Mirea: The Girl Who Is Different
Mirea Meekwood stood speechless in the hallway of her home. She was holding a rather creased piece of parchment; it had been read so many times that it was almost disintigrating at the creases. She didn't know how she'd first felt when she saw the letter arrive with her owl Sabiner. True, she had guessed that it might be from the famous wizarding school of Hogwarts, yet another emotion had now kicked in. Mirea had thought that if she had been accepted at Hogwarts that she would have a wonderful time at school, but now she could sense it was all to be different. Why should other normal magical youngsters make friends with her? She was viewed as an attention seeker at her muggle primary school, even though really she was a very quaint and quiet girl. Tears started to sting her eyes; each one sluggishly slid down her cheek. She had to make sure that her eyes weren't decieving her as she read the letter for the countless time.
There was no doubt. It clearly stated: Dear Miss Meekwood,
As deputy headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry I am pleased to inform you that you have been offerred a place in out establishment. The school train will leave at on September 1st from Kings Cross Station, platform 9 3/4. Further details will be sent in a return owl. I look forward to seeing the above student at the school. Please note that a list of essential items for your education is included. Many thanks.
Minerva McGonagall
Mirea almost wanted the words to disappear. She had always wanted to go to Hogwarts, and felt pathetic now she had suddenly changed her mind. It wasn't that she didn't want to become a fully fledged witch - she did; it was her dream. Ever since her mother had died things had changed. That was two years ago to date, and as she remembered her lost parent Mirea glanced at the photograph on the polished oak table. Her mother had cleaned it up like that. Mirea recalled that it had been done only weeks before her mother's death. Her mother had always told her to be strong. "You'll be going to Hogwarts soon. I'll be so proud when you get the letter! I was in Gryffindor and I expect...well, I suppose it depends. Don't you worry. You're my special daughter; my only daughter."
That was what was etched in her mind most strongly. It was as if someone had taken a knife and cut the words 'my special daughter' into Mirea's head and memory. The cut stung every time she started daydreaming about her mother. The phrase haunted her now: 'special, special. You're special, and don't you ever forget it.'
She had been living alone for the last few years. Her father hadn't been a responsible wizard. He had left the moment his beautiful and much loved Grete passed away. No message had been left for the eleven year old girl being abandoned: her mother had spent the last weeks of life in a coma in St Mungo's Hospital, and her father had just gone. Just walked out like that, forgetting that his daughter had loved her lost mother as much as he had adored her as a wife, forgetting that she needed care and reassurance too. Mirea had visited her mother in the hospital bed once, but the atmosphere had frightened her. People had tried to be so sympathetic, too sympathetic, too caring in a false manner.
"Doesn't your heart melt for the child? She's still young, mark my words she'll be hysterical with grief when her mother leaves this earth. I pity her so much; she'll miss a mother's love, and that's always priceless for a child. Her mother calls her little girl 'special'. She would, naturally. Everyone thinks that way about their baby," Healers would say to each other. Some would give Mirea chocolate frogs and pat her on the back, whereas others told her to be strong. Many encouraged her to let out her feelings by having a good and substantial cry, but it didn't comfort Mirea.
And now she was to go to Hogwarts at last. She had hoped the letter wouldn't find her house, that she would never have to confront the possability of school. It had been bad enough with how Mirea was 'special'. Her mother had seen her abnormalities as a bonus, and showered positive ideas on how it could be used for the better. However, her father had never cared. He had never spent even weekends at home with his daughter. That was partly because of his new wife and son. Mirea wasn't meant to know about her father's affair, but she did. People didn't say she had powers for nothing. She had seen it all in a dream years before her father had remarried, or her mother died. Friends of the family and neighbours had told her parents that she was emotional, that it was normal for a toddling three year old. But the young Mirea had seen her father's son: she even knew his name. Barty Crouch. She could tell he had fair hair although she had never seen him. Her father had been married to Grete for about twenty years, and Mirea was meant to be their only child. But her father had being seeing a woman called Dianah Crouch since perhaps a year or so after his marriage to Mirea's mother.
