It began abruptly - my coming into awareness. When I think about it, it was like opening my eyes for the first time, unhindered by the strain that would have come with lack of use. A cold, hard gulp of air drenched my lungs in a liquid fire simultaneously painful and euphoric, filling me with instant clarity and buoyancy. I became aware of my edges - all edges. Then I began to fall.
My impact with the ground was bone-shaking, gravity registering faintly as a force to acclimate to as I, for the first time in my recollection, used my arms to push myself up. I wondered how I suddenly could know that the hard, round things digging into my palms were seeds when I did not recall coming to know by any means what seeds were. The earth felt gritty but slightly damp.
I could hear the air. It whispered past my ears with a vastness that became my first encounter with spatial awareness. In the hollow quiet I could hear every small shift in the granules of earth beneath me. How could I be familiar with the concept of a sky and ground? I struggled for a moment, breathing slowly. My hands looked alien to me. They were hands. They were mine. I knew what to do with them, but this was the first time I've met these things - these hands. I could swear I'd never seen before, or heard, or felt, or anything at all. Physicality itself seemed jarring. My whole being was coiled tightly.
If I - whatever this self-ness is - could perceive, then what am I? What is doing the perceiving for me? Is it me? What started all this? What began the perception? Have I always been perceiving? Have I simply forgotten? Suddenly I conceived there were beginnings and ends. A recognition of sequence, cause and effect, increments of change measured by what? Time. What was time again? I knew it was moving - no I - I was moving through it, time. What direction was that then?
A loud snap nearby rang in my ears, jolting me out of my frenzied musings. For the second time I was forced to confront my tense muscles which seemed each apparent to me as I moved to stand quickly. The world was still once more. Strange structures grew upwards from the gravity which I could still feel rushing up at me - or rather I toward it - laden with thousands of chartaceous, emerald ornaments fluttering in the crisp breeze. Their whispers showered my ears, rustling and echoing on what appeared to be vacant, forested mountainside.
A radiant sun kissed my skin capriciously despite the shadows cast by the evergreen and oak that towered above me and burrowed deep into the earth and rock that stretched jaggedly for as far as my eyes could see. The floor of the forest was plentiful with underbrush, which I for some reason knew was likely due to what appeared to be a somewhat temperate climate. The air was damp but cool, a living vapor caressing softly all that it touched.
My unbidden knowledge flustered me again with ruminations of whether anything could come from nothing. Either my acquisition of knowledge was genuinely ex-nihilo or it was derived by some design, intentional or otherwise. The thought that there was something I was forgetting tickled my mind once more as I squinted at the horizon in the direction of the setting sun. Despite all these questions it seemed I had a task I was innately aware of - survival. Barely within sight, dark plumes of smoke rose into the pale pink sky. Considering it was the most unique feature I could see, I set off towards it, letting my questions rest in favor of learning more about my situation.
Tirelessly I tread a path through the woods, the dying light which seemed to take the warmth of the sun with it resting on my exposed left shoulder. The air around me grew colder and still as I descended a mountain amongst mountains and stumbled upon a dirt and stone path which merged with my own. The smoother ground suited me just fine - my bare feet were going to be an issue in terrain like this.
I came to a sign adorned with strange runes, but I found no trouble in reading the symbols despite how foreign they were to me. Hogsmeade, it read, and I supposed it lay on the path ahead, be it a person or place. A place was what I soon discovered as I passed the treeline to find a fantastical village sprawled before me. Milling about were people in robes and other forms of garb very much unlike what I discovered to be the comparative rags that barely covered me. My own clothes, composed of greys and browns, were tattered and dirty, hanging from my shoulders and hips.
Supposing that hesitation would hardly provide me with the answers I sought, I strode into the town confidently, earning myself many a turning head and curious glance as I went. The homes were mostly stone, the sills and doors all brightly colored and wooden. Looking at a smiling old woman, I approached her with a small smile of my own.
"Hello, do you know where I am?" My voice was soft, polite.
