Chapter one
Several years later
I had never really travelled before that day. There had never really been a reason to. My life was pretty much set. Orphanage. Ilvermorny. Repeat. Apart from the very rare summer excursions the people at the orphanage would arrange. A sorry excuse to make us orphans feel better about ourselves.
Oh yes, you are all abandoned and miserable with nowhere to go this summer while all your friends go to Florida and the Caribbean but here's a fun ole' weekend in Maine for you!
Maine.
Who the fuck wants to go to Maine?
Safe to say that hadn't gone over well with the people at the orphanage. I never considered myself a loud mouth. Quite the opposite really. Generally I preferred to stay in the background, preferably invisible, but there were times another part of me shone through.
The part of me that couldn't shut up for the life of me.
It was a dangerous line to tread. That of my introversion and my sudden bursts of extrovertness. I seemed to have an incapability of keeping my thoughts to myself at times. A quality that wasn't popular with the people in charge of the orphanage.
Perhaps this then was some sort of petty revenge for all my remarks and comments. I glanced out of the aeroplane window, suddenly feeling sick. It almost made me regret my outspokenness.
The orphanage, the place I'd spent my teens and late childhood had closed down just weeks prior. Another victim of the war. In a panic they had to find all us kids new places. New homes.
In truth no one cared what became of us. That much I knew. No one cared about orphans. Generally they didn't even like to acknowledge our existence. If it wasn't to make a statement or if it in any way could benefit themselves.
That is how I came to sit on an aeroplane that day. A victim of bureaucracy. They didn't care that I had a life in the US. That I attended a school that most of them probably hadn't heard of. They didn't care about any of it. I was just a number. Another poor kid. Another poor kid. Another victim. Another life for them to sort out.
And now my life was flipped upside down as I flew over the Atlantic to a place of war and horror. Great Britain.
I leaned against the window, sighing as I let the hours pass by. I was alone in my row. Almost alone in the entire plane actually, apart from people in military uniform that is. Most no-majs were clever enough to avoid Europe. Those that had a choice, that is.
The great war.
It never felt real to me. Not over in the states. In school it was rarely discussed. Most students dismissed it as yet another no-maj conflict, something that would pass and be forgotten. Only as I saw the injured soldiers carried off of planes did it hit me. The realisation of where exactly I was going.
Suddenly sensing my nervousness Julius, my cat, a rather smile russian blue, purred and pressed his head to my hand. I'd had him since my first year of school and he'd been my constant companion ever since. I scratched him behind the ear, he purred lowder and started making biscuits on my skirt.
"Coffee, miss?" A male voice asked.
I felt myself grow tense. Despite myself I felt the familiar fear build up. That weight pressing into my chest, making every breath harder. The whooshing sound filling my head. The nauseating feeling in the pit of my stomach.
It had been my constant companion since all those years ago. Not even now. Years later was I strong enough to escape it.
"No, thank you." I said, only meeting the man's gaze for half a second before looking out of the window again. Julius pressed himself to me, licking my hand softly.
As the man's steps faded away I felt myself relax somewhat. But it didn't stop the shame. The shame that I wasn't stronger. That I was still that girl from all those years ago. Everyday a struggle. Everyday a silent fight against the fear gnawing at my very inside.
I wished I was stronger than the fear. But I wasn't.
We arrived several hours later. Seeing the broken city, a testament of the war, did little to ease my worry. But at the very least I felt myself relax somewhat as I finally put my feet on the ground again.
The airport, at least the parts not closed off and under repair, whispered of the war but somehow the Brits kept their spirits up. Laughing and smiling, even at me, a scrawny orphan with a cat in my arms. A strange people indeed.
An elderly woman met me not long after. She instructed me to call her Mrs Cole, the matron of the orphanage that had taken me in - Wool's Orphanage. She had a strict although motherly demeanour, and to my luck a cat person.
In the car on our way to the orphanage my companion opted to grace Mrs Cole's knee with his presence. Little traitor.
Mrs Cole and I kept up an idle conversation, talking about the orphanage, the war and the weather. Only when she asked me about my school did I pay attention.
"I have already received word from your new school. I've been asked to wish you welcome to Britain from one of the professors. A rather odd fellow, but not by any means bad." She noted.
"Oh, is that so?" I mumbled.
"Oh yes. A Professor Dumbledore." She frowned somewhat suddenly. "Perhaps you'd be interested to know that you're not the only one at Wool's attending Hogwarts."
That surprised me, and I frowned somewhat. Not entirely sure what to make of this new information.
"Now really?"
"Oh yes. Although I wouldn't recommend spending too much time with him. A bad egg you see. Not proper company for a lovely young lady such as yourself." She said, giving me a motherly smile.
"Might I ask... What his name is?"
"Tom Riddle."
Edited: 4/4/23
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