Fate of Fangs, Claws, and Hearts | Marauders Fanfic / Part 1

10 - What witches do

No soul lingered in the corridor as my steps echoed softly against the stone floor. The path to Dumbledore's office stretched ahead, each step drawing me closer. A day had passed since the fateful evening in the Great Hall, and now the old wizard had summoned me.
The afternoon sun cast long shadows, while the students of Hogwarts were ensconced in their classes. Relief washed over me; solitude was a comforting companion.
Humans often puzzled me, yet the girls in my dormitory were tolerable. The boys seemed agreeable as well, though Lily persistently advised caution regarding them. My interest in such matters, however, remained minimal.
Life had become a whirlpool of confusion, a stark contrast to my previous ignorance of this world's existence. Navigating these new realities was daunting, an overwhelming flood of sensations and experiences. I was confused. Until recently, I had not even known this world existed, and now I was in the midst of it. It was okay to be too much for me.

»Everyone is allowed to have weaknesses,« whispered this voice in my head, »but you must not show them to anyone.«
The voice, as ever, was correct. Exposing vulnerabilities would only invite peril.

Steeling myself, I straightened my shoulders as I approached the headmaster's office. The door opened of its own accord, and I stepped inside. Dumbledore awaited me, resplendent in a dark purple robe and matching hat, both adorned with silver stars. His half-moon glasses perched comfortably on his nose.
»I'm glad to see you again, Phil. I hope today has been going well for you?« he inquired. A simple nod sufficed; the morning had been uneventful. Immersed in a book about magical creatures - courtesy of Lily - I had spent the hours absorbed in its pages while the girls attended their classes.
I had opened all the windows in the dormitory to let in the winter air. This had caused problems for the girls, which I had not understood when they had come before lunch to pick me up. I had not wanted to go into the Hogwarts courtyards, but everything had seemed too oppressive, like a prison.
That's why I had opened all the windows. Warming up the room with the stove again would take several hours, according to the girls.

Humans truly are peculiar.

»Well, you're not very talkative today,« Dumbledore noted, raising an eyebrow with a smile. »Let me just tell you what we'll be doing today: We'll go to Diagon Alley. There are a few errands to run, and when we're back, I'd like to give you an introduction to magic. First, we'll visit Gringotts, the wizarding bank. You probably own a vault there.«
Offering his forearm, Dumbledore guided me through a disorienting transition as Fawkes, his phoenix, cried out and circled us. The world blurred, a sensation of being squeezed through a narrow space enveloped me. Thankfully, my meagre breakfast remained undisturbed.
I had to gag briefly, but I quickly recovered. The moment passed, and Diagon Alley unfolded before my eyes, bustling with witches and wizards engaged in their daily routines.
Dumbledore naturally attracted attention, his presence commanding silent respect. Yet, he remained unperturbed, his focus unwaveringly on me. We stood before a grand, snow-white edifice with a gleaming bronze gate, its towering structure dominating the surroundings. Ascending the white stone steps, we approached the gate, where a strange and small creature stood sentinel.

»Goblins,« Dumbledore whispered, reading the question in my eyes. I nodded, observing the goblin in its scarlet, gold-embroidered uniform.
»Welcome to Gringotts,« it greeted us in a strangely melodic voice, bowing politely.
»Likewise, good afternoon,« Dumbledore replied, and we entered the bank. The silver double doors bore an ominous inscription, warning of dire consequences for those with dishonest intentions.
Inside, a vast marble hall stretched out, high counters manned by goblins perched on equally elevated stools. Each was engrossed in their tasks, occasionally glancing up to scrutinise us.

Too many impressions...

Dumbledore approached the bank employee in the last row with an air of confidence. The goblin was busy processing papers, and we halted in front of him. I observed him as he licked his elongated fingers, turning a piece of parchment with a practiced ease. He set it aside, interlaced his fingers on the desk, and looked up at us.
His hooked nose cast a shadow over his mouth. He scrutinised his eyes as he examined Dumbledore and me with mild curiosity.
»What can I do for you both?« his tone laced with boredom.
»I would like to inquire if a certain Philomela Aquila owns a vault?« Dumbledore's question immediately drew the goblin's gaze to me. He leaned forward, scrutinising me from head to toe, his attention particularly fixated on my red hair and the scar on my cheek.
»What are your parents' names?« he demanded.
»Ethan-«
»Louder!«
»Ethan J. Aquila and Catherine Young!« I replied, and he nodded in acknowledgment.
The goblin hopped off his stool and vanished into a back room. His absence was brief, and he returned with several parchments and a golden key. Seating himself once more, he began to read, his lips moving silently.
After a moment, he moistened his lips and declared, »Indeed, there is a vault. Catherine Young's vault was closed a few years ago, and her documents state that her possessions were to go to her daughter, Philomela Aquila.«
»Who closed the vault?« Dumbledore's surprise was evident. The wizarding world likely knew my mother was no longer alive, but the specifics remained a mystery.
Had my father or her second husband closed the vault?
The goblin sighed, his boredom resurfacing, »This information is not disclosed to third parties.« He continued, »The young lady's vault was last deposited into five years ago, anonymously.« After these words, he nodded, stamped something, and handed me a parchment. »Sign.«
I awkwardly scribbled my name and handed it back. The goblin examined my signature with raised eyebrows, then hopped off the stool and stood before us, a few heads shorter.
»I shall now escort the lady to the vault. Does she wish the wizard's company?« he inquired, looking at Dumbledore.
I nodded.