Chapter Text
The orphanage walls were cold and hollow in the evening hours of the late summer. The quarters for the young girls were much worse for wear, with leaking wooden ceilings and mossy grey stone. But as she sat near the director's office door, waiting for her turn to enter, the hallways were pristine. White marble columns matched with dark wooden floors and a long well-designed rug. She could hear the hushed conversation from beneath the doorway; there were two footfalls: the orphanage director and the mysterious visitor who wished to see her.
Even though she was pretty talented in ballet and other forms of dance, she wasn’t the most well-behaved student, not by any fault of hers. The Michel's Dance Academy of Orphaned Girls had been her home for as long as she could remember. The school took in orphaned girls to find the next prodigies to be adopted by some of the wealthiest families in Great Britain. Those who were lucky became rising stars in London’s classical dance scene. But the unfortunate rivalries between the young girls didn't exactly bode well for her reputation and her stage fright; both didn't make her the most sought-after adoptee.
A few moments passed before the door swung open, and the scowling face of the orphanage director peered down at her, immediately making her curl into herself.
“Inside”, he ordered, his gaze filled with disdain. Whatever this stranger wanted, she was confident that by the end of their conversation, she would be back in her dorm by the end of the hour. She simply nodded, getting up from her chair and keeping her head low, heading into the director’s office.
She had been in his office many times over the past fifteen years, and the director, Baron Ulysses Michels became one of the many people who made her life a living hell. The office was drab, void of colour or life. Director Michel ensured that every object in the room was placed methodically and neatly to the point where it was suffocating. The only thing out of place was a strangely dressed older man currently pacing while wringing his hand nervously. He was adorned with an ornately decorated blue overcoat, an intricately patterned scarf, and nicely trimmed silver hair growing along his face. He looked like a character straight out of the fairytales that she used to read as a child.
Director Michel directed her with his hand guiding her to stand before the stranger. She tried to avoid eye contact out of habit, but the oddly dressed man piqued her curiosity. "This is Aurora von Abel. She is one of our—longest residents," Michel said, forcing a smile, "and Aurora, this is Professor Eleazar Fig."
As if on cue, the stranger happily smiled at her and approached; he took one of her hands in his own "Why it is a pleasure to meet you, Ms Abel. What an excellent name for a wonderful young lady. " She tensed from the contact but returned the smile. She wasn't used to such praise but couldn't sense any ill will from the older man.
Michels cleared his throat. "Well, Aurora, this gentleman is seeking out–"
"A student," Professor Fig interrupted, still smiling, and he let go of her hand. "I have waited to talk to you. I think you show great potential. Our school needs bright and talented students such as yourself."
Aurora's cheeks warmed, and she instinctively looked up at Michel for confirmation. He returned her gaze with a slight look of confusion, but it quickly melted away, looking back at Professor Fig. She understood the wariness from Michel; she never had a proper education. How could she be bright?
"Well then, I am sure you want a more private conversation," said Director Michel, earning a nod from the Professor. "Aurora, bring this gentleman to the second practice room. It should be empty by this time of day."
"Yes sir," she curtsied, signalling Professor Fig to follow her. They left the office and headed down the empty hallway. It was lunchtime for most of the girls now, so the halls were nearly silent besides the rain pattering on the outside windows. They passed a large case filled with golden trophies, portraits, and ribbons and noticed the professor's gaze lingered on it as they passed.
A moment later, they arrived at a tall wooden door that opened into a large practice room. Aurora entered, wondering if she was supposed to do her usual ballet demonstration that she would perform for potential adoptees. In preparation, she stood a bit taller, making sure her posture was perfect and–
"Oh my, there's no need to be so tense," Professor Fig said. "I'm not here to interrogate you. Just relax." Her eyes widened; maybe he didn't want to see her routine.
A few seconds passed, and again she noticed that he began wringing his hands again. She assumed that it was a nervous habit, but why would he be the one feeling nervous?
Approaching her, he sported a pleasant smile, fading to a more crestfallen expression.
"My apologies," he began, "I know this whole situation is a bit odd… I'm not here to–well, sort of… I'll explain in a moment, just let me try something," he took a few steps back from her, intentionally maintaining eye contact "please, stay calm."
