Until recently, I had never really believed in fate or love at first sight.
I'd experienced a number of coincidences in my life, but the thought never
crossed my mind that any of them actually meant something, that is, until I
met her. There is no doubt in my mind that our first meeting - as cliché as
this sounds - was meant to be. I was meant to find her that night. I was
meant to save her. That's just how "Lady Fate" dealt the cards, and I would
definitely like to thank her for doing so.
The events of that fateful night will be forever etched in to the folds of my brain. My twin brother and I awoke late that night to carry out some nocturnal mischief. We had nicked a crate of flesh-eating slugs from Hagrid, the groundskeeper of our school, and couldn't resist some harmless joking. Besides, we had a big History of Magic midterm exam the next morning. If the test papers were unexpectedly devoured by a few slimy gastropods, it might help to delay things for a bit while we did some last minute studying.
"Ouch! You stepped on my foot you stupid arse!" shouted my brother Fred as we clumsily stumbled out of our dormitory in to the still quietness of the Gryffindor common room. The only source of light came from the rapidly dying fire at the far end of the room, which cast eerie moving shadows across the dimly lit space that seemed to grow and expand as the flames themselves shrank into nothingness.
I cast a hurried glance towards the dying embers, and it was then that I saw her for the first time, a young girl knelt beside the fireplace staring intently at the tiny, dancing flames. Her head rested on the hearth, and the moving shadows played daintily across her face. I watched as she shut her eyes tightly and then slowly opened them again. For one brief moment, our eyes met and I could see a deep sadness smoldering inside her intense, almond-shaped eyes. I could have stared at those eyes forever, but I was rudely brought back to reality by a slap to the back of my head.
"Come on! We don't have much time!" Fred whispered harshly.
"Don't you see her?" I exclaimed pointing towards the hearth.
"See who? I think you've gone bonkers. There's no one there."
"She's right there! Look!" I pointed frantically towards the fireplace where I had last seen the girl, but she was gone. "I swear - she was right there next to the fireplace. You didn't see her?"
"Umm.no. Maybe you should get your head checked. I don't think seeing imaginary Cinderellas is healthy."
"Piss off!"
"Come on! Let's go." whined Fred. I followed him out of the common room and into the hallway, but my mind stayed behind with the sad girl kneeling next to the hearth. It couldn't have been a ghost. I was sure I knew of all the ghosts in the castle, and new ones didn't appear too often. And I was sure she was a solid person. She didn't look the least bit translucent. And I couldn't have imagined her. I just couldn't have. There was no way my subconscious could ever create someone as beautiful and sad as she.
We continued to walk down the corridor with Fred noisily dragging the wooden crate of flesh-eating slugs behind him.
"Hey! We should split up. We could cover more ground." He said.
"Good idea." I said and stuffed my pockets full of slugs before departing. (Just so you know, a pocketful of slugs does not feel pleasant at all.)
When I had disposed of all the slugs, (I put a few in Filch's office and I put the rest in Snape's classroom. That should be a lovely surprise for them tomorrow morning.) I began to wander aimlessly about the castle. I couldn't stop thinking about that girl. (I know it's not the first time a sixteen year old boy has said that, but this is different. Trust me.)
Suddenly, I heard a noise. It was just barely audible, but unmistakable nonetheless. It was the sound of tiny footsteps, the footsteps of a cat. I knew that if I had heard Mrs. Norris, then Filch wouldn't be far behind. I had to hide, so I ducked into the first unlocked door I saw: the second floor girl's lavatory.
Once inside, I immediately noticed that something was amiss. Call it intuition if you like, but the atmosphere just didn't feel right.
It was then that I saw her lying there like a beautiful flower plucked and wilting on the cold, stone floor. Still clutched in her delicate hand was the razor blade, wretched and imbrued. My imaginary Cinderella was bleeding to death before my eyes.
Just then, I heard a muffled moan. She wasn't dead yet, and I wasn't going to let her leave me again. I searched frantically for something to stop her bleeding, but found nothing of any use. So, I removed my shirt to use as a makeshift bandage and then, gently lifted her into my arms. As I did this, I heard her whimper softly. Her hand went limp, and the razor fell from her fingertips noiselessly to the floor.
"Hang on. Please don't die." I whispered softly. I got no response. The girl was still unconscious and barely breathing. I was starting to think that I might lose her after all. No, I told myself. I couldn't let that happen.
As quickly as I could, I made my way down the corridor and up the stairway to the hospital wing.
"Hey! Where're you off to in such a hurry?" asked Fred as I passed him in the hallway.
"It's her! My imaginary Cinderella."
"What the hell happened to her?" He asked staring at the limp, bloodstained body in my arms.
"I - I don't know. I just found her like this."
"It looks pretty bad." He said still surveying the lump in my arms in disbelief. "We need to get her to the hospital wing right now. Madam Pomfrey will know what to do."
"Yes. We need to hurry." My voice broke a little as I said this. Her breathing was getting slower still and she was beginning to feel cold.
