WARNING: This is really bad. My brain has decided to lock up on me, so I
have severe writer's block. Therefore this chapter has no ending. SERIOUS
cliffhanger, and I'm apologizing profusely in advance of you reading this,
and I'm really warning you against it, because if you're anything like me
you HATE cliffhangers. So, yeah. Sorry. And another little warning: Sarah
uses the word "Ya'll". She's a West Virginian, though, so what can you
expect? I'm making her accent rather mild, but trust me: You'll be getting
a LOT of distinctly West Virginia speech out of her. And she'll mock
herself sooner or later.
I have so many ideas for this story, but they're all further ahead than now. So don't be surprised if I skip a head a LOT and make the chapters shorter and more scene-like, 'cause that's all I have in my head right now: scenes.
Oh! And one last thing before I leave: I want to know where Fred and George's joke shop should be, Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley? Diagon Alley, Sarah gets to meet 'em sooner, Hogsmeade she gets to see 'em more often. Just tell me, first review with a response and I'll use that vote! :D Lol. I'm so pitiful. Gah. Anywho, on with the more important stuff.
DISCLAIMER: Haven't we been through this? Oh well. I own nothing except Sarah and the rest of the Swimly clan, and the plot. Except what I'm stealing directly from Rowling, which is a LOT. Sorry!
A/N: Chapter two! Yippee! Whatever. This is about the mysterious guest and Sarah's trip to Diagon Alley. Oh, gee, I wonder who she bumps into?…
"When'd it say they'd be here? It's almost two-thirty now!" Sarah asked, pacing back and forth in her living room.
"It didn't really say," her mother said, looking about as worried as Sarah.
"I thought these Brits had manners…." Sarah muttered as her father was scrambling about in the kitchen, trying to clean it up some more. "Would you quit with the frickin' O.C.D. like behavior??" she yelled at him.
And then, the knock.
"About time!" Sarah exclaimed, running to the door. She then stopped, ran a hand through her hair, and threw open the door.
And then, quite suddenly, Sarah found herself staring into the eyes of the scariest old man she'd ever seen.
"Mind if I come in?" he asked, quite nicely, seeming to have not noticed the look of horrified wonderment on Sarah's face.
"Um…Sure?" she answered.
The man, wearing what seemed to be a violently violet sweater-vest over a putridly pink shirt and a pair of yellow-green trousers, was probably the scariest human being on earth. And his clothes weren't even what had Sarah's hackles up. This man had a very, very, very long white beard and very, very, very long white hair. He had half-moon glasses perched on a vulture-like beak. And the insane, happy-go-lucky glint in his eyes didn't help much, either.
He certainly wasn't what Sarah had been expecting.
Well, okay, she wasn't really SURE what she had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't a fellow who obviously liked to dress in the dark. But, oh well, he was there and Sarah's curiosity had been piqued overnight.
"So, um, it said in my letter that I was a 'very special case'. Why's that?" Sarah asked before the old man had even sat down in the living room.
"Getting right the questions, hmm? Good, good. Well, you're a 'very special case' because most students are enrolled at near-about age eleven," the old man replied.
"Oh. Does that mean that I'll be behind?"
"Yes. But I'll be sure to have several teachers and students available to tutor you. We've been watching you since you came to England, Sarah, and it seems as though you're a very bright girl."
"Oh! I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself…Wait a second. You've been WATCHING me??" Sarah was getting more and more scared by the minute.
"I'm Albus Dumbledore, by the way. You may call me 'Professor Dumbldore'. And yes, we've been watching you. I do apologize, but we do it to everyone who comes to England."
"Oh. Okay then. I think. Anyway. I have so many questions! But I think Mom and Dad want to talk with you, first…you mind waiting a second while I get them?"
"Not at all," he replied, smiling.
Not a half-second after she scampered (yes, she's quite capable of scampering) he heard from the kitchen, "Okay, okay. Sheesh. Calm down. You'd think it was Walt Disney back from the dead. One second."
He heard the clatter of pots and pans, then a few moments later a middle-aged woman and man came in.
Dumbledore stood and extended his hand. "Ah, hello. You must me Mrs. And Mr. Swimly. I'm Albus Dumbledore."
Mr. Swimly shook his hand, then Mrs. Swimly. "Um, you don't mind us getting straight to the point, do you?" Mr. Swimly asked.
"I'm just as eager as you are, I'm sure," Dumbledore replied.
"Well, ah, okay then. We have quite a few questions for you…"
Dumbledore and the parental units (() discussed Sarah's future education as a witch for nearly an hour before Mr. And Mrs. Swimly realized how long they'd been talking.
