Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
I slowly returned my heart rate and my breathing to a steady pace.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
I kept my mind focused on just that, just those words, just those movements.
Breathe in.
Everything was ok, I needed to calm down.
Breathe out.
I opened my eyes and stared at the cloudy sky outside the livingroom window. It was very cold to be the end of July. It had been cold for awhile.
My uncle Oberon sustained it was because of all the dementors.
I completely believed him: if there ever was a time when those disgusting creatures could prosper, it was now.
The thought of those... things made me shiver and I could feel my heart rate quickening so I repeated my breathing excercises.
I had been doing those all summer, ever since Dumbledore's funeral.
Everytime I stopped to reflect on what was going on in the country, my breathing would become laboured and my heart rate unsteady.
They weren't attacks per se: I was never overwhelmed and always remained in full control over my mind and with a firm grip on the world around me, I didn't need to sit or stop what I was doing at the moment... it just felt like I was not entirely ok.
It might seem like a very little thing to worry about, and it was; but it happened so frequently that I was feeling almost constantly... not entirely ok. I didn't know how to prevent my body from doing that.
I guess I shouldn't have been so upset with myself: it was just anxiety after all, I just had to learn to deal with it.
I hated not having control over it but, as my uncle said, if I wasn't at least a little bit anxious about the current situation I wouldn't be human.
I sighed and picked up my letter again, looking at the list of new materials required for my seventh year at Hogwarts. It had arrived yesterday and I was going.
There was no question on the matter: by law I was required to attend my last year at school and act as if nothing wrong was going on, even if the headmaster was a Death Eater.
I quickly scanned the list and gathered that I could still procure those things from the shops surviving in Diagon Alley, but the sooner the better: in these days you never knew what could happen tomorrow.
We were at war after all.
I put down the letter on the small coffe table in front of me and got up from the couch, stretching and yawning in the meantime. I took a look around and observed the living room in which I had grown up: it was only 4 in the afternoon but the whole room looked gloomy because of the little light coming from the big windows looking on the garden; the room was big and spacious with little furniture, just two couches, a small dark coffee table, a high backed chair and a fireplace. It would have been very empty if it wasn't for the numerous bookshelves that covered every wall from floor to ceiling, with every tiny space occupied by a book.
Uncle Oberon had completely filled the house with every kind of tome, volume, booklet or brochure about every subject that might tickle his interests (and he had many).
I wondered for a moment what the walls color might have been but then I yawned again and headed towards the kitchen.
Gilly, our house elf, was fussing around getting ready to prepare dinner which was always served at 6.30 at my uncle's request.
"Gilly?" I asked "May I have something to snack on?"
The little thing jumped from where she was standing and, in less than a minute, put in front of me a plate with a small sandwich, some slices of apple and a couple of wrapped chocolate cauldrons and then went on to pour me a glass of pumpkin juice.
I grinned at the sight: Gilly had been my father's and uncle's domestic elf since they were little boys, she had been around since for ever! And I couldn't remember a single time in which, when asked for a snack, she prepared for me something different than what I had right in front of me.
"Thank you Gilly"
She hummed and smiled in response, she never spoke.
I walked with my plate through the tall corridors of the house until I reached my uncle's study, on the back of the building, and knocked.
After a polite pause in which I knew I wouldn't get an answer, I opened the door and approached Oberon who was bent over his desk scribbling away with his quill.
This room too was full of books (the most interesting ones) and the lamps were already shining a golden yellow light that warmed the whole space.
When my uncle finally teared himself away from whatever he was composing, he smiled at me and indicated one of the chairs in front of him, returning briefly to his mad scribbling while I began to nibble at a chocolate cauldron.
Satisfied with his work, he put down his quill and smiled again.
"Hello Josie! How has your day been?"
"Not bad actually" I answered, putting the plate in between us on the desk "I decided I will become good at flying a broom"
My uncle's eyes shined with amusement "Admirable sentiment" he grabbed the last cauldron and some slices of apples and began to eat them like a famished dog.
I raised an eyebrow "You don't think I can do it?"
"I think you can do everything you put into your head Jocelyn" he licked his fingers before grabbing the sandwich.
I smiled approvingly at his statement before he added, amused "...it will take some work though!"
I widened my eyes at him and he exploded in laughter "Oh, I'm sorry little one, but I've seen you fly!"
My cheecks began to burn from the embarassment: for me it was so difficult not to excel at something! But I had to admit that I had not taken up a broom too many times and, when I did, I did not care for it.
Still, I recognized that they were useful and the fact that they had stayed for so long in magical history as a preferred way of transport, had convinced me that I should put my mind to it and finally learn how to properly fly one.
"David says I have good form... if only I tried more often and let go of my fears, I would be a great flyer"
David was a very good friend of mine from Hogwarts; he was a year older than me so he had finished with school and was about to enter the ministry but decided against it after Dumbledore's death; he had stopped by a couple of times during summer.
My uncle smiled again "I'm sure he knows what he's talking about. But how, may I ask, did you decide to become a master flyer today?"
"I read a book about it."
