authors note: hey, this chapter is just, well I dunno, but it will be significant in the next chapter, well you'll see what happens. this might be some sort of filler, something that just is in between the good action stuff...lol
! DISCLAIMER : I don't own anything...get it? too bad...haha I say that in every disclaimer...lol
Chapter 2 – Wait
I sat up, my whole body aching, throbbing. It wasn't just physical pain; but it wasemotionalas well. Sirius was gone, even though he didn't know her; he was just like a father to her, just like he was for Harry. Just two years ago, her muggle parents were killed, marked for death by Voldemort himself. They put up a fight, but with no prevail, for they had no form of protection from the dark magic. "All because of Voldemort," I thought, "Why did I have to bring so much pain to everyone I loved? Why they been marked by the Dark Lord? What had they ever done to deserve that?"
Silent tears fell down my cheeks, leaving shiny trails behind them on my ivory skin. I sobbed, with my head in my hands, mourning Sirius's death. "I could have known him! I'll join the Order of the Phoenix now; I'll join, just for Sirius, and Harry. I'm returning to Hogwarts in a few months…and I'm finished packing." She thought, forming a plan in her mind. She had finished packing weeks beforehand, because she was so excited to switch to Hogwarts to finish her magical education.
"Where am I?" I asked myself, for all I remembered before I left to go to Harry I was on the tiled bathroom floor. I looked around, my hand swiping across my face to rub away the tears. I realized that I was in a cot in the school infirmary. "Blast it," I said looking at an alarm clock situated on my bedside table, so that I just had to turn my head slightly to see it, "it's almost 12 o 'clock! I'm going to be late for Weavils tutoring." I sighed, for I had never enjoyed these tutoring classes, but I did them, because Dumbledore told me to when I had left London all those years back. I didn't like Weavil, but that was because he didn't like me all that much either. But, if Dumbledore trusted him, so did I.
Hawk was supervising the infirmary, her nickname, which I was proud to say, had come from my own sense of humor, imagination, and not to mention her strangely hawk-like features. Her nose was shaped like a beak, with an odd curve at the end, her eyes were a tawny brown, which always glared as though you were a pesky imp, or house elf, and her face was a narrow shape, similar to that of a hawk. She was busy, reading a book on healing elixirs and potions, as I tentatively slipped unnoticed out of the room.
After a quick stop to my dormitory for a quick bath, which I needed horribly,along witha change of clothes, I picked up my school bag, which had all the things I needed; two quills, a roll of parchment, my wand, some food that I nicked from the kitchens, and a portkey. The portkey was the key to me returning to Hogwarts, where I would finish my magical education. Now, I attended Durmstrang School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I didn't like it, for I had no idea where it was, not even the country. It had been considered classified information, which I was not allowed to know, for I wouldn't be graduating from there, so they thought that I was not qualified.
I walked briskly down the hall, my stunningly blue robes, which accented my blue eyes, swished gracefully behind me. My feet, clad in navy blue clogs, which I had bought last summer when I went into a muggle town, and I must say that they are extremely comfortable and stylish, with a band that went across the top to end with a brass buckle. Underneath my robes, I wore a pair of black pants, which flared right at the ankle, to cover the majority of my clogs. My shirt was of the muggle kind, it was a plain dark blue color, but like most of my clothing it was comfortable, stylish, and might I add, it flattered my slim figure. Coming to the end of my walk, I stopped, straightened my clothing, and knocked on the door, waiting for a reply.
"Come in." Came a gruff, unfriendly reply. The man, who spoke, was Professor Weavil, my least favorite teacher. He was a gloomy man, his skin a dark shade of brown, his stringy black hair, reached all the way down to his shoulders, which were hunched over in an unnatural way. When he spoke, his rotting yellow teeth showed, a thick layer of slime coating over them. His eyes were a dark shade of brown, they were bloodshot, and what should have been white around his iris, was in fact an ugly shade of olive-yellow. He was altogether a hideous fellow. I sighed; I had to endure another lesson with Weavil. I couldn't wait until I left for Hogwarts, never to see him again.
"Ahh, Miss Ayra, today's lesson, we will learn…" After an hour of being tutored on what the students at Hogwarts were learning, it was finally time to go. I dusted off my robe, which had collected a thin layer of dust during our lesson, which was no surprise for me because Weavil's room was covered in dust, and he refused anyone to clean it. What, with all the spells they threw around the room, she was bound to get at least a little bit dusty.
I was grumpy, and frustrated at being hexed around the room until I blocked at least ten in a row successfully. I grimaced, as I stretched, working out the kinks in my back, and stretching aching muscles. I smiled, satisfied that I had hexed Weavil quite a few times, and reversing his own hexes back at him. Why and how could Dumbledore trust this man? He was such a shady figure, and he was as sour as a pickle too. I shook my head, marking that question as one I would never know, or even begin to understand.
Picking up my tote bag, I started to leave the room. Taking two long strides across the room, I reached the door. I put my hand on the door, but was stopped when I heard Weavil say something, but I couldn't hear him, for he mumbled inaudibly.
"Yes Professor Weavil?" I asked haughtily, turning around to glare at him for keeping me later than he was supposed to. He smiled, a sight I hope you don't have to witness, his few teeth, rotting ones at that, were put into a sick, twisted grimace. Unintentionally, I cringed as I saw his half-ass attempt at a grin, I felt bad for him, and his smile. Going back to an unemotional mask of emotion, I glared at him, waiting for him to answer me, and repeat what he said.
"Wait…" he said, in a whisper that I barely heard. I looked at him quizzically, before my hand snapped from the door handle, which burned with a magical fire. I looked at my fingers, mildly burned from the fire, then, after pouting for a second at my hand, I looked up in horror at Weavil as the enormity of the situation dawned on me.
authors note: HAHAHA! cliff hangers make you mad don't they? haha, I feel sooooo mean...I know what happens next too...hahahahahahahaha...ok, I'm done ranting on the fact that I know what happens next, and all you get is a suspensful cliffie...although you might know what is happening, because, well since I'm still young, my writing is as well, so it isn't as good...haha, I'm ranting again...lol it makes me feel smart ) ...lol...