Severus stood a few paces before her. His eyes were on the ruined cauldron.
"Tell me," his voice shook, and tears formed in his eyes, "why do you wear flowers in your hair?"
He kept looking to his cauldron.
"I don't understand."
"How does such a sim...
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Oblivion. White walls, white grounds, and white ceilings. Cubic, dome, or spherical room for all she knew.
No frame-of-reference.
Clad in black robes adorned in colorless sashes awaiting their sorting, her layered dark curls seemed to even out past her shoulders. Behind, no shadow trailed behind the girl's figure, just as she walked in what seemed in no direction.
Just a girl shouldering a bag of parchment scrolls, textbooks, inkpots & quills, herbal extracts and ground essences.
Hoot!
And a petite Snowy owl. He swept upward, talons clamped on her luggage. The empty cage swung from it.
Wand tucked within her pockets, and both hands clutching the candle-waxed letter, she continued the journey in the white void. Until, without warning, a brick wall erected inches from her face.
But she did not hesitate. She walked into the wall, and out of the void.
Platform ❾¾. The train tooted its horn as the clock's hands neared 11'o clock. Stepping onto the train, she scanned the aisle for an empty seat before venturing further. To her right sat a merry-faced freckled-redhead who traded cards with a boy with blackish-brownish messy hair. Below his bangs he wore round glasses, and had bright green eyes.
"Have you really got---you know . . ?"
The boy with glasses flipped up his bangs to reveal a lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead.
Of course, the girl thought. The boy-who-lived. Harry Potter. She never had never heard of him before, and yet, she knew his name. In his eyes, she saw herself transport to that famous moment, when the Dark wizard invaded the Potter home and cast his green-lighted curses. She visioned Avada Kedavra refract from the baby's forehead and takedown You-Know-Who squarely in the chest.
"Has anyone seen a toad?"
The girl snapped out of her thoughts just as a bushy-maned girl approached their compartment. Spotting an empty seat where . . . Miss Grang . . . Hermione left, the girl slipped into it and sealed the doors. She slid against her seat, her neurological system firing erratically.
This knowledge wasn't memories . . .
. . . but what was it to be born from nothing and know the names and partial history of complete strangers?
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯○○◯○○⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
"Hermione Granger!"
". . . BETTER BE . . . GRYFFINDOR!"
The girl watched in awe as the sorting hat weighed each student's attributes. She challenged herself in a game of prediction just by observing their faces.
