Disclaimer: Still not my mine.
--**--
Chapter two
It took her time to take in what had transpired, and at the moment that they had arrived at Dumbledore's office, everything seemed like a turbulent mass of thought. Like the one you have when you are shook awake in the middle of the night because of a terrible dream, then you find yourself thinking what it was but couldn't get quite close to the answer. It was almost like someone had had your memory juggled up, but it wasn't a dream, it was for Arista an aftershock, for having to leave her previous life and enter a new one with just touching a piece of wood.
It was rather amusing how life unfolded a seemingly long and paved path right after it has closed one. But somehow, not everyone can leave for the new path without hesitation and Arista was taking chances with hastily deciding her future.
But she was entitled to it, wasn't she? She once promised herself that she'd make her own rules, make her own limits and in a way make her own destiny. It all went well until destiny decided to bend the rules and the course of the game. Now she was forced to comply with the demands of life, but she vowed to never give up. She will win this game, no matter what the cost!
She was now staring at the magnificence of the headmaster's office. Not in a million years would you see the likes of this in a muggle principal's office. Her eyes rested from one item to another, a large mahogany desk stood in the middle of the room, where silver ornaments of different sizes and shapes were placed. Her eyes scanned the rest of the room, coming upon an assortment of objects: shelves containing orbs or vials of different variety instead of books, a small table where a stone basin was set, a large globe that seemed like it levitated from the ground rather than being set on it, was found in the middle of the room, but what caught her attention was the constantly moving portraits of old men and women. She stood gaping at the inhabitants of the portraits, as they hopped from one frame to another conversing, rather ecstatically, about something. Though upon noticing Dumbledore's presence, their discussion immediately subsided and the residents of the portraits each gave the headmaster a nod, for some a wink and others a polite curtsy or a slight bow, and then proceeded once again with their chat.
It was very hard to take it all in, but it was so amusing to Arista that she couldn't help but exclaim, 'Wicked!'
'Professor.wha---- portraits? Amazing!" Her eyes were all dreamy, like a child's upon receiving ice cream on a hot day. It was all new to her, but still all so familiar.
'Ahh.I see you have appreciation for art here in the wizarding world! Very well, I might as well let you in on a little secret.' He lowered his voice to a mere whisper, but his jolly and all knowing tone remained audible. 'The portraits in this world are not stationary, they become bored once and a while!' He chuckled slightly.
'Right.still it is cool yet kind of freaky.I mean, if they can move around and talk, then they can spy on you, gossip about your best kept secrets.' She shivered slightly at the thought, but Dumbledore reassured her that nothing of that sort has ever happened or will ever happen at Hogwarts, though she was quite sure it was one way of catching misbehaving students. Clever and simple, and she admired it so much that she almost forgot where she was and why she was there. She was about to ask Dumbledore the question that popped in her mind just moments ago, when she found him standing by the fire and talking to.a head!
She gave a loud shriek that sent the residents of the portraits to run for cover or clamp their ears to block the deafening sound. Hagrid took hold of a sleeve of her shirt and tried to shake her calm, but it was more like a shove than a comforting tap, and it caused her to wail even louder.
The head glared at her, as if insulted at her sudden outburst. The door burst open, and a skinny figure of a woman entered the room. She wore, surprisingly enough, a skimpy blue tank top and faded jeans paired with electric blue flip flops. Her hair was dyed in deep purple and it spiked a few inches above her scalp. Her expression was a mixture of concern, disbelief, and a wild fascination, but it all disappeared and was changed to shock upon hearing the shreik. She had several frantic attempts to tone down the deafening sound by covering her ears, but it was no good. Finally she crossed the room, reached for Arista, and clamped her hand on Arista's mouth, muttering something about not letting her come with them.
'Professor, what's going on?' she asked while panting. 'Stop wiggling!' Dumbledore only stared calmly at the two ladies as the older woman struggled to calm Arista.
'Let her go, Tonks. She's had enough for one day, and it is understandable that she be shocked at what she saw. Anyone without a background of magic would have.' He smiled pleasantly at them, something about his smile made Arista give up on screaming and made her calm enough for Tonks to let her go.
'Sorry about that! I was just terrified when I heard screaming! I was a floor below and I rushed right away, only to find you screaming your head off.' And it was evident that she had been running, and that she had probably tripped somewhere because her elbows were grazed badly.
