Chapter Text
The late July air was nice as it blew through my hair. It had grown out pretty long during this year, and now it was well past my shoulders. I pulled my knees up to my chest as I looked out to the city below me. The rooftop was nearly at the top of the building, jutting out at a strange spot. I didn't mind it; it served well as a spot of solitude. I could see some Muggles getting onto their 'buses' as they left work. I always wondered how those vehicles worked. I kept watching people go by their days, and I liked imagining what they might be doing, or where they were going. I'd make up the most absurd stories based on their outfits, or who they were with. It was an entertaining game for the lonely afternoons.
I scooted forwards a bit to get a better view of a street musician playing the guitar. He was playing some song I'd heard on the Muggle radio, and he played it pretty well. People would walk by and drop coins into his hat, and he's smile at them. I sighed. I wished I could be down there, letting them see me. Actually interacting with people who didn't care who I was.
I stretched out my hand, leaning forwards just enough so that my fingers skimmed the magic ward that ran around the building. From inside, we could see out, but Muggle's couldn't see in. Not that anything interesting happened here anyways. I kept looking at the bustling streets, listening to the birds until the sun was almost at eye level with me.
The large clock on the church a few blocks away started to chime. It was 5pm. I looked down at the small iron gate that marked the beginning of the wards. Right on time, a man dressed with a cape, bowler hat and a briefcase approached the door. His bag had a faint 'M' shaped logo on it, which was just barely visible enough to be recognized as the Ministry logo.
I hurried to get up and back through the window before he went inside. I ducked under the window frame and hopped into the small room. I shoved down the window and locked it with a click. I doubted he would come in to check on me, but I didn't want to risk it. I grabbed a book from my small pile next to my bed and sat on the ground, pretending to read. I kept listening to the front door slam shut, and his footsteps receded towards the staff hallway, away from my room. I got up, and put the book back. I saw that I had picked up The Lord of the Rings. I smiled, it was one of my favorites. The use of magic was funny at times because it was so different from real magic, but the story was wonderful nonetheless.
My pile of books was getting pretty big, but thankfully no adult here paid enough attention to these details to tell me off. There was quite the range of authors, going from J.R.R. Tolkien, Herbert to Orwell. Most 11 year olds living here in London probably weren't reading these books, but I liked how they made you think about things. I had lots of time to think, and reading helped me escape to strange worlds, but I could think about them for hours afterwards.
I turned around and went into my room. It was a fairly small space, and it was painted a dark shade of purple - the Ministry's main color. Most objects in the room were standard according to some paper from some guy sitting in a fancy office. The bed was alright, and the bedsheets were a nice, warm yellow. I had my small mouse toy resting next to the pillow. It was probably the oldest thing in the entire room. I'd been told it was given to me at birth, and therefore one of the few things from my dad. His letters were something else that I had from him, but letters were inconsistent and didn't say too much.
I had a small trunk with clothes and other things that went with me wherever I went. Most of the clothes were pretty loose so I could wear them for a long time, but a few days ago I went out - supervised of course - and I was able to get a few more tops and jeans. I hadn't gotten the chance to properly try them on, so I decided that I had enough time from now until I got hungry for dinner.
I had gotten a blue sweater and a hoodie for the rainy English days. I also got a few band shirts, much to the dislike of Mr. Edwards. He was one of the oldest staff stationed here, and usually accompanied me to go outside, and taught me most days. He was probably the person here who knew me best, but still not well enough.
I didn't get to listen to much of Muggle music, but I knew it was the best thing ever. It was so much better than music from our world, like Celestina Warbeck. Her music was horrid, but I occasionally got to hear music from people like Queen and David Bowie. I was even able to get a small radio. Mr. Edwards had assumed it wouldn't work with all the magical interference, but whenever he and his colleagues were out, it worked well enough.
I would listen to music, the news, and anything really. I'm pretty sure Mr. Edwards had figured it out, but hadn't mentioned it. Not only did they not approve of my Muggle taste of literature and music, but I could almost hear their annoyed groans every time I went anywhere dressed how I wanted. The band tees were bad enough, but ripped jeans and converse finished off the look. They had learnt to ignore it, because at the end of the day, my eyes attracted far more attention than my clothes ever would.
