Author's Note: I have only one to say before starting this story:
The original idea of this fic is quite old and it was originally
written before the fifth book was published. That being the case, I am
omitting certain things that were in the fifth book while incorporating
others as they fit into the story since this takes place during that
same year.
That being said, I hope I did not ruin your first impressions of this story. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: While I enjoy playing in J.K. Rowling's sandbox, none of
her characters, places, or anything else that appear in her books
belong to me. However, the characters that do not appear in her world
or books do ultimately belong to me despite them being based on her
world. I'll be good and put everything back into place once I am done
playing.
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Prologue
She awoke with a
start, her eyes flying open to meet with only the deepest of darks.
Blinking again, assuring herself that her eyes were in fact open, the
young girl peered through the black in an attempt to see something.
Anything. A beam of light. The twinkle of a star. Fear started to beat
through her little heart as she looked around, her head thrashing to
and fro in her frantic search for something, her breathing heavy, her
blood pounding in her ears…
She was blind.
Panicked, the
child reverted to her other senses to find out about her surroundings.
The ground beneath her was cool and hard. It was rough to the touch and
felt like old and even ancient stone. The air around her was colder
than the ground, far colder, causing her to shiver, for she wore next
to naught.
Soon, the girl started to cry. Where was she? How did
she come to be in such a strange place? The last thing she could
remember was…was… With a great sob the child realized that she could
not remember a thing. She did not know where she had come from or what
it had looked like. She did not know why she would end up in such a
place nor why someone would want to put her there. All that moved
through her mind were shadows and fog. She could not even make out
shapes through the fog for it was too thick.
Eventually, the
child cried herself to sleep, her forehead resting against the cold
ground, her arms wrapped around her thin frame. The girl slept through
the dark night and on into the gray dawn that followed. A mist settled
over the grounds around her and, high up on the front steps of a
magnificent castle, the child slept on. And as the sun rose above the
horizon and shone down upon the castle and the girl, the great oak
doors cracked open. Through them stepped an old man with long, silvery
hair and an even longer beard. A long, pointed hat was set upon his
head and his pale blue eyes shone in the light of the new day. He did
not see the child, nor did he know of her existence three steps below
him as he stepped further out into the glorious early morning. It was
not until the child stirred and cried out in her sleep that he looked
in her direction. Moving as quickly as his old bones could carry him,
he was down the steps and at her side, one long hand placed on her
shoulder. Crying out again in her sleep, the child's eyes flew open,
terror dancing through the pale orbs as she saw the man for the first
time. Scrambling away and up the steps, the young child huddled in a
ball against the parapet, shaking visibly with fright.
"I am not
going to hurt you, child," the old man said in a kind voice. He put one
hand out in front of him as he took a step toward the terrified child.
She shrunk smaller in her corner and shook violently. "Please, trust
me."
The child shook her head and hid her face in her knees, one ice blue eye trained on the old man as he halted.
"What is your name, little one?"
The child opened her mouth to tell him when she realized that she did
not know her name. Thinking, she was only met with the fog. Tears
leaking from her eyes once more, she shook her head.
"I don't
know," she said softly into her thigh. Wiping a dirty hand across her
cheeks, she shook her head again. "I don't know…anything."
As the old man stepped forward once again, she squealed and shrunk away.
"Don't hurt me, please," she said pitifully.
"I'm not going to hurt you, my child," the old man said gently,
emphasizing his point by backing away. "I'm trying to help you. Please
let me bring you in from the cold."
Peeking up at him and
feeling no ill will from the elderly man, the child slowly uncurled
herself and stood up on wobbly legs. She was tall for her age, whatever
it may be, and very thin, though not unhealthily so. Her wide, ice blue
eyes were cloudy with tears and blended in with her porcelain skin.
Dark auburn hair hung in clumps around her face and down her back,
matted with dirt and blood. A large tattoo spread across her left
shoulder and arm making a near perfect circle, the bulk of it printed
across her back. Looking up into the kind eyes of the man, the child
stepped forward and placed her small hand in his.
