Grey Eyes (A Harry Potter Fanfiction)

11. The White Scarf

It's white.

Wait, I can't be in the Hospital Wing again can I? I just fell asleep! That's the least dangerous action in the world! At least I think it is.

I push myself up into a sitting position before standing up and looking around. There's no scenery, no floor, no sky, no anything. Every surface is covered with a misty white fog. I've never seen anything like it.

"Cecilia," a voice calls out to me in the distance.

I spin around to see a silhouette of a young boy running towards a smiling little girl with lavender eyes. Huh, that's odd. What kind of birth defect does this girl have? Who the hell has lavender eyes? Wait a minute. I have lavender eyes—wait, that little tyke is me!

I move right in front of the little girl and scrutinize her face, carefully taking into account the lavender almond-shaped eyes and the slight tweak in her right eyebrow when she smiled.

Oh, that is definitely me.

Meaning... this has a got be a dream. Usually my dreams are rather vivid and involve me doing something incredibly ridiculous, so clearly this isn't one of usual crazy dreams.

I wave my hand in front of her face and say in a loud voice, "So, what's this dream about—"

"I was waiting for you! What'd you call me here for?"

And I am promptly interrupted as she runs right through me towards the silhouette of the boy like I don't even exist... which I don't exactly, but let's not get technical here.

I follow my kid-self to the boy with an increasing curiosity. Interestingly enough, I can't see his face. Instead of clear, distinct features, the boy's face looks like a blur. It's as if I'm looking at him through glasses, but with the wrong prescription.

 "Happy birthday, Cecilia." The boy shuffles his feet in embarrassment.

"Thanks!" says the little girl, smiling widely. "Did you get me anything? I told you ya didn't have to!"

The boy fidgets a little and then reaches behind him to thrust out a white scarf towards her.

A positively gleeful expression spreads across my kid-self's face. "Wow, a scarf!" She flings it around her neck and jumps up and down happily. "How cool! It's so soft!"

"I thought you might like something like this." The boy shuffles his feet again and continues, "It has wishes woven into it. I bought it from that foreign weaver lady down the street. It's eastern style magic and apparently depending on how many wishes you make or how big the wish is, the scarf will slowly disintegrate."

No way, a scarf like that actually exists? Or, I mean, this is a dream, so it's entirely possible that my brilliantly innovative mind just made the whole thing up, but... There's just something about this dream that seems familiar to me. Déjà vu. Like it's happened before. And if this dream is somehow a part of my memories, then... I wonder if I still have that scarf.

The little girl runs her hand down the length of the scarf and gazes at it with a curious look on her face.

"Never," she whispers softly.

"What?" the boy stutters out, apparently interpreting her response to mean she would never like it.

"I'll never make any wishes!" She hugs the scarf close to herself, smiling contently. "That way I can have this scarf forever!"

The boy laughs and then says warmly, "That's dumb, Cecilia." He grins at the girl and pats her on the head.

"Yeah, that is dumb!" someone says loudly.