Candice Nichols was walking in the woods near the cabin, trying to escape form a dozen chattering scoutmates. She wondered why they bothered camping at all if they were only going to bring their ipods with them. As she trudged through the brush in her silly blue uniform, she pulled her long dark hair back into a ponytail.
When she finally reached the small river near their campsite, she got her camera and tripod out of her backpack. As she started setting up, the skin on the back of her neck started to crawl like she was being watched. Trying to shake off the sensation, she looked through the lens to line up a few shots. A slight rustling breeze whispered by. She would have sworn it sounded like her name. She looked around again. There was still no one there.
She chided herself for being jumpy. With a gnawing unsettled feeling in her stomach that refused to be squelched and goosebumps covering her arms, she started snapping a few shots.
She had taken about a dozen photos when the sun suddenly brightened behind her.
"Candice."
The voice was right behind her, and this time it was not just the wind, nor was the soft tenor one of her fellow scouts.
She spun around in fright. The trees were gone, the river no longer rushed by, the tripod disappeared, and a dazzling light shown in her face. The light was not the sun, but instead was emanating from a tall figure.
He walked forward and the light dissipated. He was an ancient, powerful man with long silver hair flowing from under a floppy-brimmed blue hat. His curly silver beard reached his waist. He wore a grey cloak over a white robe. He carried a large walking stick, but didn't lean on it.
Somehow, she couldn't fear him.
"Hello Candice," he said kindly.
She looked around for anything familiar, but her surroundings were completely foreign. "Where am I?" she asked, and was surprised by the serenity in her voice.
"Candice Nichols, welcome to Middle Earth."
Minerva McGonagall's face contorted in a firm refusal to cry. "Albus is hardly cold in his grave, and they're already trying to replace him."
Beside her, Rubeus Hagrid was making no such refusal. "Great man, tha' Dumbledor. I can't believe 'e's gone."
"We're ready," one of the older and stooped wizards of the Board of Governors said, beckoning them forward. The Board was convened in the Headmaster's Office. The portraits on the wall, including a brand new portrait of the late Albus Dumbledor, all looked on in interest. The thirteen Governors waved their wands in unison, casting a silent spell.
Minerva explained the spell for Hagrid. "They're summoning the image of the person most suitable to become the new Headmaster."
A dense fog swirled in the middle of the room. Slowly, the fog started to take shape. After several minuets, the fog seemed a life-sized marble statue of a woman.
"Speak," a Governor commanded.
Something went wrong. The fog didn't answer, which the Board seemed surprised by. "Speak!" the witch commanded again.
The fog emitted a horrible crashing, rasping noise. The fog statue seemed to shatter and fall. Standing in its wake, the real form of the witch blinked and darted glances around with nervous grey eyes. Her wise eyes were bedecked with long dark lashes. Her wavy black hair fell in cascades to her waist. One each side, a slender plait, braided with strands of gold, swept her long tresses away from her heart-shaped face. Her full pink lips were set sternly, and her widow-peaked brow was furrowed in concentration.
She wore a long forest green tunic and soft brown trousers that clung to her muscular frame. Her grey cloak was draped precisely on her strong shoulders. She held herself in an impeccable straight rigid posture. She held a staff of pure white willow with no imperfections marring its polished, glossy surface. The handle was carved into ornate flowering vines and the top was carved as an eagle with outstretched wings, grasping in his talons a large shining diamond.
The Board of Governors looked at each other in confusion. "Er, um, welcome," one of the smaller wizards said in a voice of kindness tinged in bewilderment.
"I am Candice of Riverwald and the Valinor. Long have I spent under the tutelage of the Valar and the Maiar. The Istari, Mithrandir, called in your tongue Gandalf the White, called me through time to prepare for the time when I would be needed by the wizarding community. I take it you have need of me."
The Board, Minerva and Hagrid looked, if anything, more bewildered. Hagrid was the first to recover enough to speak. "Well, Miss, er…Riverwald, is it, I'm Rubeus Hagrid, the groundskeeper and professor of Care of Magical Creatures here at Hogwarts, an' I'm very pleased to meet you."
Candice extended a hand to the massive man, who shook it a bit overzealously in his nervousness. She then moved on to shake Minerva's hand, who quickly introduced herself and the members of the Board. They told her where she was and by what tragedy they had sought her.
"So I am to be the new Headmistress?" Candice concluded. "Very well, I am here to fulfill the need."
So what do you think? Am I doing okay? Let me know what you think! This is my first fic, so I'm kinda nervous about it. Please be nice!