Author: Sola
Title: The Sorceresses (not witches, mind you)
Summary: :D~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I sat anxiously in the train compartment watching the trees pass by me by in the
landscape and awaiting for the time when I would be arriving at the one and only Hogwarts
School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This had to be the most phenomenal event that had ever
happened to me in my life. I was not an ordinary person anymore. I wasn't just a face in
the crowd. My life wasn't a riddle anymore. I was a sorceress now (call me a witch and DIE),
and there's nothing and no one that is going to take that away from me. Not even my dreaded
mother.
My mother was never too fond of sorcery. In fact, she despised it, from what I
could tell. The day that my letter had arrived in the mail, someone up there must have been
watching out for me. You see, my mother is one of those nosey moms out their who look
through their childrens' mail before the kids get it, and back up their despicable act by
saying they were 'doing it for your own good' after punishing you for ordering that
Dungeons and Dragons game you'd been saving up for for a month. I was lucky that day. Not
only was my mother particularly nosey, but she was also incredibly lazy, which gave credit
to the fortune of finding the letter before she did. She had yelled at me to get the mail
while I tried to sneak across the hall to get a glass of water.
It was a Sunday afternoon, the clouds lovely with a look of blue scattered
throughout the individuals that traveled together. I always looked at the clouds for
comfort, be they gray with somber or white and fluffy with chipperness. I loved them. I also
love pizza with mushrooms and pepperoni on top, but we're not going to get into that right
now.
So, anyway, as I was gathering the mail and idly flipping through the mail gathered,
I came upon a suspiciously tan-coloured envelope. My ear twitched with shock as I
discovered who it was addressed to: me! No one ever sent me mail out of the blue. Not even
my best friend (who I had in fact given stationary one year for her birthday). Never a
thank-you note, a get-well card, or anything. I secretly crept inside my father's car which
was parked in front of the house on a dirt road and opened the letter.
I was once again shocked. This was a joke, right? Someone sending me mail telling
me that I was a witch. Hah-hah, very funny, you assholes that sent this to me. It's bad
enough that you dicks out there have to mock me day-in and day-out, but to go this far, to
reach to this extent...
I very quickly shoved the letter under the seat.
"What took you so long, Fiona?" She snapped at my from her usual position of
sitting herself in front of the television.
"Nothing," I replied quickly, trying to scramble to my room as quickly as possible
before she could shout another order at me.
I didn't always hate my mother. In fact, I deny now that I hate her. What I hated
was the alchohol that poisoned her.
***
About three weeks later my father was acting most strangely. Actually, probably the
strangest that I've ever seen him act. He was muttering to himself every now and then and
wandering around the acreage aimlessly. He kept eyeing me suspiciously and acting more
derogatory towards my mother than usual. He had the whole family puzzled as to what he was
on to. Then it happened one night. He was arguing with my mother about who-knows-what when
I heard a word that sparked in my ear: sorcery. I crept from my room as silently as I could
muster until it seemed that I was close enough to listen in on what they were talking
about.
"Rain, I'll ask you again, did you take it?" He demanded. His voice was dominating
and hard.
My mother replied with that high, fake voice of, "I don't know what you're talking
about."
"Listen, Rain, that letter is very important. If I don't have it, I'll have to go
through a lot to get another copy." There was a sudden silence, and I realized that my
father had suspected my presence, because he stopped the agruement there. I jumped and sped
back to my sleeping chamber. To my surprise, my father followed. He usually never followed
me after being caught.
"Fiona...?" He asked hopefully, trying to find me through the darkness.
"Yes, daddy?" I answered.
"Fiona, did you happen to see a letter come in the mail recently? Perhaps one of
a... Strange color?"
I thought for a moment, contemplating whether or not I should answer correctly.
"No," I answered. He gave me another suspicious look, figuring that if he couldn't get the
information out of my now, he wouldn't waste his time pushing me for it again. He turned
his back to leave, but before he did, he winked and said, "If the letter should ever find
you... Just give me a wink, OK?" I smiled, and he gave that charming smile of his back at
me, and then he closed the door behind him. There was magic in that smile of his.
The next morning during breakfast, I searched through Dad's car to find the letter. It was
particularly odd that he didn't find the letter himself, but then again, he was probably
just as lazy as my mother. He seemed quite delighted when I handed it to him, sighing and
looking as if the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. I wondered what was
up.
"Dad, what is that?"
"This, my dear, is my sweet clarification of your destiny as a person."
"Excuse me?" I said obnoxiously. I didn't like it when he tried to sound mysterious.
He gave me a slightly hurt look that made me wince. He was so easy to upset, like
a puppy-dog, and it always bothered when I hurt him in the least. He answered with, "Come
on. We'll take a ride and I'll discuss it all with you and answer all your questions," he
said reluctantly after seeing the regret in my face.