"Which one?" He asked bending forward, full of interest.
I finished chewing before answering "The utility of the broom; a compendium of the way--
"An object shaped our history!" completed him, banging a fist on the desk with immense satisfaction "Excellent, excellent book! Third shelf from the floor, next to the fireplace in the livingroom if I'm correct? 7th from the right"
"You know it" I chuckled taking another slice of apple.
"I'm very happy of you Josie, you are expanding your interests very much this summer! You almost finished every book we own about Scotland's loch monsters, and they are quite a few..."
He sniffled and turned around to grasp a book on the shelf behind him, his hand went as surely as if it was the only tome there. He picked it up and passed it to me, smiling "I think you'll find this one to be the most interesting and captivating! There are all the gory details of what It did to its victims, and those who survived the attack... let me tell you they developed some very unusual skills!"
"Cool!" I widened my eyes, flipping through the pages.
"Oh!" he jumped up from his chair with incredible agility, and ran past me to get a slim diary bound in soft light leather close to the door
"Give this a look!" He yelled trowing it to me and continuing his search around the room "It's a very interesting journal written by a magizoologist who fell in love with a water pixie" he chuckled "He had a special permission from the queen of the tribe to study their customs... but she didn't like that!"
"Uncle" I called to stop him: I loved talking about books with him and seeing him this excited about my readings always made me happy, but he could go on for hours on end and I had come for a reason.
He stopped and turned around to look at me surprised, then he walked back towards his desk "You came here for a reason other than the wonderful world of books, little one. I know." he sat down with a sigh and looked at me as if I were the most amazing and interesting thing in the world.
I nodded, sorry to ruin his good mood "I went through the things I need for Hogwarts this year and... I really think we should be going to Diagon Alley tomorrow"
Oberon looked down, suddenly weighted down by the prospect of Hogwarts. I knew if he had any choice he would have kept me home and instructed me himself, and I would have wholeheartedly agreed, but we had no choice.
"So soon" he whispered
"Well, I thought-"
"Oh, little one" he interrupted me gently, smiling "I know why you want to go tomorrow and I agree with your reasoning: we really might not get another chance."
He sighed again.
I took this opportunity to study him for a minute. He was about 75 I think, but lately he seemed to have aged a lot more; his white hair and his bushy eyebrows were as crazy as usual, but maybe just a bit droopy; his rosy cheecks were not as rosy, his eyes not as twinkly.
He was dressed as flamboyantly as always: much like other older wizards, he preferred traditional vests to my more casual and contemporary clothes, and he always displayed a vivid array of colors that didn't really go together (his favourite combo was electric blue with red, green, neon yellow and purple)
He was well known for being an extravagant man but, in his days, he was an authoritative figure of the Wizengamot and everybody knew how brilliant he was. For the most part, everybody accepted his loud clothes without a whisper, if not a chuckle.
He had retired when my parents died and had to take me in, but he still mantained a frequent correspondence with the ministry.
A lot less during the past years though.
"All right!" he decided, standing up and motioning for me to follow "We shall go tomorrow and be done with it!"
He smiled, going back to his usual brilliant self and offered me his arm.
I smiled and locked my arm in his: he liked me to walk with him that way, as a little girl I would complain sometimes, but he would beg me to allow an old man to feel good about having a beautiful lady on his arm.
He was always so galant and so splendidly anachronistic!
He had very strict rules about how he thought a house should run and they were all very old rules in my opinion, but I also understood that he was at least 25 years older than my dad and taking me in at age 4 was already a big stretch for him and his routine.
Of course the first few years I tried to rebell, but he and Gilly made me understand that's how it was going to go wether I liked it or not.
I also wasn't too difficult to deal with because after he taught me how to read at age 6, he let me have all the books I wanted and all the time I wanted to read them.
We were two very similar souls, I thought, and we were lucky we had each other.
While we walked along the corridor to get to the stairs, Oberon stopped a couple of times to get a book from the shelves (yes they lined the corridors as well) and add it to my pile.
"Very well, little one" he said once we reached the stairs that would take me to my rooms "Go wash and get ready for dinner, and don't be late!"
Then he continued on to his rooms that were on the same floor, so that he wouldn't have to do stairs. I smiled at the sight of that little, weird, colored wizard before going up.
My room was tiny and (you guessed it) full of books. I dropped my new ones on the bed and went to the bathroom to take a quick shower.
Once done, I stood in front of the mirror for a minute. I don't know where my uncle saw that beautiful lady he was always describing to his friends; there was nothing special about me: my skin was too light, my eyes were hazel but hidden behind my round glasses and my hair was very brown.
I don't mean to say I was ugly, I actually kind of liked myself, but I knew perfectly well that I wasn't beautiful. I had been in pain about it before, especially seeing as I had some very pretty friends: Jade, Sasha... not to talk about Ginny Weasley who was gorgeus! Now I had accepted it: I wasn't beautiful. But I was kinda pretty and I was smart and I had confidence in myself, so I was ok.
I smiled at my reflection, almost as to confirm to myself that I was saying the truth, then I went to get dressed.