The two girls sat under the circling branches of a gnarled beech tree, enjoying the last day of summer. Minnie sat behind Sofia, transforming her hair into fashionable curls.
‘Your mother will not like; you break the rules,’ said Sofia, amused.
Minnie gave a smile, and continued to twirl her wand. ‘Rules are there to be broken. Mummy’s too strict anyway. You’ll be glad of me doing this; you’ll look beautiful for your first day at Hogwarts.’
Sofia bit her lip, excited for tomorrow, when she would board the Hogwart’s Express. ‘I hope I am liked. The lessons will not be too hard also.’
‘You might find it hard at first. Your English still isn’t perfect, but it’s getting there. You learnt so fast, I can’t believe it! Do you speak other languages?’
‘Yiddish, and a little German, but I have never like Hebrew. My parents speak it when they do not want to be heard,’ replied Sofia, looking down at her hands. She never knew what to think about her parents. Whenever they were mentioned there was a jolt of anger in her stomach, as well as a deep sadness. But she found that she did not long for them at night, she didn’t wonder what they were doing and the vast majority of the time she did not think about them at all.
‘Have you heard from them recently?’ asked Minnie lightly. In the distance, a wood pigeon cooed and the sun was warm.
‘Yes, I had a letter day before yesterday. They remind me about Yom Kippur. I forgot it.’
‘What is Yom Kippur?’
Sofia paused. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, finally, laughing. ‘We never celebrated it until we move into the ghetto. We never had religion strong before. But on Yom Kippur, Mother would not let me eat and we pray for the whole day.’
‘What?’ exclaimed Minnie, shocked. ‘No eating for a whole day? That’s horrible! Why?’
Sofia found herself feeling angry. ‘I don’t know! I would say to my mother “please, I am hungry” and she would say “not today, Sofia”. I used to shake with hunger but she would not give me food.’
‘That’s simply horrid,’ said Minnie, matter-of-factly. ‘You can eat as much as you like here. Well, as long as you stick to the ration cards, but they’re not so bad, especially with a few charms. Your hair is finished now.’
Sofia raised a hand and touched it, feeling the new shapes and curls. ‘Thank you,’ she said smiling. She looked down at the long coarse grass, where her new wand, with a dragon heartstring core, lay. She held it proudly. ‘I cannot wait to use,’ she told Minnie. ‘It has been so long.’ Minnie smiled, and they relaxed in silence for a few moments, listening to the woodpigeon and watching the thick white clouds crawl lazily across the sky.
‘It does seem rather silly, though,’ pondered Minnie, ‘That we have to go all the way to London to catch a train that will just take us back up to Scotland. But the train journey is quite fun, so I shan’t complain.’
‘I don’t like trains,’ said Sofia uneasily. ‘There is no other way?’
‘You’ll like this train, don’t worry. A lady comes round with sweets, although Mummy expects us to get breakfast.’ Sofia remembered the German soldier on the train offering sweets to Hirshel and Solomon and shivered. ‘Are you cold?’ asked Minnie, oblivious. ‘Let’s go inside. I imagine lunch will be ready soon enough.’
Sofia nodded, eager to please, and they rose and began to walk back to the house. ‘Do you miss home when you go to Hogwarts?’ asked Sofia curiously.
‘Oh, I always do a bit, but all my friends are there. So I never feel too sad. And this year I’ll have you there as well! We’ll be in the same year. I hope you’re in Gryffindor with me. Have you finished packing by the way? I don’t suppose you have any room in your trunk left over? I can’t fit my Astronomy book in.’
‘I think I have room.’
They reached the house. Ben was sitting on the doorstep, playing with a magical yo-yo, which attempted to snap his fingers. He looked up grumpily. ‘Lunch is ready, but I’m not allowed.’
‘Why? What did you do this time?’
He said nothing, but continued to play with his yo-yo.
‘Ben?’ asked Sofia softly. ‘What is it?’
He burst into tears. ‘Mr Brigham killed one of the chickens! He killed her! Chopped her head off! They’re going to eat her for dinner tomorrow!’ He wailed and threw his yo-yo away.
‘Well, that’s what they’re there for,’ said Minnie, irritated.
Sofia crouched down so she was level with Ben, who was still crying noisily. ‘You thought she was a pet? You like the chickens?’
