Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Well, except Auralie and the plot.
A/N: Sorry for such a long wait. Basically I've had the most stressful month and a half. I got dumped. Then I had to have a benige tumor removed from my ovary, and I would have written this during recovery, but turns out that I'm allergic to most major pain killers. Pain does not make good inspiration. After that, I had midterms and TONS of make up work. Then I got back together with my boy. Then he broke his leg and had to have surgery. That happened yesterday, and this wouldn't be up today, but he forced me to write. I'm not kidding. He refused to talk to me until I promised to update. I love him very much, so... This is for my boy. :)
Chapter Six: Dumbledore's Surprise
Flames danced wickedly in the fireplace in the Slytherin common room as Draco moodily glared into it. She was a Gryffindor, and he would never win her trust or her friendship. He was a good as dead. He was actually amazed that his father wasn't trying to break down the entrance to common room right now to ask him how he had let this happen and why the sorting hat exploded. All was lost, and he didn't know how to get himself out of this bind.
As he was getting lost in these thoughts of gloom and doom, he didn't notice the large screech owl fly in to the common room. It was perched on the mantle and looking quite irritated with the lack of attention. Hooting indignantly, it flapped its wings a couple of times to get Draco's attention. When that didn't work, it knocked the nearest house cup award off of the mantle. The loud crash brought Draco's thoughts back to the present. He saw the owl and inwardly groaned. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that this letter was from his father.
My dearest son,
I have received word from one of my informants that you have made quite the impression with the target already. It joys me to hear of your successes. If all goes well, your rewards will be beyond comprehension. Though if you fail… Then your fate is beyond even my control… I have heard news of the sorting hat exploding. You would do well to make sure that our target is not harmed a moment before the Dark Lord commands it. I know it must come as a surprise, but this one we need to keep alive. For now… Your mother sends her love. I would follow your orders if you ever want to see her again…
Best Wishes,
Father
How dare he bring up his mother like this! She never wanted anything to do with dark magic, but Lucius Malfoy always gets his way. Draco knew that he had no choice in the matter. He never wanted to hurt anyone, but he never had a choice in his own actions. As he threw the parchment in to the dancing flames, a tear slid down his cheek. Only one tear for the one life he was about to destroy.
A couple of days later while sitting idly in the hospital wing, Auralie was bored out of her mind. She felt completely herself again, and Madame Pomfrey had, thankfully, managed to repair her singed hair. She could not wait to get out of this place, and she didn't know why they still had her in here. She fixed her gaze on the ceiling as she let her mind wander. Earlier that day, she had counted how many tiles made up the ceiling to ease her bored mind.
"Two thousand, three hundred ninety-seven," she whispered softly, knowing that no one would hear her.
"Actually, there are exactly two thousand, five hundred tiles in this fine ceiling," a gentle voice said.
Auralie shot up in her bed. How had she not heard someone walk in? It wasn't as though there was anything else to distract her attention. She looked around to see who had spoken and saw, much to her surprise, Professor Dumbledore standing in the entrance of the ward. He smiled at her slightly, his eyes twinkling in the way that only Dumbledore's eyes could.
"Once as a child, I had the pleasure of being stuck in here for quite some time. I managed to find the time to count the ceiling tiles as well," he answered her unspoken question.
Auralie stared at him before asking, "Why were you in the hospital wing for so long?"
Dumbledore slowly made his way down to the end of the ward where she was lying as he carefully replied, "I was in here for close to the same reason as you are now."
"Do you mean the sorting hat exploded on you too?" She questioned him in mild disbelief.
"Oh, Merlin no!" Dumbledore replied quickly, "The hat exploding was a unique case, quite unlike anything I've ever seen."
Confused, Auralie stated, "I don't understand."
Dumbledore continued his stroll down the ward and eventually sat on the bed next to hers, giving himself a little more time to think about how to word his answer.
"It would take some powerful, ancient magic to make an object as powerful as the sorting hat to explode," he began. "Have you ever noticed anything strange happening when you were angry or scared?"
Auralie raised an eyebrow confusion and said with as little sarcasm as she could muster, "Yes, that's why I'm here. I've know that I was a witch for ages now."
"Strange for a witch or wizard, I mean…" Dumbledore clarified.
Auralie tried to think back to how she felt when she was being sorted. That night, frustration at Potter's mock sympathy and at the hat wanting to put her in Gryffindor with the golden trio seemed to seep through her very pores. She had wished that something would just zap the hat and shut it up. Fate seemed to be on her side that night, seeing how the hat did blow up.
Auralie rolled her eyes at the very thought of the hat and electricity seemed to be creating a strange tension in the air around her. The hair on her arms stood up a little.
"Surely you don't think I blew up the hat?" She looked at him with her arms crossed.
Dumbledore did not respond; he merely inclined his head in her direction.
"That's impossible though!" Auralie exclaimed. "I'm not powerful enough to blow up a hat on accident! I don't even know the proper incantation! How could I ever have something to do with this?"
Her rant continued at full speed for about five minutes or so. She was just beginning to work herself into a right state but Dumbledore raised one of his hands slightly to put an end to her hysteria.
"It appears that you have developed or were born with a very rare set of magical powers, Auralie. Not only are your powers very rare but they are exceedingly dangerous not only to those around you but to yourself as well," Dumbledore explained softly.
After a minute or so of trying to comprehend all of this new information, she asked, "Wouldn't I have known about this power before? I mean, I've known I was a witch my whole life!"
"Often time powers this rare are not immediately evident until late adolescence," Dumbledore explained. "In fact, the nature of your powers would probably be subtle enough that, if it hadn't been for the sorting hat's untimely explosion, it could have been years before anyone even noticed your gifts. Have you ever noticed how the weather always seems to suite your mood?"
Auralie's mind drifted to her mother's funeral. It was raining so hard that many of the roads in the small town she used to live in had to be closed off due to flooding. She sat in the graveyard well after the funeral, sitting next to her mother's grave, wishing that she would just drown in the rain or her own tears. She probably would still be in that very spot if it hadn't been for the Ministry official that had all but dragged her into a magical car to take her to a temporary home.
"Just because I have doesn't mean anything," Auralie spat out accusingly. "A person's mood is often influenced by the weather."
Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "It seems that you are the great-great-great-great-great granddaughter of a great sorceress, and these things often skip seven generations or more. You, my dear, can control the weather, as well as some other things."
Auralie's eyes grew wide. "Impossible. I'm not. I can't be. I refuse to be. I don't want to be special."
She started breathing faster and faster until she was hyperventilating. Before Dumbledore could do anything, she promptly fainted.
A/N: Please review. If not for me, thank my boy for having me update! (And this is the longest one so far!)
