(two years later)
“Headmaster, if I may ask, why now? I’ve only got two years left of Hogwarts including this one. Why no just finish the way I started; privately. Sort of … ‘home schooled’, if you will,” she argued.
She stood in the curious round office of Professor Dumbledore, the current Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Various strange looking objects were randomly scattered everywhere and there was a quite a large stack of papers tipping precariously off the corner of the large oak desk, behind which, the professor sat.
Off to her right by the staircase leading up to Dumbledore’s private quarters, was a golden perch on top of which sat a most magnificent ruby and gold feathered phoenix. Its large amber eyes blinked at her enthusiastically.
“Miss White, I have made an old man’s mistake. I thought that if you were to continue your studies without public knowledge, you would be safe. But only recently have I come to the downcast realization that you can’t remain inside these walls forever. Sooner or later you venture out, and obtain a job, and travel…I could not protect you then,” the Headmaster said, choosing his words carefully.
"Safe from what, may I ask?" she inquired. She studied him with great interest, hoping that for once, just once, she could link some clue from his face to find her answer.
Dumbledore smiled sadly- he wouldn't tell her, not yet.
Addalynn plopped down on the nearest chintz purple armchair and crossed her arms over her chest. Dumbledore stood up and positioned himself in front of the desk. As he did so, Fawkes, the magnificent Phoenix, flew over to Addalynn’s knee and sang a note to her. She stroked his head gingerly with great affection. Professor Dumbledore continued on as if she had never asked him anything at all.
“And when you go out, you will have no other friends than I, Professor McGonagall, and your Uncle Job. None of us are the friends that you, a teenager, need to have. You need someone your age to depend on,” he proceeded, looking at her intently with an unsurpassing amount of kindness in his eyes over his half-moon spectacles. “You have been kept away from a child’s life for a very long time Miss White and I have only contributed to that over the past few years and it is one of my deepest regrets.”
“You regret teaching me?” she asked incredulously, uncrossing her arms and spreading them wide.
“No, that happens to be one of my greatest accomplishments, my dear. The point I’m trying to get across to you is that you need to be a child before becoming an adult. You have not experienced the joys and lessons that come with being a teenager,” he explained and he walked over to the left side of the marvelous office and reached up to the top shelf. Upon that top shelf was a battered old hat that looked very patched and torn. He continued as he slowly walked over to her, “You, Miss White, have spent the past two years in deep concentration and study and it is time you are rewarded for your great efforts." He approached her with what seemed to be caution, if that was the word, the old hat yawning in the Headmaster's hands. "This is the Sorting Hat and it will sort you into one of the four respectable Houses- the one to which you most belong.”
He placed it on her head gingerly and took a step back. The Hat spoke almost spontaneously causing the young girl to jump out of the chair which, in turn, caused Fawkes to fly back to his perch where he was safe from talking hats and jumping girls.
Hmm…a White, I’ve not seen a White in many, many years. What to do with you I wonder? Your father was Jehosah White, was he not?, asked the hat.
Yes, he was…, she answered uncertainly. How could this old torn-up hat know about her father?
Well, I’ll say this; you certainly have his courage…, the hat continued in his old, cracked voice.
The hat went on to say more and more. Forever it seemed to her that it’s voice droned expressionlessly and without emotion, rambling on about what she was capable of and analyzing her ‘ever so complex’ personality.
It asked her questions and she answered them with as boldly as she could. Time seemed to pass by much more slowly now, obscuring her thoughts of what to do with the leftover time in the next few days before school started. She wasn’t sure what day it was anymore as it seemed hours had grudgingly gone by while she sat there in time so still she could see light travel. But alas! Out of nowhere the Hat came to a final destination after venturing the many forks on the ever winding and twisted road.
“Gryffindor!” it claimed and said no more. The jittery Headmaster climbed from his comfortable chair and emerged from behind his desk to take the hat back to the shelf upon which it watched the daily life within its master’s office.
“Jolly good Miss White! Your father was in that house you know! A very fine student that rascal was,” he informed her as he chuckled as all elderly men do. He turned to face her as she walked over to Fawkes to pat him on the head and hum sweet notes to him in her enchantingly low voice of sweet honey sound. “Well, this has been quite a day and the first of September starts in three more.”