After the warning, Professor Fig pulled out a small stick from inside his overcoat. Now, she was nervous. The situation was becoming more confusing by the second. Who was this man, and what exactly were his intentions? She instinctively stepped backwards, unsure if she needed to prepare herself to run. Before she could conclude or have time to react, he flicked it toward her. With rapid speed, it sent out a golden strand of shimmering dust swiftly and precisely striking her in the heart.
"What the–!" Aurora yelped at the impact.
There was no pain as it connected, but the action shocked her. The golden string lodged into her chest seemed taut before slowly melting into nothing. Her mind was swirling; there was no pain, just a visual illusion that disappeared into the air. Her heart caught up to her as her pulse quickened, her right hand clasped over where the mysterious light impaled her.
"This is good, good, very good," Professor Fig muttered thoughtfully.
"Excuse me!" Aurora shouted at him, "What the bloody hell did you do to me!?" Her heart still pounded in her chest. She didn't even care that she swore at him.
Her little outburst caught his attention. He looked at her, eyes wide, and quickly tucked the stick-looking thing back into his coat.
"Are you alright? I-I am so sorry–I didn't think it would cause such a reaction," the Professor said, reaching out cautiously.
When she saw his hand, Aurora shrunk away from him, stepping back again. Her heart continued to hammer.
Thump.
Thump.
"I'm sorry," he said, "I haven't been frank with you–" he began to confess. As soon he was about to reach out to Aurora again, something inside her snapped.
In a flash, a violent torrent of pure force exploded from her chest; it would have sent Professor Fig careening into the opposite wall if he didn't shout the words " Protego!" A force field of blue light surrounded him, completely blocking the mysterious blast.
Aurora felt exhaustion come over her and crumpled to the ground. Thankfully, her heartbeat dimmed to its regular pace.
"Ms Abel!" He cried, quickly scrambling next to her side and steadying her. "Are you alright?! Oh, what I am saying, of course, you're not-"
"I-I'm okay," she said weakly, finding her balance and standing up "...what was that?"
"That was a charm, a muggle-repelling charm. It differentiates magical folk from the non-magical. I had my suspicions for a while–I just needed to make sure before I revealed anything else, but I certainly wasn't expecting–that," Professor Fig gestured to her. “Your magical capabilities are much more powerful than I imagined…it reminded me of that day–”
Aurora shook her head; she couldn’t understand what Professor Fig said. Magic? Charms? Her mind was foggy. “Professor Fig, I don’t follow… what just happened… Just who are you?”
He smiled at her question, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “I am Eleazar Fig, the Magical Theory Professor at the greatest magical school the world has ever known. The Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…” he placed a hand on her shoulder, “and you, Ms Abel, are a witch.”
~~~~
Professor Fig began filling her in a bit more about Hogwarts and the purpose of his visit as they made their way back to the director’s office. “My wife gave me an invitation due to my proclivity for plays,” his expression fell slightly. “It was a ballet rendition of ‘Alice Through the Looking Glass' if you recall. Of course, you were part of the cast. You played the White Knight if I remember correctly,” she nodded along to his story as he continued, “There was a moment when you, White Knight about to take off your helmet. Revealing his identity to Alice, when I witnessed something extraordinary but terrifying. Do you remember? It was all over the muggle news–”
Arriving outside the door, it immediately swung open, revealing the expressionless face of Director Michel standing stationary in the doorway. Professor Fig stopped his conversation, glancing at Aurora before giving him a polite smile.
Michels pursed his lips. “I would like to speak to Professor Fig. Aurora. Wait outside.” She immediately looked back down at the floor and nodded.
“Lead the way,” Professor Fig agreed, then followed Michels inside.
Aurora took her place back on the chair situated outside of the office. Instead of the usual mind-numbing worry, questions filled Aurora's mind about her recent predicament. A witch. She was a witch. Her chest felt warm, and she suppressed a smile. There was a magical school, and she was going to attend it! Throughout her childhood, Nanny Phoebe read her tales of magic in stories from the Brothers Grimm, the wizard Merlin, and of course, Lewis Carroll’s works; all those stories now paled compared to the wonders of being an actual witch.