"You said that
you do not know your name, child?" He said, leading her into the
castle. She shook her head. "Do you know where you are from?"
"No."
"Please think, child," he said kindly. "If it will help, I can tell you my name."
The child nodded. "Yes, please."
"My name is Albus Dumbledore."
"Dumbledore," she repeated, glancing at the stone. Quite suddenly and out of no where, she muttered. "Jordynkiele."
"What was that?"
"My name," she said softly. "Jordynkiele, that's what they called me."
"Who called you that?"
"I don't know, sir." She started to cry again, large tears leaking down her filthy cheeks. "I don't know anything."
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Several months later...
After
living with a young wizarding couple for the summer holiday, the young
Jordynkiele had been brought to Hogwarts to realize her potential in
the magical arts. She was placed in a group with the other first year
students who were all roughly her age. No one knew how old she was for
sure. They could only guess at her age based on her appearance. And as
far as they were concerned, young Jordynkiele was eleven years old.
Shuffling
in the middle of the group of other children, Jordynkiele, now called
Jordyn, wrung her fingers in her black robe. She could not explain why
she was so nervous. Her kind foster parents had told her what she
needed to know about the Sorting and that there was nothing to fear,
but the emotion wracked her body nonetheless. What if the others
shunned her for having no past and no memories? What if they laughed at
her gangly limbs and her mess of dark hair? What if she possessed no
magical talent and that it was only a distant hope that Dumbledore held
deep in his heart?
Because she was lost in her thoughts, Jordyn did not hear her name being called.
"MacAdoo, Jordyn," the woman said, her voice taking an annoyed tone.
Jordyn blinked for a moment before pushing her way through the crowd of
snickering students. She was not used to having her foster parent's
name as her own. Having a last name simply felt…wrong. She couldn't
explain it, but the feeling was there.
Making her way to the
front, Jordyn climbed up on to the stool. The Sorting Hat was placed
down over her head and she jumped as it started to speak to her.
"My, my, child," it whispered in her ear. "You have quite a labyrinth
of thoughts here in your mind, can you find your way through them? No,
I doubt you are ready to figure out who you are."
"Who am I?" Jordyn insisted in a low voice.
"You are not ready to know, my dear," the hat said. Jordyn shivered.
"You will learn, in time. But I am not here to figure you out. I place
you on the path of discovery but tell you nothing." The hat then fell
silent. Jordyn wished that it would continue talking to her but instead
she only felt as if something was weaving through her mind and picking
her apart. She nearly jumped when the hat spoke again. "You have a
destiny, child, and you have toiled long and hard, but for naught."
"Please, tell me."
"All I can tell you is that no House will do for you what Gryffindor
will." The hat was removed from Jordyn's head before she could ask it
the question on her tongue. She swallowed the thought and slid off the
stool to join her peers at the Gryffindor table. The cheers went
unheard as she sat down. She had spent the entire summer trying to
remember something about herself. Anything about her past. All she
received for her efforts were a few images in her dreams and whispers
on a breeze that dissipated too quickly.
It was not until a
ginger haired boy sitting across from her and his mirror image next to
her said her name loudly did she come out of her thoughts.
"It
is Jordyn, isn't it?" The boy across from her said. Jordyn nodded
silently and glanced over the boy's shoulder to the windows beyond. "I
didn't see you on the train."
"You wouldn't have," she said more
to the window than the boy. "I stayed in Hogsmeade this summer. That's
where my foster parents live."
The twins exchanged glances.
After a moment, the boy sitting across from her began to speak again.
"Right. Well, my name is Fred Weasley and this here is George. We're
new this year too."
Jordyn looked back and forth between the two
and allowed a small smile to cross her lips. She could only tell them
apart due to their positions at the table. Allowing her smile to grow,
she shook her head and glanced at Fred.
"Well," she said quietly. "I guess you already know my name. It's nice to meet you, Fred."
