ALULA (VOL. 3)
Time to put things into perspective- into order.
When a war has begun there's no waiting for children to group up. Alula Nova Black knows this too well. The last thing needed is a government who are corrupt in thinking everything is o...
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two lonely people
{1995}
Gryffindor Tower
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
Alula was first to wake up in her dormitory the next morning. She lay for a moment watching dust swirl in the ray of sunlight coming through the gap in her four-poster's hangings and savoured the thought that it was Saturday. The first week of term seemed to have dragged on forever, like one gigantic History of Magic lesson.
Judging by the sleepy silence and the freshly minted look of that beam of sunlight, it was just after daybreak. She pulled open the curtains around her bed, got up and started to dress. Seeing as it was the weekend, Alula pulled on a red-checked smock dress and some black tights. The only sound apart from the distant twittering of birds was the slow, deep breathing of her fellow Gryffindors. She headed out of the dormitory for the common room.
Making straight for her favourite squashy old armchair beside the now extinct fire, Alula saw Harry settled down comfortably in a chair.
"Morning." She said quietly as she sat opposite the boy.
"Morning."
Alula looked around the room. The detritus of crumpled-up bits of parchment, old Gobstones, empty ingredient jars and sweet wrappers that usually covered the common room at the end of each day was gone, as were all Hermione's elf hats. Wondering vaguely how many elves had now been set free whether they wanted to be or not, Alula watched Harry uncork his ink bottle, dip his quill into it, then hold it suspended an inch above the smooth yellowish surface of his parchment, he thought hard . . . but after a minute or so he was staring into the empty grate, at a complete loss for what to say.
"Who are you writing to?" Alula asked as she attempted to part her hair to plait it.
"Your father." He replied.
"Oh okay."
The two sat quite motionless for a while gazing into the fireplace, an awkwardness present, then Harry, finally coming to a decision, dipped his quill into the ink bottle once more and set it resolutely on the parchment. He passed it to Alula to read over.
Dear Snuffles,
Hope you're OK, the first week back here's been terrible, I'm really glad it's the weekend.
We've got a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Umbridge. She's nearly as nice as your mum. I'm writing because that thing I wrote to you about last summer happened again last night when I was doing detention with Umbridge.
We're all missing our biggest friend, we hope he'll be back soon.