So then there was her father with a problem. He'd taken the name Crouch when he was told by the Healers that Grete Meekwood, Mirea's mother, was definitely not going to live much longer. There had even been a wedding, but Mirea hadn't been invited. Last thing that she had discovered about her father's secret son was that he was in Azkaban, with the dementors. She could feel this more easily in her use of her special powers, as the dementors created thoughts of doom and depression. When she had seen this torturing of her step brother-that-shouldn't-have-been Mirea had laughed. She was ashamed now, but all these years ago, she had laughed. She hated her father for betraying her mother and for leaving her alone. She didn't know why this excess son had been sent to the wizarding prison, but it made her happy to think that things weren't going right for her worthless and uncaring father.
Mirea had spent the two years without either parent in hiding. She could also use her powers to blend into her surroundings and had since been dodging the Hogwarts letter; ignoring life and trying to get it to ignore her. Because she was 'special'. Others didn't pronounnce the word the same as her mother had. They said it almost as if they wanted to spit at her. Mirea believed this was very unfair, because she didn't want to be 'special'. She wanted to be as normal, as boring as everyone else who would be going to Hogwarts. But she knew that because of her powers that would never happen.
Part 2
Please buy the first part before you read this, or it will make no sense!
A battered old trunk was lying on the floor. It had various labels on sticking to the peeling brown leather covering. 'Gryffindor for the Quidditch and House cups!' one stated. Another had simply 'Grete Phillips; Gryffindor'. Mirea knew that Phillips had been her mother's maiden name, yet it seemed queer to see it written down. She added one last thing to her school package and sighed in a defeated way. It was the only suitcase she had, so she was forced to use it. Mirea did want to appear as an equal to the other children when she started at Hogwarts. It couldn't last, but if she had gone to school with a rucksack that she had carried each day to the muggle primary school she would stick out from the crowd even more. They could all laugh and call her a weirdo if they liked. Fine. The manner in which her mother had always told her she was 'special' had led to teasing before. Even the five year olds had giggled, and impersonated Mirea's mother whenever they could.
"Mummy's special dearest darling daughter!" a toothy freckled girl with pigtails joked at school.
Most of Mirea's life so far had been about coping. Her parents were no longer there for her, and she was left to try and look after her own life. But it was a full two years since she had last been at school. When her mother had died she had run away from her primary school. It was around that time when Hogwarts had started sending the owls. Although it was comforting in a strange sense that someone cared for her still, she loathed the letters. They seemed to imply that Mirea should let her life return to normal; should forget about her mother's death and her father going off on her. Mirea's powers had told her that Dumbledore, the headmaster, was aware of her situation, and this made it appear that he was really attempting to mock at her poorness and how she had found it so hard to survive for the last years. Owls and owls had come flying through the open windows. They had even continued coming when Mirea had put boards on the windows in pure anguish. She wanted to scream at them to leave her alone, but they kept being persistant. Hogwarts seemed determined that she should go there.
It was tough to think about why she had suddenly given in like that. She was much older than other wizarding children making their beginning at the school that year. She was thirteen, and should have been moving up into the third year. Yet time felt like it had stayed completely still since her mother's death. She was almost sure that if the eleven year olds gave her a chance that she would be very suited to them. It was the element of chance that Mirea had lacked throughout her education so far. The muggle teachers had given up searching for the missing pupil: she was presumed abducted or worse. Mirea's sole accquantiance had been witnessed by Mirea herself going to the church with flowers. It had frightened Mirea to consider the message scrawled on still childish handwriting on it. But somewhere in that courtyard it fluttered in the breeze. 'Mirea Meekwood, why did you have to leave me?'
Janie hadn't even been a great friend. Her and Mirea had talked in the lunch hour at school. She had offered Mirea comfort when her parents left. Mirea hadn't heard any of these pleas to help her at the time - they had been similar from everyone. She didn't care what they thought, and certainly didn't want any assistance. All that time Mirea had been having great problems with being strong and caring for herself. She supposed that the single reason as to why she had suddenly resolved to go to Hogwarts and return to civilisation was that she had had enough. She wanted guidance again; wanted to be a child and leave the responsibility to the adults. Mirea had found it was a touch difficult to buy food and clothes when people believe you don't exist anymore. She had been living in the same old clothes forever, or so it seemed. The blue jeans and pink top that she wore at the moment she was packing her trunk were several sizes too small. Her shoes no longer fitted. Sometimes, when she couldn't stand being cooped up within four walls any longer over her period of depression she had gone to run on the hills where she had played as a baby. The locals of Hannington thought that it was a ghost, and called the spectre 'Lonely Hill's Girl'. The hill had since been named 'Lonely Hill', and she had to satisfy the people every so often by making an appearence there.
