AN: Hi! This is my first fanfic, so any and all constructive criticism is appreciated! Let me know what you think, I hope you enjoy.
"Sophie Taylor?" a kind voice broke me out of my reverie. I looked up to see an old man with a long white beard and matching hair wearing a deep indigo cloak, half moon spectacles perched upon the end of his crooked nose. I nodded silently, not trusting myself to speak. He held out a hand and helped me up off the floor, before leading me to a plush red armchair by the fire. He sat opposite me, steepled his fingers and gazed at me silently while I looked at my feet, scuffing them on the floor.
"Sophie, my name is Professor Albus Dumbledore. I am from a school called Hogwarts," the man with the kind face began. I kept staring at the floor, not wanting to look up and see the pity shining from his twinkly blue eyes. "Hogwarts is a special school for people like yourself," he continued, regardless of my apparent inattention, "have you heard of it?" I gave my head a small shake no and Dumbledore and I sat in silence as I continued to ruin my shoes on the coarse carpet.
"Sophie," the old man began again suddenly, "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is a school of magic." This got my attention and I glanced up sharply.
"Don't make fun of me," I hissed with venom apparent in my voice, "you're from an orphanage aren't you?" I demanded. Dumbledore looked taken aback at my outburst, but took no time in recovering.
"I'm not making fun of you," he said gently. "Think about it for a minute, have you ever made things happen, things you can't explain, when you were feeling particularly strongly?" I thought back over the last few years and- oh. An image from several months ago swam to the front of my mind. When Mum and Dad told me I'd be a sister and I ran outside and flowers literally bloomed in my hands and dead ones seemed to come back to life and then there was that incident with the hair dye and the exploding mug and- okay maybe it wasn't so far fetched. The professor waited patiently as I ran everything through in my head.
"Magic?" I asked softly, "Is that what it is?" Professor Dumbledore smiled at me gently and nodded his head. "So I'm a- I'm a witch?" I stuttered out, "What about my parents? Were they wizards too? Did they go to Hogwarts?" My head was spinning. If my parents were wizards, why didn't they tell me? Surely they would have known that they were? And what I was? I looked at Dumbledore expectantly.
"No, Sophie, your parents were not wizards. You mother was what we call a muggle- a non magical person. Your father, however, was born from a magical family but possessed no magical powers of his own. He was what we call a squib, and it is through him you got your magical talents. Although your father was not magical himself, he still carried magical blood in his veins which was passed on to you."
I felt like my eyes were the size of dinner plates. So Dad was a squib and Mum was a muggle and I am a witch.
"Would you like to attend Hogwarts, Sophie?" The professor broke through my whirling thoughts. I gaped at him in wonder and pinched myself slyly. "I assure you, this is quite real. You are not dreaming," Dumbledore chuckled with a twinkle in his eye. Obviously my pinch was not as sly as I thought. But really, he was offering me a place at a magic school for magic people for goodness sake! I had to check I was awake!
"I- I would love to, Professor," I said, my voice filled with wonder and excitement despite it being barely above a whisper. "I don't have any money though, or anywhere to live or-" Dumbledore cut me off quickly.
"Don't worry, Sophie. Your parents left you some money in their will and as your father was the only surviving member of your wizarding family, all of the Taylor assets belong to you now. It isn't a fortune, but should be enough to last you through your Hogwarts years." I nodded to the old man, once again finding it difficult to process everything in my eleven year old brain.
"As for living arrangements, during school term you will live at Hogwarts. In the summer, I may offer you a choice. You can continue to live here at the orphanage, or you may live with a family. It is up to you."
I thought about it briefly but really, there was no question. This place was a miserable dump and I hated it to be frank. So staying with a family, any family, had to be better.
"I think I would like to leave, Professor, and stay with a family. Only if they don't mind of course," I told him shyly.
The Professor gave me a wide smile and offered me his hand as he swept up off his seat. I took it cautiously and Professor Dumbledore led me to the kitchen where my belongings were already packed- it seemed someone had anticipated my decision. He motioned for me to take my trunk before offering me his hand once more. I took it, and with a pop we were gone. I felt like I was being squeezed through pipes, made into spaghetti, taken apart and put back together again in a mere second. My eyes were streaming and my lungs were burning as I took deep lungfuls of air. I looked to the professor as he chuckled softly.
"I do apologise dear Sophie, I should have warned you about apparating. It's not the most pleasant way to travel, I'll admit, but it is very quick." I sat down on my trunk as I attempted to reassure myself that my body was indeed here in one piece all the while giving Dumbledore a slightly accusatory stare.
"Please excuse me, Sophie, I must tell your new family you're here." I glanced around, startled, as Dumbledore swept inside the house we had apparated in front of. I hadn't realised that's where we were. A very ordinary, slightly run down street with well kept gardens and pretty window boxes, much like the street I spent the first ten and a half years of my life living on. The house in front of me was two floors and was probably once white but now looked more of a dirty grey, with a bright red door and golden number 8. There were window boxes filled with cacophonies of colour at every window, much like the garden itself which was the most unkempt of all the gardens I could see. Grass slightly overgrown and no order to the flowerbeds at all, everything just seemed to grow wherever it wanted to and it was beautiful. It reminded me of home.
The red door swung open and a blur of red pelted towards me, knocking me sprawling into the overgrown grass. I looked up in surprise at the girl who had tackled me in a hug. She grinned back, her green eyes filled with laughter as she tucked a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear and rolled off me to lie in the grass beside me.
"Hi," she said, grinning profusely, "my name's Lily. Lily Evans."
