed himself next to Eavan in the middle of the room.
"You might be?"
"Xavier. Professor Charles Xavier, I'm Eavan's headmaster if you will." He spoke with the same delicate yet posh accent of everyone else in the room and it put Eavan's soft Southern stutter to shame.
"Ah yes I see, Professor." The Minister jumbled. "Will you please explain your school and how your Eavan got a Hogwarts Acceptance Letter?"
Charles nodded before sending a wink toward Eavan. 'You can relax now dear, take a breath. It will all be alright.' Xavier's voice sounded through her mind and it instantly calmed her nerves and she finally took a deeper breath than she had managed to do at all today.
"As you may have heard Eavan say, I run a school for gifted youngsters but gifted isn't used only for intellectual reasons. I feel that our schools aren't so much different if you think about it really." Charles smiled and with the Minister's impatient nod he continued.
"My students are called 'mutants'. Every student of mine has an ability that is extraordinary and also biological; for example." Charles turned his seat toward the benches that were seated behind a small barrier.
"These are a few of my teachers who are also mutants. Storm can manipulate the weather, Jean is a very skilled telepath and telekinetic, Logan has healing factors so great he survived having metal grafted to his skeleton, able to protrude claws from his hands."
Now many frantic whispers were being heard from everyone in the room, including from the Minister as he turned around to advise with someone. Eavan turned her trembling gaze toward her teachers and with their nods of encouragement and Logan's nonchalant thumbs up, a smile finally reached her lips.
"Order, order please!" The Minister called and soon the whispers faded and it got quiet once more.
"Eavan here is also a mutant who came to my school when she was but seven years old and has been with us since, of course until receiving this letter." Charles smiled toward the little girl and patted her knee.
"I knew that there was something else special about her." He then turned toward the Minister.
"Also, if I am not mistaken, you also have witches and wizards of non-magical decent do you not?" He had been dying to ask this question upon hearing that the Minister wanted to 'interview' them.
"Well yes of course, they are referred to as Muggle-born, a witch or wizard with non-magic parents." The minister was quick to answer.
"So do you 'interview' all these 'muggle borns' when they get a letter, bub?" Logan spoke up and even used his fingers for air quotations to add extra emphasis to his words and it made Eavan smile.
The Minster fumbled physically upon seeing the large and burly man stand up and question him with no fear. The older man looked from Logan then down toward Eavan and Xavier, swallowing thickly before composing himself.
"No, we do not." He said quietly.
"Then why are we here, Minister?" Charles asked politely.
"You are here because . . . because an American has never been sent a letter of acceptance for Hogwarts as I'm sure you know, there ARE American Wizardry Schools if I'm not mistaken."
The minister crossed his arms and leaned back looking down his nose at the muggles before him.
Charles pursed his lips and gave a soft nod. "Forgive us, we are new to all of this but why did we not receive a letter to their schools, Minister? If Eavan is indeed a witch and needs magical schooling, why did she not receive a letter from a school or an interview with a Ministry in her own country?"
They were all baffled by this. Why would an eleven year old from across the world be accepted into a Witchcraft and Wizardry school in the Scottish Highlands? It didn't make sense but an acceptance letter is an acceptance letter no matter where it is to. Eavan is indeed a young witch recognized by the Ministry of Magic in London and a letter does not lie.
"Unfortunately that is an answer I cannot give for I do not know but-"The minister cleared his throat and closed the folder that he had on his desk of the girl's information or lack thereof. "An Acceptance letter IS an Acceptance letter and Eavan is now, with your permission, a Hogwarts student."
Eavan looked over toward Xavier and gleam hit her eyes. She was excited; he could see that as well as read from her, she has figured out a new part of her life that, unfortunately, he could not help lead her upon. He has taught her all he could in understanding her ability and controlling her urges but the magical abilities; he would be useless to her.
'What do you want, Eavan?' He asked in her mind with a soft, grandfatherly like smile.
Eavan thought it over briefly and for the first time in her short years, she was able to have the choice to do something. After her parents abandonment was when her 'magic' began to flourish around ten years old. It started with moving objects but it wasn't telekinesis. Then it was making things disappear or wanting to be in a different part of the mansion and the poof you're there. Charles easily could tell that something other than mutation was amiss and answers were partially given upon the arrival of a large and tired Tawny Owl with a letter in its beak.
Eavan turned toward her teachers that accompanied her here. Storm smiled at her with glassy eyes and her hair fell over her shoulder with her soft nod. Jean also smiled and nodded and when she finally looked at Logan, he shrugged but smiled and gave thumbs up. She would miss them; she would miss all her friends and the other teachers.
She was leaving her stable and comfortable life for something unknown and foreign.
And it was exciting.
"I want to go." She beamed toward Xavier who nodded and grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly.
"If that is what you wish."
"Ahem." The minister coughed and caught attention. "If you wouldn't mind me asking, you said that Miss Eavan was mutant, yes?"
Charles nodded and Eavan sucked in a breath.
"Will you tell us her ability?" The minister never looked away from Charles who relaxed his shoulders and stared down the older man.
"I'm sure if Eavan would like, she would love to." He looked toward Eavan and she gathered her breath and looked up toward the Minister of Magic as well as the people who sat behind him.
"I'm able to bring back someone who has passed, Resurgence for technicality." She said it softly but she tried to make her voice sound firm and the silence in the room was almost deafening. She could feel the tension in the air as every single pair of eyes was on her, watching her every breath, with astonishment and some with disbelief. The tension was so electrifying that from the corner of her of her eye, Eavan saw Jean pull Logan down by his elbow when he went to stand with his fists clenched.
A woman seated behind the Minister with purple lipstick and wearing black robes with an oddly shaped hat was the first to speak after a few moments.
"That is preposterous. There is neither magic nor ability that is capable of bringing the dead back to life." Her eyes twinkled with defiance as she leaned closer, wanting to hear every single word these muggles had to say.
Eavan looked toward Charles but he nodded to continue. "No ma'am it isn't. I am able to bring back a life that has been lost but only with a detrimental cost of my own." Slowly sliding off the large black chair and landing on her feet with a soft tap, Eavan turned her back and moved a section of her love wavy scarlet hair to the side; revealing an abundance of thick white strands that weaved throughout the underside of her hair. They were stark against the fiery color of her tresses.
"A small bit of my life is given to bring someone back. When a deceased takes the breath of life I have given back to them, a strand of my hair bleeds to white and I become lethargic for a few hours." She let her hair fall through her fingers and back into place before turning back around to stare into the wide eyes of the Magical beings before them.
"Extrodinary." The woman whispered and leaned back into her seat.
"It's an amazing gift but it does have its precautions." Charles hooked a look with everyone in the room, like he was looking directly into the eyes of each individual.
"She knows these precautions and I trust her to act upon on them accordingly but I will warn you all, if you attempt to use her for her ability, you will have more than a heated discussion on your hands." Eavan could feel the power radiating off of the telepath as every Witch and Wizard in the room trembled with the vibrations he was releasing.
He was showing everyone just a sliver of his abilities and this sliver was enough for every magical man and woman to swallow thickly with a curt nod.
"You have the Ministers word." Fudge nodded. "You are free to go and prepare for your first year and Welcome, Miss Eavan Shaw."
Eavan opened her eyes with a groan and rubbed her face tiredly. Blinking rapidly and yawning, she leaned her head over to her clunky alarm clock to read the red date and time
August 28th, 1995
6:24 A.M