New reality
Adela stirred from her sleep, the bright rays of sunlight piercing through the curtains and blinding her. Groaning, she rubbed her eyes and turned away, desperate to reclaim the comfort of slumber. But then she froze.
Slowly, cautiously, she turned back around. Perched on the windowsill, silent and still, was the black owl from the night before. Was it real? She thought, her face twisting in confusion. Had it not been a dream?
She rose from her bed, her movements sluggish, and staggered toward the bird. A thin letter was tied to its leg, the wax seal glinting faintly in the morning light. Already? she wondered, bewildered. She untied it with trembling hands, unfolding the parchment as if it might vanish at any moment.
Dear Miss Benson,
I understand your skepticism. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to find it difficult to accept such news. However, I assure you that Hogwarts is very real. It is not a club, nor is this a prank. I invite you to see for yourself.
Please meet me at The Leaky Cauldron on July 31st at noon. A representative will be waiting to guide you further.
I trust you will make the right decision.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress.
The letter that was supposed to ease her doubts only deepened them. Everything about the correspondence, its cryptic tone, the odd invitation, left her more unsettled than before. Now she was to meet this mysterious woman, in a place called The Leaky Cauldron? The name itself hardly inspired confidence.
Still, Adela moved toward her desk. From a drawer, she retrieved a small paper calendar, her finger tracing the dates until it landed on July 31st. Then, moving backward, she paused at July 24th. A week. A week to decide whether to leave the familiar confines of the orphanage and follow a strange call into the unknown, or stay, and let her growing curiosity turn into a gnawing regret.
She sighed, her gaze drifting to the owl, who remained unblinking. "What do you think, birdie?" she murmured. The owl hooted softly, its eyes bright, as if to answer her unspoken question.
"What if something happens to me? What if they kidnap me or something?" she asked the owl, though she didn't truly mean it. Nothing, she realized, could be worse than the orphanage. It wasn't a cruel place, Mrs. Cole was kind enough, but the monotony of her seventeen years had left her yearning for something else, something more. She doubted this Professor McGonagall would be more dangerous than her nightly escapes to the cities darkest and, honestly, creepiest spots, trips that had resulted in many drunken ventures, her one too many piercings as witnesses.
Adela spent the next week in a daze, the letter from Professor McGonagall lingering in her mind like a riddle she could not solve. Every time she thought about it, her heart quickened with a mixture of excitement and dread. Hogwarts? A place she'd never heard of, yet the more she thought about it, the more she wanted to know. It had always been this way for her. She could not bear not knowing.
The days dragged on, but her decision was already made. She knew, deep down, that she would go. No matter how insane it seemed, she couldn't ignore the pull, something inside her whispered that this was more than just a strange invitation. It was a call. And it was one she had to answer. Besides, one more year in the orphanage would certainly be as torturous as the last seventeen. Almost eighteen, she thought. I really need to get out of here.
By the time July 31st arrived, she had prepared everything in secret. She woke up early and packed her meager belongings into a small satchel, clutching the letter to her chest as if it were the only thing tethering her to the life she'd known. With a glance at the clock, she slipped quietly from her bed and out of the orphanage, careful not to make a sound. The place she'd grown up in, however stifling and monotonous, was all she had ever known, and yet tonight, it felt like a cage.
She moved through the quiet streets of London, her footsteps muffled by the early morning fog. The world felt different, as if the air itself had shifted, but she couldn't tell if it was just her nerves playing tricks on her.
After two hours on the streets, she realized she had no way of knowing where to go. All she knew was the name of the place, The Leaky Cauldron. She glanced through the window of a small coffee shop and looked at the time on the clock hanging from the wall. 10:55. Only an hour until she was supposed to meet with McGonagall. She started stressing, worried she was not going to make it on time. Walking faster, with no apparent set destination on mind, she muttered angrily to herself. She didn't know where she was going, but her legs seemed to work on their own.
How am I so stupid? I should have asked her for directions! How am I supposed to find this place in-
She hadn't noticed how far she had walked until she suddenly fell quiet, looking up to find a wooden sign that read "The Leaky Cauldron", hanging on rusty hinges on top of what looked like a pub. The entrance was quite small, and she was surprised on how she hadn't completely missed it. The pub looked extremely shabby and old, almost as if it had been abandoned.