As we were riding in the car, I couldn't help but notice the beautiful blossoms and
leaves that had sprung as a result of spring - I was dead sick of winter by now.
"Fiona, there is something very special about you," he started.
"Thanks, Dad," I said with a giggle.
"Well... What I mean is..." He stuttered, trying to get the words out, "You're...
Not like other kids. You're different." I cocked an eyebrow at him. At this point I started
get a panic voice in my head that kept telling me, "You were born with a birth-defect! Or
maybe you're the horrible result of a science experiment gone wrong! Whatever it is, he's
acting too nice for it to be good news!"
He glanced at me with another worried look as he steered at the wheel. He looked
liked he could have choked from timidness. "
"You're a witch, Fiona," he blurted most suddenly
"I beg your pardon?!" I screeched. I did not like being called a witch at all. What
an insult to receive from your own father!
He gave a noise in his throat. "No, no, no, I didn't mean it like it sounded. I
mean... At least I think it shouldn't have sounded like that..." He trailed off. "Oh dear,
this didn't go the way I wanted it to... Listen, you're a witch or a wizardress or a sorceress
or whatever you'd prefer to call yourself. You were born with special abilities that most
children your age could only dream of posessing..." He let himself breath a moment and then
stopped in the park's parking lot. Some boys were playing Cricket in the field.
"That letter you got in the mail will allow you to use those abilities you were born
with. You're very lucky that I was looking out for it, otherwise you would just go on believing
you were just an everyday mug- err - person," he said, and leaned back in his chair while
smiling at me. He gave a chuckle at the shocked look on my face. He couldn't be serious. But
he couldn't be making this up. First, he wasn't a very good actor at all, and second, he would
never go to this extent to pull a prank. This was real. This was amazing.
"Hmm... So, yeah, how is a letter going to teach me how to perform 'witchcraft'?" I
said sarcastically.
"Oh no, dear, it's not the letter that will teach you. This letter is an invitation to
Hogwarts, the school that specializes in the teachings of that sort. You'll be attending for a
total of seven years... Oh my, that reminds me... We have to shop for you clothes... Your
books, your wand... Geez, and I need to get money for all this..." He trailed off in his own
ponderings of his financial situation.
And so after long and hard questioning, he had totally convinced me that this was real.
About two months later we bought my school things, and here I am now, waiting for the train to
reach my destination: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Title: The Sorceresses (not witches, mind you)
Summary: :D~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I sat anxiously in the train compartment watching the trees pass by me by in the
landscape and awaiting for the time when I would be arriving at the one and only Hogwarts
School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This had to be the most phenomenal event that had ever
happened to me in my life. I was not an ordinary person anymore. I wasn't just a face in
the crowd. My life wasn't a riddle anymore. I was a sorceress now (call me a witch and DIE),
and there's nothing and no one that is going to take that away from me. Not even my dreaded
mother.
My mother was never too fond of sorcery. In fact, she despised it, from what I
could tell. The day that my letter had arrived in the mail, someone up there must have been
watching out for me. You see, my mother is one of those nosey moms out their who look
through their childrens' mail before the kids get it, and back up their despicable act by
saying they were 'doing it for your own good' after punishing you for ordering that
Dungeons and Dragons game you'd been saving up for for a month. I was lucky that day. Not
only was my mother particularly nosey, but she was also incredibly lazy, which gave credit
to the fortune of finding the letter before she did. She had yelled at me to get the mail
while I tried to sneak across the hall to get a glass of water.
It was a Sunday afternoon, the clouds lovely with a look of blue scattered
throughout the individuals that traveled together. I always looked at the clouds for
comfort, be they gray with somber or white and fluffy with chipperness. I loved them. I also
love pizza with mushrooms and pepperoni on top, but we're not going to get into that right
now.
So, anyway, as I was gathering the mail and idly flipping through the mail gathered,
I came upon a suspiciously tan-coloured envelope. My ear twitched with shock as I
discovered who it was addressed to: me! No one ever sent me mail out of the blue. Not even
my best friend (who I had in fact given stationary one year for her birthday). Never a
thank-you note, a get-well card, or anything. I secretly crept inside my father's car which
was parked in front of the house on a dirt road and opened the letter.
I was once again shocked. This was a joke, right? Someone sending me mail telling
me that I was a witch. Hah-hah, very funny, you assholes that sent this to me. It's bad
enough that you dicks out there have to mock me day-in and day-out, but to go this far, to
reach to this extent...
I very quickly shoved the letter under the seat.
"What took you so long, Fiona?" She snapped at my from her usual position of
sitting herself in front of the television.
"Nothing," I replied quickly, trying to scramble to my room as quickly as possible
before she could shout another order at me.
