Chapter 2

A Mindful of Problems

….\~/….

First, the sun woke her up. She definitely wasn't used to this because she usually was asleep in her bed, curtains shut tightly with no source of light coming in at all. The second thing that woke her up was the sound of feet softly walking through her cottage and the soft brush of a cloak. The third thing was the smell of bacon and freshly made orange juice, plus some more sounds of pans clinking together and water running.

"Good morning Miss Wolfram."

Logan sat up; eyes narrowed due to the blinding sun and stood up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as well. When she didn't answer, Professor McGonagall peered into the other room, seeing Logan yawning and stretching.

"I assume you're not a morning person."

"I assume you are."

When McGonagall sent her a strict look, Logan held up a hand, "Sorry; no, I am not a morning person." Giving another loud yawn, Logan sauntered into the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, just as her nose predicted.

"Save some for me." McGonagall said, not bothering to look behind her at the girl that stood there, trying to pour every last drop into her cup. She wasn't quite used to having a guest in her house, a welcome guest to be more precise. Sometimes, unwelcome visitors, such as lovey-dovey couples that would come to make out on her property, gangs that would do drugs up in the mountains away from the police, and partiers that wanted a place where they could be as loud as they wanted. Tuesdays was usually when the partiers would come up and do what they do best…party! Today was Tuesday though…

"Oh…um…okay…" Logan said, pouring half of her juice back into the squeezer. She couldn't see it, but McGonagall had a thin-lipped smirk on her face and continued to cook. Logan leaned against the counter near the sink, taking a gulp of her juice.

"Where are we going to get all that stuff on that list?" she asked the older woman. McGonagall answered, "At a place called Diagon Alley; it's an area where all wizards and witches go to shop and the place where most students get their textbooks, wands, and other things."

Logan grimaced, "I've never really liked shopping. People are always pushy and shoving clothing in your face, thinking that you should buy it."

This time, McGonagall chuckled. "I feel the same way when it comes to buying cloaks."

After taking another sip, Logan asked, "Hey, do you think I could get a jacket?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I said so…" The older woman had heard many of her students use it so why couldn't she? It seemed to work with the girl, but she was only thinking of something else to say. "That's a stupid excuse." It still worked because Logan didn't have anything else to say.

"What about a really cool hat like the one you wore yesterday?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I said so…"

"What about a…?"

"Miss Wolfram!"

"Fine, fine, I'm going to go take a shower!"

….\~/….

Taking another bite of her eggs, McGonagall waited impatiently. How could one girl take a shower so long? I wasn't like she was filthy or anything, but she had to cut her some slack, she's had a rough life. But the slack would only appear here; when they would arrive at Hogwarts and Logan would become her pupil, there would be no slack prohibited. Favoritism wasn't her thing. She didn't want to follow the paths of the other teachers, who gloated about on individual student. Professor Sprout with Cedric Diggory, Professor Flitwick with Cho Chang, and she wasn't clear with Professor Snape, but it was possibly Marcus Flint at the moment.

The bathroom door opened and Logan stepped out. Her wet hair stuck to her face and she had on clean clothes, considering that they had patches everywhere. Logan sat down at the table and pulled her plate towards her.

A dog barked in the distance and Professor McGonagall turned to look outside, and when she turned around, she stared at Logan's plate, stunned. Everything was gone...the eggs, the bacon, the two pieces of toast…everything.

Logan rolled her eyes around, drumming her fingers on the table.

"So…when's seconds?"

….\~/….

At Hogwarts, her desk was always neat. In her room, her bed was always made after she woke up. She always ate one part of her breakfast before moving on to another. Logan…she was neat…but in her own way. As Professor McGonagall washed the dishes, something she had volunteered to do, she noticed that the scrubbing brushes were in order by size and the different dish soaps were in order by the colors of the rainbow.

Professor McGonagall stopped to scan the kitchen some more. The dishes in the cupboards were aligned by hot and cold colors and sizes-big and small. The cups were lined up vertically and by color.

