*Edited
- Chapter 1 –
Witch
1971 A.C.
DRRRIN-DRRRIN
I opened one eye drowsily, it was 7:30, ugh I really don't want to get up now. My fuzzy warm bed never seemed more comfortable, rolling on my other side, so my back was facing the annoying alarm I mumbled something and tried to fall back asleep.
I debated on sleeping in and lazing about all day and the next day getting screamed at by Mr. Cromwell. No, Mr. Cromwell will get so angry if I miss a Saturday's day of work!
I groaned loudly before smashing my hand on the treacherous device, threw my legs over my ratty bed, the frigid air attacked my bare limbs instantly, I shivered bringing my arms around me to keep some warmness in me.
Wiping dried drool of my lips, I stood up and I stretched yawning at the same time. I looked around my small bedroom and sighed padding over to the bathroom. I was extremely lucky I even had a warm place to live, with a bathroom, a stool, a wardrobe, a desk and some clothes.
Most of the things I owned weren't bought by me; they were birthday and Christmas presents from a nice family I knew: the Potters. They had offered me this room when I was 5 and it had been mine since then. Actually they had offered me a giant guest room, but I couldn’t except the four poster bed and the vanity table without feeling even more guilty over disturbing them so much.
And for the past six years I've been insisting on paying them back somehow, but they kept on saying that it was OK and that I was welcome to ask them for anything. They also kept on saying I was part of the family, especially Mrs. Potter she continuously said I was like a daughter to her, her son James also says that I’m like his shy little sister he wants to tease incessantly. But despite them being so kind and welcoming I only asked for as little as I could.
What I didn't know much about, was my pre-Potters past...
The Potters told me they had found me six years ago lying on a bench in a cold winter’s night. They also said that when they found me I had been wearing rags for clothes but wasn't chattering from the cold or showing any signs of freezing to death, which I should have been. They also told me that the moment they found my five year old self I didn’t even now my own name and I couldn’t even name my own parents, so they baptized me as Rose Gryffindor which was the name I have tattooed on my forearm for some reason. The tattoo is weird, me and Mr Potter discussed it many times but he could never understand how it got to be imprinted on my skin.
Sighing again at the mess that was my life, I walked over to my stool, my most treasured possession. I know it might sound stupid but well it was given to me by the Potters at my tenth birthday; even if it was one of the many presents they gave me, it’s the most precious of them all. The stool was beautifully carved from cherry wood, its tree legs held beautiful patterns and symbols I had been trying to understand, but most of all this stool made everything I draped over it look new and fresh, even the dying daisies James had given me on St Valentines day.
The rest of the room was colored in light brown and yellowish hues, it had a small window that offered the slightest bit of light.
I walked to my tiny bathroom which was also small made of blue and white tiles; there was a shower, a sink, a toilet seat, some white towels and a mirror. It was more than enough for me.
I looked at myself in the mirror. My face now had a rosy color under the impossible tan that I had even in the darkest winters, when everyone was pale I had a golden-brown tan which suited well with my wavy chestnut hair. My eyes were brown too almost black now, but I knew that if I went out in the sun my eyes would turn light brown with a red undertone… This had earned me the very nice name of Vampire, more accurately Rosie the Vampire.
I took a shower, lingering under the hot jet, thinking, pondering on what I will do this next semester at the new public school I’ll have to go to, James probably won’t be there, he’ll doubtlessly be homeschooled by his parents like he did throughout elementary school. That means I’ll have to deal with more young, ignorant children that think that being an orphan is something to mock.
I pulled over my head a baby blue dress that had some white frilly edges and put some white socks on. I knew it was a bit over the top since I was only to go and eat breakfast and bake some bread at my job but it was the only suitable thing I had that wasn’t muddy or wrinkled.
Descending down the stairs I heard a familiar voice calling me
"Mornin’, Rose!" said James waving at me from the flight of stairs below me, waving his arms over his head as if I was miles away.
Smiling at his antics I asked"Hi, why up so early” he usually woke up at 11:30 in the holidays when I was usually coming back from work.
He scowled at me his mood doing a complete one-eighty "Your alarm clock woke me aaurghp!" He responded ending his sentence with a giant yawn before continuing to descend the narrow stairs, pouting like a child. James' black hair was even messier than the usual, sticking out in every direction and leaving a bald patch on the side of his head, which made me grin like a fool.
I chuckled and followed right after him; I silently sneaked behind him, and started to tickle him. The moment m y fingers brushed his bony ribs he let out a very girly screech and started to giggle and thrash, swatting my hands away from his body.
"That should have woken you up sleepy head!" I managed to say in between my own laughter. But before I had even finished saying that he twisted around and with speed I didn’t know he possessed coughte me in a headlock and with his other hand he began to give me a noogie.
Started screaming for him to get his offending hands away from me. I hated when he did that, after my hair is always messy and horrible!
I managed to run away from him, screaming abuse, I sprinted down the many flights of carpeted stairs. I could hear him right behind my heels. Fortunately when I reached the corridor that led to the kitchen he said he needed to clean up, so he stopped chasing after me.
I suspected he simply couldn't keep up and didn't want to look like the sore loser he is.
Panting and smiling to myself I walked the rest of the way calmly. Walking into the living room which held two red, comfy couches that sat around a low wooden table with a white table cloth laid neatly on it. The rug under my feat had rich patterns of red and gold. The walls around me where also painted in warm colors : Red and yellow. Two big windows let the morning rays of light in the room making it look welcoming and rich.
I continued to the next room from which I heard the banging of stoves and someone whistling happily a joyful tune.
When I came in the room, the smell of bacon and eggs hit me like a baseball bat across the face, my stomach grumbled hungrily.
