Metanoia (ON HOLD)

ғᴀᴍɪʟɪᴀʀ ʙᴇɢɪɴɴɪɴɢs

Chapter One

1978

The base of my skull throbbed. I held a breath as I struggled against my spinning mind to stand. A sharp ringing through my head caused my knees to buckle. Leaning against what smelled like dirt and dew, I attempted to steady my breath.

In, one, two, three, and out. In, one, two, three, and out.

The high pitch noise dissipated into chirping birds and rustling leaves. Cracking an eye, I surveyed the foggy scenery. My mind struggled to calm the heartbeat that reverberated through my skull. The migraine proved fatal to the comprehension of what my blurry eyes were seeing.

Steady breaths pushed a leaf out from under me. Down on my hands and knees, I began to collect myself. Once my mind steadied itself, it occurred to me that I was in a praying position on a wet forest floor. Carefully, I pushed off the soft soil and rested on my legs.

My head fell back and my sight was bombarded in an early morning sky before it was to be touched by the rising of the sun. Having gotten used to the discomfort and healing from the external use of magic, I finally recognize where I am.

A gleeful laugh escapes me before the shock courses through my bones, softly I voice, "I'm in the Forbidden Forest".

Another laugh crawls up my throat before dread turns in my stomach. I reel from the swift realization, "I'm in the Forbidden Forest".

I'm on my feet and sprinting past shadowed trees as soon as I hear a twig snap. Relying on instinct, vague memories, and intuition, I make a route towards the castle. Breaking from the tree line, I continue for a few miles before catching my breath.

Hunched over, I gulp down a couple of breaths before gazing before me. A stilled Hogwarts greets me. Quiet in the peaceful morning, I allow myself to soak it in. It's not everyday you get to view a familiar sight as a stranger again.

I jerk back into focus when I hear a window cover slam against stone. Right, remember the plan Khione. Nodding to myself, I rip the pin from my blouse and allow it to grow in the palm of my hand.

Grasping the fully formed wand, with a twirl and a flick I am remade.

My hair fixes itself into a low ponytail, held by a turquoise ribbon. Low framed bangs falling lightly over my forehead and skimming my cheeks. The basic black work dress is cleaned and pressed free of wrinkles. Around the white collar is another turquoise ribbon that falls over my bust.

Basic, skin colored, stockings are stitched back together from the tears and dirt of the forest. White socks warm my feet in my oxford heels. In my hand is a tan suitcase. Filled with old, or I suppose new, clothes and items.

Stuffing my wand in its constructed pocket of my tan trench coat, I make my way off the grass and onto the path that leads to Hogwarts. A letter should have already been constructed and sent precisely at the time of my arrival. I calm my nerves using this thought. I repeat it as I near the gates to the school.

As they grow clearer in the fog, I notice a figure at the entrance. A tall, properly dressed man is waiting. He has a fairly long aging beard, shoulder length peach hair, and has a rather old robe thrown over a 20s something suit. A man slowly losing professionalism to comfort. I swallow a smile at my thought.

Within arms reach of the tall metallic doors, he greets me. With a handful of what seemed to be candy, the old man asks, "Would you like a Sherbert lemon?"

Confused, I politely declined and he shoved the candy back into one of the many hidden robe pockets. Swiftly he stated, "Right on time, I see" he smiles kindly. One that forces a crinkle at the corners of his old eyes.