'Quite alright. You best take care of Miss Azimuth here, as I will have to attend to some ministry business.' He paused as he gave a sideways glance to the head in the fire place, and then turned his attention to Arista. 'Forgive me Arista, that I haven't been much of a company, but don't worry we'll be seeing each other quite often over the remaining weeks of the summer holidays. What is important now is that you are here with us, safe.'
She wasn't sure what he meant by his last sentence, but it was true that she felt safe and at home in this new place, wherever she was, but safe from what? Still questions continued to plague her mind, and when Tonks escorted her to an apparently large guest room, she couldn't force herself to hold back till tomorrow.
'Erm.Tonks? It is Tonks right?'
'Yes! That's me! What is it? Oh sorry for a while ago, didn't mean to be rude and all!"
'Oh no! That's not a problem; it is just rather shocking you see.Well I was meaning to ask you.' But she was cut off when the door to her room was opened, and she got a glimpse of its splendor. A four poster bed that had scarlet draping all over, stood adjacent to the wall which had golden entrails, extending far off into the next rooms, which she had suspected as being the bathroom and a walk in closet. There was a small desk--- just enough for doing homework on-placed diagonally by the crackling fire in the equally splendid fireplace. It was a room fit for a Queen, and suddenly Arista felt as important as one, but waved away the thought as soon as it had come.
She was so fascinated with her new surroundings that she barely noticed Tonks tapping her by the shoulder, whispering a good night and closing the door behind her until it was too late. She immediately ran out the room into the deserted corridor, to run after Tonks, mentally cursing her self for forgetting her question because of a stupid room. But to no avail, she went back to her room, locked it and preposterously rolled over the carpeted floor, probably too tired to lift a finger.
As she lay there, her body felt extremely heavy, and her eye lids felt like they weighed a ton. Images of earlier events loomed over her, but they were mere puzzle pieces to a bigger picture and it didn't make much sense,so Arista found no urge to mull over them. It wasn't that she had no concern for everything, she was enraged with the person responsible for all this, but she was aware of her powerlessness and the idea of it made her want to learn, whatever there was to learn there. She was going to prove herself better than anyone and someday destroy the evil that made her life turn sour. But now, she saw no reason to once again loose control of her good judgment and breakdown, when clearly she couldn't have done anything in the first place. But she was going to do something about it sooner or later. Now all she needed was a dreamless sleep.
--**--
It was the end of July when she held Dumbledore's hand for the first time and was transported to the wizarding world leaving behind everything that was her life. A month passed, and she was well edified with the basic spells and charms that took the students years of studying. It was not an easy task. Every day she spent mornings practicing Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall who was slightly disgruntled at her lack of skill in that area. She had once barely managed to transfigure a fruit bat into a handbag when it sprouted wings and broke through the glass window.
Her classes after lunch switched from Charms to Potions to History of magic, which to her opinion was a subject not worth spending precious time with. But Dumbledore insisted on her taking up professor Binn's lessons with a promise that it'll be of some use to her someday, so she half- heartedly complied with his wishes, in honor of what he has done for her. But what she looked forward to everyday was Defense against the Dark Arts. It fascinated her so well, even if her professor was a one eyed, marred faced, grubby looking old man named Mad-eye Moody. She figured it was best to take note of every single detail Moody gave her, as she was sure, it'll be the one thing that would help her greatly in reaching her goal.
One night, a little after supper, professor Dumbledore beckoned her to come with him to his office. There, she was informed that she'll be taking Occlumency lessons from Snape starting the very next evening. Just as she thought she'd be free from the greasy hair and piercing black eyes, she was submitted to four hours of mental torture. Dumbledore made clear the importance of studying such skill, and that she must take it seriously no matter how hard it would get.
'Very grave things had happened to people who ignored its importance to them. Do NOT commit the same mistake.' Words like these would cloud even the clearest minds, for it brought dread to the person as well as excitement. Which of the two is more appealing, one could only guess.
Start of term was only a day away and spirits were rising inside Hogwarts as the mood tensed somewhere beyond the Forbidden forest.
--**-- A/N: I managed to finish revising our first chapter, and decided that it was better to separate it into two. Don't worry the next chapter is written by none other than Michiko-Sakura, another gifted writer here in fanfiction.net!
*Special thanks to Mya_14, who despite being a critic and a meticulous writer herself, gave way to a beginner like me appreciated the work!!! You're the best dude!!!
*Still thanks for all those ppl. Who read but do not review! I just do hope you'd put into writing your views about the story instead of relating it to me verbally! Hehe!!!
*Next chapter happens simultaneously with the first chapter, but only focuses on the last week of summer vacation.