Fred saw my distress and clapped a comforting hand on my shoulder.
"Don't worry, George. She'll be alright." I could tell in his voice that he was unsure of the accuracy of his words.
The events of that fateful night will be forever etched in to the folds of my brain. My twin brother and I awoke late that night to carry out some nocturnal mischief. We had nicked a crate of flesh-eating slugs from Hagrid, the groundskeeper of our school, and couldn't resist some harmless joking. Besides, we had a big History of Magic midterm exam the next morning. If the test papers were unexpectedly devoured by a few slimy gastropods, it might help to delay things for a bit while we did some last minute studying.
"Ouch! You stepped on my foot you stupid arse!" shouted my brother Fred as we clumsily stumbled out of our dormitory in to the still quietness of the Gryffindor common room. The only source of light came from the rapidly dying fire at the far end of the room, which cast eerie moving shadows across the dimly lit space that seemed to grow and expand as the flames themselves shrank into nothingness.
I cast a hurried glance towards the dying embers, and it was then that I saw her for the first time, a young girl knelt beside the fireplace staring intently at the tiny, dancing flames. Her head rested on the hearth, and the moving shadows played daintily across her face. I watched as she shut her eyes tightly and then slowly opened them again. For one brief moment, our eyes met and I could see a deep sadness smoldering inside her intense, almond-shaped eyes. I could have stared at those eyes forever, but I was rudely brought back to reality by a slap to the back of my head.
"Come on! We don't have much time!" Fred whispered harshly.
"Don't you see her?" I exclaimed pointing towards the hearth.
"See who? I think you've gone bonkers. There's no one there."
"She's right there! Look!" I pointed frantically towards the fireplace where I had last seen the girl, but she was gone. "I swear - she was right there next to the fireplace. You didn't see her?"
"Umm.no. Maybe you should get your head checked. I don't think seeing imaginary Cinderellas is healthy."
"Piss off!"
"Come on! Let's go." whined Fred. I followed him out of the common room and into the hallway, but my mind stayed behind with the sad girl kneeling next to the hearth. It couldn't have been a ghost. I was sure I knew of all the ghosts in the castle, and new ones didn't appear too often. And I was sure she was a solid person. She didn't look the least bit translucent. And I couldn't have imagined her. I just couldn't have. There was no way my subconscious could ever create someone as beautiful and sad as she.
We continued to walk down the corridor with Fred noisily dragging the wooden crate of flesh-eating slugs behind him.
"Hey! We should split up. We could cover more ground." He said.
"Good idea." I said and stuffed my pockets full of slugs before departing. (Just so you know, a pocketful of slugs does not feel pleasant at all.)
When I had disposed of all the slugs, (I put a few in Filch's office and I put the rest in Snape's classroom. That should be a lovely surprise for them tomorrow morning.) I began to wander aimlessly about the castle. I couldn't stop thinking about that girl. (I know it's not the first time a sixteen year old boy has said that, but this is different. Trust me.)
Suddenly, I heard a noise. It was just barely audible, but unmistakable nonetheless. It was the sound of tiny footsteps, the footsteps of a cat. I knew that if I had heard Mrs. Norris, then Filch wouldn't be far behind. I had to hide, so I ducked into the first unlocked door I saw: the second floor girl's lavatory.
Once inside, I immediately noticed that something was amiss. Call it intuition if you like, but the atmosphere just didn't feel right.
It was then that I saw her lying there like a beautiful flower plucked and wilting on the cold, stone floor. Still clutched in her delicate hand was the razor blade, wretched and imbrued. My imaginary Cinderella was bleeding to death before my eyes.
Just then, I heard a muffled moan. She wasn't dead yet, and I wasn't going to let her leave me again. I searched frantically for something to stop her bleeding, but found nothing of any use. So, I removed my shirt to use as a makeshift bandage and then, gently lifted her into my arms. As I did this, I heard her whimper softly. Her hand went limp, and the razor fell from her fingertips noiselessly to the floor.
"Hang on. Please don't die." I whispered softly. I got no response. The girl was still unconscious and barely breathing. I was starting to think that I might lose her after all. No, I told myself. I couldn't let that happen.
As quickly as I could, I made my way down the corridor and up the stairway to the hospital wing.
"Hey! Where're you off to in such a hurry?" asked Fred as I passed him in the hallway.
"It's her! My imaginary Cinderella."
"What the hell happened to her?" He asked staring at the limp, bloodstained body in my arms.
"I - I don't know. I just found her like this."
"It looks pretty bad." He said still surveying the lump in my arms in disbelief. "We need to get her to the hospital wing right now. Madam Pomfrey will know what to do."
"Yes. We need to hurry." My voice broke a little as I said this. Her breathing was getting slower still and she was beginning to feel cold.
Fred saw my distress and clapped a comforting hand on my shoulder.
"Don't worry, George. She'll be alright." I could tell in his voice that he was unsure of the accuracy of his words.