She didn't know how long it had been since 10:55, but she decided to go in the pub and wait for McGonagall inside. First impressions were important, and she didn't want to be late for this mysterious meeting, for it was probably, she thought, the most interesting thing that had ever happened to her.
Adela walked to the entrance and pushed the door, which opened with a loud groan. She didn't know what she was expecting, but once inside, she knew not what to think of the sight in front of her. It reflected perfectly what the entrance of the pub looked like; dark, shabby, old, and almost creepy. A few small tables were scattered around the place, hosting what looked like very peculiar guests. In a corner sat a group of middle-aged women, whispering between themselves in a paranoid sort of way, dressed in long and colorful cloaks and robes and wearing pointed hats. Towards the center of the pub, a group of very small men with wrinkled faces and long ears and noses chattered amongst themselves, in a language that Adela didn't seem to recognize. This bothered her, as she had studied enough languages to spare in order to fight her seventeen long years of boredom and monotony, yet she still couldn't recognize this one.
She looked over at the bar, to see a small, skinny man hunched over dozens of glasses, aggressively wiping them down and polishing them with a towel. He was looking directly at Adela, not even bothering to pretend. He almost looked confused at her being there, like no girl like her had ever walked in his pub. Looking down at her own clothes, she understood. Her flared blue jeans, too-small jacket (the same one she had been wearing since she was twelve), and Converse sneakers definitely stood out in the sea of long and colorful dresses and cloaks. Trying to not bring attention to herself, she went over the smallest and best hidden table in the pub and sat down, waiting impatiently for her new acquaintance. She pulled out a small book out of her satchel and tried to remain invisible, as she read her battered copy of Pride and Prejudice (which she already knew by heart).
Adela was so engrossed in her book that she didn't even hear the door creak open, or the heavy footsteps of the man who had entered. The faint murmur of the pub seemed to quiet around her as the figure made his way toward her, his shadow falling across the pages she was reading. She felt a presence long before she saw the man, as though the very air had thickened, pressing in on her.
A shadow loomed over her, casting a large, looming silhouette across her book. Her eyes slowly lifted from the pages, only to meet a pair of dark, round eyes, far too large for any normal man. And then, she blinked.
Standing before her was a giant of a man, tall, broad-shouldered, with a tangled mess of wild hair and a beard that seemed to have a life of its own. He was dressed in thick, worn clothes that were big enough to fit five of her. He was nothing short of a presence, his body blocking most of the light from the flickering candles above, and his eyes, too bright in the dim atmosphere, stared down at her gravely.
Adela's breath caught in her throat, her heartbeat quickening in shock. The man didn't seem dangerous, but he was unlike anything she had ever seen. His presence overwhelmed her senses, and she felt small, insignificant in his gaze.
"Miss Benson?" His voice was a low rumble, thick and warm, yet it carried a strange authority.
Adela swallowed, blinking to clear her thoughts. She nodded, her voice a little too shaky as she finally found words. "Yes... I'm Adela Benson."
The man smiled, his grin wide and strangely comforting, warping his face into one of friendliness. "I'm Rubeus Hagrid. The one sent fer yeh." He spoke as though it should be obvious, though he didn't explain further.
Adela stood, her chair scraping noisily against the floor as she did. The size difference between them was impossible to ignore. She could hardly believe the way he filled the space around him, his presence was as overwhelming as the room itself, which seemed to shrink with every word he spoke.
Hagrid bent down, his large hands moving as if to steady the table before he spoke again. "I know it might be a bit of a shock. But yer not here by mistake. Hogwarts, Miss Benson, is real. All of it."
Adela stood frozen for a moment, her thoughts racing, fragments of everything that had happened in the past week crashing against her mind. The letter, the owl, the strange world she was slowly beginning to realize was far beyond her comprehension. She tried to find something, anything, logical in the whirlwind of her thoughts. But there was nothing.
"What is it?" she managed to say, her voice almost lost in the heavy silence. "What is Hogwarts?"
