Chapter Text
I never believed in magic, or mythical creatures. Or that crap in kid’s movies, where all you needed was love and all would be well. I mean we live in the real world. I was a realist, even at such a young age. Wonder and spontaneous joy weren’t things that were linked to me. At twelve years old, my outlook on the world was similar to that of a retired war veteran or an extreme pessimist.
Imagine my surprise when I received a letter from some place called ‘Hogwarts’ a school based around magic and that I was to attend there at the end of the summer.
At first, I thought it was an elaborate joke pulled on me by the older kids at the group home I lived in. They liked to mess with the younger kids, telling them all sorts of things. One time, one of the older kids, Rickter and his buddies, told one of the newer girls that if kids were bad, they went to the ‘dungeon.’ Basically, that meant our basement, where our guardian, Nigel, kept all the winter decorations and gym equipment. The poor girl spent a whole month doing all they asked of her, until Nigel found out and punished them.
I crumpled up the letter and threw it into the trash, not really feeling like broaching upon the subject. I wasn’t going to give them the time of day. I went about my day as I normally did, cleaning, reading or watching Tv. That is until the next day, I got another one. I threw it out also. Though I was impressed by the amount of detail they put into it. The wording and the originality was spot on, honestly if they had done it to another kid, it would have been believable.
For the next week, I received a letter every day. One just the same as the next, each thrown in the trash right after discovered. At first, it wasn’t a bother. But I was growing annoyed with the weird places the letters would end up at. First the garden, then under the couch cushions, and even under my pillow. A creepier display was when I found in in my secret trunk under my bed, which I was pretty sure no one knew about. Saturday morning, imagine my astonishment when an old man showed up at our door, asking for me.
I had been begging Nigel to let me go roller skating all week. After a very thorough set of rules, one of which being that I had to clean all the dishes for a week. We were heading out the door when we came upon a strange man. Not just strange, creepy. He looked like a well-dressed hobo or one of those guys who was wise in medieval movies. Nigel immediately stepped in front of me, blocking my path from the weirdo.
“Hello, can I help you with something?” He asked in a strong voice. The one he used when he was scolding the younger kids.
The strange man, smiles, his long beard twitching upward. “My name is Albus Dumbledore, I believe you have received our letters regarding a young Lyra Russo.” He states, looking down at me. My eyes widen.
Nigel’s eyes narrow, straightening his stance to be intimidating. “No, I haven’t received any letters.” Looking over his shoulder, Nigel asks. “Have you gotten anything in the mail, Lyra?”
“Nigel, this is a prank.” I cross my arms. “Rickter and the older boys have been leaving me letters for this place called Hogwarts or whatever and I was just ignoring them because I didn’t want to be a snitch.” I shrug. “I didn’t think that they would hire someone.”
Nigel turns back to the man. “Look sir, I don’t know how much they paid you, but you can leave.” He points out of the gate. “I’ll be talking to them.” He adds.
The man, Dumbledore, clears his throat. “I assure you, that letter was real.” He says, pulling an envelope from his long robes. “I have one for you.”
Nigel takes it from his boney hands, ripping it open.
“Dear Ms. Russo, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…” He crinkles his brows, looking down at the paper.
Looking up at the old man, Nigel drops his hands. He opens his mouth a few times, no words escaping his lips. I look at him, confused. Is he actually believing this crap? I fold my arms, not believing this utter bullshit.
“You’ve got to be kidding me, right?” He laughs, causing me to jump at the unexpected reaction.
“I kid you not, Mr. Russo.” Dumbledore squats down, coming to eye level with me. “Hello, you are miss Russo?”
Coming out from behind Nigel, I lift my chin, not showing any fear. “I am.” Crossing my arms. “What of it?”
He chuckles softly. “You are witch, Lyra.”
Tilting my head. “You mean like those green skinned ones?” I ask. “That don’t exist.” I add, stepping forward.
Dumbledore hums. “You are special, and I want to bring to a place that you will help you enhance that specialness.” He states.
“Are you saying I’m mentally challenged?” I squint my eyes.
“No, you are a child of magic. I want you to come to my school.” He stands to full height. “Hogwarts, school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”
I scoff, chuckling lightly. “You’re as daft as a bush.” I state bluntly, walking back into the house. Looking over my shoulder, I smile sarcastically. “And I’ll be damned if I go anywhere with you.” I shut the door behind me, walking back up to my room. I guess were not going to the rink today. I sigh, flopping down in my bed.
The door to my room opens, revealing the face of my adviser. He silently comes over to sit on my bed, letting out a deep troubled breath. I sit up, looking up at him. Turning to face me, a deep frown on his face.
“It’s real.” He breaks the silence. “Hogwarts.”
I scoff. “You believe this crap!?”
“It’s not crap, Lyra.” He sighs. “A few years ago, a girl who lived here. Do you remember Mary?” He asks.
I nod.
I remember her. She was a weirdo. She would spend majority of her time playing in the dirt. She either was always in her room or could be seen talking to herself as she played outside with the squirrels and other creatures. She never bothered anyone, content to stick to her own devices.
“She was given the same letter.” Nigel reveals. “This was different though, she was different, everyone could tell. She would sit in the dead garden and stare at the dirt. Then like a day later, the whole thing would be lush and green. Flowers I’d never seen before would be there.” He rubs his hand down his face.
“Then one day, a woman came, saying she was special. That she had magic. I didn’t believe it. That is until the bloody woman turned into a cat. Right in front of my eyes.” He throws his hands out in emphasis. “She took Mary with her, to the school. When she came back, she was obsessed with these books, you know? Then she went back for the next semester, and she never came back.”
“What happened?” I ask curiously.