Chapter two
It took her time to take in what had transpired, and at the moment that they had arrived at Dumbledore's office, everything seemed like a turbulent mass of thought. Like the one you have when you are shook awake in the middle of the night because of a terrible dream, then you find yourself thinking what it was but couldn't get quite close to the answer. It was almost like someone had had your memory juggled up, but it wasn't a dream, it was for Arista an aftershock, for having to leave her previous life and enter a new one with just touching a piece of wood.
It was rather amusing how life unfolded a seemingly long and paved path right after it has closed one. But somehow, not everyone can leave for the new path without hesitation and Arista was taking chances with hastily deciding her future.
But she was entitled to it, wasn't she? She once promised herself that she'd make her own rules, make her own limits and in a way make her own destiny. It all went well until destiny decided to bend the rules and the course of the game. Now she was forced to comply with the demands of life, but she vowed to never give up. She will win this game, no matter what the cost!
She was now staring at the magnificence of the headmaster's office. Not in a million years would you see the likes of this in a muggle principal's office. Her eyes rested from one item to another, a large mahogany desk stood in the middle of the room, where silver ornaments of different sizes and shapes were placed. Her eyes scanned the rest of the room, coming upon an assortment of objects: shelves containing orbs or vials of different variety instead of books, a small table where a stone basin was set, a large globe that seemed like it levitated from the ground rather than being set on it, was found in the middle of the room, but what caught her attention was the constantly moving portraits of old men and women. She stood gaping at the inhabitants of the portraits, as they hopped from one frame to another conversing, rather ecstatically, about something. Though upon noticing Dumbledore's presence, their discussion immediately subsided and the residents of the portraits each gave the headmaster a nod, for some a wink and others a polite curtsy or a slight bow, and then proceeded once again with their chat.
It was very hard to take it all in, but it was so amusing to Arista that she couldn't help but exclaim, 'Wicked!'
'Professor.wha---- portraits? Amazing!" Her eyes were all dreamy, like a child's upon receiving ice cream on a hot day. It was all new to her, but still all so familiar.
'Ahh.I see you have appreciation for art here in the wizarding world! Very well, I might as well let you in on a little secret.' He lowered his voice to a mere whisper, but his jolly and all knowing tone remained audible. 'The portraits in this world are not stationary, they become bored once and a while!' He chuckled slightly.
'Right.still it is cool yet kind of freaky.I mean, if they can move around and talk, then they can spy on you, gossip about your best kept secrets.' She shivered slightly at the thought, but Dumbledore reassured her that nothing of that sort has ever happened or will ever happen at Hogwarts, though she was quite sure it was one way of catching misbehaving students. Clever and simple, and she admired it so much that she almost forgot where she was and why she was there. She was about to ask Dumbledore the question that popped in her mind just moments ago, when she found him standing by the fire and talking to.a head!
She gave a loud shriek that sent the residents of the portraits to run for cover or clamp their ears to block the deafening sound. Hagrid took hold of a sleeve of her shirt and tried to shake her calm, but it was more like a shove than a comforting tap, and it caused her to wail even louder.
The head glared at her, as if insulted at her sudden outburst. The door burst open, and a skinny figure of a woman entered the room. She wore, surprisingly enough, a skimpy blue tank top and faded jeans paired with electric blue flip flops. Her hair was dyed in deep purple and it spiked a few inches above her scalp. Her expression was a mixture of concern, disbelief, and a wild fascination, but it all disappeared and was changed to shock upon hearing the shreik. She had several frantic attempts to tone down the deafening sound by covering her ears, but it was no good. Finally she crossed the room, reached for Arista, and clamped her hand on Arista's mouth, muttering something about not letting her come with them.
'Professor, what's going on?' she asked while panting. 'Stop wiggling!' Dumbledore only stared calmly at the two ladies as the older woman struggled to calm Arista.
'Let her go, Tonks. She's had enough for one day, and it is understandable that she be shocked at what she saw. Anyone without a background of magic would have.' He smiled pleasantly at them, something about his smile made Arista give up on screaming and made her calm enough for Tonks to let her go.
'Sorry about that! I was just terrified when I heard screaming! I was a floor below and I rushed right away, only to find you screaming your head off.' And it was evident that she had been running, and that she had probably tripped somewhere because her elbows were grazed badly.