Ben nodded. ‘I smashed up the shed when I saw it, so I’m not allowed lunch.’
‘Serves you right, you little townie!’ exclaimed Minnie. She turned to Sofia. ‘Honestly, he didn’t even know where milk came from when he first got here. He’s stupid. Come on, just ignore him.’ Minnie stalked grumpily into the house.
Sofia looked down at Ben, who was still wailing. ‘I will bring you out food,’ she told him.
He sniffed and rubbed a tear away with a grubby hand. ‘No you won’t. Everyone’s horrible to me here. I hate it. I want to go home.’
‘Why your parents send you here?’ she asked, curious. England was a place of safety.
‘The government told them to. There are bombs in London.’
‘So?’
He stared at her. ‘Well... it’s dangerous. I could die.’
She giggled before realising he wasn’t joking. ‘Oh... well, my parents send me away to keep me safe also.’
He looked at her strangely. ‘They didn’t want to send me away... and I didn’t want to go. I’d rather be with my parents in a dangerous place than alone in a nice place.... not that this place is nice,’ he added bitterly.
‘You have to be nice to others if you want them to be nice to you,’ said Sofia. He didn’t say anything, and just started to play with his yo-yo again. Evidently the conversation was over. ‘I shall bring you food,’ she assured him again.
He ignored her.
When Sofia did return an hour later with some smuggled food, Ben had disappeared. She did not see him until later that evening when she passed him in the corridor on her way to bed.
***
That night she dreamt of her parents on the train station platform, and of Oskar. They stood and stared and she tried to shout at them, but there was a ringing silence. Their faces were smug, happy, amused. She heard her own voice echo through her head, a harsh, deafening whisper.
I pass, like night, from land to land...
Her family was walking away casually, but she could not run after them. She could hear Oskar calling her name, laughing.
I have strange power of speech...
She was speeding away; the sound of a train roared in her ears, she could hear the German women singing the national anthem-
And till my ghastly tale is told, this heart within me burns.
She woke up shaking, in tears, with her fists clenched. Minnie was still asleep; she could hear her heavy breathing. A cold silver glow seeped through the crack in the curtains. She rose and padded softly out of the room, her pyjamas so long that they made her shuffle like an oversized penguin.
She went into the marble bathroom and splashed her face with icy water. Looking into the ornate mirror, she panted, her hazel eyes moving frantically to survey her reflection. After two months of happiness and security, her face was fuller, her cheeks had more colour. Even her hair, which had always been dull, was less lank, though perhaps that was due to Minnie’s beauty skills. She was still not what she would describe as beautiful, or even particularly pretty, but she at least now looked human; the clothes loaned from Minnie now fit her without the aid of modifying. Something, however, was different. There was something angry and bitter in her face, some kind of fire in her eyes.
The door creaked. Sofia whipped round to see Diana, looking sleepy and clutching the arm of a bear. ‘Sophie?’ she asked, dazed.
‘Hello, Diana.’
‘Why are you up?’
‘I had a bad dream. Why are you up?’
‘I heard you,’ she replied, yawning and swaying on her
feet.
‘Oh, I’m sorry little one,’ said Sofia. She picked Diana up, who curled an arm around Sofia’s neck like a warm snake.
‘I like you, Sophie,’ said Diana sleepily as Sofia carried her to Pan’s old room. ‘I’ll be sad when you go to Hogwarts and I’m still here with Ben.’
Sofia laid her down on the bed and tucked her in. ‘Try be nice to him, Diana. It’s hard being far from parents.’
‘But you’re still nice.’
Sofia paused. ‘I’m older than him. And his parents didn’t want to send him away. Go to sleep now. Sweet dreams, and God bless.’ She kissed her on the forehead and returned to her own bed, to await the dawn.
***
‘Just run through the barrier, Sophie.’
‘Mum! It’s Sofia! You never call her Sofia!’
‘Be quiet, Minnie, just go and run through, Sofia will meet you on the otherside.’
Minnie did so obediently, and now only Sofia and Mrs Brigham were left. Sofia felt sick and dizzy. The sounds of the trains, the crowds of people, the curious stares; everything smothered her like smoke.
‘I can’t go by train,’ she told Mrs Brigham faintly.
‘Don’t be silly, Sophie. Of course you can. Be brave.’
