*Book One: Song*
With the arrival of a Muggle at Hogwarts, the Wizarding World's greatest secret is about to be revealed.
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It's a new year at Hogwarts and everyone's excited...
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AUGUST, 1981 ●○●
A HARROWING TEATIME had not been on Anita Greenley's mind when she'd placed the pot of water on the stove to boil. Nor had she given any thought to the possibility of death visiting her, which, given her understanding of hindsight and looking back on it now, seemed like an inevitability.
But Anita was a relatively simple, robust woman, who'd only had thoughts of good tea, a roaring fire, and relaxing in her chair on her mind, while overhead, her twin girls dreamed themselves into an eleventh birthday, well deserved. Such a peaceful end. A tragedy then, that they only existed in peaceful times, and the world was anything but.
The Wizarding World was on the brink of war, no matter how the papers discouraged such conclusions. But missing Muggles were on the rise, and violence among the Muggleborn was being dismissed some circles as a simple 'clearing out of the rubbish.'
Denial had never won wars, never spared a family the loss of a loved one. In the end, it only served to increase the death toll.
Anita sensed with the shifting winds, and divisive public opinion, the war would eventually land on her doorstep. But she had never expected him, of all people, to be the one to call.
Her guest stalked her living room like an agitated predator, his each footstep trampling her plush, green carpet. Eyes, red and serpent-like took in his surroundings, a mounting disgust curling his lip. True, her home wasn't anything special, unless one counted the mountains of toys in the far corner, but it was nothing to openly hate.
It might not have been what he was accustomed to - absent were the luxurious silks and marble floors of the Wizarding elite that had welcomed him into their homes with open arms and reverent gazes - but, Anita would argue, a cozy home was better than a cavernous one.
At least she knew everything had its place, even if it was currently shoved between couch cushions, or stranded in the sink buoying for life between stacks of dirty dishes. The soft, petal pink of her walls might have been chipped, cracks might have spider-webbed from her ceiling, the carpets worn-down to their nubs, but every inch of Anita's cabin housed a memory. And it was for those memories, her house had been transformed into a home. One Anita would give her life to protect.
Shuffling to the opposite side of her living room, Anita took a seat on the couch. She settled in nicely, dragging a blanket across her lap and hefting her feet onto the coffee table. After grabbing a tea cup off the tray she'd placed next to her, she asked, "Tea?" With her free arm, she motioned to the other cup cooling away. Thin strands of steam wafted up from the golden-green liquid.
Her guest eyed her reproachfully, the milk-white fingers of his right hand hovering over the end of a wand. "I do not indulge in Muggle things."
Shrugging, Anita leaned into the sofa back and took a casual sip of tea. Floral notes of chamomile and honey wormed down her throat. She released a satisfied sigh, and closed her eyes in momentary delight. Her life had been filled with so much tragedy, she'd learned, from a young age, to cherish the moments of happiness, when the grief and upset receded, and to always keep them close. Her mother had told Anita once that the feeling of happiness was the one thing no witch or wizard could ever magic away.
