This story was on a newer account of mine, which I have lost the login and email information of. Oh well. But I did find this one which I wasn't aware even existed anymore, so that's lucky! Upon remembering that I had this story, I wanted to continue writing it, and realized it couldn't be accessed. So, here it is, I guess?

If you enjoy it or have any critiques to help me improve, please leave a review!

When Freja closed her eyes, it was almost as if she was falling into a dream. It felt as if she was falling, but gently, as the atmosphere around her cradled and protected her. Whenever she felt these silky threads brush against her cheek, she smiled, because she knew everything would be okay. Everything would be fine for her.

It was fine because this Sunday was just like any other. Boring. Quiet. Familiar. Safe.

She was awoken suddenly by her alarm clock. Sunlight shone through the old windows of her tiny flat as she sat up abruptly. The short yellow hair of hers was tangled under the soft blankets of her bed. A lump of blankets was thrown to the ground as she groaned. As she stood up, she reached toward the ceiling and then to her toes, her joints clicking into place. There was nothing graceful about Freja's sleep.

As she ran her hands through her tangles, she glanced around her room. The woman scoffed. As her heart skipped a beat, she said, "Today's my job interview... better get ready.". It was an exciting and nerve-wracking time for her.

As she slipped her feet into her slippers, she made her way to the bathroom, the radio still blaring the morning news: the traffic report, the weather, and a Chris Isaak song. Before undressing and taking a quick shower, she flicked the light on the bathroom and stared at her reflection.

Having finished bathing, she combed her hair through the tangles. Grinning slightly, she bore it. There was no difference between this Sunday and any other Sunday before it. A morning beginning in tangles. Returning to her room she threw on some appropriate clothing for an interview and chilly weather.

Glancing at the clock, she groaned. There is no time left to prepare an appropriate breakfast. Toaster pastries will have to do. As she slammed her hand against the top, she paused, and turned off the recurring alarm.

As she grabbed her coat, keys, and breakfast, she headed out the door. As she walked around the busy streets, she smiled and nodded to passersby, a quick "good morning" to those she recognized. She passed a raggedy looking man, made her way past him, and thought better of it. A few minutes of her time with him wouldn't make much of a difference. As she chit chatted with him, she offered him her breakfast, which he accepted. After saying goodbye, Freja returned to the underground stairs to catch her train.

She was thinking about her day, her interview, and what she could possibly say. The raggedy individual followed behind her unnoticed.

Cold as always, the underground greeted her with a musty smell she was familiar with. She sneered, but it was her only mode of transportation. Fast, convenient, and inexpensive.

A subway cart sped past her and came to a grinding halt in front of her. She suppressed a gasp. She let out a relieved sigh after being lost in thought. Since it wasn't her car, she stood still and waited.

She furrowed her brow in nervousness. What if something went wrong during the interview? This job was really important to her. An eyebrow was raised as she glanced around. Standing and waiting was the man from before. Maybe for the next train? As she stood behind the yellow line, she noticed that he appeared to be fumbling with something.

The underground began to fill up with more people. They were all quiet save for a couple of rough looking and loud youths. Freja turned from them, in an attempt to mind her own business. She knew better than to not give them any reason to bother her. As did anyone. They were known for causing issues. For being violent. Everyone minding their business however did not stop the vagabond man from being noticed by them. As he stood alone, behind the yellow line. Behind the tracks.

Aside from everything else, the youth were especially known for their feelings toward people like the ragged man. They taunted him and called him names. She continued to mind her own business. She continued to wait.

There was a physical exchange between them. Freja distinctly heard one of the youths say something odd. It was like "...a branch? You're crazy, mate.' and a SNAP. The man began yelling with rage. He lunged at the youths, and they retaliated.

With a shove the man fell onto the tracks.

Immediately, Freja felt panic set in and ran over to the commotion. She yelled, "Stop!". She was mocked and insulted by the youth. Her attention was focused on the man on the track as she tried to ignore it. He was groaning and holding his hip. As Freja noted, he was injured and stuck with his arm bent under a loose track.

No one else around her moved. Many people turned their backs on the issue, trying to ignore it but failing. Freja was frozen to the spot. She was unsure of what to do. She stepped over the yellow line and onto the tracks as if her actions were not her own. The crowd gasped.

While no one else intervened, Freja would be damned if she didn't at least try to help the man. Despite her best efforts, she was unable to free the man. No matter how hard she pulled or lifted, nothing changed.

The next train rounded the corner with a loud horn and bright lights. As tightly as she could, Freja closed her eyes.

