Non Omnis Moriar

8: The Orphanage

Hi guys, like I mentioned in my profile, here is the chapter I wrote for Camp Nano. I was supposed to edit it and post in May so I could again take up the next chapter for Camp Nano June but since the quarantine has been extended, writing will be a majority of my schedule for May (so it looks like at least right now). I have the next chapter outlined and ready to be written so it should be easier, granted my pretty muses behave and cooperate.

Anyway, enough rambling from me!

***

The room was tiny. The door extended into a small hallway like nook, fitted with a window at the other end. A desk was situated right under it, the chair; simple, wooden and straight backed, pushed neatly under it. The wall on the right of the door, had a small three shelf built in cupboard, one that I looked into briefly before shutting decidedly.

Lastly, I looked at the bed. It was pushed right against one wall, barely any space left between it and the desk. Made with off white sheets and a thin, thin mattress, it came nowhere close to the beds I was used to, the one back home or even the four poster in the Hogwarts dormitory. Heck, the hammocks in the Room of Requirement used to look more inviting.

However, with the shock of everything, with the fear that still pounded at being in close quarters with a Dark Lord...I sighed, flopping on top of it. The iron frame creaked in protest, reluctantly bearing my weight but I closed my eyes resolutely.

I had no potions that would help me with a dreamless sleep but I hoped with everything I had to just be able to...black out completely.

A loud yell shook up from the floors of my bedroom, jolting me out of my cozy slumber and thundering me towards wakefulness; I turned angrily to the door, listening.

"Girls, I swear, if you both are not up and out of your rooms in five minutes, I am going to leave you here. I paid too much for these tickets to just miss the World Cup and I will not wait further."

Marion Alton was usually an elegant woman who didn't think shouting did much, but it was obvious that right now those sentiments were out of the question. Quidditch was one of the hobbies my mother had nurtured from her school days and it was still one of the only things she kept hidden under wraps of the cultivated image of Wizarding nobility.

"I'm up," I screamed back, in case she decided to blow my door open and hurried to my feet, blankets askew on my body. I quickly pulled on the pants and jumper I'd set out the night ago, walking out with the trainers unlaced.

"Me too," I opened the door to find Pamela already dressed, her shirt a little rumpled as she nervously ran a hand over it.

"Did you sleep wearing that?" I asked suspiciously but my sister ignored me, following our mother to the dining room where breakfast was being served. Unlike other ancient pureblood families; the Altons never made use of House Elves. No, we always had 'help'.

A young girl bowed slightly at my mother's entrance before leaving the room. We sat down to the small breakfast quickly, my mother as jittery as a fairy newly introduced to a garden.

"Mum, calm down, we're apparating anyway." I said, hoping that it would ease out some of my mother's nerves but she only looked up sternly, her wand already at the ready to clear the table.

She only gave us about ten minutes, to gobble up the simple sandwiches and apple juice before the sleek length of her wand swished and the plate collected neatly together, landing at one end of the table in a pile to be taken away as she stood up.