The woman backed up a bit to watch Logan separate the books that she had shown her last night and the Professor realized that she was categorizing them by alphabetical name. She noticed Logan muttering things to herself as she picked up the books and put them back on the shelf. Professor McGonagall turned back to the dishes and glanced over at the scrubbing brushes. After the last dish, she purposely switched the medium length brush with the longest one and left.

"Are you all set?" she asked the young girl. Almost immediately, she noticed the living room and its unusual neatness. The two shelves that were built into the wall beside the fireplace were filled with antiques, but it seemed that the shelf on the left was occupied with older items as on the right, new items.

"Yeah, all I need to do is get my bag."

Logan walked over the front door, grabbing her shoulder bag and looking over at her shoulder. "Ready?"

"Yes, yes I am."

….\~/….

It was difficult to start a conversation with the other. For one, she didn't know anything about the Muggle world. Well, she knew a bit, but it wasn't enough to talk about. Two, she was too busy pondering about Logan's unusual habits to even start a conversation. And finally three, she didn't want to slip up and spill anything about Logan's past.

"What do you usually collect at the…junk yard?"

Logan shrugged, "Anything I find amusing or useful."

Pretty soon, they reached a chain-link fence that kept in mounds of junk. Professor McGonagall was awed by the mounds of trash that piled high. In the wizarding world, all you had to do was wave your wand over the object you no longer wanted and it disappeared. She never really wondered about where all the things went.

"How does it get to be this way?"

"Well, people throw away anything that they don't want, but can't really be taken away by the garbage men, so they ring up Charlie and ask him to come get it. Most of the time, I get furniture in good condition because the rich folks around here only keep their things for less than two weeks and then throw them out."

Logan slid the door open and walked in. Professor McGonagall lifted her robes up to prevent any more dirt getting onto her clothing.

A man with a muscular figure and a handsome face came forward. "Hey, if it isn't my best customer Logan!"

"The one and only!"

McGonagall stared at the two, waiting to be introduced. Logan caught McGonagall's stare and pointed, "This is my new teacher, Professor McGonagall." The two shook hands and Charlie was surprised by the woman's firm handshake.

Charlie slapped a hand on Logan's shoulder. "There're some new items in the shop; how about you go look at them?" Logan nodded and ran off, leaving the two behind.

"How is she Charles?" McGonagall asked. Charles crossed his arms. "Well, considering she's been off by herself for five years, I would have to say she's pretty good." The woman nodded, developing a sad look in her eyes. "What about her transformations?"

"She knows that she's a werewolf and I've asked her if she has been in any pain lately. Every time she says 'always.' It hurts me hearing that."

"Has she shown any signs of magic?"

"Well, she once brought in an Advanced Potion Making book. I told her to keep it, but she said that she had read it all and memorized everything that was in it. Ya know…I think she's a genius."

"How so?"

"Well, let's put it this way, I was having car problems and all she had to do was listen to the noise that my car was making and she told me the problem like she had been fixing cars for years. I asked her how she knew and she said she read it in a book."

"That doesn't mean anything. She could have a photographic memory."

Charles shook his head, "I'm friends with a doctor and he gave her an I.Q. test for free. She had an I.Q. off the charts. A photographic memory, maybe. Being a genius is a positive though."

McGonagall stared out into the junk yard. "How do you explain her unusual tidiness?"

"Well, she has a case of obsessive compulsive disorder. She's what you call an orderer. You may have noticed her way of arranging objects by size, color, and letters. Well, I've been told that if you rearrange something in their house that makes it out of order, they become horribly distressed."

Great, McGonagall was going to get it later on.

Charles started to walk away, motioning for her to follow him. "C'mon, let's go see what she's wanting."

….\~/….

Logan had picked out a lovely dark wooden table with a beautiful, yet intricate design etched into the corners to make a border.

"My old table's getting old so I thought I could use this one for the inside and the old one for the outside. Ya know, for making those fancy "potions."

Charlie nodded, "I knew you would like it. I'll have the boys load it up and I'll take you two home."

