Chapter Four

We had just crossed the lake- like all First Years at Hogwarts do- by boat, when Ogg, the Keeper of the Keys, handed us over to a man with thick, auburn hair and a short beard. His eyes were blue and friendly and I, eleven years of age and not used to smiling much, could not refrain from answering that kind grin of his. I don't know what it was about him, but he felt familiar and despite all seriousness and studiousness, I still was a child in search for the large family she had never had. I remember having the feeling that, while rendering his short but kind speech, he was directing his words especially at me.

Now, though, I think that every child in that little crowd of First Years had that feeling. It's always been, in my opinion, one of the greatest powers of the man who now is my husband, that he always manages to get along with every single person. I must admit I have never had the pleasure to possess that quality- and that is basically why I have always admired it in Albus. It is also what makes him a great Headmaster, I believe- and what made him a wonderful Head of Gryffindor back then.

For it was in Gryffindor that I was sorted, of course. I cannot help but be proud to say, even after all those years, that the Sorting Hat did not hesitate for one single second- and I was delighted. I was delighted, and not just because I was sorted in the House of my ancestors, also because I desperately wanted to know who he was, that friendly, blushing man with his dark auburn beard and his kind eyes. I was told both his name and his subject at that very same Welcoming Feast, and one thing I did not understand.

Though his name, Albus Dumbledore, sounded entirely unknown to my ears, I knew his face. Or not exactly his face- just a face very much like it. As if I had met his brother, or his father, before.

It was strange, but after a few weeks at Hogwarts, I did not care anymore. I had looked for a family, and somehow I felt as if I had found one. All of a sudden I had classmates who were, if not friends, still companions, and I had classes. It sounds like a very strange thing to say but I, always educated at home, had really looked forward to "real school" for a very long time. I was eager to learn, and though I never managed to read all books in Father's extensive library, I am sure I read all children's books at least three times.

I could not have been more delighted with Hogwarts- and the woman-in-grey was easily pushed aside in the excitement of the first days. She was never forgotten, though, and as I woke up in the middle of my third night with her face etched on my mind, I knew she had never been gone, and that she would never be gone.

My curiosity was awoken before it had even been buried.

Yet I knew it was an impossible quest, and I fought. I really did. I buried myself in work, visited the library, revelled in all my new interesting classes. Except for potions, might I add- because, though the teacher was a nice woman, I have never been able to brew anything more complicated than hot chocolate. But I had a natural talent for Transfiguration, like many of my family, and that accompanied by my respect and liking for the teacher, Professor Dumbledore, made me both an attentive and eager student.

He liked me, too, that I know, but I don't know whether he thought my face familiar as well. I have never asked him- and even if I should ask him, would he still remember?

But it doesn't matter, after all.

Even during those first days of my existence at Hogwarts, though, I already nothing less than loved the library. I have always been fascinated by books, by the amount of knowledge stored in them- and so how could I not fall for that beautiful hall filled with my favourite artefacts? Yes, I did spend many hours there. It was my favourite place to study, though I could not exactly say why.

Yet now I know.

I will never forget the day I opened a book and looked straight into her eyes.