“She was taken in by a long-lost relative of hers and I never saw her again. She sent me an owl, which is like their mail service or whatever. Told me she was happy where she was, that she had finally found where she belonged.” He smiles, looking down at me. “I want you to go to Hogwarts.”
My eyes widen, jumping from the bed, I shout. “What!” I clench my fist. “Your just gonna pawn me of to some fraud who believes in ‘magic’.” I air quote.
“He is not a fraud!” Nigel yells, frustrated. “I’m not trying to pawn you off. I want you to be happy.” He kneels in front of me, voice soft. “I know you’re not happy here. Your far too young to have such a bleak outlook on life. I don’t want to be responsible for that. “looking deep into my eyes, Nigel frowns. “I want you to find a place that makes you smile. A place the fills you with joy and wonder. That place is not here.” Looking away, he stands. “Pack your things, he wants to take you now, get you settled in before the year begins.” He pats my head.
“You can’t do this to me!” I shout, my voice quivers. “You can’t just throw me at the first person to come from me.” I clench the sheets in my grasp, feeling my heart constrict.
“I’m doing this for your own good.”
With that said, he walks out of my room, closing the door behind him.
The farewell was bitter and filled with awful emotions. I hugged Nigel, telling him that I’d never forgive for this. He smiled, saying he knew. Dumbledore told me to hold his hands. I gave him an odd look, grabbing his bony finger. This is already getting weird.
Then the world shifted, followed by a deafening crack. It felt like I was being pulled in all directions. Like the world was blurring and focusing at the same time. Then the feeling of being squished through the eye of a needle. Just like that the world was back to normal and I was standing on the side of a road.
A wave of fatigue hits me, causing me to stumble back. I grab my head, resting my other hand on my stomach. I tilt back, falling to the ground. My backpack slips from my grasp, falling with a dull thud. A groan leaves my lips. What the heck? I lay back on the ground, waiting for the world to stop spinning.
"Your handling this exceptionally well." Dumbledore notes, standing over me, not at all affected. "Most throw up, or pass out." He adds.
Swallowing the bile that wants to escape my mouth, I glare up at the elderly man.
"Gee thanks, glad I didn't puke all over your pajamas." I hiss, groaning. I lay back to the ground. "A warning would have been nice." I mutter.
"You would have ended up the same way." He smiles sincerely. "Most try not apparate because of the feeling, but it's the most efficient mode of travel other than broomstick." He quips. "But I don't think that would have been any more comfortable for you either." He taps his chin in thought.
I take a deep breath, standing to my feet. My vision is still fuzzy, but I can walk straight. I pick my bag up, shaking my head. I sigh lowly. Standing to full height, I look up at the old man. Who is standing calmly near the entrance of some pub. Judging from the dingy sign. Leaky Cauldron. I squint my eyes.
"Where are we?" I question, laying a hand on my side. Still trying to compose myself.
"We are at the pathway to a shopping district we need to visit." He walks over to the rusted door. "If you'll be attending Hogwarts, you'll need supplies." He adds, opening the door.
I follow after him. The inside is, admittedly, nicer than the outside. It's strange though. I follow Dumbledore down a short corridor, eyes having adjusted to the dark environment. All the lighting coming from various candles all over the room. The pub is empty. All the chairs pushed in and the tables clean of any trash.
The wood creaks under my steps, forcing me to step lighter. I run my hand over the surface of the table, reveling in the soft feeling. All of the chairs are different, like a potluck, but with chairs. Some look to be a part of a
"Come, come." Dumbledore calls. "No time to dally."
"This is a pub." I state, looking around. I take in the various art styles decorating the place. It's like they just asked a bunch of people to bring in random stuff and hang it on the walls. "Why are we here?" I ask, not taking my eyes from the poster across the room.
My eyes widen. It-it’s moving! Ignoring Dumbledore’s calls, I walk over to the odd fixture. I stop in front of the poster. It's four boys, on broomsticks. They all wearing weird robes of sorts, eyes covered by goggles as they fly through the air. Wow. I raise my hand, rubbing the worn paper between my fingertips. Unreal.
"Ah! That was a good game." Says Dumbledore, appearing at my left. Not flinching at his sudden appearance, I turn to him.
"How is this possible?"
Smirking down at me, he says. "Magic."
"Magic isn't real." I frown, crossing my arms.
"What do you call this?" He points to the moving picture. "What could this be, other than magic?"
Looking back at the picture, I stare at it for a moment. "A significant achievement in science." I huff.
Dumbledore doesn't reply, and turning on his heel. "Come, we need to get your school supplies." He announces.
I rush after him. Confused, I ask. "Where? We're in a pub."
We walk all the way to the building, arriving at a rust covered door. Dumbledore grabs the handle, pulling it op n with a loud shriek. I wince slightly at the noise. We step into a dark alleyway, littered with filthy puddles of water.
"Uh...we get them here?" I raise a brow. Maybe he is senile.
"Not here." He says cryptically.
Walking up to the alley wall, he taps a set of bricks on the wall. He then whispers a string of words that I can't understand. Stepping back, he stares at the wall.
"What now?"
"That." The bearded man says, pointing to the brick wall.
The sound of crumbling and rocks falling enters my ears. I watch as the wall starts to vibrate, shaking the ground around it. The bricks slowly but surely start to disappear, folding into each other. A path starts to show behind the wall. I peek passed the wall, catching sight of dozens of people.
When the wall has fully compacted into the sides, leaving a tall threshold, I feel my mouth fall open. A long line of shops. Hundreds of people walk back and forth between the buildings. Everyone wearing robes of varying colors. Kids and teens following their parents. Some walking with large cages or holding broomsticks.
"Welcome to Diagon Alley."