Penelope paced back and forward, her heels clicking against the tile floor in a way that drove Copeland nuts.
"Woman! Take a deep breath!" Copeland finally shouted.
"Listen...Missy. This is a big deal for both of us, not just you."
"Mum, I'm just going to school! Simmer down, will you?" Copeland sighed.
"Bloody hell! It's not just you making changes! I'm going back to work, do you know how dangerous that is for our family and-" Her lecture was cut off by a sudden gust of warm air, and a loud cracking noise. Copeland whipped her head to the side to catch sight of an ancient looking man with crescent shaped glasses and a white beard nearly as long as his baby blue robes.
"Penelope, how good to see you!" The man's deep voice rumbled, sound crackly as if it were coming from a malfunctioning, low-quality speaker. He approached Penelope with open arms, causing her sullen face to brighten up. She returned the embrace.
"I trust you've apparated well? No splinching?" She asked in a concerned tone, frantically bouncing around the man in an attempt to straighten out his robes. Penelope had the tendency to mother everyone.
"No, fortunately, I have made it here in one piece," The man spoke, he turned his head and met Copeland's curious eyes.
"Oh dear, you must be young Copeland Grace, a pleasure to see you again," He greeted her warmly. Copeland's eyebrows furrowed.
"I'm sorry, have we met before, Mister..." She trailed off.
"Dumbledore, Albus Dumbledore."
Copeland's eyes widened in surprise, this was the man who had sent her the letter from Hogwarts!
"It's an honor, sir," She told him politely, giving him a firm handshake. According to the acceptance letter, this man was a big deal. Correction, he was the biggest deal. He was the headmaster of Hogwarts school!
"I assume you will be attending Hogwarts on September the first?" He asked, and she nodded eagerly, a grin taking up more than half of her face,
The week after she had received her letter, she had gone shopping for supplies at Diagon Alley. Ollivander's was admittedly Copeland's favorite part, despite the two long hours it took to find a wand that would accept her ownership. English Oak, 12 3/4 inches, Slightly Springy, Dragon Heartstring, great for dueling, extremely powerful. At least, that is what Mr. Ollivander said, and a man as wise as he is someone to be trusted.
"It was lovely to meet you dear but I must talk to your mother now," Dumbledore told her, an indirect way of dismissing her.
When Copeland had "left" the adults to talk, Penelope had lost her cool, if she had any to begin with. She had started pacing again, and cracking her calloused knuckles.
"You're nervous," Dumbledore sighed, settling down in a love seat.
"Is it that obvious?" She chuckled, bitterly.
"If you are worried about the safety of your daughter, there is no safer place than Hogwarts, Penelope. You know that. If there was any trouble, I'm sure she can handle herself. She shows great promise as a witch."
"She is Jace's daughter."
Penelope's eyes watered and she sniffled, her heart clenched just like it did when anyone mentioned her late husband. Copeland reminded her so much of him, it was almost as if he never left her. Now that she was leaving, Penelope would have to throw herself into her work as a distraction. Unfortunately, everything about the wizarding world reminded her of him. She slumped down onto the couch.
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LANCASTER | H. POTTERFanfiction
fu·ture /ˈfyo͞oCHər/ noun the time or a period of time following the moment of speaking or writing; time regarded as still to come. "we plan on getting married in the near future" synonyms: time to come, time ahead; what lay/lies ahead, coming times...