I didn't always hate my mother. In fact, I deny now that I hate her. What I hated
was the alchohol that poisoned her.
***
About three weeks later my father was acting most strangely. Actually, probably the
strangest that I've ever seen him act. He was muttering to himself every now and then and
wandering around the acreage aimlessly. He kept eyeing me suspiciously and acting more
derogatory towards my mother than usual. He had the whole family puzzled as to what he was
on to. Then it happened one night. He was arguing with my mother about who-knows-what when
I heard a word that sparked in my ear: sorcery. I crept from my room as silently as I could
muster until it seemed that I was close enough to listen in on what they were talking
about.
"Rain, I'll ask you again, did you take it?" He demanded. His voice was dominating
and hard.
My mother replied with that high, fake voice of, "I don't know what you're talking
about."
"Listen, Rain, that letter is very important. If I don't have it, I'll have to go
through a lot to get another copy." There was a sudden silence, and I realized that my
father had suspected my presence, because he stopped the agruement there. I jumped and sped
back to my sleeping chamber. To my surprise, my father followed. He usually never followed
me after being caught.
"Fiona...?" He asked hopefully, trying to find me through the darkness.
"Yes, daddy?" I answered.
"Fiona, did you happen to see a letter come in the mail recently? Perhaps one of
a... Strange color?"
I thought for a moment, contemplating whether or not I should answer correctly.
"No," I answered. He gave me another suspicious look, figuring that if he couldn't get the
information out of my now, he wouldn't waste his time pushing me for it again. He turned
his back to leave, but before he did, he winked and said, "If the letter should ever find
you... Just give me a wink, OK?" I smiled, and he gave that charming smile of his back at
me, and then he closed the door behind him. There was magic in that smile of his.
The next morning during breakfast, I searched through Dad's car to find the letter. It was
particularly odd that he didn't find the letter himself, but then again, he was probably
just as lazy as my mother. He seemed quite delighted when I handed it to him, sighing and
looking as if the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. I wondered what was
up.
"Dad, what is that?"
"This, my dear, is my sweet clarification of your destiny as a person."
"Excuse me?" I said obnoxiously. I didn't like it when he tried to sound mysterious.
He gave me a slightly hurt look that made me wince. He was so easy to upset, like
a puppy-dog, and it always bothered when I hurt him in the least. He answered with, "Come
on. We'll take a ride and I'll discuss it all with you and answer all your questions," he
said reluctantly after seeing the regret in my face.
As we were riding in the car, I couldn't help but notice the beautiful blossoms and
leaves that had sprung as a result of spring - I was dead sick of winter by now.
"Fiona, there is something very special about you," he started.
"Thanks, Dad," I said with a giggle.
"Well... What I mean is..." He stuttered, trying to get the words out, "You're...
Not like other kids. You're different." I cocked an eyebrow at him. At this point I started
get a panic voice in my head that kept telling me, "You were born with a birth-defect! Or
maybe you're the horrible result of a science experiment gone wrong! Whatever it is, he's
acting too nice for it to be good news!"
He glanced at me with another worried look as he steered at the wheel. He looked
liked he could have choked from timidness. "
"You're a witch, Fiona," he blurted most suddenly
"I beg your pardon?!" I screeched. I did not like being called a witch at all. What
an insult to receive from your own father!
He gave a noise in his throat. "No, no, no, I didn't mean it like it sounded. I
mean... At least I think it shouldn't have sounded like that..." He trailed off. "Oh dear,
this didn't go the way I wanted it to... Listen, you're a witch or a wizardress or a sorceress
or whatever you'd prefer to call yourself. You were born with special abilities that most
children your age could only dream of posessing..." He let himself breath a moment and then
stopped in the park's parking lot. Some boys were playing Cricket in the field.
"That letter you got in the mail will allow you to use those abilities you were born
with. You're very lucky that I was looking out for it, otherwise you would just go on believing
you were just an everyday mug- err - person," he said, and leaned back in his chair while
smiling at me. He gave a chuckle at the shocked look on my face. He couldn't be serious. But
he couldn't be making this up. First, he wasn't a very good actor at all, and second, he would
never go to this extent to pull a prank. This was real. This was amazing.
"Hmm... So, yeah, how is a letter going to teach me how to perform 'witchcraft'?" I
said sarcastically.
"Oh no, dear, it's not the letter that will teach you. This letter is an invitation to
Hogwarts, the school that specializes in the teachings of that sort. You'll be attending for a
total of seven years... Oh my, that reminds me... We have to shop for you clothes... Your
books, your wand... Geez, and I need to get money for all this..." He trailed off in his own
ponderings of his financial situation.
And so after long and hard questioning, he had totally convinced me that this was real.
About two months later we bought my school things, and here I am now, waiting for the train to
reach my destination: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.