"Why, Hogsmeade, my dear," she responded, seeming unbothered by my haphazard appearance. "You look like you've had a long journey," her wrinkled hand reached for my own, ancient blue eyes locked on mine, and I gave it to her only to feel a hard, cold object pressing into my palm. "Why don't you head over to the Three Broomsticks? Tell Arabelle you're a friend of Viola Widdershins and nevermind those bare feet." I furrowed my eyebrows as our hands parted, peering down at the golden disk she'd given me.
"Thank you," I said. Was everyone so hospitable? "How can I repay you?"
"Come visit the house on the hill sometime," was all she said with a hint of mirth before suddenly shambling away. My eyes followed her a moment before fluttering back to my surroundings.
The sign above my head depicted the head of some tusked animal - perhaps a boar. I'd never seen one before, but I chose to shake off the feeling of forgetfulness again as I started forward, looking at the shops that surrounded me as I wandered down the street.
The windows were filled with extraordinary displays. Fresh fruits and vegetables in colorful variety could be seen in The Magic Neep, and books that fluttered about, opening and closing of their own accord, behind the panes of Tomes & Scrolls, a Specialist Bookshop. Spintwitches Sporting Needs presented a broomstick and some odd-looking balls in a case, but a single broomstick certainly wasn't three.
It wasn't long before I found it a little farther along the same street, a sign donned with three crossed broomsticks marking the doorway. Eager to discover what this place had to offer, I entered to find a large room stretching out before me with a warmth enveloping me from a roaring fireplace to my right. Tables and booths filled most of the place, a staircase winding somewhere upstairs and a door or two leading further into the building to the left. A long counter was surrounded by tall stools which were occupied by several of the many customers, each with a mug or glass of their own and most merrily engaged in conversation with companions.
A tall, curvaceous woman with dark brown ringlets for hair stood behind the counter, a smile on her face. She was polishing glassware with a rag and speaking to a bespectacled, slightly older man with reddish-brown hair, hints of grey peppered here and there - even in his beard.
Approaching I made sure to smile as I gently placed the disk Viola had given me on the counter. Having caught the woman's attention I found myself feeling just a bit rude, as though I may have interrupted something I shouldn't. She was blushing still, but once her gaze alighted on me her eyebrows pinched with… concern?
"Dear me, child, what are you wearing? And where are your shoes?"
I looked at my bare feet bashfully, already knowing I was hardly dressed properly if the other townsfolk were anything to go by.
"Hello," I said softly, "Miss Viola Widdershins sent me here - I think this is for you?" I gestured to the disk I'd been given, unsure what it was.
Though her expression didn't change much, a small smile still managed to grace the woman's lips as she took the disk from the countertop. I could feel the older gentleman's gaze on me and I glanced at him to find unabashed curiosity in his eyes.
"I'm Arabelle," said the tall woman, returning my attention to her. "A friend of Viola's is a friend of mine. What can I get for you?"
"Well," I drew the word out, unsure how to broach the subject now that I finally seemed in a position to do so. "I'm not entirely sure how I've come to be, you see. Just a bit ago I landed in the forest outside the village. I saw smoke so I came here… I was hoping you could tell me a bit more about… all of this?" I looked around to punctuate what I meant. My heart fluttered nervously, and for the first time I felt very small, though I was sure I hadn't gotten any shorter.
Arabelle appeared confused, "You mean the Three Broomsticks?"
I nodded, "and everything else, if you don't mind. I'm a bit new to this."
"New?" She apparently didn't quite know what to do with me, looking to the older man beside me beseechingly. Perhaps I should have asked him?
"If I may, Arabelle?" His voice was a soothing tenor, his baby blue eyes twinkling like stars. With a nod, Arabelle departed and I could see her pouring a smooth golden liquid into a mug from a tap, foam forming at the top a little ways away. "What is your name?"
I was startled by the question the older man had asked me. What was my name? I hadn't even thought about whether I had one.
"I don't know," I replied unsurely. "I only just came to be... should I have one? How do I even get one?"
He appeared no less intrigued than before - perhaps more so now than ever. Patting the empty stool beside him he turned in his seat just as Arabelle set the mug she'd filled before me, leaning against the counter in interest. I sat down, my bare feet hanging only a few inches from the wooden floor.