"Oh, dear! Sarah must be dying of curiosity by now. I'll just go get her now…" Mr. Swimly said.
"Don't worry about it, Dad, I was just coming down to see what was taking ya'll so long." Sarah said, walking in.
I have so many ideas for this story, but they're all further ahead than now. So don't be surprised if I skip a head a LOT and make the chapters shorter and more scene-like, 'cause that's all I have in my head right now: scenes.
Oh! And one last thing before I leave: I want to know where Fred and George's joke shop should be, Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley? Diagon Alley, Sarah gets to meet 'em sooner, Hogsmeade she gets to see 'em more often. Just tell me, first review with a response and I'll use that vote! :D Lol. I'm so pitiful. Gah. Anywho, on with the more important stuff.
DISCLAIMER: Haven't we been through this? Oh well. I own nothing except Sarah and the rest of the Swimly clan, and the plot. Except what I'm stealing directly from Rowling, which is a LOT. Sorry!
A/N: Chapter two! Yippee! Whatever. This is about the mysterious guest and Sarah's trip to Diagon Alley. Oh, gee, I wonder who she bumps into?…
"When'd it say they'd be here? It's almost two-thirty now!" Sarah asked, pacing back and forth in her living room.
"It didn't really say," her mother said, looking about as worried as Sarah.
"I thought these Brits had manners…." Sarah muttered as her father was scrambling about in the kitchen, trying to clean it up some more. "Would you quit with the frickin' O.C.D. like behavior??" she yelled at him.
And then, the knock.
"About time!" Sarah exclaimed, running to the door. She then stopped, ran a hand through her hair, and threw open the door.
And then, quite suddenly, Sarah found herself staring into the eyes of the scariest old man she'd ever seen.
"Mind if I come in?" he asked, quite nicely, seeming to have not noticed the look of horrified wonderment on Sarah's face.
"Um…Sure?" she answered.
The man, wearing what seemed to be a violently violet sweater-vest over a putridly pink shirt and a pair of yellow-green trousers, was probably the scariest human being on earth. And his clothes weren't even what had Sarah's hackles up. This man had a very, very, very long white beard and very, very, very long white hair. He had half-moon glasses perched on a vulture-like beak. And the insane, happy-go-lucky glint in his eyes didn't help much, either.
He certainly wasn't what Sarah had been expecting.
Well, okay, she wasn't really SURE what she had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't a fellow who obviously liked to dress in the dark. But, oh well, he was there and Sarah's curiosity had been piqued overnight.
"So, um, it said in my letter that I was a 'very special case'. Why's that?" Sarah asked before the old man had even sat down in the living room.
"Getting right the questions, hmm? Good, good. Well, you're a 'very special case' because most students are enrolled at near-about age eleven," the old man replied.
"Oh. Does that mean that I'll be behind?"
"Yes. But I'll be sure to have several teachers and students available to tutor you. We've been watching you since you came to England, Sarah, and it seems as though you're a very bright girl."
"Oh! I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself…Wait a second. You've been WATCHING me??" Sarah was getting more and more scared by the minute.
"I'm Albus Dumbledore, by the way. You may call me 'Professor Dumbldore'. And yes, we've been watching you. I do apologize, but we do it to everyone who comes to England."
"Oh. Okay then. I think. Anyway. I have so many questions! But I think Mom and Dad want to talk with you, first…you mind waiting a second while I get them?"
"Not at all," he replied, smiling.
Not a half-second after she scampered (yes, she's quite capable of scampering) he heard from the kitchen, "Okay, okay. Sheesh. Calm down. You'd think it was Walt Disney back from the dead. One second."
He heard the clatter of pots and pans, then a few moments later a middle-aged woman and man came in.
Dumbledore stood and extended his hand. "Ah, hello. You must me Mrs. And Mr. Swimly. I'm Albus Dumbledore."
Mr. Swimly shook his hand, then Mrs. Swimly. "Um, you don't mind us getting straight to the point, do you?" Mr. Swimly asked.
"I'm just as eager as you are, I'm sure," Dumbledore replied.
"Well, ah, okay then. We have quite a few questions for you…"
Dumbledore and the parental units (() discussed Sarah's future education as a witch for nearly an hour before Mr. And Mrs. Swimly realized how long they'd been talking.
"Oh, dear! Sarah must be dying of curiosity by now. I'll just go get her now…" Mr. Swimly said.
"Don't worry about it, Dad, I was just coming down to see what was taking ya'll so long." Sarah said, walking in.