‘But I’m no brave. Please. I don’t want to go by train.’ An announcement echoed through King’s Cross, and Sofia was stuck, rooted to the floor, staring at the barrier between Platform Nine and Platform Ten.
‘Soon you’ll be at Hogwarts with all the other boys and girls-’
‘NO!’ Sofia shouted suddenly. Passerby’s stared and Mrs Brigham blushed and looked away. Sofia grabbed hold of her. ‘Don’t send me away! Please!’
‘Sophie, you’re making a scene! Have some dignity!’
‘Please, there have to be another way to go. No train, no train, please no train!’
There was sympathy in Mrs Brigham’s eyes, but her face was now so red and she was trying to avoid Sofia’s gaze so much that Sofia felt like she was fighting a losing battle. ‘Oh, come on then,’ said Mrs Brigham finally. ‘I’ll Apparate you to Hogsmeade and you can join the other students when they get off the train.’
Sophie held onto Mrs Brigham’s hand as they left the station, and was surprised to find that Mrs Brigham squeezed back just as tightly. A large group of pigeons fluttered through the station, and Sofia chewed on her lip anxiously. How pathetic she was; sixteen years old, nearly seventeen, and here she was nearly sobbing, too scared to go on a train and clutching the hand of a surrogate parent like a toddler.
‘Sit down,’ commanded Mrs Brigham, pointing to a bench outside the station. It was covered in bird droppings, but Sofia was not in a position to protest. ‘I’ll be back in a few moments, wait here.’
Sofia was left on a filthy bench drowning in her own shame and disappointment, feeling sick to her stomach. Her feet scuffed the cigarette littered pavement and, embarrassingly, she found that her nose was a little runny.
A pair of shiny black feet appeared. She followed the legs up to see a short, fat, grumpy looking man with a grey moustache, dressed in uniform. Her stomach lurched as she thought of the conductor on the train in Germany.
‘Hello there,’ he said. Who knew such a friendly phrase could be said in such a threatening way?
‘Hello,’ replied Sofia nervously.
‘Quite a scene you were making back there. Is everything all right, love?’
‘Yes, thank you.’
‘Where are you headed?’
‘Scotland.’
‘What station?’ he asked. There was a long silence as Sofia furiously tried to think of what to say. ‘What station?’ he asked again. ‘You must know which station you’re going to.’ Further silence. ‘You’ve got a nice little accent there,’ he said suspiciously. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Sophie. Sophie Goldhirsch,’ said Sofia, trying to sound as English as possible.
‘Goldhirsch? That sounds pretty German to me.’
‘How dare you?’ demanded Sofia, genuinely outraged. ‘It’s Jewish.’
‘One and the same to me, love. Can’t be too trusting of folks who ain’t regular people, like what I am.’
‘What on earth is going on?’ Mrs Brigham had returned, clutching a brown paper bag. She frowned at the man. ‘Can I help you?’
‘Is this your daughter, Madam?’
‘I’m looking after her. Is there a problem? I didn’t realise the war had got so bad that we needed to be interrogated on the streets now.’ Her lips were thin and her face was stone-like; Sofia was keenly reminded of an old school master from years ago.
‘I was just trying to work out where abouts she’s from, is all. Funny accent, she’s got.’
‘She’s Polish, she’s here as a refugee,’ said Mrs Brigham coldly.
‘Oh is she now?’ marvelled the man sarcastically, eyebrows raised. ‘And how do I know she isn’t a spy? Her accent sounds more German to me. I think we best make a trip down to the police station,’ he said proudly, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Mrs Brigham stared at him for a few moments. ‘Oh, do be quiet you silly little man,’ she said finally and, so fast Sofia barely saw it, she discreetly pointed her wand at him and there was a flash of silver.
‘Arsenal for the cup,’ he mumbled. ‘Have a good day, see you at the match.’ He wandered off and Mrs Brigham rolled her eyes and sat next to Sofia.
‘Meddling old fool. Here, I bought you some breakfast, seeing as you won’t get it on the train. We have some time to kill, don’t eat it too fast.’
Sofia opened the bag and pulled out a sandwich. She hesitated briefly, then nervously said, ‘I’m sorry, I can no eat this.’
‘What?’ asked Mrs Brigham in an irritated tone. ‘Why not?
What’s wrong with it?’