Mirea hadn't even been to Diagon Alley. She knew that she would be stared at, and wanted to keep as low a profile as possible. And this life long burden was all to do with her Great Great Aunt removed so many times. Her parents had often gone over the family tree with her. It had been during one of these 'cosy family sessions', as her mother called them, that she had started having the strange daydreams. Mirea remembered falling asleep while her parents droned on in their argument about whether her cousin Alfie was illegible to belong in the family any longer. She had felt drowsy, and had decided that it would do no harm to have a quick sleep. Twenty minutes on and her parents were still debating, but something changed. The tired feeling had evapourated, and only a sort of sharp, tingling pain was left in Mirea's head. She had woken up screaming. Mirea knew that what she had seen was true, although she was four years old.
A man, a snake: he had a great lumbering scaly snake. And a rat. But no - the rat was gone, and a man stood in its place. Huge shadows of black cloaked wizards appeared next in a rink around the snake man. Each had a wand, and was bowing. They were bowing to the evil figure. 'Master, you returned to us after all these years!' they were all saying. And then the picture changed with a bright green flash; the vibrant colour blinded Mirea. A boy was standing in front of her. He had jet black hair, and a Thing on his forehead. Flash! Dead bodies everywhere in her vision. The boy was screaming too now, his hand firmly covering his face. But then it was revealed; the ugly red scar shaped like a bolt of lightening. Mirea pointed at him in disbelief, hoping he would suddenly turn out to be scarless. But then it changed once more. Flash! Gravestones and an old man. The old man had a Ministry badge pinned to his robes. It was then that Mirea realised that this was her father. And he was saying something very strange - the snake man had reappeared. 'Father, father. You have done us proud! You are back once more. As to Harry Potter?' The snake man turned around to face Mirea, as previously only his slit like eyes had been visible. 'He will be disposed of.' Another blinding flash; Mirea's eyes could see very little in the darkness of the graveyard. Yet it was no longer a graveyard. It was now a castle; huge and rambling. The scarred boy was present again. And another FLASH!
"Argghhh!" Mirea had yelled, jumping out of her chair in fright.
Part 3
Continued from part 2
"Argghhh!" Mirea had yelled, jumping out of her chair in fright.
Her parents hadn't seen what she had. She asked them with a shaking voice, and they quite calmly answered that they had no idea what she was talking about. It was then that Mirea was classed as 'special'. The phrase was to follow her around for the rest of her life: 'You're different. You're special.' Of course, her mother had told her that the powers were a wonderful gift. She had made Mirea report every time she had seen something new. This terrified the young girl. She was forced to view the horrors of the future twice; every nightmare was replayed like a scratched well used record when Grete Meekwood discovered each new sensation. That was when it had really begun in earnest. Mirea had told her mother everything, well - except one of these visions which scared her most. It was that of a brain, and the people that she knew now were Death Eaters. They seemed to be searching for something; and found it. The brain was pulsating in an awful way. Each Death Eater was taking something from their robes and placing it gently, as a mother does a child, in a basin next to this brain. Then the figures got larger, and creatures who Mirea thought looked like the giants in her fairy stories joined the gathering. It was when she saw the boy with the scar again that she had really been frightened. The snake man appeared, and took something clenched in a rebelliously tight grip from this boy's fist. 'We have done it, Master.'
It had been enough for Mirea to become scared of every shadow, every creak, and every person or animal. At the age she had reached now she saw this picture created by her powers in a different way. She didn't want to run away. She knew she had to warn the boy she had seen. And surely it was most likely that this boy would be at Hogwarts if he hadn't been killed yet? Mirea was older than him, but that was why she had accepted the entry to the first year. She would get rid of the responsability of caring for herself in an empty house, but would have to take on a fresh mission of responsibility. She had to find the boy who was in such grave danger, and she was willing to shelve her pride to do that. Mirea thought that if she used her special powers to help others in peril that she wouldn't be taunted any more; that people might even pay homage to her.
