No reviews? Meh :/ Well I promise I'll reply to you if you do review! Pink-swear! Pleeeeeeeeeeeease. Much appreciated! Happy memorial day by the way!
It's a proven fact that days go by faster when you don't want them to end.
That day, that Tuesday, June 10th went by quicker than any other 24-hours of my life. I spent the morning like I normally do, watching TV for an hour or so before breakfast. Naturally, my entire family acted like nothing out of the ordinary happened yesterday. My mum didn't even ask how my fingers were. I preferred it that way, thought, because I didn't want to admit they hurt awful badly.
After breakfast, I stole over to the mailbox to check if the letter was still there. It was gone and no mail replaced it. I pondered what that meant until Addie shouted from the front porch, "Rena! What are you doing?"
"Nothing!" I shouted back, a bit disgruntled. The nosy brat.
Of all my family, I'd miss her the least.
Adelaide, although she'd never admit it, was never much of a night owl. So by 9:30, it was perfectly safe for me to pack up the remaining items in a Nike duffel bag and rustle that excessively loud nylon as much as I wanted. I slipped my phone in there as well, thought I doubted I'd need it. I also managed to slip in a few of my favorite books, The Lord of the Rings amongst them.
Using the same magnet trick, I clambered out of my window the second night in a row and crept more carefully down the oak tree this time. The duffel bag made it much harder to manage, with it shifting left to right and throwing off my balance.
The walk to Kindrall Park was admittedly terrifying. Never in my entire life had I felt so alone and helpless. Many times I thought of the soft, cool bed I had voluntarily left and I nearly turned around. But I just kept walking. I just kept putting one foot in front of the other. Yet still, I noticed dancing shadows in my peripherals and my steps involuntarily would speed up, only for me to freeze in my tracks (my heart beating like a Congo drum inside my chest) at the slightest creaking of a tree. And not soon enough, I reached the park.
Sitting at that picnic table was unnerving but I needn't wait long. Before even ten minutes passed mercilessly slow, a tall and thin woman strode up from the street. The streetlamps lit her from the back, so I only saw a silhouette, a harsh, stern silhouette. I stood.
The woman stiffened. She seemed almost afraid, but when she spoke her voice was solid like a block of polished mahogany.
"What is your name, child?"
I didn't know what to say. I just stood there like an idiot, thinking This seriously can't be possible. I can't possibly be right.
"I need to know your name, to make sure you're the right person."
I willed my mind to unfreeze and muttered, "Serena Thyme. And you?"
I imagined the woman smiling as she said, "You will know me as Professor McGonagal."
The silhouette faded away and her appearance replaced it as she approached the table and sat at it, very dignified. Professor McGonagal had sharp features: thin eyes, a pointy nose, perfectly shaped bun ornamenting her head and almost no lips. Deep lines crisscrossed her face and I wondered exactly how old she was, and if wizards even aged. She was dressed in a strange mix between a church blouse and pajama pants but out of fear, I didn't comment.
"So Miss Thyme," she said in a voice like you'd hear in a commercial—perfectly clear and curt. "As you may already know, you are a witch."
"Shhhhhh…! Professor! Keep it down!" I said, worried someone might hear.
"Oh don't worry, I have cast a sound-proofing spell on this area. No one can hear us," she said with a circling gesture.
"Sweet! So I could stand up and scream 'My knickers are in a twist' and no one would hear me?" I asked excitedly.
"In theory, yes—"
But I was already standing, filling up my lungs with cool night air, ready to belt out—
"MISS THYME! SIT DOWN!" McGonagal cried, standing as well. Her towering figure intimidated me. I sat quickly.
Hey! I get impulsive when I'm excited!
"Now, Miss Thyme, I expect you to stay silent and subdues as I explain several things about Hogwarts to you."
"But, wait," I interjected and she visibly sighed. "What's Hogwarts?"
"Didn't you read the letter?" McGonagal asked.
I held up my bandaged left hand and said, "Dad threw it down the disposal."
Something flashed in her eyes but I couldn't tell what. She just shook her head sadly and continued.
"Have you ever seen a Harry Potter movie?" she asked, which I thought was a pretty idiotic question.
"Sure, I've heard of 'em but I've never seen one," I admitted. My parents didn't approve of "the magic stuff."
McGonagal sighed again. "You don't know anything, do you?"she said, which I thought was pretty mean considering the circumstance.
"Noooo," I replied, not even bothering to control my attitude.
"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You will be attending there for the next seven years," she said, and it sounded like she had memorized this little spiel many years ago. "We accept students at age 11. Muggleborns like yourself, wizards with non-magic parents, are searched for and informed. Some parents, like your own, reject it. Because of your circumstance, we will get you a room at the Leaky Caldron and I will accompany you around Diagon Alley where you will buy your school items. You may attend Hogwarts through a scholarship if tuition cannot be paid but you must maintain satisfactory grades. Any questions?"
Uh… duh.
"Do I get a wand?" I blurted. "A magic talking frog? Can I learn how to fly on a broom? Will I get vacations? Where is Hogwarts? What's it look like? Are there a lot of students? Do wizards fly on brooms, or is that just a witch thing? One time I read on the internet that if you call a wizard a warlock, it's really insulting. Is that true? When do I leave for school? Where will I get my money from? Do I need to—"
"MISS THYME! I EXPECT YOU TO CALM YOURSELF THIS. VERY. INSTANCE. OR YOU ARE ON YOUR OWN IN DIAGON ALLEY!" McGonagal started screaming and I instantly hoped she had no children because she had that whole 'short-tempered' thing ticking off a few thousand patience points.
"Yes ma'am," I said, rather subdued. Questions were still bouncing around my head like that time I let loose a dozen bouncy-balls in the racquetball court. Good times…
"I apologize, Serena, but these days… they've been hard," she said with a terrible sigh.
"I completely understand," I muttered as well and began to play with my bandages idly.
Professor McGonagal looked at me with a fierce, determined look. "They will get better, Serena. I promise."
I gazed at her for a moment, and saw something there. Something motherly. Like I wasn't only my parent's child anymore. I was her's. I was her responsibility and she was going to make certain I was alright.
I leaned across the wooden picnic table gave her a quick hug. She tensed for a moment and I wondered if this was considered inappropriate for students and teachers. But I dismissed the thought. She wasn't just my teacher… she was much more than that.
She was my new mother.
Metaphorically speaking, of course.
I broke the embrace and sat back down. Feeling the need to explain, I said, "It's just nice to have someone I can talk to about this… It's nice not to be called a monster."
I swear, in the pale moonlight, I saw the glistening pearl of a tear slide down her cheek. I must've been imagining it , though, because her voice was solid as a brick when she spoke, "Yes, I find many muggleborns feel that way."
Silence spanned between us, like an unbreakable wall. I couldn't think of a thing to say. Not one.
But I didn't need to, because the sound of an exceedingly loud engine, rumbling up the street consumed the nerve-racking silence. It grew in volume and I swore, I should've been able to see it by then…
The rumbling became louder and louder until it had to be right on top of me! But no car appearing. Then headlights began to sweep around the park, illuminating the woods encircling the play area and glinting of off the jungle-gyms and swing sets.
I turned around to see just where these mysterious headlights were coming from… and my heart nearly stopped.
I was looking at the bottom of a car.
The bottom of a—
"WHAT?"
McGonagal laughed behind me and I sensed her standing. My eyes still locked on the thing, I sensed in my peripherals that she was walking nearer to the UFO that looked a whole lot like a hippy-yellow VW bug.
"That our ride," she announced proudly.
No. Bloody. Way.
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