Harry Potter: Alex Fletcher: the fighter, champion and hope.

Distance with the outside

-3rd person perspective-

Alex Rose Fletcher.

A girl no one has heard of, a distant girl, someone that was hidden away. Someone no one saw.

She didn't know why. She never knew what made her so different to her family. Why she was sent away to a hell hole each year, this one being her 9th .

She was thirteen and had been going through this ordeal since she was as young as four years old.

Her current location is the hell we speak of, she dreads to come every time that summer ends.

Her boarding school room.

It was poorly decorated, the theme of greys and blacks. The industrial metal bed had a mattress that sprung springs if you sat on it, itchy grey sheets that always had to be neatly made and a pillow that's flatter than a preteens hair.

The curtains let in too much light so they didn't really count as curtains, more like thin material that wouldn't even protect her modesty.

And her wardrobe an ugly wooden thing that she, even at 13, feared.

A number of reasons led to this fear, but the most prominent was of nightmares she had and the wardrobe was always involved. People including herself trapped and starved in it, but the most prominent out of them all is the one about it setting on fire, nothing else, just it, burning.

But she felt no greater fear than that. A burning wardrobe. She had no idea why. There were way worse things in the world than a burning wardrobe.

This place has a distinct smell, one of disinfectant that was too strong to be even remotely subtle, the smell however did mask the plumbing issue they'd had here for a while now.
Also an aroma of the forgotten, like when you walk into an old store room or a garage that's only opened about twice each year.

The reason she is in her room alone, on a Monday afternoon, was clear once you saw her timetable, a whole afternoon of chemistry.

And if you couldn't already tell young Alex was not a big fan of the chemistry module within her study work. The teacher Mr Whittmore was a strong factor towards her dislike for the subject.

He was a bully, he teased and tormented her in classes, calling her to the front. He knew she had no idea of what was going on. She didn't understand Chemistry and that was a good enough ground to bully her in his opinion.

She was an outcast, a social reject. A nobody.

And boy, did everyone like to remind her of it. Older students tripped her in corridors, girls threw paper at her head and slammed her into lockers.

But she did the worst thing you could do, she hurt them in return. Punching, kicking, swearing anything to hurt them like they hurt her.

Once she'd thrown a punch at a girl who purposely put gum in her hair, she got thrown into her room for two days, given only a vomit like substance for food by the member of staff that caught her. Mr Whittmore.

She seemed to possess strange physic type skills, when she gets very angry or afraid she can stare at an object and after a few moments it would burst into flames. Which is why the fire dream of the wardrobe is so realistic to her.

She sat on her sheets looking our of her bedroom window, she knew no one would see her she sat there, gazing out. The outside world was a place she never fully experienced. Alex loved how the trees around this place encompassed it, spiralling around it. The trees themselves acted like some sort of gate, a barrier, a blockade to anyone else that wanted to enter, even though Alex had no idea why anyone would ever willingly come here.

She thought of her family. She never really understood them.

She had a sister and brother but neither of them attended the school, they went somewhere else.

She wasn't overly accepted by the Fletcher family. She was adopted by them from a young age, they play on that a lot especially the older boy. She was looked down upon.

The shed in their garden was her bedroom, of which she shared with mice and spiders.
She slept on an old camp bed, that had broken a total of nine times.
And of course everyone else slept in the house. She was hidden, invisible. She could've sworn the neighbours didn't even know she existed.

She thought on her life and came to the conclusion that no one truly loved her, her birth parents didn't, that's why they didn't keep her, the Fletchers didn't because they sent her here and it would be a miracle if anyone ever felt any form of emotion or affection to her.

Her gazed snapped from window to her door, her door that radioated off three bangs, someone was knocking.

Alex's breath caught in her throat as worry of being caught out of lessons began to rise. She had no determine whether they came in or not. Her lock was on the outside of the door, as you weren't aloud one on the inside due to previous children misusing them and prevention of children running away.

The door knob twisted and creaked open, this wasn't how it normally opened, normally it swung with force hitting the much feared wardrobe the person coming in with or without invitation.

The headmistress, Miss Henacey, a tall lady with long spindly fingers, she always wore an all matching outfit of some garlicy colour, today was a vibrant orange with a black shirt, the blazer and skirt matching some how wrapping round her figure of bones.

With her stood an old man. He wore a light grey and white full length robe, almost like a dress. He hand an extraordinary beard that was braided in places, and tide together about mid way down to hold it all together, his hair matched in both length and colour, a wispy white, his head covered by a small circular dome that match his robe and half moon glasses perched on his nose. He is none other than Albus Dumbledore, a man she'd be getting to know very well.

"Hello Alex" Dumbledore smiles at the girl who has no idea of his overwhelming power and knowledge. "So lovely to see you"