It appeared she didn’t hear his words for she remained in full attention to the Phoenix, humming and stroking. Satisfied with her doting he let out a beautiful note to match hers. His magnificence stopped singing, but continued to close his eyes lazily and let her continue to sing and stroke hid plush head-feathers, for they were softer than any fine silk or velvet.
“Miss White is there something wrong?” asked the Headmaster for he could always tell better than any other the feelings of his students; especially the ones he knew best.
Still stroking the bird she replied to his question, “Sir, I appreciate your concern for me but, I’m afraid. I know it sounds silly, but…do you really expect me to just throw myself into to the frenzy with an open wound bleeding fresh blood? The sharks would come for sure. Their sense of smell is impeccable, and they're always searching- always hunting. Never do they stop; so stop would be to die. They will test me at first, then chew on me a bit, and tease me. Then the final blow will come and I will be no more than a tattered and bloody soul, stretched across the beach's white sand.” And now she continued to face her companion who sill sat contentedly on his royal perch.
“I understand, Miss White. Another of my many mistakes was alienating you from others who are just like you in the sense that you are only fifteen years old and soon to be sixteen. But please, my dear, for I believe strongly that this is the right thing to do. It may not be easy, but easy isn’t always a choice,” he finished.
There was no point in arguing against something she already knew to be true. She hummed a final note and turned away, leaving Fawkes quite crestfallen. Crossing over the oriental style round rug that covered the floor, she reached the large dark oak doors. She hesitated before reaching the handle to leave and turned around to face the Headmaster.
“Oh, um…Professor Dumbledore?” she asked the grandfatherly man who had once again settled himself behind his desk. He looked up at her face that was etched with worry, over his glasses that hung halfway down his long crooked nose. “What do I do on the first day?”
“Professor McGonagall will accompany you this Saturday, the second day the students are here, to Gryffindor Tower early in the morning. I’m sure you’ll be quick to make friends. Have a pleasant rest of the day Miss White.”
Walking down the steps and listening to the sharp echoes of her shoes pounding the hard stone lightly. Such a small sound until it reached the walls, and then it bounced back magnified in her ears. The gargoyle re-stepped into place and she proceeded on to the grounds where a perfect end-of-the-summer day was awaiting her longing presence.
Stepping onto the luscious grass on the vast grounds of Hogwarts she found a freedom that she encountered every time she ventured out of the castle’s grand halls. The sun was beginning to set as the colors of the sky melted into a fading light.
She took her precious time walking down the hills to the shimmering lake. It seemed to stretch on forever, like an ocean. But like most good things the lake came to an end on the side that she couldn’t see. But she found wonder and mystery in letting her mind travel through the depths of her imagination of what lies beyond what she can only see. She imagined that far out on this lake, was a band of pirate ships that plundered and raided; taking every ounce of gold and treasure in sight.
Deep in the forest, she fancied there were Unicorns and Werewolves; Fairies and Nymphs. That the Centaurs gazed upon the night sky to interpret the world’s history from the ancient script of the stars and to theorize the future of this world. She imagined that many things magical thrived in that forbidden place for no place that dark could live without a light just as powerful that rivaled it.
She fancied that there were secret passageways inside the castle of learning, all leading to incredible places. For all anyone knows, the pictures in the corridors that have not seen anything of what goes on outside of the stone walls, know more about what’s going on than the people who live their daily lives in the midst of the world’s action.
Maybe there were even elves that lived in a magical land far away. Not the kind that serve in the pureblood houses of masters, but the kind that are beautiful and enchanting. The kind of elves in human form with pointed ears and long silk hair and clad in fine silk clothing and rare jewels. The books that had become her friends over the long years told her many stories of the elves of the wood and the water. She had always wanted to meet an elf. After all, they are said to be the wisest of creatures on this foolish earth.
But alas, the imagination could invent so much that almost none of it is real. Such a sad fate awaits the imaginary worlds inside the minds of children when they grow up. The places of magic will grow dark and cold and the sun will set one last time before it all fades away; leaving only memories of being a child and the knowledge that replaced the imagination.
She sat on a rock overlooking the glossiness of the sunlight upon the tremors of the lake’s surface, her back to the setting sun. Closing her eyes in relaxation she listened to the voice of the nature around her. The birds sang sweet music to her from their perches high atop the trees. The winds played in between the branches of the old evergreens and whistled a lighthearted tune just slightly weighted with ever-growing gloom.
