DING DONG! DING DONG!
I groaned and rolled over my comfy bed.
DING! DONG! DING! DONG! DI –
I hit the table.
The clock stopped ringing.
I lifted up myself with my elbows a little groggily. I blinked slowly and stared around my new room.
The room was about the same size as the girl's dormitory at Hogwarts. The walls are covered in a very soft beige tapestry with lilies and red roses dangling here and there. It seemed like I was just a mixture over the wall. The bed was king sized with honey colored blankets that combined with the crimson curtains. All this reminded me of the only place I've called home.
And so, I am very grateful to Natasha.
You may be wondering what the hell I am talking about. Well, let's start with my name.
I am Anya Barton, but my friends like to call me Annie or Anne. Three years ago, I lived on St. Louise's Orphanage for girls in Kingston, were I lived the worst years of my life. Mrs. Darcy, a cold hearted woman, was always biased when it came to me. Everyone, like her, called me freaky Anne because I could do thing nobody could. Hence, I didn't have friends at all.
Only Nat, the redhead cleaning lady in that time, was kind towards me.
But one lonely day on St. Louise's changed all my life.
An old man with strange dress – or like I know now – robes, appeared on the doorstep of that damned place. He was Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster to one of the most amazing schools I ever had heard of.
Yet, he knew who I really was.
I am a witch. He was a wizard. And he offered me a place to study on Hogwarts.
Since then, he gained my respect and I call him Mr. Dumbledore.
I discovered something more too. Natasha already knew of the Wizarding World. She's a squib, a person born from wizard parents that doesn't do magic. Or is she..?
In King's Cross, I met a girl named Hermione Granger. She was a Muggleborn, but did know a lot more of magic than me. She was (and still is) my best friend.
After an evil person, Professor Quirrell, set off a troll on the dungeons, we were rescued by two boys. Ron Weasley and Harry Potter.
My friendship with them was a little rocky, and it still is.
That first ear, we tried to protect the Sorcerer's Stone from Voldemort. (Please don't gasp at the name) he's an evil wizard that killed Harry's parents and my mum, Serena "Ren" Barton nee Black.
In our second year, Voldemort tried to make me and Ginny Weasley kill Muggleborn wizards. During this time, I discovered I am Parseltongue.
In our third year, mass murderer Sirius Black, my uncle, escaped from Azkaban, the most warded magical prison known in history. We mistakenly thought that he had betrayed Harry's parents and let his own sister die.
But at the end of the year, we found out who the real traitor was.
His name was Peter Pettigrew. He was supposed to be one of the Marauders. A loyal friend.
But he sell them to Voldemort to save his arse.
Pettigrew escaped and hence, uncle Sirius is still the mass murderer everyone had heard.
Ron and I had been exchanging letters, expressing only to ourselves our guilt. Hermione already had demonstrated that she didn't think it was our fault. We don't know what would be Harry's expression, so we didn't mention this to him at all.
I limped slowly toward the full length mirror and looked at me silently.
My brown hair was larger than I had remembered. Nearly fell past my waist. I grew a little bit taller this year.
My hazel eyes scanned all my body. There were intimate parts that had grew this week. I almost blushed myself when I noticed it, but then again, who's seeing me?
Sighing, I grabbed my blue backpack to get some clothes.
I decided to use a yellow shirt with blue jeans short and black sandals.
Finished, I scanned the room with sharp eyes. There were a lot of boxes I hadn't noticed yesterday.
We just moved yesterday night here. Natasha still needed to finish some paperwork on this and I had to return a week to St. Louise's.
Nobody talked to me nor spared me a glance. They were starting to get the idea of me leaving, and they were practicing by ignoring me. That's what Carol said, but I don't give a damn about like I would before.
That day I had slowly walked around the small room that I once had called sanctuary. All my drawings were already packed. The photo of my parents was securely been guarded on my trunk.
Those objects only demonstrated that I once lived here. Without them, all was… plain. Dull. No life.
As I walked to the door, I noticed a familiar lock on it.
"Guess I am going to miss you," I whispered. Maybe this was getting too much to my head.
I walked down the small hallway on the second floor, passing a furious Carol without even taking a look at her. Other girls like Jenna, a tall girl with reddish hair, or Miki, a half Korean-Japanese girl with short hair and big brown eyes, looked at me silently from their doors.
I know what they were wondering. How did she manage to get out first? The freak, no less?
I go down the stairs, each step giving a little squeak.
"Barton?" a voice called me. I turned around and saw the baby blue eyes of Marie, a sweet girl and the only one who hadn't treated me harshly.
I raised an eyebrow at her. Marie shifted uncomfortably on her spot, looking up, to her side and finally to me.
"I just wanted to say congratulations," she said. "Even if we didn't talk much, I know this is what you wanted."
I stared at her. Marie had watched me?
"I hope you have luck with Miss Rosenberg, she seems nice enough."
I nodded. I was turning around to go to Mrs. Darcy's office when –
"Anya!" I stopped dead. I could hear Marie's breath from here. It was the first time she had called me by name.
"Will I see you again?" she asked timidly.
I gaped at her. Marie was asking that? Did she really was saying if I was going to return? Did she ask out of fear, or she really was curious?
"Do you want to?" I asked her.
She seemed to doubt, but she nodded her head in acceptance.
I smiled. The first smile I had ever gave to one of the girls here. Marie seemed taken aback of my action but she didn't comment on it.
"Then our paths would surely cross again," with those words, I went to Darcy's office, leaving an unofficially stunned Marie on the stairs.
"Well, everything seems to be in order," Darcy's voice was slightly cheerful. She was doing the same smile she did when a girl finally got adopted. Yet, I knew that she was only happy to get rid of me.
Natasha, for some unknown reason, had quit her job just we returned. That confused me. Actually, all of this was confusing me. The important Darcy rules of adoption clearly specified and I quote:
Only couples can adopt a beautiful girl.
The couple has to have a specific and well-off job (meaning be rich).
I tried to remind Nat of these rules, but to my surprise, she only smiled mischievously and walked rather confidently inside the office.
An hour later of only signing here and there, everything was finished.
I was free.
"Everything ready?" asked Natasha, pulling on her coat.
"Yes, I didn't have much anyway," I said.
Mrs. Darcy had accompanied us to the doorstep, a grand new smile wandering on her face.
I frown. That's just tad weird. Darcy never really looks that happy when someone is adopted.
"Have a good life, Anya!" she called waving at us.
I stopped dead in my tracks. Something wasn't right.
With a frown on my face, I followed Natasha through the gates.
"How did it go? It worked?" a truly cheery voice asked.
It was a young woman that looked to be in his mid-twenties. She was wearing ripped jeans and a red black t-shirt with the words "The Weird Sisters" written across. She had a black robe on slightly open. But what most attracted my attention was her electric blue hair.
"Wotcher," she greeted me. "You must be Anya. I am Tonks, your cousin."
