Milly
Made of Dog Hair, Spruce, and Fairytales
War. It was coming to the kingdom by land, rushing across the golden plains on horseback with crossbows drawn and trebuchets poised to fire off in the distance. The thundering sound of their footsteps daring anyone to stand in their way. An army out for blood, settling for nothing save for the utter destruction of their target.
A scout stood at her post, her expression stunned, the force approaching was far too large for their own army. She looked to her comrades, their faces full of dread. Their thoughts, as if she could hear them, rang far similar to her own; how are we to survive this?
"To arms, to arms!"
As the warning bell rang, she shook her head of her useless thoughts and leapt into action. In the hopes to protect their proud city, she broke from her position and descended the tower steps. Through the panicked streets she ran as fast as she could, avoiding barrels and vendor's to the best of her ability, muttering quick apologies to those who couldn't get out of her way in time.
By the time she approached the drawbridge she could feel the army getting closer and closer to the kingdom. The ground shook stronger as each second passed and it only quickened her steps. Frantically she ran across, sped over the cobblestone, and grabbed the nearest servant by the arm.
"Where's the Queen, I must speak with her!" She yelled.
The young boy looked up at the soldier in fright. "Her majesty… she's… she's…"
"Dammit, boy, we don't have time! Where!"
Again the boy seemed eternally frightened. "I-in her chambers, s-sir."
The servant was thrown hastily aside allowing the soldier to rush up the steps towards her unsuspecting Queen. As the sounds of her boots against the cold stone rang in her ears, further reminding her of the army at their heels, of how dire their situation was, she pushed herself to continue. She must warn her highness, even if it was the last thing she were to do. When she came to the last step of the looming tower she allowed herself a moments breath. Once she righted herself she raised her gauntlet to the door and-
"Lee, you up there?"
The soldier's gaze blurred and her mind was cast in a haze. Was her mind playing tricks on her? Were evil spirits whispering in her ear?
"Lea, I swear on your daddy's grave, if you're up there-"
She rubbed out her inner ear to clear the strange visions. They had chosen a truly inopportune time to rear their devilish heads. Again, she raised her hand to attempt to warn her Queen when the incessant images trying to force their way into her troubled mind returned.
"Leandra Peony Mills, get your ass down here before I chop down this tree and turn it into a bench!"
Finally giving up, the images of regal castles and encroaching armies faded into the distance. In their place sat an angered young girl with a pencil and pad gripped tightly in her hands. She reached towards the curtains and pushed them aside, making her presence known to the angry troll barking up at her.
She glared down at the dishevelled creature. "Mum, I'm writing, can't it wait?"
"Write, write, write!" It complained. "Is that all you do?" The girl didn't respond, just simply jutted her rose pink tongue out at the swamp monster below her. "Come on Shakespeare, post's just arrived."
The girl rolled her brown eyes. "What's the post got to do with me?"
With a devilish smirk cast up at her; the troll said, "Something's arrived for a Miss L. Mills, The Castle in the Trees, 717 Castbury Lane, Ashford, Kent." When the girl didn't respond, she continued with a laugh. "It's for you, you knob! Now get down here!"
At that the rest of the illusion is finally shattered. The girl is finally ripped from her expansive imagination and thrust back into reality.
This excited girl is me. An eleven year old version of me, mind you, receiving a letter that will change my life forever. In anticipation of it I threw myself at the ladder, down it I nearly slipped into the most familiar and welcoming little nook, and from that I leapt to the ground. Once I managed to get to my feet I threw my tangled brown hair out of my eyes and I barrelled towards the house.
Waiting for me at the kitchen table was my mum, a troll in every sense of the word but not an actual troll, with an envelope dangling from her dirty hands. Being the impulsive and reckless young girl I was, and some people might argue I still am, I yanked the parchment from her and ripped it open. In it was a neatly folded letter, a letter I gladly removed, and I read it, excitement and adrenaline pulsing through me. There wasn't much written on the thing, allowing me to read it over and over again seeing as my vision was blurred with pure anticipation and I could read squat. After the third or fourth read through, the words began to clear and started to sink in. And those words did not make a lick of sense.
"Ma…" I said tentatively. "I'm pretty sure this is a load of shite…"
"Leandra!" She chastised my vulgar language.