Logan nodded and sat down to watch Charlie and his co-workers load up the table. McGonagall couldn't help but notice how Logan's leg bopped up and down. "What's the matter Logan?" she asked, setting a hand on the other's shoulder to try and calm down the other. Logan rubbed her hands together, muttering to herself again.

"They're out of order…they're out of order…" she kept muttering. Finally, when the anxiety had gotten the best of her, she stood up and walked over to the other side of the garage and switched two hanging wrenches. Once they were switched, she immediately calmed down, slowly bringing down her hand.

"Come one you two! Time to-"

Charlie stopped in mid-sentence when he saw Logan standing at the tool bench. He walked over, setting a hand on her shoulder, and turned her into the direction of the truck. McGonagall followed soon after and got into the truck, making sure to keep some room for Logan, but when she realized that Logan was sitting on the tailgate, she took all the room for herself and Charlie sped away.

….\~/….

"What has Logan been doing all these years?"

"Well, see, she has a routine. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, she goes down to the busiest part of town and plays her guitar to try and gain tips. Then, whatever she gets, she'll go to the diner, have dinner, and play for the customers. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, she comes down here, picks out whatever she wants, and then goes back home and rearranges everything, her furniture, dishes, everything."

McGonagall looked in her side mirror and watched Logan lean against the side of the bed of the truck. She was fiddling with her fingers as she muttered to herself.

"Minerva…she has a lot of problems, basically all mentally."

She already knew all of them. Her memory loss, her OCD problems, her intelligence status, her instability to her lycanthropy, and one more problem that McGonagall thought was so sad, she didn't even want to think about.

"And, she's lonely…"

"Well, soon she won't be. Tomorrow, we're going to Diagon Alley to purchase her supplies and I'm leaving her with Hagrid, remember him?"

"Sure I do! I love that big guy!"

"Quite; well, Hagrid's on a similar trip like my own…he's picking up Harry Potter."

Charlie's eyes got wide and he gaped, "The Harry Potter? You mean…the boy that lived?"

"Yes."

"Oh my God, I can't believe it! Will you get me his autograph?"

The stern look that McGonagall gave him made him shut up.

….\~/….

"Bye Charlie!" Logan shouted, waving good-bye. McGonagall stood beside her, hands folded in front of her elegantly. When she went to turn to Logan, the girl was gone which surprised her because she hadn't heard her leave. Inside, she heard wood give off a base rumble.

Logan was inside, pushing everything to one side of the room. She looked up at McGonagall for a brisk moment before concentrating on the moving of the couch. The older woman whipped out her wand and brushed through the air, causing the couch to move forward and Logan to lose her footing and fall.

"What are you doing?" she asked, listening to Logan's groans as she staggered up. "Well…I'm cleaning." she said simply as she grabbed another chair and shoved it towards the wall. Pretty soon, with the help of Professor McGonagall, the room was clear. Logan grabbed a broom and pushed it against the floor, sweeping even if there wasn't any dust.

"Can you move this couch over there?" Logan asked, pointing towards the wall near the window. McGonagall flipped her wand towards the couch and it moved over to the desired spot. Soon enough, the room was rearranged, just as Charlie said would happen. The older woman had to ponder on how the girl would rearrange her belongings at Hogwarts…

She snapped out of her thoughts when she heard the loud clings and clangs of dishes in the kitchen. Walking in, Logan already had all the dishes on the counters, ready to replace them. At the speed she did it, you would expect that some dishes would be broken, but everything got into the cupboards safely and Logan satisfied with her work.

"Well, I might as well go start packing!"

McGonagall stepped aside as the girl went to her room and closed the door.

….\~/….

Her guitar lay beside the trunk that she had gotten down. It was probably the only thing that had dust covering it and when she opened it, a pang of pain shot through her head. She longed to remember where these objects had come from, but nothing came to her. Every time she would open this chest though, her head would hurt until she closed it, then the pain would disappear.

Inside were her most prized possessions. A midnight black cloak that had kept her warm as a child and now she wrapped it around her shoulders, smelling that unfamiliar smell that always seemed to linger on it. The scent was cinnamon which made Logan feel comfortable and above all, a warm feeling that started in the pit of her stomach and seemed to spread out through her entire body.