Early on September 1st Mirea began her journey to Hogwarts. Her trunk was closed, and her mother's old school things sorted into their places. She wasn't very sure who the things belonged to, but as she had found them near her mother's trunk felt that it was safe to presume they were hers. Mirea's father had been to Hogwarts too. She had once had a vision regarding the house her father was in. She saw an aged hat on her father's head, and this was no ordinary hat. It was a talking hat, and was telling him that he was most suited to Gryffindor house. But using her power Mirea also knew what her father's feelings towards the decision were. It was obvious that the hat had thought Slytherin was the most suited for him, but the eleven year old boy clenched the side of the chair and pleaded not to be put there. With a dull sigh the hat said, 'You are ambitious to the stage of being ruthless; I can sense it. Gryffindor won't allow you to forget when your true house calls for you.' She had dared to tell her father this tale, but he had pushed her away. It would be true to say that Mirea thought her whole life was that of being a parcel. When the gift or sight that she offered was wanted by her family she would be praised and loved, but when she told her parents something they disapproved of she was sent to her bedroom like a parcel which can't be delievered is sent back to the sender.
The train journey had was lonely, but otherwise uneventful. Mirea had sat in a compartment which was completely empty except for another girl with a strange dress style. She didn't wear vegetable earrings or anything of the sort: she wore an aged gown which appeared to be centuries old. This girl didn't speak once to her companion, and this arrangement seemed to suit both of them. It had been when Mirea had first stepped into the Hogwarts Express that she had become fearful. Indeed, she had heard nothing from the headmaster or anyone else in the wizarding world since the letter beckoning her had come. It reminded her of the torture of Muggle primary school, when she had been disowned and openly hated. Everyone else going to the magical school had friends, and they were all talking loudly. One boy hadn't managed to get a seat in the same part of the train as his friend, and had magicked a great megaphone to communicate with him. No teachers were present at that time and the echoes of, "Oy, Lee! Turn up the volume - George's listening too - he thinks we could break some sort of Muggle Guineass record! Dad told me all about them; reckon we could come out of this train triumphent: stuff like the largest apple pie and sausage meal has won awards, and this contraption of ours is much more impressive!"
Lee yelled something in return, and the whole train shook with the noise. It was only when a Professor cast a 'Niverouxeaus' incantation to make the boys' compartment sound proof that Mirea noticed her unusual companion again. This girl was much taller than she was, and was adorning the most beautiful necklace of pearls around her neck. She had satin slippers on her feet and was reading a novel called 'Fashion Today'. Mirea didn't say anything to this, but self-conciously continued to stare at this stranger.
The strange girl smiled vaguely. "I'm Leia Lovegood. My sister Luna starts here next year. Won't that be nice?"
Unsure how to reply, Mirea simply smiled in return. She would have done anything to have a sibling, it was true; she would have done anything simply to be regarded as one of the crowd; to be annoymous and plain. No red label stuck to her forehead declaring her as 'special', but the feeling remained in her subconcious mind. Mirea understood why she couldn't fit in with normal youngsters her age. She had been apart from them for too long, and had developed into a girl yearning for her own answers to life and lone solitude. It was as if there were two girls in her head: the toddler Mirea and the present Mirea. One enjoyed the company of other children, and had a wide smile and curly brown hair which all her many friends admired. The second was exceptionally thin with a constant worried frown, tousled and unruly curls with suspicious eyes that would question everyone and everything. She knew she could have been ordinary, but that her surroundings had forced her into territory that she was soon to become inprisoned in.
Taking another glance around the train and its occupants Mirea was certain none of them were capable of even considering the total pain of exclusion. She was the only one alone, as the rest were perfectly contented in each other. But Mirea felt almost as if she was invading privacy by being so close to them all, as if her lonliness might become infectious, and found herself an empty carriage to travel in for the rest of the journey to school.