Hagrid's expression softened, his large hands gently reaching into the bag he carried, pulling out a heavy parchment. He placed it on the table in front of her with a kind, yet solemn look. "It's a school," he said simply, as though that explanation was supposed to make everything clear. "A school for those like yeh. A school of magic."
Adela's stomach turned in on itself. Magic. It was a word that felt like it belonged to something far away, something imaginary, something out of the many books she had read. Yet as Hagrid's words settled into her mind, a strange sense of certainty bloomed in her chest. She had known, deep down, that there had been something more to the world. But to hear it spoken out loud... to hear the word "magic" confirmed by a man who looked as though he were carved from a different realm entirely, it was real.
"Sorry, Mr. Hagrid, but I don't quite understand what you're saying" she already felt the blood rushing up to her face, reddening her cheeks "what do you mean with those like me?"
"Well, wizards, o' course! Hogwarts ain't no ordinary place Miss Benson, but ye've earned it, yer a witch".
"A witch" replied Adela simply, dumbfounded. She felt like she was asking for every piece of information to be repeated back to her, and she felt annoying. She decided to stay quiet and see how things developed, she didn't have anywhere to be after all, and Mrs. Cole was used to her rebellious disappearances, sometimes for days at a time. She was in no rush.
"Tha's right" he replied, and smiled widely before chuckling under his breath. "Yeh remind me of Harry when I told him the same news."
She wanted to ask who Harry was, but kept quiet. She decided he was not the priority in all the new information she was receiving.
Before she could say another word, Hagrid gestured toward the bar. "I'll cut to the case, Miss Benson, we've not much time. It's been an... odd week. Strange things happening, that's why Professor McGonagall sent me, she couldn't come." His eyes flickered briefly to the other patrons, who had grown quieter. Their conversations had stopped, and though their lips still moved, they whispered now, too low for Adela to hear.
"What strange things?" she asked before she could stop herself.
"Well, yeh know... All this nasty business with You-Know-Who... no good news." Hagrid replied while looking around, making sure he wasn't being overheard.
"Sorry sir, I actually don't know who." Adela almost laughed at the wordplay, but kept a straight face.
"I mean The Dark Lord, Miss Benson, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. But don' yeh worry about that now, I'm sure yeh'll get all of yer questions answered once yeh get ter Hogwarts, we have important business to attend to" he said, as he pulled out a yellowish piece of parchment.
The Dark Lord... Adela though nervously, am I getting myself into a religious cult or something? Nevertheless, she discarded the theory. The way Hagrid was talking about him didn't make it seem like he was someone he worshipped.
Hagrid unfolded the piece of parchment "Here's everything yeh need fer school this year. Wand, books, supplies... It's all there. Yeh'll need to go to Diagon Alley fer that, but don' worry, I'll show ye around."
Adela read the list on the parchment, stopping in confusion more than once. 1 wand... 3 sets of plain work robes (black)...The Standard Book of Spells, grade 7 by Miranda Goshawk, 1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)...
"Mr. Hagrid, do students in the magical world start school at seventeen? Because in the schools I'm used to, kids are usually graduating at this age." the question had been attacking her mind ever since she first got the letter.
"Ah, I'm afraid I can't answer that fer yeh, Miss Benson, wizard kids normally start school at eleven. But I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will have plenty of answers fer ye. Smartest wizard of the century, I dare say. He is the headmaster of Hogwarts, yeh see." Adela nodded in comprehension.
"Anyway, let's get going, lot's to buy!" said Hagrid as he stood up, pushing the table with his big belly. "Goodbye, Tom!" he waved to the bartender, which waved back and continued drying the glasses. Adela stood behind Hagrid and followed him towards the back in a very quick step, as his long strides had left her quite behind.
Hagrid pushed open the back door, which led to a thick, solid, brick wall, and pulled out a pink umbrella out of his moleskin coat, which looked tiny compared to his gigantic hand. "Watch, so yeh don't forget" he said as he placed the tip of the umbrella in one of the bricks. Suddenly, the solid wall came to life, and the bricks started quickly disentangling and unsticking themselves from each other, separating to make a hole in the wall, where a tall archway now stood. Adela went completely quiet while she watched the magic happen, her head full of questions. She wasn't sure that this was reality anymore, she must be dreaming.