"Good morning Rose" saluted me Mrs. Potter smiling at me over her cup of tea. Mrs. Potter was a woman in her mid-fiftys with a kind round face and curly blond hair and brilliant blue eyes.
Griining back at her I said "Good morning" going to the pans where the bacon was sizzling.
Shaking her head in fake disapproval Mrs Potter said “No, no, no!” pushing me towards the table she continued “Let me do it, dear! I’m not that old!”
Plopping myself on a chair waiting patiently for my food. Mrs. Potter put a plate full of eggs and bacon in front of me; I dug in with a muffled "thank you".
I had always been fascinated by the light that comes in this room, which frankly seemed to glow from inside. There were of course the usual things you find in a kitchen: the cooking stoves, the dinner table surrounded by wooden chairs of the same brown shade as the table, the chairs also had small flowery-patterned cushions on them. The room also had a big window on the side with potted plants on the windowsill. But everything seemed to glow with its own warm light…
Outside, the sun had just made its appearance; the green lawn outside sparkled with a healthy green, the dew on it looked like little sparkling diamonds and the fence looked neat and ordinary.
At the time I was about half way through my breakfast when Mr. Potter came in. He was tall, with brushed back black hair – which would have been exactly like James’ if they weren’t fading - and hazel eyes that were hidden behind a pair of square rimmed glasses and behind him his son, James who looked exactly like his dad only shorter without glasses and a longer nose, brilliant hazel eyes which had specks of his mother’s blue in the center, close to the pupil, his hair was also different, it was unruly, unlike his father who had it all plastered neatly on the side of his head, James' were a little neater then before though, he probably tried to brush it. At least there were no bald patches!
"Mornin'" grumbled James still upset from this morning, I stuck my tongue at him, childish - I know...
"Good morning" we chanted back.
Mr Potter took the seat in front of me and buried his head into a newspaper - The Daily Prophet. He always read it, each morning before heading off to work , he read that newspaper but he’d never let me even have a look at it and it was completely impossible to find in stores…
I looked between James and Mr Potter again, grinning like a maniac, feeling happy and warm inside. It always made me smile at how similar the Potter men were. In the main hall there was a line of family portraits, they were nearly all the same only some had a slightly darker shade of black hair or maybe slightly different eye color. One weird thing about the portraits is that sometimes they moved: to scratch their head or nose, to adjust their jackets. It was weird because when they see me, they suddenly freeze. That’s why I had completely convinced myself that it was a trick of the eye because the portraits were very realistically painted. Also every while an owl would fly in and drop a letter in someone's lap or head and -
"Rose can I talk to you?" asked me Mr. Potter making me snap out of my reverie. He had a serious brooding look and his eyebrows were pushed togather.
Surprised, I quikly chewd and swallowed the piece of bacon I had been eating before I said "But I need to go to my job in a few minutes"
He gave me another look and responded slightly gruffly "Oh you won't need a job anymore"
Now I was worried and confused. "Why?" Not needing a job thrilled me, no more waking up early in the morning, no more getting screamed at for burning some bread... ah the possibilities!
"Because you'll go to a boarding school" said Mr Potter still looking at me weirdly, contemplating of something.
"What?!" I exclaimed standing up abruptly, my fast movement made the chair I had been sitting in topple backwards, crashing to the floor. I was surprised I thought the Potters didn't mind me staying at their house... Well, I knew this would happen someday... It wasn’t really a surprise, it just caught me off-guard, everything was going so smoothly, I thought I was part of the family… I guess not…
"Dad is she a witch?" chirped in James excited, not realizing that his ‘sister’ was close to tears; I was so submerged in my own thoughts I didn’t even process what he had said.
"I am pretty sure she is" Said Mr. Potter looking at me through narrowed eyes, not in a mean way, just studying m,e as if trying to see through me.
Finally I got what James and Mr. Potter were talking about I exclaimed "What, a witch!?" What! That was implausible, witches didn't exist! Now a tear had made its way down my cheek, leaving a wet trail.
Abruptly I found myself in a fragile embrace “Oh sweetie, why are you crying!?” crooned Mrs Potter in my ear “Being a witch is not a bad thing! And if you were one you would be going to school with James I know you were worried about that!” she squeezed me tight, trying to comfort me.
Mr. Potter cleared his throat before saying "May I explain the situation to you?" I looked up from Mrs. Potter’s hug and stared at him curiously, before unconsciously plunging back in to my thoughts.
Well I knew I was weird from the very start. Who would survive an English winter in rags without freezing to death?
Who could make bullies stop hunting for her just by looking at them?
At first I thought I had an intimidating glare and looked fierce, but now I had my doubts maybe people were unknowingly scared of me because I was different and maybe that’s the reason the Potters had come up to me in the first place… because I was a-a witch.
"So what is the problem?" asked James oblivious to everything.
"Wait you're not going into major shock?" asked Mrs. Potter letting go of me completely and looking at me worriedly in the eyes.
Looking back at her I gave her a small smile "Not really, I understand… i-it makes sense…"
"Oh that’s good because-" Mrs Potter began.
Grabbing onto his father’s arm James exclaimed jumping up and down with exhilaration "Dad, DAD tell her all about Hogwarts!"
"James have some bacon..." said his mom shoving bacon in his mouth, half choking him, she smiled looking quite proud on her revenge. No one interrupted her and got away with it.
Mr. Potter on the other hand gave his son a disapproving look shrugging his hand from his sleeve he huffed "James I will tell her... later now the problem is another," Mr. Potter turned and addressed me with a confused gaze "your name was written down on the Hogwarts list of names...nine hundred years ago!"
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