Mirea Meekwood stood speechless in the hallway of her home. She was holding a rather creased piece of parchment; it had been read so many times that it was almost disintigrating at the creases. She didn't know how she'd first felt when she saw the letter arrive with her owl Sabiner. True, she had guessed that it might be from the famous wizarding school of Hogwarts, yet another emotion had now kicked in. Mirea had thought that if she had been accepted at Hogwarts that she would have a wonderful time at school, but now she could sense it was all to be different. Why should other normal magical youngsters make friends with her? She was viewed as an attention seeker at her muggle primary school, even though really she was a very quaint and quiet girl. Tears started to sting her eyes; each one sluggishly slid down her cheek. She had to make sure that her eyes weren't decieving her as she read the letter for the countless time.
There was no doubt. It clearly stated: Dear Miss Meekwood,
As deputy headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry I am pleased to inform you that you have been offerred a place in out establishment. The school train will leave at on September 1st from Kings Cross Station, platform 9 3/4. Further details will be sent in a return owl. I look forward to seeing the above student at the school. Please note that a list of essential items for your education is included. Many thanks.
Minerva McGonagall
Mirea almost wanted the words to disappear. She had always wanted to go to Hogwarts, and felt pathetic now she had suddenly changed her mind. It wasn't that she didn't want to become a fully fledged witch - she did; it was her dream. Ever since her mother had died things had changed. That was two years ago to date, and as she remembered her lost parent Mirea glanced at the photograph on the polished oak table. Her mother had cleaned it up like that. Mirea recalled that it had been done only weeks before her mother's death. Her mother had always told her to be strong. "You'll be going to Hogwarts soon. I'll be so proud when you get the letter! I was in Gryffindor and I expect...well, I suppose it depends. Don't you worry. You're my special daughter; my only daughter."
That was what was etched in her mind most strongly. It was as if someone had taken a knife and cut the words 'my special daughter' into Mirea's head and memory. The cut stung every time she started daydreaming about her mother. The phrase haunted her now: 'special, special. You're special, and don't you ever forget it.'
She had been living alone for the last few years. Her father hadn't been a responsible wizard. He had left the moment his beautiful and much loved Grete passed away. No message had been left for the eleven year old girl being abandoned: her mother had spent the last weeks of life in a coma in St Mungo's Hospital, and her father had just gone. Just walked out like that, forgetting that his daughter had loved her lost mother as much as he had adored her as a wife, forgetting that she needed care and reassurance too. Mirea had visited her mother in the hospital bed once, but the atmosphere had frightened her. People had tried to be so sympathetic, too sympathetic, too caring in a false manner.
"Doesn't your heart melt for the child? She's still young, mark my words she'll be hysterical with grief when her mother leaves this earth. I pity her so much; she'll miss a mother's love, and that's always priceless for a child. Her mother calls her little girl 'special'. She would, naturally. Everyone thinks that way about their baby," Healers would say to each other. Some would give Mirea chocolate frogs and pat her on the back, whereas others told her to be strong. Many encouraged her to let out her feelings by having a good and substantial cry, but it didn't comfort Mirea.
And now she was to go to Hogwarts at last. She had hoped the letter wouldn't find her house, that she would never have to confront the possability of school. It had been bad enough with how Mirea was 'special'. Her mother had seen her abnormalities as a bonus, and showered positive ideas on how it could be used for the better. However, her father had never cared. He had never spent even weekends at home with his daughter. That was partly because of his new wife and son. Mirea wasn't meant to know about her father's affair, but she did. People didn't say she had powers for nothing. She had seen it all in a dream years before her father had remarried, or her mother died. Friends of the family and neighbours had told her parents that she was emotional, that it was normal for a toddling three year old. But the young Mirea had seen her father's son: she even knew his name. Barty Crouch. She could tell he had fair hair although she had never seen him. Her father had been married to Grete for about twenty years, and Mirea was meant to be their only child. But her father had being seeing a woman called Dianah Crouch since perhaps a year or so after his marriage to Mirea's mother.
