Augur *Harry Potter*

Year 1: Chapter 1

The room is gloomy and suffocating when she enters, three shadowed figures flagging either side of her. There are lit torches lining the walls, but their flames are hazy and don't illuminate the room well. She can feel the importance of what lies in the center of this vast space. It wraps its long, lonely fingers around her and squeezes her, hard. She should be frightened.

She's not.

"Where are we? A graveyard?" asks one of the figures side. Their voice is disfigured; it echoes and reverberates off of the stone and then dissipates into the dank air.

"This is no graveyard," another, taller, figure responds, stepping further into the room. "This is a chessboard."

At their words, two of the large torches that surround them burst into flames, and reveal the importance.

Amelie's eyes open suddenly, and she's detached from the dream. Instead of seeing the blurred fire she finds herself encased in darkness. There is no sunlight filtering in through her window, so she assumes that it's still an ungodly hour, and the rest of her parish town is in blissful unconsciousness. She yearns for that in this moment, but sighs when she accepts that sleep won't come to her again until tomorrow evening, most likely.

She sits up slowly in her bed, blinking as her vision adjusts to the blackness. The birdcage in the corner of her bedroom and the rocking chair by the door threaten to twist into odd metallic beasts and wicker monsters, but Amelie ignores them, aware of the Shadows' tricks.

She reaches over and flicks on her bedside lamp, squinting slightly against the abrupt introduction of light. It covers all corners of the room, and not for the first time since she woke, she wishes her mind would let her fall victim to lethargy.

Amelie stretches and stands, glancing at the clock, which is inhabiting the spot by the lamp. It reads three o'clock. Her stomach lurches in excitement.

It's September 1st, she thinks, stumbling to her calendar and switching the month from August to the month she's been waiting for her whole life. She stares at her scratchy handwriting, at the underlined and circled HOGWARTS in the box that's labelled the first. Today's the day.

Her packed trunk sits on the floor, waiting to be loaded onto the Hogwarts Express. The bird cage, although missing the owl (Comet's nightly routine is flying outside to catch mice and such) is also ready to travel. Her letter is sitting neatly on her desk, with the supply list stacked on top. She forgot that today was the day. The day every eleven year old witch and wizard daydreams about during long hours at the Muggle school they're forced to attend to fit in with the norm. The day they are finally released into the realm of magic appreciated and yearned for.

She's too excited to sit still and wait for her alarm to go off at seven, so instead she pulls on pants and a jumper and quietly enters the bathroom connecting her room to her mother's room. She flips on the light switch, and sighs gratefully when she continues to hear her mum's soft snoring.

She grabs her hairbrush and starts to detangle her elbow length blonde hair, grimacing as the bristles run over a particularly large knot. She meets her own eyes in the mirror, and halts her actions as she notices her appearance.

Dark circles are smudged under her eyes, revealing how in need of sleep she actually is. They look strange imprinted on an eleven year old's face, a face that should be free from any signs of worry or stress. But Amelie knows she's not a typical eleven year old. A tired face to match a tired soul.

"Blimey," she mutters as she thinks of her mother's face when she notices the circles. Cloaked in worry, no doubt, voice decorated with concern. If she was going to pull off the fresh-faced, 'I definitely sleep for more than four hours a night' shtick, she would have to smuggle some of her mother's makeup. She frowns at the prospect of stealing, somewhat, but she brushes it off as she stares herself down.

"Hogwarts will make everything better, you." Her brows furrow as she repeats the mantra. "Hogwarts will make everything better."

***

Amelie is already sitting at the kitchen table when her mother ambles in, still clad in pajamas. She gives her a chipper, "Good morning!" and Isabelle Aguirre clutches her chest in surprise.

"Good Godric, Ame."

Amelie giggles at her mother's outburst. "I'm sorry, Mum."

"How long have you been sitting here?"

Amelie considers telling the truth; she had been sitting here for the better part of an hour, studying one of her school books. She decides against it. "Oh. Only a few minutes."

"Are you hungry, love?" Isabelle questions her daughter, and the young girl nods in response. Isabelle, having spent seven years herself at Hogwarts and knowing quite well how to use magic without causing serious damage to anything or anyone, slips her wand out from behind her ear and starts to charm the kitchen appliances. Pans fly out of the cabinets, stoves are lit, and all the while Amelie sits with unabated interest.

Her mother moves naturally with her magic, humming to herself as she paces the kitchen. Her passion and eccentricity is always unbridled, as Amelie would say, but it always seems to have it's own place in the house whenever she bops along to hidden music. Her dark hair swings around her shoulders as she dances, swirling her wand somewhat carelessly, and Amelie grins. Her mother is the young, ripe age of thirty-one, and Amelie is glad she has the decency to act like it.

"How did you sleep?"

Isabelle's question catches Amelie off guard, and the smile is wiped from her face. "Uh, fine, I suppose."

"Any dreams?"

Ah, she forgot she told her mother about the dreams. It had been awhile back, when she dreamt that she pitched torso first into a curb after crashing her bicycle and it had come true; she escaped with a sprained wrist and several road rashes on her face, and an uneasy demeanor. Her mother noticed her hesitancy and asked her about it and Amelie spilled the beans on everything.

"Er, one. It was strange; I was with three other people, but they were covered in shadows. We were standing in this room. There was a chessboard, or something..."

Amelie peers into Isabelle's curious eyes, and shakes her head. "It's nothing too important, I'm sure. When are we going to King's Cross?"

"We'll leave around ten. It won't get long to get there, and the train doesn't leave until eleven." The brunette's face breaks into a smile. "Are you excited, darling?"

"I'm ecstatic. But also nervous, I guess."

"The Sorting Hat?"

"The Sorting Hat."

Isabelle makes her way to the table and envelopes Amelie's hands in her own. "I want you to know that no matter what House you're sorted in, I will always be there to back you up. The Hat knows what it's doing, Ame. He makes his choices for the right reasons." She winks. "But tell him that your mother would be extra happy if you were sorted into Ravenclaw."

Amelie beams at her mother's words. She would be thankful to be sorted in the same house her mother had been in, but Isabelle was right. The Hat was never wrong.

"Thanks, Mum."

Isabelle grins back, and starts to wave her wand again. "Before I start to seriously make breakfast, you want to see a cool trick I learned about how to crack the eggs into the pan?"

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A/N: Hello, my fellow Potterheads, and welcome to the end of the first chapter of my newest piece of trash. I hope you enjoyed it. This idea was formed a couple of nights ago when I couldn't go to sleep and I was kinda desperate to get it published tonight. This is mostly to show how much my writing has grown since 2013, but it's also a chance for me to do a redo on a HP fanfiction. My other one is so cringey it hurts. Whoops.

*Published both on here and on Quotev. Again.