Make Me.

Book 3 - Chapter 1

Ellespeth Laurel Dracula had her head bent over her desk on the fourth day of summer break. 

It was four o'clock in the morning and she couldn't sleep, so rather than laying in bed, tossing and turning, she had decided to start cracking at her holiday homework. There were a couple of assigned essays, worksheets, and readings that she was required to complete by the end of summer break, which was in approximately two weeks and two months. 

First up, was the most boring of subjects: History of Magic. She was assigned an essay, the prompt being: 'Witch Burning in the Fourteenth Century was Completely Pointless - discuss.'

Ellie sifted through a stack of books on her desk, extracted A History of Magic, by Bathilda Bagshot, scanned through the index, and flipped and flipped until she found a likely-looking paragraph. She sucked a long breath up into her nose as she twirled a pen in her left hand, elbow on the desk, arm in the air, eyes droopy. 

"Non-magic people (more commonly known as Muggles) were particularly afraid of magic in medieval times, but not very good at recognizing it. On the rare occasion that they did catch a real witch or wizard, burning had no effect whatsoever. The witch or wizard would perform a basic Flame-Freezing Charm and then pretend to shriek with pain while enjoying a gentle, tickling sensation. Indeed, Wendelin the Weird enjoyed being burned so much that she allowed herself to be caught no less than forty-seven times in various disguises." 

Ellie swapped the pen into her right hand and lowered it towards the parchment that was unrolled in front of her. The fountain pen left nothing behind on the paper as she began her essay. Ellie sighed, pushed her body away from the desk, and walked over to her school bag which had been hung on one of her bed's posts the day she got home. 

She had spent the first three days at home, sleeping, jumping awake, falling asleep again, jumping awake again, and so on, all day, and then spent each of her nights restless and awake. No matter how hard she tried to sleep at night, her body would not allow it. And, the few hours she got during the day were limited.

Ellie dug through her school bag, looking for a pot of ink to fill her pen with. There was nothing, not a single pot. Her head dropped down to her chest with another sigh. 

The fountain pen was back to twirling around in her left hand as her socked feet padded down the hallway and towards the door that led to her father's study. Ellie reached a hand up to twist the knob and enter and -

it was locked. 

This time her head dropped backwards, looking up at the ceiling as she sighed. You have got to be kidding me, she thought. She jiggled the knob a few times in hope that it would magically open for her if she wanted it to hard enough. It didn't. 

Ellie's wand was back in her room, sitting on her bedside table. She looked up and down the hallway. She could see her bedroom door, it wasn't far away. She popped her left hand up to her ear, tucked the pen behind it, and upon it's return down to her side, she was fidgeting with a small, metal hair grip. 

Now is a good a time as any to learn a new skill, she thought, dropping to her knees in front of the door. She shoved the grip into the lock and jiggled it around. It took her a few minutes, but eventually, a subtle click sounded from the knob. Ellie pushed the door open and smiled, replacing the pin in her hair. See, now I could get in anywhere even if I didn't have my wand. 

Ellie had now forgotten that it was four o'clock in the morning, and was rifling loudly around her father's study, looking for a bottle of ink. Draws slid open and closed shut, papers rustled on the desk, and the contents of a few cardboard boxes on his shelves were shuffled around, clinking and clattering.