Focusing back on the mirror, even I couldn't deny that my eyes took all the spotlight. My right eye was a very light grey, so light it nearly resembled white. The left was on the other end of the spectrum, so dark it was almost black. Heterochromia was rare enough, but the contrast of colors made it even more painfully clear. When I went out and about in London, people stared, but I loved the Muggle world because if anything, they found my eyes fascinating, not a threat.
My hair was a feature that was quite different from my father's. He has - or at least I've been told - blonde hair. Mine is darker, a brown, that lightens up during the summer months from being outside. This time of year in July, it had lightened up quite a bit, and I really liked it.
I was about to go and read some more, but a knock at the door stopped me.
"Ms. Grindelwald, if you can, come downstairs please." Mr. Edwards said, voice slightly muffled by the door. I had nothing better to do, and if I had to go downstairs, it wouldn't be good.
I opened the door to see Mr. Edwards classic greying hair, and soft eyes. "Yeah, no problem. What is it?" I asked, could it be dad who sent me another letter. A small part of me hoped it was him, but realistically it wouldn't be.
"A letter." He answered simply. He took a quick look around my room. "And Ms. Grindelwald, I suggest you clean up."
I looked back, a bit embarrassed because my room was a bit of a mess. "Yes, I'll clean it up." He nodded and turned to leave. "Oh, and please just call me Vera," I added, "I really don't need to be addressed by my surname." I really didn't like it when people called me by my last name, it was painfully obvious I was related, but I wanted to be my own person.
"Of course...Vera." Mr. Edwards gave a small smile, and shut the door behind him. I scrambled to clean up a few of the books and letters that were scattered and quickly made my bed. After that, I left my room and went downstairs.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The building was pretty large for London standards, and it had three floors. The very top one was where I was, and where the people staying were housed. For most of my stay, it had been just me. Two summers ago a boy came along, but he was taken in by some family member and left. I barely got to know him, but if he hadn't decided to say hello to me, then I guess he wouldn't have been a good friend anyways.
The second floor was mostly offices for the adults, so I never really went there. I had seen the inside the first time I came here, and occasionally if I had received a letter from dad and they needed to examine it for 'suspicious magic'. A fair precaution, but it really did get annoying every single time I got a letter.
The bottom floor was the communal floor, where there was a kitchen and a few other similar rooms that in theory were so people could socialize. The only people down there I'd be socializing with are my and myself.
The Ministry had made this building after the Wizarding War, in case they needed to keep an eye on children who couldn't legally be alone but they didn't want to leave them alone in the fostering system. So basically, it's a fancy jail for people who've had bad luck with their parents.
I made it to the main area, and Mr. Edwards was sitting down at the table, and a witch was behind him whispering something. She saw me walk in, and I gave her an awkward smile. She sort of returned it, but just ended up leaving the room.
Mr. Edwards did smile at me, and motioned to the letter sitting in the center of the table. "Well, it's for you Vera. Open it up." I walked up to the table, and looked at the small envelope with emerald green ink. It was addressed to me, and I ripped it open and I tried to read as quickly as possible.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Ms. Grindelwald,
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
The term begins on 1 September. We await your owl no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
My eyes were glued to the letter, and I could feel my heart racing. There was no way this was happening. Me? Get into Hogwarts? "I am so pleased but...why would they accept me?" I asked quietly, turning to Mr. Edwards.
"They know where they see potential Ms. Grin-" he stopped himself and I smiled, "They know where to see potential Vera. Besides, there's no point in keeping a talented witch like yourself here until you turn 17."
"So, can I really go to Hogwarts? They're letting me?" I knew he'd already answered it, but my mind was running in so many directions I had to hear it again.
"Yes. You will attend Hogwarts, Vera." I smiled so wide I didn't know it was possible, and I was so elated I could have died happy then and there. "Well, it looks like I'll be sending an owl back to Professor McGonagall then." He stood up, and tucked his chair in. "You go pack your trunk, we'll go to Diagon Alley tomorrow." With that, he left the room and I was still there, clutching the paper to my chest.
I was still smiling when I went back to my room, and I started jumping up and down, punching the air and silently celebrating. Maybe, just maybe things were turning around for me.