————————————
Aurora Areli
ODDLY ENOUGH, THE AIR around me felt like soup. Warm, heavy and uncomfortable to breathe in. I could tell it was springtime, because it also smelled like pollen and the way new plants do, but there was something like crumbling ash or dust as well, lingering faintly in the background.
When I opened my eyes, I was standing in a forest of tall, ancient-looking trees that blocked out most of the sunlight, if there was even supposed to be much at all. I couldn't tell what time it was.
I turned my head to look around and figure out what was going on, gather my bearings. The dark bluish-green light made everything seem eerie, but that wasn't why I was afraid. I knew that something much worse than waking up in a forest was happening. There was no noise other than the breeze rustling the leaves above me. No birds, no other animals, not even a twig snapping. Complete and utter silence.
Then, as if each word was rehearsed without my knowledge, I said, my voice hushed, and somehow different, "I don't know how to help anymore."
There was a pause, during which I stared out into the trees. I became aware that my clothes felt uncomfortably stuck to my skin, though whether by water or sweat, I wasn't sure. Someone was supposed to answer me.
I turned my head once again to look around, perhaps for another person, but all I could see were trees and plants across the forest floor. The sun must have been coming out, because it was getting brighter. Warm white light continued to flood my vision, until I couldn't see anymore, and squeezed my eyes shut against it.
But when the air around me cleared and I could breathe easily again, I opened my eyes. I immediately closed them again, though, because of the harsh sunlight streaming through my window.
With some struggle, I rolled out of my tangled blankets and onto the floor where I sat and tried to take in my surroundings. I was in my room sitting on the hardwood floor facing the old mahogany writing desk that I'd had ever since I could remember. Not in those unsettling woods like before.
My heart was still pounding from the adrenaline rush that nightmare gave me, so to calm myself down, I got up to check the mail, something I had been doing for the entire month of July. I had been waiting anxiously for my Hogwarts letter. Every day it didn't arrive increased the fear I had of never receiving the same envelope with the school crest stamped on the front that my brother had gotten a year prior.
"If you're looking for the mail, Dad took it into his office," a male voice said. Startled, I turned to face my prat of a brother who was sitting at the dining room table eating a bowl of porridge.
I frowned, but nodded anyway. That combined with the anticipation of my letter was doing nothing to calm my heart rate.
"Dad?" I said, before cautiously knocking on the door. If he was doing work in there I didn't want to disturb him. Dad always told us it was okay to visit him while he was in his office, but that didn't stop me from feeling bad for interrupting him.
"You can come in, Rory," Dad said.
I did as he told me, immediately spotting the pile of letters sitting on his desk. I looked at him for permission and when he waved his hand for me to go ahead and look, I rushed forward and sorted through various articles of mail, before I saw the thing I had been waiting for the past ten — almost eleven — years of my life.
With an excited squeak, I ran out of the office to show my brother. The soft laughter of my father grew fainter the farther I went down the corridor, past various family portraits hanging on the cream-colored walls and wooden doors leading to different rooms.
"Att! Att, my letter came!" I exclaimed, thrusting the yellowed parchment in front of his face.
Atticus grinned, and took the letter from me to inspect.
"Yup," he said. "This right here is a genuine Hogwarts letter, straight from McGonagall herself."
Just then, I heard the rattle of the door knob from the other room. I snatched the letter from Att's hands and ran to share the news with one of my favorite people in the world.
"Mum! My letter came!" I exclaimed for the second time that day, my nightmare long forgotten.
With a tired but sincere smile she said, "That's wonderful dear. We'll go to Diagon Alley tomorrow to get your supplies."
Both of my parents were Aurors, and Mum had recently returned from a mission, so she had to go into the Ministry to sort out some last minute things. That meant she was tired, but nevertheless, she still found it in her to be (in my opinion) one of the best parents in the world.
. . . . .
Early the next morning of July thirty-first, I was sitting anxiously at the dining room table rereading my Hogwarts acceptance letter for the fiftieth time since I had gotten it. By then I knew whole thing by heart, but that didn't stop me.
Around nine o'clock, my brother made his way downstairs and sat down next to me, grabbing an apple out of a bowl on the table and biting into it.
I scrunched up my nose at the sound of his chewing. "You're gross, Atticus. Chew with your mouth closed."
He just grinned and ruffled my hair.