Crap. I thought, raking a hand down my face. Sometimes I'd forget to watch my sailor's mouth. Got it from old Ms Weatherly from next door. "Sorry, Ma. But I'm not kiddin'. I mean, look at this, they want me to send them an owl of all bloody things."
"An owl?" She asked, clearly as confused as I was. "This some sort of taxidermy school?"
I shook my head and handed the letter to her. "Nah, sounds like they want me to send them a message through some unheard of owl-mail service, like a pigeon or whatever. And there's all this nonsense about Merlin and Witchcraft, and some place called Hogwarts."
Just as unconvinced as I was, my mum laughed. "The school's called Hogwarts? You're right; this is a load of shite."
Without a second thought we both agreed to crumple the damn thing and toss it into the rubbish.
That was June of that summer, when I received my letter, and my mum and I didn't even think about it in the following weeks. We were too busy weeding the garden for most of June and July. So as it neared August I just took to my tree house and continued my story of the rampaging army and the beloved Queen.
"M'lady, m'lady!" The soldier cried as her knuckles rasped against the wood of the Queen's bedroom door.
From beyond the sturdy oak the sound of hushed murmurs struggled to find their way to the soldier's ears. Some she could recognise as belonging to the Queen with her melodious voice, others were much deeper in pitch, raspier, and more strained, most certainly a man's and clearly weathered with age. With no small amount of effort, the soldier was able to discern some of what they were saying.
"Millicent, the world as you know it is changing." The rougher voice said hurriedly.
"What would you have me do,sorcerer?" The Queen spat back.
"If you stay the course you're on, your world will not only change, it will end."
"If you're threatening me, old man, I will not hesitate to cut you down." She said with unwavering conviction. A trait that had always caused her enemies to quake in their boots.
The man sighed. "It is not a threat, but a sad truth. You must welcome my talents if you hope for your people to survive."
"You're asking me to throw away everything my mother has raised me to believe-"
"Not necessarily." He corrected.
The soldier grew tired of their conversation and knocked once more. "Your Highness! Imust speak with you urgently!"
The Queen sighed and called the soldier forth. "You may enter."
Given explicit permission she pushed the door open and was immediately caught off guard by the man sitting on the ledge of the Queen's window. He wore a floor length purple robe, both his hair and beard reached his waist, each strand whiter than the next, nestled at the end of a crooked nose was a pair of half-moon spectacles, and atop his ageing head was a cap to match his robes. His appearance was that of magic, that of a sorcerer. Something unheard of in their kingdom, something exotic and strange, but it wasn't the time for such trivial matters.
"M'lady! There are forces approaching from the North." The soldier said in exasperation.
The Queen inhaled and exhaled tiredly. "Yes. I'm aware."
Completely shocked by such a complacent admittance, the soldier couldn't find the words to speak for quite some time. "M-m'lady. You're telling me you know of the advancing army yet you're doing nothing to stop them?"
"You will watch your tone." She warned.
She couldn't believe the words coming out of her Queen's mouth. "In all respect, m'lady, now is not the time to worry about formalities! If we don't act soon your kingdom will fall!"
The Queen, until recently was almost indifferent to her crumbling monarchy, turned to the old man and said, "Sorcerer, can you help to keep my walls from falling?"
"Of that I cannot be for certain."
She snarled. "Then what can you do beyond offering warnings long past overdue? Can you get my people to safety, at least?"
"It would be an honour, my Queen." He said assuredly and just as he was in front of them, he was gone, the air around him warping and contorting as he vanished, leaving the soldier dumbfounded and the Queen ready to act.
"Now, you and I are going to get out of here."
The sound of something banging against the underside of my treehouse, possibly – probably – someone's knuckles, brought me out of my fictional world. Yet again. I didn't recall my mum shrieking at me that time around, so I was just the bit curious; Who else would climb my tree?
"Who is it?" I called tiredly, not particularly in the mood for company.
Whoever was there didn't respond right away, instead they poked their head through the opening in the floor and smiled my way. To my surprise it wasn't my mother and it wasn't Timmy from next door. No, it was an old man, of all people. And when I say old, I mean old as dirt.
And while I processed how someone so aged and tired managed to climb a tree, he said, "May I join you?" Really too shocked and too caught off guard to respond, I nodded.
"Wonderful!" He said cheerily, lifting himself into the room and sitting down across from me.