Several minutes later, the door opened, and Director Michels stepped out, shutting the door and peering down at her. “I don’t know the manner of your conversation with Professor Fig, but–” he sighed, clasping his hands together “you will be going with him.”
Stunned by his words, she could only murmur, “Really?”
For the first time in her fifteen years of life, she saw the cold exterior of Director Michels melt slightly, and there was a slight quirk of a smile on the corner of his lips. “Yes, really,” he replied, “So go pack your things. You’ll be heading out as soon as he finishes some paperwork.”
Aurora quickly got up from her chair and ran down the hallway with a wide grin. She couldn't believe it, first a witch, now she would be leaving this dreadful place forever! Turning to the right, she descended a staircase, the halls transforming from the pinnacle of marble perfection to cracking grey stone. The poorer conditions were obvious, but she didn’t mind them now; this would be the last time she would see these drafty corridors ever again. She entered the last room on the left, passing a dozen other empty cots to the corner of the room where her trunk lay. It carried all her possessions, primarily books, and lifted them happily.
Before leaving the dorms, she changed into her only clothes for going out, the rest of which were her ballet clothes. She dressed in a long cream-coloured coat that hung off her form and a white button-up underneath; she paired this with a deep maroon skirt and simple black shoes. Aurora quickly braided her dark brown curly hair, tying it off with a light pink ribbon. After she had finished her outfit, she exited the room earning a few passing glances as she hurried back towards the stairs.
In her excitement, she nearly ran into someone. Currently blocking the stairs was one of the younger girls, twelve years of age, to be exact. The young girl crossed her arms, and an ugly expression adorned her face. “Finally got adopted? About time,” she scoffed. “I’d thought I would never see the day.”
Aurora stopped and scowled. “Not exactly… but nice to see you too, Laine.”
“It’s quite remarkable, honestly,” she said, pacing around her “they don’t know you as I do. It’s only a matter of time until they realise how much trouble you are.” Laine strutted to her, trying to be intimidating, but her face barely reached Aurora’s. “Good riddance!” She spat and stormed off back to the dorm rooms.
Aurora rolled her eyes. What a child. She wouldn’t be missing any of those girls, tiny Laine.
Hauling her heavy suitcase back up the stairs and through the main corridor, she spotted Professor Fig and Director Michel chatting near the front door.
Professor Fig noticed her first, the lines around his eyes crinkling. "Ah, Ms Abel, do you have all your things?"
"Yes, sir," she signalled by lifting her trunk.
"Well then, we best be on our way. I would hate for us to be late," Fig then turned to Michels, reaching out his hand "thank you for meeting me on such short notice. It's been a pleasure."
"The pleasure has been all mine Mr Fig" He replied and firmly shook his hand. After Director Michel turned to her, folding his arms, his usual scowl reappeared. Aurora guessed that the glimmer of kindness from earlier was truly an anomaly. It is more likely the Director's behaviour was simple gratitude that she was finally leaving. "Careful not to cause any trouble. There will be no place for you here if it goes poorly."
Aurora curtsied and smirked at him. "I won't be coming back," she said confidently. "Well then, can we go now?"
Professor Fig agreed, and they both headed outside into the damp afternoon air. The rain had lessened to a light sprinkle, and warm sunlight was peaking through the grey clouds. She took a deep breath and followed the Professor towards a carriage waiting outside of the large doors of the Academy. She couldn't help but notice the lack of horses drawn to the carriage, or any animal for that matter but chose to ignore it for now.
Setting her trunk in the rear among the pre-existing teetering stack of luggage, she snagged her favourite book from her suitcase before entering the carriage. Sitting on the plush seat, she peered out of the glass windows back at the school for the last time. Aurora spent her entire life in those worn halls, and although she spent most of her time in fear, she couldn’t help but remember the good when Nanny Phoebe would read her bedtime stories—putting on her first real pair of pointe shoes. Playing hide and seek under her cot.
As Professor Fig entered and sat beside her, she heard a ‘Hyah!’ from outside the carriage as it began moving.
They were heading into the city, and Michel's Dance Academy of Orphaned Girls faded away from her view to be replaced by rows and rows of Georgian homes.
Aurora was starting a new life, ready to take on all the magic that would come with it.
~~~~