While she sat still and fully aware of her surroundings, life still went on without her consent. Just because she stopped her duties didn’t mean that the rest of the world would wait for her return. No, it would carry on just as it always had.
Although they were rather short-lived, she enjoyed her quiet moments alone when nothing bothered to trouble her already troubled mind. As she sat there in her quiet reverie gazing upon the still waters of the Black Lake, she pushed the afternoon session with the Sorting Hat to the very back, dusty corner, of her mind.
~*~
A thunderous knocking caused tired eyes to spring open. She jerked herself out of bed and threw on a long robe over her sleeping gown.
Tossing aside the books that laid astray across the wooden floor she made her way through the sitting room. She pushed the large door open to lay her eyes upon Professor McGonagall who was looking quite unnerved.
McGonagall was not a force to be reckoned with at any cost. She was a fair and just woman, but could be very harsh in her punishments, however agreeable one might find her. Her hair was pulled back into a severe black-haired bun and the back of her head and her robes were of a deep maroon. She gave off an aura of orderliness and was composed of an intimidating and commanding presence.
“Miss White, are you aware that I am supposed to be escorting you to Gryffindor Tower at this very moment? I daresay you look as if you just got out of bed,” the professor said as she looked the young girl up and down with criticism marking her vivid features.
“Um, I’m terribly sorry professor. Please come in and make yourself comfortable. If you could just give me a moment to get dressed…” she said as she closed the door behind McGonagall.
She fled into her bedroom and threw off her robe and nightgown entirely void of which way they flew. Opening the closet she selected, in a very random fashion of course, a set of dark red robes that were very festive for her new House.
Without warning she burst through the doors of her private living quarters and shouted a very flustered "I'm ready" to Professor McGonagall who was presently examining the girl's private book collection.
Pulling her long hair back into a loose ponytail she walked alongside the formidable Transfiguration Professor to Gryffindor Tower. Their journey was in silence for the most part until they reached a large portrait of a very fat lady in a frilly pink dress.
Suddenly without warning the portrait jumped to life and spoke in a tired voice, “Password?”
“Nood Wymph,” McGonagall complied. The girl looked at her incredulously with raised eyebrows.
“Nood Wymph? Who comes up with these?” she asked as the portrait nodding her head and swung open, revealing a short and winding passageway.
“Even I don’t know that Miss White.” They stepped through into a large and genial room that was scattered with sofas, armchairs, tables, and shelves.
Of course in this warm weather the fireplace wasn’t lit but she was sure it would be a fine display during the winter time when the flames dance on its hearth. The light that filtered through the room was coming from the window on the far wall. There weren’t very many students awake at this time, as they were still in the slow-going summer habit of sleeping in, but there was a few of them nonetheless.
In the far corner in a high-backed chintz armchair was a young man with black hair who seemed to be enthralled with the book he held in his two masculine hands. There was also a very pretty red headed girl sitting at one of the tables on the opposite side of the room and appeared to be writing a letter. Four other students were sitting at another table near the window playing a card game of sorts.
“Everyone, I would like your attention please, the few of you that are here. As Professor Dumbledore said at last nights feast, you will have a new student joining you today. I would like to introduce to you Addalynn Rose White,” the professor finished.
Everyone was craning their necks to see over the professor’s shoulder to see the new girl, but she was hidden out of the sunlight and was still cowering in the shadows of the portrait hole. McGonagall turned around and beckoned Addalynn forward. “Please dear, they may be lions but I assure you they are tame…most of the time.”
Reluctantly, Addalynn took a step where everyone could see her. She was fairly tall and slender and her shoulders were broad. Her raven black hair was pulled back into a half-hearted ponytail, releasing stray bangs that were pulled over to the right side, and cascaded down to her waist in a river of large glossy curls. Her pale skin glowed in the dim light except for her rosy cheeks and soft, full, red lips. She wasn’t a sight to behold, for she looked sickly and vampiric and ghastly. But her eyes were by far her best feature; not too round and not too almond shaped and outlined by long black lashes: the perfect blend of grays, greens, and blues mixed together in lingering clouds to create the perfect hazel eyes. In fact, her eyes appeared to be engulfed in a silver haze similar to that of a fish. Anyone could tell that she had the eyes that could see more than what is real.
Addalynn was quite nervous as she twirled her black curls between her fingers behind her back.