"Follow me!" exclaimed Hagrid, casually crouching under the archway as if its appearance was not an oddity for him. Adela trailed behind him, and what she saw only incentivized her shock. A handsome cobblestone alleyway filled with twisting storefronts, curling signs, and shop windows brimming with objects she could not begin to name. Diagon Alley hummed with life, families of wizards running around with lists trying to get all of their children's supplies, owls flapping around and landing on people's arms, as if domesticated, laughter of kids running around trying to race each other. It was magical. Nevertheless, Adela perceived an underlying tension in the air, almost unnoticeable, a whisper of unease. People bustled from shop to shop, some hurriedly, others in hushed conversation, their gazes flickering toward shadows as if expecting something to emerge. Something was apparently disturbing the magical world Adela had just walked into.
Hagrid suddenly dropped a small leather pouch in Adela's hand. It was proper heavy, she thought. "Yer school fund," he said. "Enough to get everythin' yeh need. Spend it wisely."
She felt the weight of the coins in her hands, gold, silver, and bronze, all unfamiliar yet strangely reassuring. Hagrid explained their worth in hushed tones before leading her towards her first stop, his eyes scanning the alley with subtle caution.
"Right then, off yeh go," he said. "I've got some business ter attend to. Follow that list and get yerself ready fer Hogwarts. If yeh need help, most shopkeepers are friendly enough. Just... be careful. Strange times, they are."
Adela nodded, gripping the pouch tightly as Hagrid lumbered off into the crowd. Aware that she was in London, she put the pouch carefully in her satchel, which she was holding firmly. She didn't know if wizards stole or not, but better be safe than sorry. Alone now, she took a steadying breath and turned toward the first shop on her list.
Ollivander's was easy enough to find, the old sign barely hanging onto its hinges, the lettering faded from years of exposure. She pushed the door open and walked in. The inside of the shop was dim, the air thick with dust and something almost electric. Thousands of long, thin boxes lined the walls in chaotic stacks.
"Ah," a soft voice called out, "a new customer."
She turned sharply to see an older man with silver eyes peering at her from behind a stack of boxes.
"You are rather late to be finding your wand, aren't you?" he murmured with a kind smile, stepping forward. "But no matter. The wand chooses the witch, after all. Let us begin."
The process was nothing like she expected. Ollivander offered her countless wands, and wand after wand rejected her. Some fizzled, some sparked violently, and one sent a stack of books tumbling from a high shelf. Ollivander watched her with unnerving intensity, his gaze calculating, as if she were a puzzle he was close to solving. "Let's try... this one" the man said, pulling out a thin and battered box out of one of the stacks.
And then—
She grasped the next wand, and a warmth spread through her fingertips, like fire curling around her bones. A wave of energy, a deep hum, resonated through the shop. Ollivander's lips curled into a knowing smile.
"Interesting," he mused. "Pine, eleven and a half inches, unicorn hair core. Unyielding. A rare combination, though not unheard of. This wand... well, I daresay it will be an excellent companion for you."
Adela tightened her grip on it, feeling something settle inside her. A missing piece, found.
After paying and thanking Ollivander, she stepped back out onto the street, the weight of the wand comforting in her grasp. Next, she visited the bookshop Flourish and Blotts, and it was there that her excitement truly ignited. The towering shelves were filled with books of every subject imaginable, history, magical theory, spell work , and more. She traced the spines with fascination, feeling the weight of centuries in her fingertips. Hogwarts had assigned her a reading list, but it wasn't enough. She wanted to understand everything, why she had been called to this world so late, why magic had been hidden from her. She purchased books beyond her required texts: detailed volumes on wizarding history, tomes on magical creatures, even dense essays on spellcraft far beyond her level. The weight of them in her arms thrilled her, and she promised herself she would repay the money to the fund when she could. Knowledge was an investment she couldn't resist. Better than spending it on drugs, she thought.