So then there was her father with a problem. He'd taken the name Crouch when he was told by the Healers that Grete Meekwood, Mirea's mother, was definitely not going to live much longer. There had even been a wedding, but Mirea hadn't been invited. Last thing that she had discovered about her father's secret son was that he was in Azkaban, with the dementors. She could feel this more easily in her use of her special powers, as the dementors created thoughts of doom and depression. When she had seen this torturing of her step brother-that-shouldn't-have-been Mirea had laughed. She was ashamed now, but all these years ago, she had laughed. She hated her father for betraying her mother and for leaving her alone. She didn't know why this excess son had been sent to the wizarding prison, but it made her happy to think that things weren't going right for her worthless and uncaring father.
Mirea had spent the two years without either parent in hiding. She could also use her powers to blend into her surroundings and had since been dodging the Hogwarts letter; ignoring life and trying to get it to ignore her. Because she was 'special'. Others didn't pronounnce the word the same as her mother had. They said it almost as if they wanted to spit at her. Mirea believed this was very unfair, because she didn't want to be 'special'. She wanted to be as normal, as boring as everyone else who would be going to Hogwarts. But she knew that because of her powers that would never happen.
Part 2
Please buy the first part before you read this, or it will make no sense!
A battered old trunk was lying on the floor. It had various labels on sticking to the peeling brown leather covering. 'Gryffindor for the Quidditch and House cups!' one stated. Another had simply 'Grete Phillips; Gryffindor'. Mirea knew that Phillips had been her mother's maiden name, yet it seemed queer to see it written down. She added one last thing to her school package and sighed in a defeated way. It was the only suitcase she had, so she was forced to use it. Mirea did want to appear as an equal to the other children when she started at Hogwarts. It couldn't last, but if she had gone to school with a rucksack that she had carried each day to the muggle primary school she would stick out from the crowd even more. They could all laugh and call her a weirdo if they liked. Fine. The manner in which her mother had always told her she was 'special' had led to teasing before. Even the five year olds had giggled, and impersonated Mirea's mother whenever they could.
"Mummy's special dearest darling daughter!" a toothy freckled girl with pigtails joked at school.
Most of Mirea's life so far had been about coping. Her parents were no longer there for her, and she was left to try and look after her own life. But it was a full two years since she had last been at school. When her mother had died she had run away from her primary school. It was around that time when Hogwarts had started sending the owls. Although it was comforting in a strange sense that someone cared for her still, she loathed the letters. They seemed to imply that Mirea should let her life return to normal; should forget about her mother's death and her father going off on her. Mirea's powers had told her that Dumbledore, the headmaster, was aware of her situation, and this made it appear that he was really attempting to mock at her poorness and how she had found it so hard to survive for the last years. Owls and owls had come flying through the open windows. They had even continued coming when Mirea had put boards on the windows in pure anguish. She wanted to scream at them to leave her alone, but they kept being persistant. Hogwarts seemed determined that she should go there.
It was tough to think about why she had suddenly given in like that. She was much older than other wizarding children making their beginning at the school that year. She was thirteen, and should have been moving up into the third year. Yet time felt like it had stayed completely still since her mother's death. She was almost sure that if the eleven year olds gave her a chance that she would be very suited to them. It was the element of chance that Mirea had lacked throughout her education so far. The muggle teachers had given up searching for the missing pupil: she was presumed abducted or worse. Mirea's sole accquantiance had been witnessed by Mirea herself going to the church with flowers. It had frightened Mirea to consider the message scrawled on still childish handwriting on it. But somewhere in that courtyard it fluttered in the breeze. 'Mirea Meekwood, why did you have to leave me?'
Janie hadn't even been a great friend. Her and Mirea had talked in the lunch hour at school. She had offered Mirea comfort when her parents left. Mirea hadn't heard any of these pleas to help her at the time - they had been similar from everyone. She didn't care what they thought, and certainly didn't want any assistance. All that time Mirea had been having great problems with being strong and caring for herself. She supposed that the single reason as to why she had suddenly resolved to go to Hogwarts and return to civilisation was that she had had enough. She wanted guidance again; wanted to be a child and leave the responsibility to the adults. Mirea had found it was a touch difficult to buy food and clothes when people believe you don't exist anymore. She had been living in the same old clothes forever, or so it seemed. The blue jeans and pink top that she wore at the moment she was packing her trunk were several sizes too small. Her shoes no longer fitted. Sometimes, when she couldn't stand being cooped up within four walls any longer over her period of depression she had gone to run on the hills where she had played as a baby. The locals of Hannington thought that it was a ghost, and called the spectre 'Lonely Hill's Girl'. The hill had since been named 'Lonely Hill', and she had to satisfy the people every so often by making an appearence there.