"Only just came to be? Tell us what you mean."
I wrapped my fingers around the mug, giving Arabelle a smile of thanks. I watched the man beside me sip at his own, so I did the same. The moment the liquid touched my tongue I was filled with something amazing - flavor was almost painful at first it was such a shock. It felt like tingles of electricity shot throughout me before settling into a sweet sensation of warmth and bliss. Arabelle looked like she was trying not to laugh, so I supposed I must have made a rather funny face. I just smiled brightly, taking another mouthful of whatever the mug contained, allowing myself a moment to enjoy the new experience.
"I don't remember anything. I don't think I've ever been before. I fell into the forest and came here and that's about it." I wasn't sure quite how else to say it.
"What about your parents?" Arabelle inquired. "Surely they must be worried, and if you've lost your memory I can only wonder how you managed to get here."
"When you say you fell into the forest, what do you mean? From the trees?" The old man asked.
"From the sky, I think. Though… I don't recall much about falling, only hitting the ground really." I took another greedy gulp from my drink as I thought. Perhaps… "This body is new to me. I know what things are, but I don't know how. I knew what seeds were, and trees. I can't explain how the idea of a broomstick is familiar to me, but this is certainly the first time I've ever tasted something, or heard, or seen, or felt. I don't know if I came from somewhere, or how I can understand moving through time or space. Though… I don't seem to know of any parents. I'm not sure I've had any of those." Truth be told, I wasn't entirely sure what parents were supposed to be. The only material things I had with me were the rags I wore.
"Well with looks like yours, I'm sure your family will turn up soon." Arabelle was trying to be reassuring, but only brought forth more questions to mind.
"Looks like mine?"
"Your eyes, for starters, and your hair. Have you dyed it?"
Hastily I grasped at my hair and brought it before my eyes to find it was long and pale, like a shimmering gold. I could see colors shifting through the strands as I moved the locks grasped between slender fingers, changing colors like shattered crystals in the light. Some portions seemed almost fixed with particular colors, not in streaks or spots, all in layers, but changing hues of pinks, blues, purples, greens… I liked it. It wasn't like Arabelles' or the mans'. I suppose my surprise was easily discerned by my companions.
Arabelle bent down behind the counter and I turned to her, brows furrowing curiously as she popped back up with a small hand mirror and placed it before me. My skin was fair, glowing in the soft light of the tavern. My eyes shimmered like my hair, black pupils surrounded by irises of no fixed color, glimmering like freshly fallen snow in the sunshine - thousands of colors reflecting back at me. I looked young - no older than fourteen or fifteen years.
"Perhaps I could be of help," said the man, "I am the headmaster of a school not far from here. I could contact the Ministry and inquire about missing persons. This town is surrounded by wards to prevent muggles from finding it, so we can deduce you're of magical lineage."
Turning from my reflection I nodded, only understanding half of what he meant. All I knew was that he was going to help me find answers.
"What should we call you, dear?" Arabelle wondered. "Have you anything in mind?"
I pondered that for a moment. I wasn't sure what comprised a name other than sounds, so I sat and thought, feeling out sounds, seeking something perhaps… familiar…
"Emry," I decided. "Call me Emry."
"Well, Miss Emry. It seems you're in need of a safe place to sleep and some food in your belly. Hogwarts has never turned away someone in need." The older man told me. "I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, and if you'd like you may accompany me to the castle. We can find appropriate lodgings for you until your family comes to collect you."
"Thank you," I smiled gratefully. "I would like that very much."
A/N: I may not have a regular upload schedule, but this project means more to me than any of you might comprehend. I struggled with the idea of publishing anything earlier than I intended. It's a very personal project that spans more realities than just the one familiar here. This is an epic - a journey that tumbles beyond the boundaries of space and time, identity and belief, perception and the unknown. If you have a moment, challenge the narrative, ask questions, poke holes, and please, if you've the care, let me know what you think. Perspective is the greatest gift you could give me. In return I hope what I write changes your world.