Madam Malkin's robe shop was next, and as she walked and left the shops, she ticked off items from her list with methodical precision. But it was only when she reached the Magical Menagerie that she found something entirely unexpected.
A black cat sat in the center of the shop, green-blue eyes gleaming like emeralds, not unlike her own, unblinking as they locked onto hers. Its fur was sleek, almost shimmering in the dim light. The moment she stepped forward, it stood and padded toward her with quiet confidence, curling around her legs as if it had known her all its life. She felt her chest fill with a warm and pleasant feeling, and she smiled down at the cat.
"Ah, that one's been waiting for the right owner," the shopkeeper said, peering over her glasses. "Seems it's found her."
Adela reached down, running her fingers through the cat's silky fur. It purred instantly, pressing into her touch. There was no question, this cat belonged to her, and she to it.
She left the shop with her new companion curled in the crook of her arm, feeling, for the first time, a sense of belonging. She couldn't recall ever feeling like this before. She had no family, no friends, nowhere to put her love. As she caressed the cat, she felt a sense of understanding, of care. She gave the cat a tiny peck on top of his head and continued walking, with a bittersweet smile on her face.
The apothecary was her last stop. The air inside was thick with the scent of herbs and something acrid, something sharp, and quite frankly, pretty disgusting . Shelves lined the walls, filled with glass jars of substances she could not name. The dim candlelight flickered, casting eerie shadows. She looked back at her list and saw the odd ingredients she needed to buy. Not very pleasant, to say the least.
As she browsed the shelves, fascinated, her gaze flickered to the far end of the shop, and she lost all focus on the ashwinder eggshells and powdered root of asphodel she had been eyeing.
A man, dressed in black, stood with his back to her, speaking to the shopkeeper in hushed tones. His voice was low, smooth, deep, almost hypnotic. Even without seeing his face, something about him struck her. He had an air of quiet intensity, of intellect sharpened to a deadly edge. When he turned slightly, allowing her a brief glimpse of his profile, sharp features and dark eyes, her breath caught.
Handsome.
There was no better word for it. Not in the traditional sense, not in the way that would be obvious to everyone, but in the way of something enigmatic, captivating, something impossible to look away from.
He did not notice her, or if he did, he gave no sign. Within moments, he turned and swept out of the shop, his robes billowing behind him. The air felt colder in his absence.
Adela exhaled slowly, blinking as if waking from a trance. She shook off the feeling, finished her purchases, and left the apothecary with her heart still beating too fast. Damn.
By the time she returned to the orphanage, night had settled over London. She slipped inside unnoticed, the cat following soundlessly at her heels. In the quiet of her small room, she spread her books before her and began to read, drinking in knowledge as if it were the only thing tethering her to reality. Every line she read surprised her even more, but at the same time, just made sense. It felt like something that had been missing in her life had suddenly clicked into place. She didn't think she had ever been as absorbed in a book as she was then.
She looked at the clock in her wall. 3 am. She had gotten back hours ago, and realized she hadn't eaten yet; she had been far too distracted by her books and the writing of her own notes. Yawning, she placed the stack of books on her desk and laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, filled with emotions, excitement, eagerness. She couldn't believe she still had to wait a month to see everything she had read in person.
Suddenly, her new companionship jumped up on the bed and laid across her chest, looking directly at her, green eyes boring into hers as its tail caressed her chin.
"You need a name, kitty." The cat meowed quietly and she felt her eyes closing, conquered by sleep. "Let's pick tomorrow," she yawned, "I make bad decisions when I'm sleepy".
The cat yawned in response and curled up against her chest as she softly caressed its back. But when sleep finally claimed her, it was not magic or books that filled her mind.
It was the dream.
Darkness. Cold stone. A whisper of movement.
A cold, white hand. A presence lingering. Watching.
And then—
Nothing.
She awoke with a sharp inhale, fingers instinctively clutching the locket at her throat. The room was silent. The cat lay curled beside her, watching her with half-lidded eyes.
She swallowed hard, trying to shake off the feeling. But she knew, deep down, that nothing would ever be the same again.
And she wasn't sure if that thrilled her, or terrified her.