Mirea hadn't even been to Diagon Alley. She knew that she would be stared at, and wanted to keep as low a profile as possible. And this life long burden was all to do with her Great Great Aunt removed so many times. Her parents had often gone over the family tree with her. It had been during one of these 'cosy family sessions', as her mother called them, that she had started having the strange daydreams. Mirea remembered falling asleep while her parents droned on in their argument about whether her cousin Alfie was illegible to belong in the family any longer. She had felt drowsy, and had decided that it would do no harm to have a quick sleep. Twenty minutes on and her parents were still debating, but something changed. The tired feeling had evapourated, and only a sort of sharp, tingling pain was left in Mirea's head. She had woken up screaming. Mirea knew that what she had seen was true, although she was four years old.
A man, a snake: he had a great lumbering scaly snake. And a rat. But no - the rat was gone, and a man stood in its place. Huge shadows of black cloaked wizards appeared next in a rink around the snake man. Each had a wand, and was bowing. They were bowing to the evil figure. 'Master, you returned to us after all these years!' they were all saying. And then the picture changed with a bright green flash; the vibrant colour blinded Mirea. A boy was standing in front of her. He had jet black hair, and a Thing on his forehead. Flash! Dead bodies everywhere in her vision. The boy was screaming too now, his hand firmly covering his face. But then it was revealed; the ugly red scar shaped like a bolt of lightening. Mirea pointed at him in disbelief, hoping he would suddenly turn out to be scarless. But then it changed once more. Flash! Gravestones and an old man. The old man had a Ministry badge pinned to his robes. It was then that Mirea realised that this was her father. And he was saying something very strange - the snake man had reappeared. 'Father, father. You have done us proud! You are back once more. As to Harry Potter?' The snake man turned around to face Mirea, as previously only his slit like eyes had been visible. 'He will be disposed of.' Another blinding flash; Mirea's eyes could see very little in the darkness of the graveyard. Yet it was no longer a graveyard. It was now a castle; huge and rambling. The scarred boy was present again. And another FLASH!
"Argghhh!" Mirea had yelled, jumping out of her chair in fright.
Part 3
Continued from part 2
"Argghhh!" Mirea had yelled, jumping out of her chair in fright.
Her parents hadn't seen what she had. She asked them with a shaking voice, and they quite calmly answered that they had no idea what she was talking about. It was then that Mirea was classed as 'special'. The phrase was to follow her around for the rest of her life: 'You're different. You're special.' Of course, her mother had told her that the powers were a wonderful gift. She had made Mirea report every time she had seen something new. This terrified the young girl. She was forced to view the horrors of the future twice; every nightmare was replayed like a scratched well used record when Grete Meekwood discovered each new sensation. That was when it had really begun in earnest. Mirea had told her mother everything, well - except one of these visions which scared her most. It was that of a brain, and the people that she knew now were Death Eaters. They seemed to be searching for something; and found it. The brain was pulsating in an awful way. Each Death Eater was taking something from their robes and placing it gently, as a mother does a child, in a basin next to this brain. Then the figures got larger, and creatures who Mirea thought looked like the giants in her fairy stories joined the gathering. It was when she saw the boy with the scar again that she had really been frightened. The snake man appeared, and took something clenched in a rebelliously tight grip from this boy's fist. 'We have done it, Master.'
It had been enough for Mirea to become scared of every shadow, every creak, and every person or animal. At the age she had reached now she saw this picture created by her powers in a different way. She didn't want to run away. She knew she had to warn the boy she had seen. And surely it was most likely that this boy would be at Hogwarts if he hadn't been killed yet? Mirea was older than him, but that was why she had accepted the entry to the first year. She would get rid of the responsability of caring for herself in an empty house, but would have to take on a fresh mission of responsibility. She had to find the boy who was in such grave danger, and she was willing to shelve her pride to do that. Mirea thought that if she used her special powers to help others in peril that she wouldn't be taunted any more; that people might even pay homage to her.