‘It’s bacon. It’s a pig.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ snapped Mrs Brigham, and a subtle Scottish twang slipped through her usual refined accent. ‘There’s a war on, do you have any idea how difficult it is to get any kind of meat, let alone bacon? God’s not going to kill you because you had a bit of pig.’ There was an awkward pause as Sofia looked down at the offending sandwich through watery eyes. ‘Oh, don’t eat it if you don’t want to,’ said Mrs Brigham. ‘I’m sorry, Sophie. Just give it to me, I’ll have it.’
‘Sorry,’ whispered Sofia.
Mrs Brigham pulled her into an awkward hug. ‘Don’t be silly. Come on, I’ll take you to Hogsmeade and you can sit in the Three Broomsticks with me for a few hours. Maybe Irene will have some of her hotpot.’
***
Butterbeer was perhaps the most delicious, most warming drink Sofia had ever tasted. The hotpot was also delicious, and filling, although it felt strange to be eating dinner at eleven o’clock in the morning. Both substances soothed her throat and calmed her, and the chatter of the pub was intriguing and amusing. It was a side of the magical world she had never witnessed; she had seen magical students studying in Durmstrang, she had lived in a half-magical household and she had seen the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley. But here, in this pub, was the casual, normal and social side of wizarding life.
A goblin sat on a bench reading a newspaper the same size as him, letting his feet swing absentmindedly. A pair of wizards were having a heated debate about Quidditch and a witch glared at her boyfriend as he watched the barmaid lean over the bar.
Mrs Brigham sat opposite her, looking bored and haughty, but occasionally Sofia caught her glancing at her with concern and sympathy.
‘Flora!’ A dark haired man with a thick Scottish accent strode in.
Mrs Brigham smiled at him. ‘Why hullo, Percy! Sophie, this is Perseus McGonagall; he lives in the next village. Percy, this is Sophie, the Jewish witch I told you we were looking after.’
He beamed at her. ‘Delighted to meet you, Sophie!’ He seemed so lovely that Sofia did not even feel annoyed that once again nobody was getting her name right. ‘I’ve heard all about you; my lad Jonathon said that Minnie talks about you in her letters all the time.’ He turned to Mrs Brigham. ‘When are we going to have that dinner party, Flora? You did promise!’
She chuckled, and Sofia had to admit she was surprised to see such an open display of emotion from her. ‘You’re absolutely correct, and Minnie was hassling me all through the summer. Perhaps we could have a Boxing Day meal together again this year?’
‘Fantastic! It’s your turn to host. Johnnie will be thrilled.’ He eyed Sofia. ‘Why aren’t you on the train with them, lass?’
Sofia blushed. ‘I don’t like trains.’
‘She’s a tad fragile,’ Mrs Brigham told him. ‘I suppose anybody would be after living in Krakow.’
‘ Yes, ghastly, truly ghastly. I do hope your family are safe,’ he said to Sofia.
‘I wrote to them yesterday.’
‘Well, you make sure you keep in touch with them! We’ll want to meet them once the war’s over.’
She smiled at him; it was nice to be reminded that the war could not last forever.
Mrs Brigham checked her watch. ‘We might as well buy you some more clothes while we wait. Heaven knows you can’t just borrow my daughter’s clothes all year. It’s just not proper.’
***
It was time. Sofia stood at the wrought iron gates, dressed in her brand new uniform, looking up at the beautiful castle ahead, standing out against the orange sunset.
Professor Dumbledore stood there, holding a large bunch of keys and speaking quietly to Mrs Brigham. After a few moments she embraced Sofia and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Have fun,’ she said, unusually relaxed and friendly. ‘You’ll be absolutely fine. I’ll see you again at Christmas, and Minnie will look after you.’
Dumbledore smiled at her. ‘Don’t worry about not taking the train, Sofia. It’s quite understandable. You’ll be joining the first years anyway; you have to be Sorted. Thank you for bringing her all the way up here, Mrs Brigham.’
‘Not at all, Albus. Goodbye, Sophie.’
‘Goodbye, Mrs Brigham. Thank you so much.’
There was a long walk in awkward silence up to the castle, though Dumbledore seemed quite at ease. The turrets and towers and windows loomed over her, and she felt enthralled and nervous. Her suitcase caught between her legs and she stumbled slight.
‘Oh my dear, I am so sorry, how terribly rude of me,’ said Dumbledore, waving his wand. The suitcase vanished.
