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SEPTEMBER FIRST YEAR
SHE STANDS IN CANDLELIGHT, quivering from foot to foot against the stone walls, her eyes darting between the leering gargoyles, the suits of armour, and the portraits that whisper to each other, watching her closely. Little girl lost, she lets the shadows hold her, with clenched fists and burning eyes-
(Because she will fight feral, fight tooth and nail against this unholy decree placed upon her.)
-until one of the portraits, a smouldering woman in a red velvet dress, leans away from the potions set she's painted with, her dark skin glowing in her canvas prison. "Darling, the Slytherin common room is in the dungeons. You should get down there before the caretaker comes." Aurelia's eyes flash, but she says nothing. She doesn't trust her words to come out right, for now that the agonising pain is fading, a red hot anger is taking it's place. There is a scream building in her soul, and she knows if she releases it, she'll hit a point she can't return from.
(She will wait. She can wait. She will stand her until time stops to reverse it, because Merlin, she's drowning now.)
At the sound of footsteps, hollow and echoing off the stone walls that refuse to hold heat- it's so cold here, so very very cold- Aurelia straightens, her arms crossed, her lip quivering as the headmaster walks around the corner. "Miss Brennan?" Albus Dumbledore looks over his gold-rimmed half-moon glasses, stopping by the griffin statue that she knows leads to his office. Is it just the dark, or does he not look surprised at all? "Perhaps you'd better come inside my office."
She remains silent as the staircase turns; in fact, the only sound breaking the void is Dumbledore humming, his hands deep within the pockets of his robes. She expects him to question her, interrogate her in the fashion of her parents, but it's not until they emerge into his circular, book filled office, that he even talks to her.
(It's the most magical place she's ever seen in her life. Every glimpse, every eyelash flutter, reveals something new, and for a second, she forgets herself.)
"Miss Brennan, what can I do for you?" Dumbledore asks, sitting behind an enormous mahogany desk. Aurelia, with all her clever words and persuasive arguments, finds herself tongue tied and lost, gawping at the sight of- "Is- is that a phoenix, professor?"
The bird caws softly, but it's nothing like that of a raven, the birds that flew around Brennan castle. It's musical, and soft, like the first notes of a musical box, and Aurelia's mesmerised by the way it's feathers shift and raise, glowing like the embers of a fire.
"His name is Fawkes." Dumbledore strokes the back of the bird's head as its eyes close slightly. "He's in his early birth- they're reborn, over and over, you know. I'm afraid you're not quite in time for his most magnificent stage, he's not quite grown yet- would you like a humbug?" "A- what?" Aurelia asks, caught off guard as she sinks into the seat in front of the desk nervously, her legs swinging as the headmaster pushes forward a bowl of black and white striped sweets. "Muggle sweet. I know most of the students set their stock by those that burst and buzz and fly, but sometimes I find the simplest of pleasures to be the nicest."