I still didn't know what to say and I'm a girl who has something to say about everything, no matter the situation, no matter who was involved, without fail. It was pretty unnerving, sitting across from someone without any obvious rhyme or reason for being there. More so than anything I was taken aback by how much he reminded me of some of the characters I've written. Robes reaching all the way to the floor, glasses perched at the end of his nose, knobby and wobbly joints as he moved, long and whisky white hair… and I didn't feel threatened by him, not in the slightest. He didn't mean any harm to me, that much was for sure.
"Have I come at a bad time?"
I'm pulled out of my musings by his kind and gentle voice, though a little rough and plenty tired. I shook my head. "No –" I hesitated. "Well, yes, but I'm used to being interrupted."
The man's face creased with a frown. "That's very unfortunate to hear. What were you doing, if I may ask?"
Most people turned up their noses at me for writing as often as I did, so I often lied. But, in that moment, I knew I wouldn't be able to get away with it. So I thumbed the edge of the paper I'd been scribbling on and I told him the truth. "I was writing a scene from a story I've been working on."
He gave me a crinkly smile at my honest response. "Fascinating! It's always good to get one's thoughts down!"
"I… I guess…" I continued to hesitate. There was some odd reason why I wasn't comfortable around him. Again, I wasn't threatened, but I still wasn't completely at ease. I shifted in my seat as it came to me… I had no idea why he was there, or who he was! "Excuse me for asking, but what are you doing here?"
The man's expression lit up and he licked his lips. "Ah, yes, frank and to the point. As your mother said you would be." He said almost affectionately. "I came here wondering why you hadn't sent word of your enrolment. There isn't much time left and I'd hate for you to miss out on such an experience because of pesky deadlines."
I racked my brain briefly for a memory of an acceptance letter. As far as I knew I hadn't even attempted to enrol in any private schools. I was happy at the public one down the street, that's where all my friends were staying and here I'd be staying as well. "Uh, sir…" I muttered. "I think you have the wrong house. I haven't enrolled anywhere."
"Of course you haven't." He returned, only confusing me further. "You were accepted at Hogwarts merely for being a witch. We send letters to every young witch and wizard during the summer of their 11th year."
Did he just call me what I think he did?
The odd letter I received in the mail weeks for finally came back to me. The owl-post, the mentions of Merlin, the talk of witches and wizards, and of several other things that I found absolutely – barking. Wouldn't any sane person? But, here was someone trying to talk to me about it seriously. So was Hogwarts an actual place? Was all of it real?
As the fragments of the letter flew across my conscious, like watching somebody else operate a typewriter, I fought to formulate what I wished to say. "You're not that Professor McGoggles, are you?" I asked without truly realising that I had.
"If you mean Professor McGonagall, then no, I am not."
Sceptical of a man spouting on about fictional things like it was the bloody weather, I couldn't help the look I gave him. "Even if you weren't you and you were them, this talk of witches and wizards sounds like a load of rubbish to me."
"Naturally, for you weren't born in that world." He said most cryptically.
"And what does that mean?" I said before I had even let the thought register.
Despite my slightly snarky responses the man was surprisingly patient and kind. Smiling down at me as if I were his grandchild, he said, "It means, my dear, that even though you were born into a world of electric contraptions and unruly restrictions, you belong to one that is so much more wonderful, more mystical, more enthralling than you could imagine."
Unconsciously, I snorted. "You want to put money on that? I've a pretty expansive imagination."
Again, he only smiled. "I don't doubt that."
"Then are you going to tell me who you are, at least?" I thought I'd ask.
His eyes almost twinkled at me as his expression changed once more. "Of all times I've been asked that I don't think it's ever taken this long." He chuckled nostalgically. "I am Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts."
Since I was still less than keen to the whole Hogwarts situation I merely laughed and offered my hand out to him. "Leandra Peony Mills, but I'm sure you already knew that, for whatever reason."
"That I do." He returned kindly. "I'm sure you're curious about Hogwarts and everything else we've been talking about."
I rolled my eyes, not in impatience or sarcasm, but in disbelief. "Yeah, just a little, old man."
Surprisingly he looked at me deviously over his half-moon spectacles with a coy smirk. "Keep up that attitude and you may never find out."
I held up my hands in defeat to the "headmaster". "My apologies, Professor."
"All is forgiven." He forgave then suddenly clapped his hands together. "Now… how to tell you about something you've been taught all your life couldn't possibly exist?"
Author's Note: Edited, 8/9/2015.