Out in the living room laid her worn chess set. She'd spend long, boring afternoons playing by herself, learning every possible strategy that was probably ever invented. She hoped that someday she'll be able to play with someone who had the same passion for chess like her. Her bag of marbles also laid out in the living room, on one of the shelves beside the fireplace.

Logan tilted her head up to see her moon chart. It showed that tonight would be partly cloudy, but you could still see the sliver of moon. In two weeks, she would transform into a monster. That was the one thing that she remembered, being a werewolf. The pain that it caused her all those nights and the side-effects it had on her constantly. Sometimes, the pain would get so excruciating, that she once brought a knife to her throat, but something in the back of her mind told her no and she threw the knife out.

Logan searched through her dressers drawers, throwing clothes into the chest. They were all patched up, some still with big holes. Living up in the mountains wasn't easy, especially when it was winter time and mice ran around, trying to find warm places to rest.

Her ears twitched when she heard pans clink and knew that Professor McGonagall was cooking lunch for them. She liked the woman and that was saying something. Usually, Logan was wary of people and didn't trust too many people. The main reason was that people always stared at the scars on her face instead of her first.

"Lunch is ready!" McGonagall shouted.

Logan exited the room, sitting in the same spot that she had sat in at breakfast. That was one thing that bothered her; any time someone took something that was hers, she'd get this angry feeling in her mind that told her to attack them. One time, Charlie had visited her, bringing her lunch and everything. He sat in her spot and that angry feeling had engulfed her mind and she knocked him out of her seat.

McGonagall came in with a plate of grilled cheeses. Before she had come to the Muggle World, she looked up some popular dishes that Muggles liked to eat and found grilled cheese sandwiches. The woman set Logan's plate of four sandwiches in front of her and sat down opposite of her, conjuring a tea set with her wand and poured herself a cup of tea with two cubes of sugar.

It took no time for Logan to eat her sandwiches, but there was a look of dissatisfaction on the girl's face, and a sorrowful look in her tired eyes.

"Professor McGonagall…where did I get these scars?"

The question threw her off course and she sat there, her mind quickly going through the many answers she could give Logan, but the bad thing was…they all were connected to the one main reason.

"I…I can't tell you."

Logan narrowed one eye, "And why not?"

"Because I've been told not to. I've been ordered by Albus Dumbledore to have you find out by yourself."

Logan frowned, standing up. "I think I'm going to go take a nap. I'm really tired…" McGonagall watched her leave, the door closing softly behind her. She knew that the other was angry, confused, not sure what to do.

Minerva couldn't fully understand the girl's position. As a child, she had always known that she would become a witch. Her mother and father were both wizarding folk and never had any problems, especially with her mind.

Logan…all her life she had been alone, even when she was with her parents. Her father was a Death Eater and her mother was the only one that seemed to care for her daughter. In ways, it was fortunate for Logan to not have any memories of her family, but yet, Minerva wished that she had some sort of remembrance.

Truth is, those scars held all the truth and she didn't even know it.

….\~/….

Later that night-

….\~/….

Dear Albus,

I have made it safely to Miss Wolfram's. She's in worse condition than we thought. So far, I've gathered that she has a severe case of obsessive compulsive disorder, she has no memory of her past whatsoever, and she's showing strong signs of lycanthropy. I've noticed that she has a large appetite, extremely territorial, and often talks about how she looks over the wounded animals that wander through here. What if she becomes attached to a student at Hogwarts? I've heard that female werewolves tend to be protective over certain people and will do whatever it takes to protect those people.

Can't I tell her a bit about her history? She's so confused on where she got her scars. Those are another matter I'm concerned about. Miss Wolfram has become wary and untrustworthy of people because they tend to stare at her scars first, rather than looking at her. She's angry because she's confused on how she found a place into our world.

Well, I'm taking her to Diagon Alley tomorrow to purchase her things. Hagrid and Mr. Potter should be staying at the Leaky Cauldron so I might leave her in Hagrid's care so I can come back to Hogwarts and prepare.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall