Wrought's Orphange
Narcissa Malfoy was a beautiful woman. She was poised and proper and prim. And she was utterly rich. Those were all the things I had known from the moment that she stepped onto the property of Wrought’s orphanage.
The building was old. Red brick with dark spruce trees and dusty carpets and an empty, dead, courtyard for the children. The beds were a bit lumpy too, but that wasn’t here nor there. I had lived in Wrought’s Orphanage in the town of Roosevelt, New York, for 7 years. I was 10. My father was dead, at least I think so. And my mother was somewhere down below. Maybe dead, maybe working for some illegal mine, maybe in hell. Who knows. Not me, obviously. If either of them were alive, they hadn't cared enough to show me. Or the government, but who wants to show them anything, right Dad?
At night, when it was curfew, me and some of the other girls liked to tell stories. So when a little girl, maybe 6 years old, freshly orphaned due to a house fire asks you where your parents are, sometimes you learn to take creative liberties. In her mind, my mother was a wealthy aristocrat – not that little Susie knows what that word means, but she nodded her little head along anyway – who died when she bought a rich old pirate ship, to sail to some unknown island for her long-lost mermaid lover. The mermaid tricked her and trapped her on the island, sinking her ship when he punctured a hole in the wood. And he kept her there until she died from starvation. Or maybe from love for the mermaid.
And my dad – well he wasn’t as interesting. He had ‘passed away’ because he was greedy. He loved playing poker at his friend's mansion and tried to play with his friend's wife, in more than one way. His friend trapped him in his vault, full of his poker winnings, so my dad “died” locked away from the woman he loved, who was not my mom, and surrounded by his friend's success. Susie thought that one was less glamorous. I couldn’t help but agree. I never liked my dad much. I preferred when he was just dead, instead of dead and a gambler. Or a cheater.
Anyway, my parents weren’t here. Narcissa Malfoy was. It was a normal day, sometime in December before the holidays and before the cold reached us. No snow, we still had lessons and we were still allowed in the courtyard. No one heard the gates open at Wrought’s Orphanage. They were wrought, ironic, I know. But they were also loud. Maybe rusted. So when an unknown, frankly loaded, and snobby-looking woman arrived in the lobby quietly, some children stared at her. Susie did. Rosanna had to usher her inside to her room. Susie’s sick, by the way. I have a present for her in the old suitcase under my bed. I hope she lasts long enough to receive it.
To be frank, I wasn’t interested in Narcissa. She seemed like the same type of woman the Headmistress would like. Mindful of her manners but powerful. The Headmistress is a bit odd, you see. She’s awfully quiet with children but wherever she does have an adult interaction she seems so out of her world. I think it’s because we’re in the middle of nowhere. Surrounded by trees and trees and a lot of trees. An awful lot. Large ones that keep the forest dense and unhappy. The thick kind that doesn't shed leaves because they have sharp needles instead, the ones for Christmas ornaments. They smell nice at least. In the courtyard we grow apples and almonds, so that’s the only other kind of tree I’ve seen. Well, we try to grow apples. The trees have a hard time because it’s usually gloomy. The almonds are fine though. Sometimes in the spring, we’ll use the dry branches to make crowns. I made Susie a bracelet this past spring. She giggled. Rosanna looked happy too.
Narcissa Malfoy did not look like a very happy woman. Or the kind that would appreciate a tree-branch bracelet made by orphans. She was tall and slim. She wore a smooth expensive forest green coat that cut off just before her ankles so you could see her expensive black and silver heels. She wore deep gray pearls - which I didn't know existed - and her hair had black and blonde curls at the ends that were styled to stay in place longer than my mother’s sunken ship. I briefly wondered if she and my mother would have gotten along, but then I remembered my mother is dead, to me, and I stopped thinking about it.
I was out in the courtyard when she arrived. Susie was bothering me about telling her a story because I “always have stories” and Rosanna was fussing about her getting dead leaves on her new dress which didn't look very new at all. Lucy was lying next to me, back pressed up against the tree, glancing at Rosanna with such a scrunched-up face I thought it would get stuck like that. Marielle was telling Eden about her new shoes that her grandma had sent her - they had little pearl charms on the clasps by the way. Eden was playing with the lace on her socks. She was also glancing at me like she was waiting for the inevitable story I would tell, but she had to pretend to be uninterested if she wanted to be Marielle’s friend even when she wanted to be mine. Jade was on my other side, practically shoving her face on my shoulder to read my new book as I told Susie that no, I did not always have a story, and I couldn’t tell her one right now if I was reading one.
The Headmistress had started to let me take a few books from her private library all the way up on the fifth floor, locked away from all the little kids like Susie (and Jade, probably). Headmistress had taken me there without a word and showed me where she kept the key, also without a word. She tried to pat my head and smooth my hair awkwardly but it just made it worse. I wondered why she showed me in the first place. I didn’t think that I was remarkable enough to merit a special privilege - many of the other kids read, too, some even at my same reading level. But the Headmistress was already a woman of few words. I spared her the trouble of answering a 10-year-old’s question and silently accepted the key.
As I was reciting to Susie that I needed her to be quiet so I could read my story to get new ones to tell her later and promptly shoving Jade off my shoulder before she fell onto my lap with the way she was leaning, I caught sight of Narcissa.
“Marielle?” I said before I could stop myself. Her mouth snapped shut before she whipped her head to turn to me in a way that made Rosanna cringe.
“Yes, dearest Sara?” She recited robotically. I didn’t like Marielle.
“Is someone supposed to be leaving today?” Marielle followed my line in sight before the scowl melted off of her face. There goes her smart remark. Lucy seemed to startle at the silence of Marielle and woke up from the sleep which I didn't notice she fell into. Eden didn't tear her gaze away from me or Jade. Susie wouldn’t shut up either.
“June? Toren?” I turned around to a different part of the building behind us, where the doors opened for us to go in and out of the courtyard. There usually stood these two boys, June, Jade’s brother who seemed to want to be friends with her friends because her friends weren’t “as lame as the boys,” and Toren, who seemed to be June’s exception. And he sort of was. Toren read, and he wasn’t obnoxious with the girls, even the ones that deserved it like Marielle. He was sort of popular too, I think. I’m not sure though, since the girls and boys have separate lessons.
June was all about climbing trees most of the time and some attempts at reading while Toren was more like climbing trees if he needed to and reading when he wanted too. He had a nice vocabulary and I was somewhat glad he was friends with June. Maybe he could fix him, or something.
“Yeah?” June popped his head out of the door, effectively ruining his “totally not here” appearance. Toren fully walked outside, hands in his pockets and ready to sit down, so June had to scramble after him. Unhappily, might I add, by the look of terror that he had watched Toren with before his feet moved to follow him. Toren sat down next to Jade, to June’s dismay. June leaned against the tree nearby, hovering over us.
“No one’s getting adopted today,” Toren told me. He glanced down at my book and then back to my eyes. I turned back to Narcissa, who was now staring at the dead flowers in an old vase in front of an even older painting. We didn’t get new decorations often. I wondered what she thought of the place.
“So, why did she come?” I asked aloud because if someone knew something, they’d tell me. Jade shrugged, flopping back to my shoulder, and peering down at the book. Eden did the same. Lucy yawned. June shrugged. Fantastic. Why would a woman like her come to an old almost abandoned orphanage? Not even to adopt some charity case, no less?
“Do you think she’s a Veela?” Lucy asked suddenly. A couple of heads snapped at her.
“The bird?” Jade yawned. “No, dimwit,” Marielle snapped, “The magical creature.”
Jade shrugged and whispered, “Ladylike,” to me. I had the decorum to bite back a smile. Toren didn’t. Marielle seemed a bit more bashful of her terribly crude words when she saw his amused face. She flushed red in embarrassment.
“She’s beautiful enough,” Lucy said. Eden nodded. Some little boys shrieked on the other end of the courtyard. They were play-fighting with sticks.
“And magical enough,” I told Lucy, which caught her attention. “She must have apparated here, the gate didn't make a sound.” And she nods like she’s satisfied with my conclusion. You had to have an appointment to see the Headmistress. She’d write them down on a calendar in the main hall so the younger children wouldn’t panic over the new, unwarned, and unwanted arrival of some scary businessman.
“Why else would she be here if not to get a child? Does the Headmistress have friends?” I ask. “All of the sudden?” Jade asked, and June snickered. Toren seemed to consider my question. Rosanna was whispering to Susie, trying to convince her to do something. Susie pouted.
“Perhaps she’s looking for someone or something specific without permission,” Toren suggested, looking at me. I didn’t reply. Perhaps.
I gave Jade the book, to her delight and Eden’s displeasure, and stood up. Toren tried to follow me, but June quite literally dragged him back down to look at my book. ‘Animagus, Animals, and Species of the Shifting’ By Edward O’Plick. Marielle scoffed when I walked past the spot where she and Eden sat, underneath the fullest almond tree on a rough and ruined picnic blanket that was browner and tanner than it was red and white. Well, I couldn’t keep the Headmistresses’ guest waiting, could I?
🜾
Narcissa Malfoy was weird and rich. To be fair, most children are loud. But for some reason, people always seem much more aware of them when they are quiet. Waiting and waiting for the children to be loud and annoying and break something again. Narcissa Malfoy did not notice when I approached her silently. I was wondering if she had noticed me and was waiting to do a monologue about the real world or something along those lines like most adults do, or if she truly didn't realize I was standing behind her, staring at the back of her head full of round perfect curls instead of the painting.
The old painting was the very first thing that she had properly looked at when she arrived. Or, when I noticed her arrival. She didn’t look at the children, didn’t wander around the halls, didn't look at or for the Headmistress - nothing like that. She glanced at the courtyard when it was too noisy, or at the dark wooden floorboards when they creaked under her heels, but she looked at the old painting that hung on the wall longer than I’ve been alive. It was gray and a bit dusty, maybe that’s why it had always looked so desaturated and sad. It was always cloudy here. Even if we weren’t surrounded by the forest, I’m positive everything would find a way to look just as dead as it does now. This painting is no exception. It wasn’t special or meaningful. Just a light-colored cat, resting in pure darkness. His face reflected on the black floor it lay against. That’s all. Just a cat. The painting wasn’t ugly by any means, very well done in oil paints, I think. But I’m not sure it deserved so much attention from someone so clearly important. The painting was better suited for the stares of lonely children stuck here.
Oh right, Narcissa.
“Hello,” I said. I stood as tall as I could with my hands behind my back resting on the tie of my dress. Another old, gray thing. My tights were slightly ripped towards the top and my socks were mismatched, peaking out of my school shoes. I bet there was a leaf or petal in my hair, too. Narcissa turned around at the sound of my voice. She seemed much taller now that I was looking up at her from 3 feet away. Her eyes were blue and seemingly so unbelievably cold. I didn’t notice that earlier. My eyesight’s been getting worse.
Her hair had blonde underneath a dark color - maybe black or a grayish brown? I can’t quite tell, the room’s a bit shady right now, it's morning. She seemed a bit stiff, or maybe just robotic. Her movements were practiced, I could tell. She was definitely rich. She didn’t smile, but I didn’t either. I waited and waited but she said nothing for a while. I didn’t see her eyes scrutinizing me either, though. Just taking in the scene of a little girl, because I guess that’s all I was at the time.
“Hello,” she said. Nothing was remarkable enough about the statement or how she made it for me to tell you anything else about the word.
“Mrs. Malfoy,” said the Headmistress as she came around the corner from a separate hall. It was the hall that had stairs closest to her office - the quickest way for the Headmistress to arrive in the foyer. So, clearly, Mrs. Malfoy was an important and expected guest. Well, maybe expected. I’d never heard of her before, but on the greeting the Headmistress had said, they were familiar with each other.
“Headmistress Abellona,” Mrs. Malfoy nodded her head ever so slightly. I never knew the Headmistress's name. Either way, neither woman acknowledged my existence and I figured it was my time to leave before my presence became unsavory. I turned on my heel, facing the courtyard when the Headmistress appeared by my side with a hand on my shoulder.
“I see you’ve met Sara,” The Headmistress said. Her words were short and choppy like they always were. Narcissa looked at me again but this time, her gaze felt different. I’d dare say earlier, she wasn’t really seeing me. Or looking at me. Her eyes seemed softer. She seemed satisfied in a way that almost made me uneasy.
“Yes, I have.” The Headmistress's fingers tapped on my shoulder, and she leaned down beside my ear.
“Go back to your friends, dear,” she said in a not-very-hushed tone. She hadn’t smiled the whole conversation, and her voice was still barely above a whisper.
Everything was normal. Right?
🜾
The walk back to the almond tree everyone was sitting at was basically the death of me because I had found absolutely nothing and had only achieved an icky feeling. That was weird.
“Well,” Marielle almost sneered when I passed by her and Eden again to the tree a few feet away. Jade shoved June off her shoulder, quickly shutting my book and placing it back where my spot was as if she and he weren’t reading it two seconds ago. Toren sat still and watched as they struggled, not quite fighting but sort of fighting. Lucy looked asleep on the other side, but I knew better by now to just assume she was always awake because she was. Rosanna and Susie were gone.
“Rosanna took her inside for her medicine,” Toren informed me, noticing my eyes searching for them. I wonder when he stopped chuckling at June and Jade to look at me.
“What happened?” Lucy asked. Her eyes were still closed, and she didn’t raise her voice but something in her tone made everyone go quiet and look at her. A few then turned to me.
“Nothing.”
“That’s a lie.”
“Is it?” I asked. Because, well, technically nothing is something, so if nothing happened, something happened, but that is a lie because something did happen, and it was weird but saying it out loud felt unimportant, so I didn’t say anything at all. So, nothing happened. But my mind just kept repeating over and over, until I could make sense of that whole interaction. Normally, I’d brush it off. It wasn’t my business. It’s normal to feel confused and curious about things a child doesn’t understand. It was probably nothing. Something adults cared about, like status and money. So, why did the Headmistress act like that? Friendly, almost. And why did Mrs. Malfoy come without an appointment to just…
“She…” I wet my lips and tried again, “The Headmistress came to greet her.” Lucy opened her eyes.
I wondered why my thoughts were getting faster, why I couldn’t seem to find the right words. and why everyone was staring at me. I wonder why that happened. I wondered why Narcissa was here, why the Headmistress introduced me to her, and why I couldn’t think of any words right now. I wondered why I was panicking and why I felt such a sinking feeling in my gut. Fear and defeat. What happened for me to feel defeated?
“She called her ‘Mrs. Malfoy’...” I looked at the many, oh so many, pairs of eyes. “Do any of you know who she is?” Someone had to, right? She was important. People know important people. My eyes landed on Marielle as she lit up.
“Mrs. Malfoy? The British witch?” Marielle exclaimed. Yes, that had to be right, she had an accent when she spoke. How did I miss that?
“Yes,” I replied.
“Oh! She must be here to adopt!” Marielle said, and it was clear, even to people without eyes, that she was expecting Mrs. Malfoy, the wealthy British witch to adopt her.
“And why would she do that?” Jade drawled. June snickered behind her.
“Because,” Marielle drew in a breath, “She’s one of the most influential figures in Europe.”
“And that means?”
“She could only hope to have a family perfectly fitting that title!”
“June! She must be here for you then!” Jade gasped. Everyone but Marielle snickered. I didn’t.
The dread in my gut grew and grew until it forcibly settled like tar. Stuck to a part of me and impossible to get rid of. Why did I feel like that?
🜾
That night, Susie didn’t come to bed.
Rosanna did, but she wasn’t smiling like usual. She wasn’t talking much either. Everyone had the decency to not crowd her but a few of the smaller kids had asked her where Susie was. Rosanna mumbled something about overnight care.
I don’t know how much I believed her.
I left her alone for the rest of the evening.
🜾
The next week, the bedroom was cold. It always was. Oddly enough, the beds never were. Shivering only lasted as long as it could until you were under tattered covers. I wondered if they were charmed or enchanted in some way, but then again, was that allowed? Most of the children here were wizards or some wizard families. The ones that weren’t often got adopted after a few weeks of rest at the orphanage. Some lessons had basic magical knowledge but never spells. Creatures and history, arithmancy sometimes, but that’s all. Lessons were words and texts, no one here had the funding for wands or physical magic anyway.
With the key to the private library, I could get my hands on the more magical books. Types of spells and how to cast them, darker magic, potion recipes and what their ingredients entail, ancient texts that relate to ancient magic and extinct creatures, myths and legends that are never really proven false, forgotten figures, all of those sorts of things. I never delve too deep, though. I wouldn’t want my privilege revoked fast because I got greedy.
I had a system.
Take two books and hide one. Take one book on unfiltered arithmancy to ‘help with my studies’ and take one about forbidden spells on the top shelf that the Headmistress thinks I can’t reach. Return both before the end of the week. Repeat. I learn and learn. More and more and no one knows. But even as I read, I can't stop thinking about Mrs. Malfoy.
She had been here not long ago.
I had never been too attached to this orphanage. It wasn't my home; it was just someplace I was staying at for a while. It had some people I'd call friends, and some that I wouldn't, but they weren't going to be the death of me anytime soon. I had no complaints if I was getting adopted or taken away. I had no complaints if someone else would get adopted tomorrow. Even if Marielle ended up in the Malfoy family by the end of next week, would I care? I figured the answer was no. I just didn't care.
So why - why, why, why - did I feel so shaken up by Mrs. Malfoy?
She had left that day, not adopting anyone. Nothing had happened. Why was I so affected by not even what she had said - but what she had barely done? I have been stared at my whole life, it never affected me. So, why did the way Narcissa Malfoy look at me then, make me feel so uncomfortable?
Narcissa looked at me again but this time, her gaze felt different. I’d dare say earlier, she wasn’t really seeing me. Or looking at me. Her eyes seemed softer. She seemed satisfied in a way that almost made me uneasy.
How is it that one small, insignificant action flipped my entire world upside down? I just didn't understand how, or why, one middle-aged rich woman had to come to the orphanage countries away and look at me. And I didn't know why it made me so sensitive. Or maybe, just maybe, it had done the opposite. And I didn't realize how insensitive it made me.
How instead of being alert and focused, my mind was hazy, and my eyes were unfocused. How instead of hearing the slight slithering of a creature at the other end of the hall, I focused on the winds howling outside and didn't notice eyes on me. Beady, green eyes that soon disappeared into the other end of the orphanage.
🜾
Two months later, in February, I was adopted by Narcissa Malfoy and her husband.