When Darkness Calls

Chapter 1- the Castle

I stopped in my tracks to look up at the imposing building in front of me taking it all in from the road which I had walked up.  My chaperone from the centre had refused to walk me any further as if the castle were a beast waiting to pounce. So it was here I stood frozen to the spot in the shadow of one of the steel grey gothic towers. I felt like the heroine of a horror film and imagined a captive audience watching me urging me to turn back whilst squeezing hard on the hand of their sweetheart next to them. The castle itself stoop atop cliffs in which it looked almost carved out of the rock and underneath the grounds were lined with the biggest fir trees I had ever seen. From what little I was told about this place I understood it to be a school but to me it looked like a prison and a fairly impregnable one at that.

I looked in my pocket at the small amount of cash I carried and was making some quick calculations, how long could I keep running, how long could I afford to eat for, have a roof over my head? The answer for all questions came to the same not for very long. The centre had kept my money from me for the time I had been there no doubt using my inheritance to pay my fees and such but now I had left the money was mine but I couldn’t get to it. It would go into my account in small monthly instalments just enough to get by.

I suddenly became lost in a memory, not just any but my very first memory and one that had replayed time and time again over the years. Like these things played out in the mind the insignificant part of the memory were shrouded in a foggy haze, I couldn’t make out furniture or objects in the room but their faces shone bright and clear distinguishable features,. It was the faces of my parents my mum her auburn hair shiny and wavy worn in a centre part. Her big hazel eyes shone in animation wrinkled at the side due to the huge radiating smile she had on her face. She was clapping and alternating her smile with open mouthed encouragement. Then I turn to look at my father with his blue eyes like the colour of the ocean dark and deep. He in contrast was not smiling but looked on with an emotion that I was unable to read. Looking back now I would have said he looked almost fearful with a tinge of what? Guilt? Disappointment? I filled in these gaps as my older self, analysing the scene as it played out before me. There was another object, thing that shone brightly in this memory and it was something that was fluttering between the three of us as we sat in a triangle of ranging emotions on the floor. It was a page out of a newspaper only it was much more than that. Its edges were sharply folded with two long triangles either side, a smaller fold at the front made a beak that pointed down as if scanning the ground and one further fold to make the tail. It was a bird, a bird made from newspaper, a bird made from newspaper that was hovering and flapping its printed wings directly in front of me. My mothers’ words came now while I can no longer remember what she sounds like I’ll never forget the words she spoke

‘She’s doing this Henry not me, she’s doing it all on her own isn’t it wonderful?’

My father said nothing he just watched his expression unchanging. I was just over 2 years old. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly trying to rid my mind of the memory and it was quickly replaced by an image of him. The man who had started coming to me in my dreams. The pale skin, ice blue eyes that lingered long after his body had disappeared into darkness. It was strange but the closer I got the school I felt I was getting closer to him. I was tired from the journey and getting distracted I just needed to move, to go somewhere and quick.

Just as I was about to turn back down the path I came deciding I was going to take my chances I felt a hand take my elbow as to steer me into view.

‘Are you alright dear, can I help you?’

She had a slight hint of a Scottish accent evident only in the way she rolled her rs.

I took her to be in her late fifties and she had fine lines around her eyes that portrayed a kindly nature.

‘No I’m fine thank you,’ I said a bit too quickly in a voice that didn’t quite sound my own.

‘Are you a student at the school?’ She gestured her hand over her shoulder towards the imposing castle that lay behind her.

‘I’m not no,’ I said feeling heat starting at my upper arms which spread to the cheeks giving away a small deception on this cold September day.

But was it a lie? I was told that reaching the age of seventeen I was going to join a seventh year class at a school for the gifted. Gifted in what, I still wasn’t sure.

‘Well why don’t you come in with me while you decide.’

So I found myself following her up the path and into a courtyard neither speaking on the way. Before we got to the steps leading up to the large imposing fort door she stopped and turned to me.

‘Can I ask your name dear?’

‘Ava Blake, and you are?’

For the briefest of moment her smile dropped and she cocked her head slightly, quickly swallowed and slowly replaced her warm smile.

‘Of course you are we’ve been expecting you and since you will be staying you can call me Professor McGonagall.’