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Chapter 4: The Necklace
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It was August 30th and Adrienne sat quietly in the empty teachers' lounge. She looked out over the beautiful Salem grounds, which during the last four years had become the closest thing she had to a real home. The last remnants of the day were fading rapidly into the west, and darkness was setting not only in the heavens but also in Adrienne's heart. Adrienne stood up and pressed her hands on the windowpane, watching her last day at Salem slipping behind the forest. Adrienne closed her eyes: She was leaving for real. The seriousness of what she would do tomorrow when she stepped onto British Airways Flight 439 had finally set in. Adrienne opened her eyes and wiped away the tears beginning to streak down her cheeks.
She was excited, a little, but mostly scared. She had grown quite attached to Salem. Adrienne looked around the teachers' lounge. This was the place she had always gone to with her problems, whether they were social, school, personal, or her latest mishap. She stared at the chairs; each had their own story.
The large red one was Professor Bell's favorite. It was the chair she would sit it and quietly tell Adrienne stories or teach her how to knit.
Then there was the old rickety wooden stool that Professor Bell had always wanted to throw into the fire, but Professor Mondel wouldn't let her. That was the stool he would always sit in when explaining some new martial arts concept to her, which always seemed to consist of completely impossible techniques.
Most importantly, there was the old green couch on which Professors Glenn and Hartel would sit and bicker in a very cute and affectionate sort of way.
They were the two people Adrienne looked up to the most; they were what she refereed to as her "parents." Professor Glenn had been the one to teach her how to dance. Professor Glenn was the one who had comforted her after her first real boyfriend had broken up with her last year. Professor Hartel had taught her how to wear make-up, how to flirt, and when you should slap a guy or just glare maliciously at him. Professor Hartel was the one who would spend summer nights in Adrienne's empty dormitory so the could stay up late doing each other's hair and giggling over really stupid things. Tears were flowing down Adrienne's face freely now.
"Why did I do this?" she asked herself as she left the teachers' lounge and started walking aimlessly through the castle, saying her good-byes.
"Hey cutie," called Professor Glenn as Adrienne walked past the cafeteria doors.
Adrienne stopped and looked at him, hoping it wasn't too obvious she had been crying. He and Professor Hartel walked out of the doorway, closing the doors behind them.
"Something the matter?" asked Mia.
Adrienne shrugged her shoulders and mumbled something incomprehensible.
"English, Adrienne, what do we look like, mind readers?" asked Joe, placing his hands on her shoulders.
Adrienne looked up into his eyes. "I'm scared," she said meekly.
"Of what dear?" asked Mia, putting her arm around her husband.
"I changed my mind. I don't want to go anymore. Please tell me I have to stay," pleaded Adrienne.
Mia smiled sadly. "It's hard now Adrienne, but once you get there and get adjusted, you'll love it," said Mia gently.
Adrienne shook her head. "I really don't want to go," she said, tears again rolling down her cheeks.
Joe brushed them away. "Then why did you ask to leave?" he asked, hoping that this time her answer would be more straightforward than the vague ones he had received in the past.
"Because I have to go," whispered Adrienne, crying harder now.
"Don't cry, Adrienne," he said, not even about to touch this "have to" subject which Adrienne had been on about for the past month.
"I have a bad felling. I want to stay here, with you guys," Adrienne whispered.
Mia stepped forward, pushing her husband aside. "Adrienne, we'll miss you too, but you know what, Adrienne? You and I both know you 'have' to go to Hogwarts."
Adrienne's eyes-widened. "How?" she asked.
Mia smiled again. "Adrienne, you're practically my daughter, which means I'm practically your mother, and mothers know things. I don't know what's going to happen or why what will happen will, but your future has something to do with you going to Hogwarts, and we both know that. What ever happens, don't be afraid.
"Remember, Adrienne, focus. Your mishaps are from lack of focus and only you can change that. Remember that you'll be coming here, you'll be coming home to Salem at Christmas and after second term. Your dormitory will be ready and waiting and so will we to hear all your stories. Don't be afraid, Adrienne. I believe in you. Joe believes in you. Everyone here believes in you. Now, you need to," Mia stopped speaking, she was trying desperately not to cry.
Joe pulled something out of his pocket. "We got you something," he said, handing her a box.
Adrienne took it, her hands shaking slightly. Inside was a small golden triangle on a chain.
"Thank you, its beautiful," she murmured, holding it up to the light. "It's a triangle because triangles are strong shapes, to remind you to stay strong, no matter what," said Joe.
Adrienne stared at it, again ready to burst into tears, but with great effort, she held them back.
"Let me help you put it on," said Joe, taking the necklace and reaching around her neck to clasp it. "Now we'll always be with you," said Mia quietly.
Adrienne smiled. "I know," she whispered.
All of a sudden, Joe's face changed to a serious expression. "Before I forget, rules," he said.
Adrienne raised an eyebrow. "Rules?" she asked.
"Rules," confirmed Mia, a serious expression replacing her smile also.
"Rule 1," started Joe, "Hogwarts isn't Salem so don't run around like you own the place."
"Rule 2," added Mia, "No interrupting their staff meetings and stay out of their teachers' lounge."
"Rule 3: No 'helping' things magically, i.e., don't try to speed up a potion, that only blows things up; no trying to help the elves cook faster, you'll only end up with one hundred eighty-year old elves."
"Rule 4: Focus on everything you do, whether it's for school or not, that way you'll have less mishaps: Think before you act."
"Rule 5: Seek help immediately if you do pull a little stunt: No hypothetically speaking stuff to try and worm your way out of things."
"Rule 6: No starting protest OR riots."
"Rule 7: No kissing."
Adrienne laughed.
Joe raised his eyebrows and made a face. "I'm serious, kid."
Mia shook her head, laughing, "You can tell he's attached to you, Adri, that's exactly what all dads tell their daughters at your age. That's what my dad told me every year before I left for school. But mind you, what teenage girl listens to her dad?"
Joe glared at Mia. "I'm not your dad, so you'll listen to me, right, Adrienne?"
"How about if I find myself romantically involved I inform you about it," she said, smiling.
Joe's face darkened: He didn't seem to be particularly keen on this idea. "No boys are decent at your age anyway, Adrienne."
"Ok, moving on," interrupted Mia, "Rule 8: Write as much as possible and tell us everything."
"And Rule 9: Have fun," finished Joe.
Adrienne smiled at them. "Thanks, and I'll try real hard not to blow anything up," she said, all her insecurities gone, for now.
"No problem," replied Mia.
Joe didn't respond, this comment had reminded him of something. "Since we're on the subject of blowing up potions laboratories. There's this teacher at Hogwarts, I met him at a potions convention. His name is Snape; I can't stand him. If you end up having any mishaps," Adrienne raised her eyebrows at the word if. "Ok, when you have a mishap, if you have any control whatsoever, transfigure him into a brick wall, charm him to fly vertically, age him, or blow up his classroom. At least try and make your mishaps productive. Ouch!" Joe winced and grabbed his arm where his wife had hit him.
"No, don't listen to him Adrienne: No torturing teachers," said Mia sharply, glaring at her husband.
"What happens if I forget," said Adrienne with an evil smile.
Mia glared at her. "I'll ground you!"
"You're not my mother, Professor, you can't," said Adrienne, a smile playing on her face.
"That, my dear Adrienne, can be fixed with the swish of a quill."