She opened her eyes suddenly, as fully awake as if she’d been doused with cold water. In the darkness, still surrounded by familiar crimson hangings, she smiled. The pale, cool light that sneaked through the narrow gaps in the curtains signaled the start of a new day, and the beginning of everything she’d been waiting for. This day marked the end of childhood, of all that was safe and comfortable, and by the time she lay down again at its close (in a different bed, in a different place) she would be a fully-fledged, adult member of the magical world. But while her room-mates and friends cried and fretted, she was utterly thrilled.

Dorcas Meadowes was leaving Hogwarts.

It wasn’t that Hogwarts hadn’t been good to her. She loved the place, and she’d spent her happiest days here. But seven years of nearly unvaried routine could wear anyone down, particularly one as impatient as Dorcas. She’d long ago outgrown the confined little life that school offered. Always the same people, same books, same everything. She’d started getting restless back in fifth year, once Gideon Prewett, whom she’d gone out with briefly and remained close friends with, left school and sent her letters bursting with fascinating details of post-Hogwarts life. She felt slightly trapped, like she had to be what everyone expected her to be – passionate, outspoken, sometimes irreverent – or else. Seventeen-year-old Dorcas was not the same as eleven- or twelve-year-old Dorcas, but the reputation had stuck. It wasn’t really contrary to Dorcas’ nature (she was all of those things still), but she knew she had much more to offer the world.

Despite the early hour, Dorcas was too heavy with thought to slide back into slumber. She got up quietly and dressed, for the last time, in her usual black school robe. Tomorrow I can wear whatever I want, she thought. Tomorrow she could be whatever she wanted to be.

She found herself, unsurprisingly, looking into the mirror that had become one of her dearest companions over the years. Dorcas wasn’t vain; far from it. Her reflection didn’t lie when it showed her the wild hair, the too-long nose, and the plumb cheeks that belonged to her, but none of that mattered. No, what she looked for in her mirror was herself.

For seven years, she’d sat in this exact spot whenever she was angry, glad, scared, excited, confused, or just contemplative. She came to her mirror to look through the hair, the nose, and the cheeks and find instead her heart.

Today, the quick rhythm of her heartbeat sent the pick tinge of excitement to her face, and the corners of her mouth were turned up in an involuntary grin, perhaps the remnant of her earlier expression. There was a glimmer of fear in her grey-green eyes, but the like the Gryffindor she was, she didn’t allow it to slow her down.

Though the features looking back at her had changed little in the years she been here, the many faces of Dorcas had flitted across the glass with astounding range. Dorcas the friend, the scholar, the lover, the delinquent, the teacher, the child – all had once been her company, as well as many more. Pieces of her ever-growing heart emerged here, and with the mirror’s help, they settled gracefully into their newly formed places.

Now, Dorcas didn’t see just a piece of herself, but the woman she’d become as a whole. How wonderful it felt, on this of all days, to be whole! She knew, in the back of her mind, that she couldn’t stay this way forever, that new pieces would continually surprise their way into her heart, but she was content for the moment, and it was a good way to be. She was beginning her adult life as a confident, purpose-driven individual, just as she’d always hoped she would.

Still gazing at her reflection in silence (the other girls were still asleep), Dorcas considered herself successful. Though some of her teachers would undoubtedly grumble about years of missed homework assignments and skived-off classes (honestly, how could they expect her to complete their piles of busywork if she already knew the stuff?), she’d managed stellar test scores, and even her class marks weren’t so bad. That, combined with what Dorcas suspected had been a glowing recommendation from McGonagall, had secured her a place in the training program for the Department of Mysteries, and she was the youngest of this year’s inductees to boot. She had fabulous friends, a supportive family, and she had never had trouble in the romance department (her latest love was the real thing – nearly three years and going strong). On top of all that, her last trip to the Headmaster’s office had been for a very different reason than she was used to. Dumbledore had requested that she bring her talents into the fold of the most respected resistance organization, the Order of the Phoenix, and she had readily agreed. In three days, she’d be initiated into the secret group, along with several of her friends. Perhaps, she thought, that was where the fear came from, but she knew it was the right things to do, knew that if she didn’t fight, she’d be letting herself down.

She shivered as she realized that tomorrow – tonight, even – many of their Slytherin classmates would take up their places as Voldemort’s dreaded Death Eaters, no longer mere Quidditch rivals, but dangerous, deadly enemies. She allowed herself a fleeting recollection of her earliest days at Hogwarts, before she and her peers had formed the relationships that would guide every part of their lived at school. It was strange to think that she and her classmates had ever been that same group of first-years, and even stranger knowing that today they were no longer classmates.

There was a rustling of blankets, and Dorcas knew her solitude would soon be interrupted by the laments and memories of the others. She didn’t begrudge them their sadness, and even she would feel the pangs of regret as she left the room, the Gryffindor Tower, the castle itself for the last time. But, she thought as she moved from her mirror to the window, this was a beginning as well as an end. She opened the window, enjoying the rush of cool on her skin. There it is, she thought; the whole world was waiting for her, arms open and beckoning.

She let out a laugh that was a little like a sob, and sat on the window sill, looking outward now instead of in, until the other four girls were up and ready to go down to the station. They cried and laughed and hugged as they took a last look around the room that had been theirs for so long, now bare and almost unfamiliar. But Dorcas’ eyes were dry as she shouldered the worn bag she’d stuffed full with her Muggle clothes and trainers and stepped over the threshold.

There was life out there, and lots of it. As she walked out of her childhood, it seemed the world held nothing if not opportunity for Dorcas Meadowes.