Whenever Freja closed her eyes, it was almost as if she was falling into a dream. She felt as if she was falling gently, as if the atmosphere around her was protecting her and cradling her. Whenever she felt these silky threads brush against her cheek, she smiled, because she knew everything would be okay. She was going to be okay. It was just another Sunday. Boring. Quiet. Familiar. Safe.

There was only one problem: it wasn't. On this Sunday, when Freja Lowes closed her eyes and felt the silk threads brush against her cheeks...

Freja Lowes had fallen beyond the veil and died.

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At first, there was silence. There was a strong wind swaying the leaves in the trees surrounding this open area in the middle of nowhere. There had been rain recently, and light tapping of water dripping onto whatever surface it touched echoed in the lonely wood. A gathering of wildlife nibbled at freshly sprouted grass. There was a sense of calm and beauty about it.

A loud bang, a crash, and the hum of a bell suddenly disrupted the peace. Wildlife scrambled away as a figure fell out of thin air, violently hitting a few branches on their way down. The figure lay motionless on the damp earth, not daring to move. They woke for a moment, let out a guttural cry, and gasped for breath before passing out again.

It is unlikely that they would have noticed, nor cared, when a large figure emerged from the shadows of the trees. The figure stood over the poor stranger, before scooping them up and carrying them off who-knows-where.

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A fire crackled in the fireplace and the girl was startled by the smell of something burning.

Despite her trembling body, Freja sat up from the bed and carefully pushed away what she thought was a heavy coat. Confused, she looked around. Where was she?

…who was she?

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something big move. Seeing the large man, she yelled out loud. It was the first time she had seen someone so tall and wide.

He turned around. He was puffing animatedly from a pipe in his mouth. His mouth curled into a smile as he removed the pipe. Freja assumed it was a smile at least. Due to his gnarly beard, she couldn't tell.

"Aye. You're awake." He picked up a heavy mug and handed it to her. Freja took the mug cautiously from him. Even though it was warm, she continued to look at it suspiciously, raising her eyebrow.

"Worry not… It's tea." Freja took a sip, then pulled a face. "Though I shoulda warned you, I'm not handy around the kitchen."

"Heh..." Freja began awkwardly, finding her voice. "I'm sorry... who are you? Where are we?"

"I am Rubeus Hagrid. Keeper of the keys and grounds of Hogwarts." he proudly answered. "I've already asked Headmaster Dumbledore to come down. He'll be there shortly."

A cocked eyebrow appeared on Freja's face. The feeling of confusion overwhelmed her.

The headmaster? Is this a school? Despite the fact that Hogwarts doesn't even sound real...

"Headmaster? Is this a school? Am I a student here?" she asked the man named Rubeus Hagrid. She wondered if he recognized her. She had no idea who she was. "I don't remember anything. At all." She frowned.

"Aye...it's alright. I think you're too old to be a student here. And you're a muggle." She shot him a puzzled look. Muggles? What the heck are they? "It's summertime. School isn't in session."

Is it summer? Freja could have sworn it was March already. As she examined her clothing, she sighed. A turtleneck and long slacks...

She asked, "Where are we?".

A brief rap at the door interrupted the man's answer. "That's the headmaster now. Please wait a minute."

A tall, slender, and elderly man stepped inside the door. His clothing appeared to be a purple silk bathrobe. It was even more gnarly looking than Hagrid's beard, braided and tied with gold ribbon. He wore spectacles and wore long white hair. In response to Hagrid's greeting, Headmaster Dumbledore turned to the young woman, who was still clutching the mug of tea with trepidation. A pair of blue eyes met hers.

A sad, kind, and wise pair of eyes.

"It is a pleasure to meet you." With a strong, clear, and soft voice, he said. "It is obvious that you have suffered greatly, dear. What has happened to you?"

At first, she didn't say anything. She then opened her mouth to speak. It was the first time she had not recognized her own voice. "I... I have no idea what happened... where... who?"

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she gripped her throat gently.

'Freja'

"All I remember is my name... Where am I?" Pain began to set in. "And everything... hurts."

"You are in the groundskeeper's hut at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Dumbledore said matter-of-factly. He eyed her up and down, and locked eyes with her. He nodded helpfully.

"Miss Freja, you've been through quite a bit." Freja felt like she had a glass of cold water thrown on her. "Let us get you healed up, shall we?"

Despite her best efforts, Freja was unable to stand. Hagrid assisted the trio in reaching a dilapidated castle. After the old man swung a strange-looking branch toward her, it was as if a veil was lifted from her, revealing the castle's true beauty.

"We have a lot to discuss... but let's focus on getting you better first," Dumbledore said.

Freja just nodded gently in agreement. It was all she could do at that moment.