I scowled, attempting to pat down my already unruly mane.
Then, Mum made her way in and asked, "Are you two ready?" When we both nodded she said, "Good. Now we just have to wait for your father."
On cue, Dad walked out of his office, holding a jar of what I knew contained Floo powder. "Almost out," he observed, "I'll have to pick up some more today. That means you're going together, Rory and Atticus."
I immediately sprung up, grabbed my letter and Att's arm, and rushed towards the fireplace where Dad was adding a pinch of Floo powder to the flames, causing them to turn a bright green.
"You know what to do? Remember to speak very clearly," reminded Dad, and I nodded, eagerly stepping into the fireplace with Att following behind me. "Your mother and I will be right behind you."
As the flames tickled my legs, I said firmly, "Diagon Alley!" and not a second later, we were swept away.
After a rather dizzying ride, Att and I stepped out of The Leaky Cauldron and into the busy streets bustling with many different witches and wizards. Although I had been there before countless times, the sight of so many different kinds of people packed into one place still amazed me.
"Alright," said Mum once her and Dad made their way towards us. "I think I'll go with Rory to go get her robes fitted. Cas, you can go with Atticus to go get some more Floo powder and then we'll meet up at Flourish & Blott's."
Gringotts Wizarding Bank was a large white building that towered over the other shops. I never liked going to Gringotts because the goblins that worked there made me feel uneasy, which meant Dad would go inside to get our money.
He and Mum each took a portion of gold Galleons, silver Sickles and bronze Knuts before we split up to do our separate shopping.
As Mum and I approached Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, I noticed one of the biggest men I had ever seen walking in the opposite direction we were. He was about twice as tall as the average man, and nearly three times as wide. His face was hidden by a long shaggy beard and mane of black hair. I stared at him wide-eyed before Mum nudged me to continue foreword.
"Do you want me to come in with you?" Mum asked. After thinking for a moment, I shook my head. I was about to spend nine months away from my parents, I might as well get used to doing things on my own. Independence was important.
She smiled, "Alright, I'll wait out here for you then."
Trying to put up a strong front, I squared my shoulders and entered the shop, clutching the small pouch of coins Mum had given me to pay for the robes.
As I entered, a friendly looking witch dressed in mauve smiled at me and asked, "Hogwarts, dear?"
Before I had a chance to fully respond, she said, "Got the lot here ー two more young men being fitted up just now, in fact," and ushered me over to a footstool in the back of the shop near where two boys around my age were standing on stools of their own.
As Madam Malkin went back to pinning the robes of one of the boys, who had black hair even messier than mine and circular glasses framing his face, another witch came and slipped a long robe over my head, pinning it in the same fashion as the two boys.
The other customer, who had a pale pointed face, said, "Hello," in a bored, drawling voice. "Hogwarts too?"
No, Ilvermorny.
"Yes," said the boy with the raven hair, who I noticed had astonishingly green eyes.
"What about you?" Blondie asked, glancing at me.
"Er, yes," I muttered, flustered by the sudden attention on me. So much for the strong front.
"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," he announced. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."
I frowned. Att told me that first-years only used the training brooms and weren't even allowed on the school Quidditch teams, there was no need for his own broom at school. I was shocked by his nerve, talking about blatantly disobeying the rules in front of everybody like that.
"Have either of you got your own brooms?" he went on.
"No," the other boy said as I nodded my head.
"Play Quidditch at all?"
"No," the boy with glasses said yet again, looking confused. He must be Muggle-born.
"Sometimes I play Chaser for my brother," I responded. "He wants to try out for Keeper this year."
"I do — Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house either of you'll be in yet?"
Merlin, this kid was arrogant.
When the other boy looked unsure what to say, I answered, "I'm not sure. Everyone in my family has been in a different house, but no one really knows until they get there."
"Yes, I suppose that's true," Blondie agreed. "But I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been — imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"
"No," I argued, slightly offended. "My father was in Hufflepuff, there's nothing wrong with them."
The pale boy scoffed, about to reply when he suddenly looked out the window. "I say, look at that man!" he said, nodding towards the same giant man I saw earlier. He was grinning at the boy with glasses, pointing at two large ice creams he was holding to show he couldn't come in.
"That's Hagrid," the other boy said, looking pleased. "He works at Hogwarts."