Sofia shrieked. ‘Where did it go? Do I get it back?’
‘Of course you do. Come along, lest we be late!’
Eventually they reached the large oak doors, just in time to see a gaggle of windswept and cold looking first years, led by a burly gamekeeper.
‘Sofia! Sofia!’
‘Solomon! Hirshel!’
They rushed towards her and the three of them embraced.
‘Do speak English you yet?’ asked Hirshel excitedly. ‘I learn, I learn!’
Sofia laughed. ‘What? Keep practicing, little friend!’
The three of them held hands, Hirshel gazing adoringly up at Sofia, as they followed Dumbledore and the other first years through the doors and into a small side chamber.
‘Good evening. I am Professor Dumbledore, the Assistant Headmaster. You shall shortly complete the Sorting Ceremony which will place you in one of four houses; Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Each house has its own characteristics and merits, and wherever you end up I can assure you that you will feel a distinct sense of belonging. I must leave you for a few moments, but I shall soon return to take you through to the Great Hall. The ceremony does take place in front of the school, so it’s a good idea to look your best.’ He left the room, and the students stood awkwardly in silence. At that moment, the familiar faces of Lavi and Nova were ushered in by a stressed looking member of staff. They grinned and immediately rushed over to greet Sofia, Hirshel and Solomon.
‘Who are you lot?’ came an arrogant voice. The five children looked over to see a sea of confused eleven-year-olds, and one boy, arms folded, who looked at them as if they were stealing his thunder. ‘Some of you don’t look eleven. You shouldn’t be here.’
‘We refugees, from Polska,’ said Lavi, his accent thick.
‘You what?’ sniggered the boy. ‘How about you say that in English?’
‘He’s still learning, we all are,’ said Sofia sharply, feeling slightly more confident with her level of English. ‘I think you should know that “you what” is not correct English speaking.’
The boy stared at her for a few moments. ‘Where’re you from? You sound German,’ he said accusingly.
‘Krakow,’ replied Sofia. ‘In Poland. We are Jewish refugees.’
‘How on earth did you get into Hogwarts?’ piped up a blonde girl. She did not seem rude, like the boy, but rather stunned.
‘They probably have contacts,’ said the boy.
‘Or they paid a lot!’ came a voice from the back. There was a low ripple of laughter. The five Jews stood awkwardly, blushing.
The little blonde girl frowned, looking irritated at her fellow students. ‘I’m sorry to be rude but . . . How did you get in?’
‘Dumbledore came to save us,’ said Solomon, happily.
‘He can’t have,’ the girl said. ‘Only the Headmaster has the power to decide admissions. We all heard rumours there was a Jew trying to get into Hogwarts, but it said in The Daily Prophet that Professor Dippet said no. My mum told me.’
‘Yes...’ said another girl slowly. ‘My parents told me that there wouldn’t be any foreign students here. I was scared that you would be spies.’
A few children backed away in a rather unsubtle manner.
‘We no spies,’ said Nova. ‘We run from Germans. They try to kill us. We here for safeness.’
‘Dumbledore brought us here. He walked me to the castle himself,’ said Sofia, confused.
‘Yes, and he tells me and my sister we can go to Hogwarts himself too,’ said Lavi. ‘He travel to Warsaw to give us the ticket.’
The English students glanced at each other.
‘It was definitely in the newspaper that you Jews had been rejected from Hogwarts,’ said the rude boy, less harshly than before.
Hirshel held Sofia’s hand and, when he spoke, sounded like he was about to cry. ‘No, they not send us back. We here now, we are safe.’
‘Dippet said no,’ shrugged the boy. ‘You’ll be back in Poland this time next week.’
At that moment, the door opened, and Dumbledore returned, smiling. ‘It’s time,’ he said. ‘Orderly fashion, if you please.’
Bicie Serca by BlueJoker
Chapter Notes: Some lines used in this chapter, and likely to be repeated in future chapters, are respectfully borrowed from the poem 'The Ancyent Marinere' by Samuel Coleridge, which has been a major inspirtation for this fic. These lines are in italics during Sofia's dream sequence.
Also, this is a chapter where real religious (Judeo-Christian) conflict begins. Please do not be offended. I give no judgement on what is right or wrong and never will do - the conflict should be taken as just that. A conflict.
Chapter Endnotes: Please spare a moment of your time to tell me what you thought :)