Early on September 1st Mirea began her journey to Hogwarts. Her trunk was closed, and her mother's old school things sorted into their places. She wasn't very sure who the things belonged to, but as she had found them near her mother's trunk felt that it was safe to presume they were hers. Mirea's father had been to Hogwarts too. She had once had a vision regarding the house her father was in. She saw an aged hat on her father's head, and this was no ordinary hat. It was a talking hat, and was telling him that he was most suited to Gryffindor house. But using her power Mirea also knew what her father's feelings towards the decision were. It was obvious that the hat had thought Slytherin was the most suited for him, but the eleven year old boy clenched the side of the chair and pleaded not to be put there. With a dull sigh the hat said, 'You are ambitious to the stage of being ruthless; I can sense it. Gryffindor won't allow you to forget when your true house calls for you.' She had dared to tell her father this tale, but he had pushed her away. It would be true to say that Mirea thought her whole life was that of being a parcel. When the gift or sight that she offered was wanted by her family she would be praised and loved, but when she told her parents something they disapproved of she was sent to her bedroom like a parcel which can't be delievered is sent back to the sender.
The train journey had was lonely, but otherwise uneventful. Mirea had sat in a compartment which was completely empty except for another girl with a strange dress style. She didn't wear vegetable earrings or anything of the sort: she wore an aged gown which appeared to be centuries old. This girl didn't speak once to her companion, and this arrangement seemed to suit both of them. It had been when Mirea had first stepped into the Hogwarts Express that she had become fearful. Indeed, she had heard nothing from the headmaster or anyone else in the wizarding world since the letter beckoning her had come. It reminded her of the torture of Muggle primary school, when she had been disowned and openly hated. Everyone else going to the magical school had friends, and they were all talking loudly. One boy hadn't managed to get a seat in the same part of the train as his friend, and had magicked a great megaphone to communicate with him. No teachers were present at that time and the echoes of, "Oy, Lee! Turn up the volume - George's listening too - he thinks we could break some sort of Muggle Guineass record! Dad told me all about them; reckon we could come out of this train triumphent: stuff like the largest apple pie and sausage meal has won awards, and this contraption of ours is much more impressive!"
Lee yelled something in return, and the whole train shook with the noise. It was only when a Professor cast a 'Niverouxeaus' incantation to make the boys' compartment sound proof that Mirea noticed her unusual companion again. This girl was much taller than she was, and was adorning the most beautiful necklace of pearls around her neck. She had satin slippers on her feet and was reading a novel called 'Fashion Today'. Mirea didn't say anything to this, but self-conciously continued to stare at this stranger.
The strange girl smiled vaguely. "I'm Leia Lovegood. My sister Luna starts here next year. Won't that be nice?"
Unsure how to reply, Mirea simply smiled in return. She would have done anything to have a sibling, it was true; she would have done anything simply to be regarded as one of the crowd; to be annoymous and plain. No red label stuck to her forehead declaring her as 'special', but the feeling remained in her subconcious mind. Mirea understood why she couldn't fit in with normal youngsters her age. She had been apart from them for too long, and had developed into a girl yearning for her own answers to life and lone solitude. It was as if there were two girls in her head: the toddler Mirea and the present Mirea. One enjoyed the company of other children, and had a wide smile and curly brown hair which all her many friends admired. The second was exceptionally thin with a constant worried frown, tousled and unruly curls with suspicious eyes that would question everyone and everything. She knew she could have been ordinary, but that her surroundings had forced her into territory that she was soon to become inprisoned in.
Taking another glance around the train and its occupants Mirea was certain none of them were capable of even considering the total pain of exclusion. She was the only one alone, as the rest were perfectly contented in each other. But Mirea felt almost as if she was invading privacy by being so close to them all, as if her lonliness might become infectious, and found herself an empty carriage to travel in for the rest of the journey to school.