"Oh," Blondie said. "I've heard of him. He's sort of a servant, isn't he?"
"He's the gamekeeper."
"Yes, exactly. I heard he's sort of a savage — lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."
I frowned again. What a rude thing to say. I think I remembered Att mentioning him to me once. He told me Hagrid was nice, but the others in his house made fun of him.
"I think he's brilliant," the boy with glasses said coldly.
"Do you?" the pale boy said with a slight sneer. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"
"They're dead," the other boy said shortly.
I gasped at his straightforwardness, and when they glanced at me, I tried to play it off as a cough.
"Oh, sorry," said the pale boy, although he didn't sound very sorry at all. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"
"They were a witch and a wizard, if that's what you mean."
"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"
I opened my mouth, perhaps to say something sharp, but the witch who was fussing with my robes stopped me by announcing, "That's you done, my dear."
I hopped off my stool, rolled my eyes at the stuck up pale boy before I made my way back to the front of the store to pay. The other one seemed nice enough, but Blondie just reminded me of the other kids from my town.
Once my robes were packaged up neatly for me by another witch, I headed outside to meet Mum and tell her about the exchange I had with the two boys inside the shop.
When I told her about how inconsiderate the pale boy was, Mum asked, "Did he have blond hair and a bias for Slytherin?"
I nodded. "How did you know?"
She sighed. "That'll be Lucius Malfoy's son. I'd try and keep my distance from them if I were you, that family is nothing but trouble."
I wanted to ask more, but the finality of her tone made me think otherwise.
"While you were getting fitted, I got the rest of your things," Mum told me. "Your dad and Atticus stocked up on potions ingredients, so now all we need are your books and your wand."
"Can we get my wand first, please?" I asked, eager to finally receive one of my own. When Atticus had gotten his a year ago, it only made me more impatient to turn eleven and finally be able to practice magic.
Mum agreed, and with an excited smile I grabbed her hand and pulled her towards Ollivander's wand shop.
The shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. As we approached, I noticed a single wand laying on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.
As we stepped inside, a tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop. The inside of the shop was a tiny space, empty except for a single spindly chair. The atmosphere was that of a very strict library, but instead of books, there were thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling.
"Good afternoon," said a soft voice.
I jumped slightly, startled. Mum smiled at me, amused by my reaction.
There was an old man standing before us who had wide, pale eyes that contrasted dramatically with the rest of the gloomy shop.
"Ah, Mrs Areli, how do you do?" he asked, looking at Mum.
"Hello, Mr Ollivander," Mum replied politely with a smile."I'm doing well."
When he looked at me I said, "Er, hello."
"This is my daughter, Aurora," said Mum when she saw that I was feeling too awkward to introduce myself.
Independent. Yes.
"Ah, yes, she does look like you," Mr Ollivander said, turning towards Mum. "Although she has her father's eyes. Ash. Unicorn hair. Twelve inches. Flexible."
How he remembered everything about my father's wand, I did not know, but I didn't have much time to dwell on it because the strange, pale man had turned his attention toward me once again.
"Now, Miss Areli, which is your wand arm?" he asked, pulling a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket.
"Erm —" I raised up my left hand.
"Yes, yes, that's it. Hold out your arm." Mr Ollivander then began measuring me from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and around my head.
As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Miss Areli. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."
The tape measure began measuring me on its own as Mr Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.
"That will do," he said, allowing the tape measure to crumple to a heap on the floor. "Right then, Miss Areli. Try this one, Hawthorn wood and phoenix feather. Nine and a quarter inches, pliable."
I took the wand, lifted it up to wave it when Mr Ollivander suddenly snatched it back from me.
"Try this one. Beech and unicorn hair. Twelve inches. Nice and flexible."
I took the wand and waved it around before it was taken from me once again.
After a few more failed attempts, I huffed, growing frustrated with the lack of progress. It had only taken Att two tries to find his wand, what was wrong with me?
Finally, Mr Ollivander came back from behind the counter where he had been searching for an almost long time.
"Willow and phoenix tail feather, ten and three quarter inches, bendy." He handed me the wand, and as soon as I took it, I felt a pleasant warmth in my fingers.
I gave it a twirl, and as I did a stream of pretty gold sparks shot out the end like fireworks, bathing the dusty shop in warm light.
