Wolf was not a normal girl. A normal sixteen year-old wears make-up, does up her hair, diets, wears prada. A normal sixteen-year old tries to look nice, wears form-fitting clothing, and gets chewed up by her dad for sneaking out to parties in the middle of the night. But, Wolf was not normal. She had different colors than normal people, her hair was a violent shade of blue, and had been since her birth, her eyes were a deep, deep, blue-black. She was small, malnutrition, quiet. Her hair stuck up at odd angled, and she smelled like strong arabic ink.
Her face was round and boyish, her eyelashes dark and long, her hair bushy and untamed. She was skinny, and dusty colored, like someone had dropped a bucket of dirt over her head and left her in the sahuaros to bake. But her coloring was not smooth caramel, like an israelian, nor a ruddy chocolate like the africans. It was splotchy, transparent, like tea-soaked cotton.
For her whole life, or as far back as she could remember, which wasn't too far, Wolf had lived in a tree. It was a strong oak tree, with a smooth trunk and thick branches. The tallest branch was easily twenty feet up in the air, but the tip seemed to touch the sky. It was an old, quiet tree that didn't talk to much, as most trees did, as Wolf knew, and her leaves blocked plenty of rain and snow.
In the tree, Wolf had aranged a sort of giant nest, woven out of sticks and leaves and strands of her own hair, which was where she slept. Higher up, she had wrapped home-made ropes around the branches into a chair, so she could sit among the leaves and look down on people, pleasantly camouflaged by leaves.
Through a hole in the mesh of leaves that wolf peacefully resided in, she could see a giant castle, set far up on a distant, emerald hill. There was a peaceful, dingy brown road that wound to it's far right, and a large black lake, like an ink-blot on faded parchment. Every hour of the day, Wolf could see tiny black dots, zooming in and out of the tallest tower, and black clad people milling around in groups. Wolf didn't have a lot of contact with people. She had lived in the tree for a long time, some days conversing with cyclists that stopped to sit under her tree, other days, wandering up and down the road, looking for twigs among the grass.
Most people didn't notice the owlish girl staring from down from up in the tree. They just chatted with the other members of their party or ate in silence, relaxing visible beside Wolfs oak tree. But Wolf remembered every person who stopped by. The red-haired woman who held a screaming, fat little child in her arms, the scraggly little boy trying to patch up a hole in his shoe, the muscled spanish man with the fancy bike, and countless other people. But the one she remembered most was a tall, gentle old man, she saw in winter, wearing flowing robes and a tall, pointy hat. He had as opposite colors to Wolf as possible, with bright blue eyes and long white hair. She didn't see much of his skin from where she was crouched up in the trees branches, but it looked healthy, warm.
"Hello, Evangeline." he said as he approached the tree, placing an old, knarled hand against the trees trunk. Wolf started, but her tree responded warmly, rustling animatedly in response.
"Ah, yes, it has been to long, I see you've grown taller." he chuckled, stroking the trunk dreamily.
"I still remember you as a sapling, a good many years before, so small you were then! Oh, yes, I know you're hardly small. You're spanning twenty feet now, aren't you?"
The conversation continued, Evangelines branches rustling happily and the old man talking gently and warmly. An hour passed, and Wolf grew tired of listening to the old mans warm voice. It made her think of fire, but warm , like a memory of a hearth. She shook her head. She had no memories of home, so she should't try to make them, she told herself angrily. But the voice was comforting and powerful.
The chill of dusk set in, and Wolf curled up on the small mat of leaves she had made herself, clutching her shoulders and breathing slowly into the wood under her. The night was quiet, but the doleful call of hooting owls was still echoing from the distant castle. Wolf listened to the owl until it's cries became faint and the darkness settled in thick and biting. She shivered.
I wonder if the castle was warm, she thought longingly. The walls looked confining, claustrophobic, hard, and painful. But the inside must be warm, she reasoned, and I've never been inside a building before. Then how do you know it's warm! Cried the part of her that loved the cold. The part of her that dwelled in her blue hair and cobalt eyes.
Child? Are you cold? Shall I warm you?
Wolf shook her head., her internal argument subsided, to be replaced by gratitude.
" I'm all right, but thank you, Evangeline." she murmured. She let out a quiet laugh.
" Look at me, this many years and only now do I want warmth." she snuggled up to a branch using it to lean her head against, " You're warm enough for me, Evangeline."
I'm only a tree, I should not be warm enough! You should want a human. Child. Go to the castle, there are people there, I'm sure it's warmer there.
" You are all I need. Goodnight evangeline." she murmured to her tree.
good night, my child. sleep well.
But Wolf didn't sleep well. She slipped swiftly into the darkness of a dream, but before she could take her first, sleepy breath, she was in a hallway. The walls were covered in painting and things shed never seen before, and bright torches flickered on the walls. She looked around peacefully, not at all shocked, after all, it was only a dream. But as soon as she began to move toward a torch, the scene changed from a dim hallway to a bright library. A skinny, raven hair boy was groaning over a piece of parchment, books piled up around him.
His red-haired friend was in the same predicament, but he was pleading with a bushy haired girl with her nose in a book. She cast him a disdainful look, said some words Wolf couldn't hear and stalked off. The two boys went mournfully back to work. Wolf watched them curiously. They too wore the strange robes the old man had worn, except theirs were black and his had a been a deep, deep, blue.
The black-haired boy flicked some hair from his eyes and Wolf caught a glimpse of something dark on his forehead. A scar. However, the scar was a very pretty scar, jagged and clean, not blistered nor red, nor bone-white. The boy sighed and packed some books in his back. As he stood up, saying some words to his friend, Wolf saw his eyes, bright, emerald green. An image flooded into her, a bright, cold green, not warm like the boys, and a cold, high laugh that made wolf want to cry.
The image faded, and wolf lurched back into her dream, ready to confront the boy. The image had been painful, painful and cold, like murder was. It had been the boys earliest memory, and it held so much emotion, so much hatred, that Wolf could feel her sleeping form begin to react, and wake up. She struggled to stay in the dream, she needed to see more, to look at more things. She wanted to touch the books, sit near the fire, talk to the green-eyed boy.
The scene changed, and this time it was the old man, his eyes bright and blue. Wolf felt her body shift, she felt light on her eyelids. A woman in front of him began to speak, and the man nodded. The light touch of rain on her head. Dumbledore. Harry Potter. Wolf woke up with a start. She heard the voice clearly say two names. Dumbledore, and harry potter.
Wolf sat up, rubbing her forehead, turning the names around in her head. Some-how, she had fallen from the tree to the ground, where she was steadily getting soaked by rain. Her thin cotton dress was soaked in seconds, and the mud had pulled her down in a minute. The wind roared, angry and cold, but Wolf didn't move toward Evangeline, who she knew would protect her. She was staring at the castle.
"Evangeline. I'm going out for a bit. " she muttered, but she knew the tree wouldn't hear her over the wind and rain. As if pulled by a magnet, Wolf slowly left her home, bracing herself against the storm, heading towards Hogwarts, where she would look for two green eyes and a lightning shaped scar.
goodbye, Wolf. May your fate be kind. i will remember you forever.
This is my first fanfic, I don't own harry potter or anyone else, only Wolf and this plot