'Quite alright. You best take care of Miss Azimuth here, as I will have to attend to some ministry business.' He paused as he gave a sideways glance to the head in the fire place, and then turned his attention to Arista. 'Forgive me Arista, that I haven't been much of a company, but don't worry we'll be seeing each other quite often over the remaining weeks of the summer holidays. What is important now is that you are here with us, safe.'
She wasn't sure what he meant by his last sentence, but it was true that she felt safe and at home in this new place, wherever she was, but safe from what? Still questions continued to plague her mind, and when Tonks escorted her to an apparently large guest room, she couldn't force herself to hold back till tomorrow.
'Erm.Tonks? It is Tonks right?'
'Yes! That's me! What is it? Oh sorry for a while ago, didn't mean to be rude and all!"
'Oh no! That's not a problem; it is just rather shocking you see.Well I was meaning to ask you.' But she was cut off when the door to her room was opened, and she got a glimpse of its splendor. A four poster bed that had scarlet draping all over, stood adjacent to the wall which had golden entrails, extending far off into the next rooms, which she had suspected as being the bathroom and a walk in closet. There was a small desk--- just enough for doing homework on-placed diagonally by the crackling fire in the equally splendid fireplace. It was a room fit for a Queen, and suddenly Arista felt as important as one, but waved away the thought as soon as it had come.
She was so fascinated with her new surroundings that she barely noticed Tonks tapping her by the shoulder, whispering a good night and closing the door behind her until it was too late. She immediately ran out the room into the deserted corridor, to run after Tonks, mentally cursing her self for forgetting her question because of a stupid room. But to no avail, she went back to her room, locked it and preposterously rolled over the carpeted floor, probably too tired to lift a finger.
As she lay there, her body felt extremely heavy, and her eye lids felt like they weighed a ton. Images of earlier events loomed over her, but they were mere puzzle pieces to a bigger picture and it didn't make much sense,so Arista found no urge to mull over them. It wasn't that she had no concern for everything, she was enraged with the person responsible for all this, but she was aware of her powerlessness and the idea of it made her want to learn, whatever there was to learn there. She was going to prove herself better than anyone and someday destroy the evil that made her life turn sour. But now, she saw no reason to once again loose control of her good judgment and breakdown, when clearly she couldn't have done anything in the first place. But she was going to do something about it sooner or later. Now all she needed was a dreamless sleep.
--**--
It was the end of July when she held Dumbledore's hand for the first time and was transported to the wizarding world leaving behind everything that was her life. A month passed, and she was well edified with the basic spells and charms that took the students years of studying. It was not an easy task. Every day she spent mornings practicing Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall who was slightly disgruntled at her lack of skill in that area. She had once barely managed to transfigure a fruit bat into a handbag when it sprouted wings and broke through the glass window.
Her classes after lunch switched from Charms to Potions to History of magic, which to her opinion was a subject not worth spending precious time with. But Dumbledore insisted on her taking up professor Binn's lessons with a promise that it'll be of some use to her someday, so she half- heartedly complied with his wishes, in honor of what he has done for her. But what she looked forward to everyday was Defense against the Dark Arts. It fascinated her so well, even if her professor was a one eyed, marred faced, grubby looking old man named Mad-eye Moody. She figured it was best to take note of every single detail Moody gave her, as she was sure, it'll be the one thing that would help her greatly in reaching her goal.
One night, a little after supper, professor Dumbledore beckoned her to come with him to his office. There, she was informed that she'll be taking Occlumency lessons from Snape starting the very next evening. Just as she thought she'd be free from the greasy hair and piercing black eyes, she was submitted to four hours of mental torture. Dumbledore made clear the importance of studying such skill, and that she must take it seriously no matter how hard it would get.
'Very grave things had happened to people who ignored its importance to them. Do NOT commit the same mistake.' Words like these would cloud even the clearest minds, for it brought dread to the person as well as excitement. Which of the two is more appealing, one could only guess.
Start of term was only a day away and spirits were rising inside Hogwarts as the mood tensed somewhere beyond the Forbidden forest.
--**-- A/N: I managed to finish revising our first chapter, and decided that it was better to separate it into two. Don't worry the next chapter is written by none other than Michiko-Sakura, another gifted writer here in fanfiction.net!
*Special thanks to Mya_14, who despite being a critic and a meticulous writer herself, gave way to a beginner like me appreciated the work!!! You're the best dude!!!
*Still thanks for all those ppl. Who read but do not review! I just do hope you'd put into writing your views about the story instead of relating it to me verbally! Hehe!!!
*Next chapter happens simultaneously with the first chapter, but only focuses on the last week of summer vacation.