A/N: I know these chapter seem kind of short, but really it's because I hate to drag out a chapter when there's nothing else to say, it makes it very uninteresting and hard to follow (I call it a run on chapter). The next chapter should be much longer :)
I grasped the golden door knob shakily as my breathing picked up speed. I could hear my father downstairs clearing his throat after reading an article in the Daily Prophet.
This is stupid, I thought, I'm allowed to go into this room as I please, why am I afraid to go into here now?
I tried to brush off my fear but with no avail, I pursed my lips together and turned the knob. I worried that I would not be able to open the door, that my father had put some sort of new spell that only he; and he alone, could open the door.
But to my utter surprise I heard the lock turn and I slid through the small gap between the door and the wall, and shut the door as quietly as I could.
The room inside had an eerie feel to it, a soft mist floated about, and it was chilly. As if the room did not want any occupants to enter. I folded my thin arms together as goose-bumps grew and looked about. Although the room was left to me, I had a soft fear that I might not like what was on the other side. There were shelves among shelves, among shelves. All containing millions of tiny vials with a piece of what looked like thin silvery hair. There was a part in the shelves, and directly across from the door stood a giant bowl, a small set of stairs led to the top.
I sighed, and began to search for a certain vial, it took me a minute to realize that none of these vials were put in any sort of order, which made my work that much harder. I squinted trying to read the tiny handwriting on each of the vials, I must have looked at three hundred vials until I found the right one, and there it was: Sirina's Hat Sorting
I grabbed the vial eagerly, but carefully, and walked to the bowl. I pulled the corkscrew out of the top of the vial and poured the contents into the bowl, although the amount in the vial was miniscule, it filled the bowl to the top.
The liquid in the bowl was spinning slowly; I took a deep breath and stuck my head into the bowl. Instantly I was transported into another place, there were tables lined up vertically and students appeared sitting, in front of the tables sat a table horizontally, the staff table. Soon, first years began to form into the scene, and in front of them stood a strict looking lady holding a long list of what I was guessing to be names.
"We will now start the sorting," she declared, unrolling the list.
Christine Albert, Valerie Alonze, Michael Atkins were names that I couldn't care less for. There was one name I was looking for, the only name I wanted to hear. Only one name I want to hear so I could know that she was real and once living. Finally, after boy of the same surname was sorted into Gryffindor, she was called.
But when the professor announced her name, something peculiar happened, my mother's maiden name was muddled so I couldn't understand it.
"Sirina," said the strict lady, and my heart felt like it could have leaped from my chest. The girl was probably one of the most beautiful people I have ever seen. The guys all stared gaped mouthed, and the girls' self-esteem took a major hit, as she strode to the stool. Her face was a beautiful heart shape, and her long, straight black hair was so shiny it hurt my eyes to look at her hair, her eyes were a round, dark brown and she was very pale with soft rosy cheeks. The professor placed the hat on top of her head; she seemed so confident, so calm. Suddenly the room was filled with a voice that only she and I could hear.
Hmm, yes, very good. You're brave, ready, and not afraid to stand up to your enemies, but you seem slightly vain, and over confident. But the good outweighs the bad and I think you ought to be in. . .
"GRYFFINDOR!" The hat shouted and Sirina's face lit up smiling at what looked like me, but was really at a boy who looked similar to her, also sitting at the Gryffindor table.
Sirina loped to the Gryffindor table and shook hands with several other students.
"I miss you, mum" I said quietly, a tearing running down my cheek.
"Lena?" a voice called, I jumped and pulled my head quickly out of the bowl and returned the contents into the vial placing it gently on its previous place.
"Lena?" called my father once more, and I replied with a "Here I am!" trying to look as though I appeared from the bathroom.
My dad wasn't extremely tall, nor was he short, I figured he was about average height, he had light brown hair, and dark blue eyes. For my dad's age, which was thirty-two, he seemed older and more worn. Tired.
"Oh there you are!" My father warily said pulling me into a bear hug.
"Dad, what's all the extra affection for?" I asked puzzled. My father smiled at me a sort of nervous smile, like he was trying to hide something.
"What's going on, Dad?" My heart thumped against my chest, why was he acting so funny? Did I do something wrong, or did he do something wrong?
"Well, you know how you got you Hogwarts letter last week?" He pressed smiling sheepishly at me.
"Yeah."
"I, er, got this letter from your Grandmere Claire," Dad handed the envelope to me, it was already opened, I pulled out the letter which formed into a mouth and began to talk.
"Dear Cyril,
'Ow nice eet ees to 'ear that my leetle Lena got 'er acceptance letter fwom 'ogwarts! I zink eet ees a wonderful reason to celeebwate wis' all of the family. We weel be at your 'ouse at exactly six o' clock!
Love,
Your muzzer, Claire"
Silent, the letter fell to the ground, I stared at the place where the letter sat.
"No," I said quietly.
"Lena, I know you're angry, and I know that you don't agree with your Grandmother, but I can't tell her not to come," Dad looked sternly at me I dared not meet his eyes.
"Why does she even want to come?" I asked glaring at the letter, "it's not like she actually cares, she only wants the attention."
My dad didn't scold me; instead he let out a disappointed sigh.
"You're your mother all over again, that's for sure" Dad stated pulling off his glasses rubbing his temples, "Siri never thought my mother accepted her."
"Why?" I asked, surprised that my dad mentioned my mum, ever since she passed away, he didn't talk about her, it made him too sad.
He shook his head and turned around, went into his room, and left me alone in the hallway with the letter from a grandmother who hated my dead mother.