Augury [Harry Potter Fanfic]

a. one

A sigh escaped the brunette's lips as the warm water cascaded down her naked body. The cold was getting to her bones, making them ache terribly.

She was the first to wake up, per usual, and liked to spend long times in the shower. She ran a handful of shampoo through her hair, before stepping into the stream, feeling the pressure in her skull.

Quickly, too quickly, she felt her hand no longer in control, and it was a miracle she managed to keep standing.

She must've been still sleepy, because she rarely had one of those moments when awake. The world was off, almost gray, but not quite. It was void of colors, or maybe from emotions.

She was no longer in the shower in the Gryffindor tower at Hogwarts school for Witchcraft and magic, that's for sure.

"Nice glasses, Myr!" a voice sneered, and the girl turned to glare at the three girls walking past her. The glare was accompanied with a pout, one of true sadness.

"Oh, shut it Olive."

"Or else? You'd call your mud- blood mummy? HA!" the three walked past her, and she couldn't quite contain the tears as she marched to the bathroom. She locked herself in a stall, crying and crying.

Sawyer barely noticed she was there, like a scene from a movie.

"Stupid Olive Hornby," the girl with the glasses muttered, wiping away the tears furiously. "Stupid Angela Orton. Stupid Maria Walker. I'm better," she huffed. Upon taking a deep breath she opened the bathroom stall, and all of a sudden a hissing voice was heard.

"Another weirdo?"

She huffed, stepping out and opening her mouth to shoo the weirdo away, before a part of her brain processed that it wasn't a girl weirdo, but a guy weirdo.

The first thing she saw was a pair of yellow eyes.

That was also the last thing she ever saw as a living.

What shook her away was the water that no longer felt warm, but ice cold against her back. She gasped, taking a step away and hitting her face lightly on the glass.

"Ouch," she spoke for the first time that day.

Sawyer rubbed her nose, stopping the stream of water. "Myrtle?" she questioned, and within a moment the dead girl appeared.

Myrtle looked at the naked body of the alive teenager in dismay. She hated how confident she stood, and even more, hated that she had something to be proud of.

"Yes Sawyer?"

"Could you stop hovering while I'm still half- asleep?" she said, her green eyes surveying the ghost. "It's quite an inconvenience so early in the morning."

Mocking her, Myrtle spoke. "It's also quite an inconvenience being dead."

"Sob, sob."

"Sawyer Wilde, you are a bitch!"

"Thank you," she huffed proudly, making the ghost leave. "Crazy chick, I swear."

Sawyer heaved a sigh, getting dressed quickly, hoping to escape before anyone would wonder who finished the hot water and she'd be brutally murdered by a bunch of teenagers.

The dream of every single human.

When Sawyer was dressed, she left the bathroom, but struggled with her gold-red tie.

Sawyer knew she was a Gryffindor at heart. Brave and loyal, she didn't have too many options, but she liked much bettrr the option that was chosen.

The air buzzed with the excitement of Christmas, but also with the constant gossip about the mystery of the Chamber of Secrets. Everytime it was forgotten, something or someone would remind someone else about it, and Sawyer, having no friends of her own, heard a lot.

Sawyer had it in her, being friendly and nice. She was quite confident, and if she had to say so for herself, funny was an understatement.

But she wasn't intretsted.

She preffered keeping to herself, mostly because she was taught that boys were better than girls, and until that very year- her third- boys and girl pretty much stirred clear of each other.

Now, however, when they were all officially teens a mutual interest rose in their hearts, and she could finally befriend the guys.

Though now, she wasn't intrested, too used to talking with the ghosts and her cat.

Between her and her cat, her nickname was Cat Lady.

Funny, she knows.

Sawyer knew she shouldn't, but did so anyway. She set her butt on the railing of the staircase, and with a light push of her legs she was sliding down the stairs, stopping a cheer from erupting through her lips.

The end was the problem, and like every morning, she fell to the floor, landing on her elbow- hitting her face lightly- and cursing as electricity like feeling shot through her arm.

"Miss Wilde," a voice greeted.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir," she spoke calmly, greeting the Headmaster. "Good morning."

"I see you are yet to master the art of landing on your feet," he stated with a curl of his lips, vibrant blue eyes twinkling.

"Some day I will," the girl replied with a sigh, hearing a light chuckle as she dusted herself off.

The two walked in silence towards the Great Hall, where Breakfast was awaiting.

They parted ways, he walked to the center of the teachers' table, while she made her way to the end of the Gryffindor's table.

Routine.