"Yes, yes, that wand seems to have chosen you, Miss Areli. Very, very wonderful!" exclaimed Mr Ollivander.
I beamed, happy to have finally made progress.
After paying seven gold Galleons for my wand, Mum and I walked out of the shop to meet Dad and Atticus at Flourish and Blott's, where I was able to buy my books and show off my new wand to Att.
The shelves inside the store were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps covered in silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all.
After getting all of our books, Att and I begged our parents to get an owl, to which they agreed, claiming they had been planning on getting one for us to take to school anyway.
Eeylops Owl Emporium was dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes.
"Att, come look at this one!" I exclaimed, pointing towards a pretty brown owl that was looking at me with wide orange eyes.
He agreed that we should get that one, and we left the shop with the cage containing our new pet and a bag of Eeylops Premium Owl Treats.
"What should we name him?" Atticus asked as we made our way towards the Leaky Cauldron to go home.
I turned to look at our new owl, noticing that his markings looked remarkably like one of my favorite planets.
"How about Jupiter?" I proposed, reaching my fingers through the cage to stroke his soft feathers.
"Yeah, okay," Att agreed, "I'm definitely not going to come up with something better."
I smiled and followed Mum and Dad to the Leaky Cauldron to Floo back home.
. . . . .
No more than ten minutes after we arrived back at home, I had seized my package from Flourish & Blott's and took it to my favorite part of the whole house — the library.
The Areli family library was home to hundreds of books about almost anything you could ever imagine thanks to my mother. She had passed down her love of reading to me, which meant that ever since I had learned how to read, I would spend most of my time curled up in one of the comfy leather armchairs with either lemonade or hot chocolate, (depending on the season), and the biggest book I could get my hands on.
My obsession with books had its downfalls, however. Because I spent so much of my time lost in the pages of other worlds, I hadn't had much time to make friends outside of fictional characters.
My brother, on the other hand, had absolutely no problem making friends. A lot of the children in our town looked up to him. He claims it was all because of his so-called "good looks" and "charming personality," but I knew it was really because wherever he went, there was a good chance something magical would happen.
I remember that during one of the few times Atticus had managed to convince me to leave the library and go outside with him, he had taken Dad's wand and was trying to show off to a pretty little Muggle girl that lived across the road from us.
When Dad realized what Att did, it was one of the only times I had seen him angry. Needless to say, after that episode, Dad never left his wand unattended while my brother was around.
By now, most of the children in the town that were around my age had already formed their friendships, and weren't very eager to include me when Atticus had left for Hogwarts. That meant I was left without any company outside of my books.
Although I had never really had any interest in making friends, I couldn't help but feel a sense of longing when I saw the other girls walking in little groups and giggling amongst themselves on their way home from school.
As I settled into my favorite armchair by the window to begin A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot, I couldn't help but feel nervous.
What if when I got to school nobody would want to be friends with me there either? What if I couldn't live up to the expectations the rest of my family had placed upon me?
I closed my eyes and leaned back into the chair, trying to rid myself of those thoughts, and the queasy feeling in my stomach.
No. In a month I would be on my way to the best wizarding school in the world to learn magic under the rule of Albus Dumbledore. I should be excited.
I spent the remainder of my summer absorbing as much information as I could from my new books, rereading Hogwarts, A History, and bombarding my parents and brother with every single question I had regarding my future at the school.
By the evening before September first, I had everything I needed for the term neatly packed away in my trunk. Because of my nerves, I even voluntarily cleaned Jupiter's cage to distract myself, (something I would never have done under normal circumstances).
As I was triple-checking my trunk to make sure I had everything, I heard a knock on my door.
When I opened it, I was greeted by none other than Atticus Areli.
"How are you feeling?" he asked after entering my room and sitting down on the bed next to my trunk.
I bit my lip. "Nervous," was all I could say.
"At least you won't be starting alone like I did," Att said.
That was true. I'd have my favorite older brother with me.
"Yeah, you're right. Thanks, Attie," I said, smirking when he scowled at the nickname.
After talking, (well, I was rambling, Atticus was probably just pretending to listen), for a while, Mum finally came up and shooed my brother off to bed before telling me to do the same.
"You'll need your rest," she said. "You have a big day ahead of you."
I went to sleep that night dreaming of Hogwarts; all the magic I would learn and the friends I'd finally be able to make.
-
edited