A Maiden's Curiosity

Stars flicker overhead, familiar lights laying upon a twisted forest. I knew as always what depth the tree's bare, where each star sung with burning light, how the forest calls and calms.

A letter laid beside myself within the bounds of this clearing of my own.

A name, an address and a wax seal

Miss A. Temporel

The 2,068th Clearing

The Forest of Time

It is a terrifying thing to be known. To be seen, to be hated or loved, to be acknowledged by what others reflect onto you. Endless days mark a halt as an owl stares at me, and I return its gaze. Letter in hand, curious and lost as always. And yet the words held within this letter dare to challenge the world. Wizardry and witchery, both imply magic and yet the stars still shine as forever embraces us in its hold.

I hold dear to a forest that rejects the world, my clearing among the distorted forest is my home.

Yet this forest I call home twisted and bends the rules of the world, but never denies the rules written in impossible text. Time sways within these bounds, faster and slower, forward and backward, linear and not. Objects follow impossible paths, an owl sits for a minute and remembers an hour, yet the paths hold true for the objects themselves, like a letter with the reply already written before it arrives.

Hogwarts, a place that claims to deny the world, a name to never be forgotten. 

The room of my heart shines with the glow of the stars, brighter and brighter as my curiosity grows.

Magic, an impossible power that challenges the world. Does it follow the rules left in stories, like fairytales with impossible bounds, or like tales of gods rewarding the devout, maybe it follows the whims of a cult, maybe a power from within, to challenge the world with one's will. The stars hold meanings in different stories and represent, what if it is like the rules of those.

No matter what magic is or does, one thing stays clear, a new stage to dance on has shown me its path.

The seat embraces my tired self, as the train whistles blows and begins our journey. Time passed idly, yet so linearly, it is strange to say, so used to the distorted perspective that normalcy causes such repose.

A stressful morning from the annoyances that these people thrive on, what kind of idea is an entrance that you need to run into a wall for? Bitterly I look outwards to see sceneries passing by, how beautiful and strange to see a world go by. 

The acquired rewards from my scavenge, books of knowledge lay before me, and yet they only serve to confuse me more. The magic they suggest is of spells, yet with no meaning do they hold, nor with rules to guide the depth of the craft. Perhaps I have missed something, maybe it is not expected for a first year to know. 

But I fear it could be worse, that these people took for granted the power they hold. That they never asked just simply Why?

Deeper I submerge myself in my thoughts, drowning out the world for myself. A sliding door pulls me to the surface and there stands a strange girl, intelligent eyes that is blind to the world, one who asks questions and yet never doubts. What brilliant hair she has, and yet it hides a nervous boy who holds hidden courage. "It is a surprise to see others, is there something you seek?" I ask, politeness helps keep us civil.

"Have you seen a toad, Neville here lost his" the girl speaks for the boy, yet never looked close enough to see the breathing within pocket.

It is quite amusing to see someone who can see so much and yet be so blind, a courageous girl who is lost but knows herself more than I know me, "I believe it is best to look where you believe you already have, maybe the order of things just changed after all".

Hopefully a hint is all they need, I only wish to guide never to lead. They stare as a pair confused, maybe bemused. How sad that they missed what was right there, as they departure exchanging pleasantries to escape my different self, searching for what they already own, I wonder what tale they have to tell.

A stopping train and guides to follow, separated for our ignorance from others like us. Groups and boats to take, yet a distance forms around myself. Attached to others by need, a quiet travel we go. 

The water tranquil and cold hiding horrors already told, how beautiful a scenery the castle across the lake. Others stare but never speak, yet no malice graces their eyes. One with pain held within from the depth of his care, another holds boredom for the world has grown known to her, the last is fascinated I presume as they avoid my gaze bouncing with endless anticipation. 

Hallways that glow with candled lights, and a pet found that was never lost. The dead who live forever, ignites fear within others. A ritual I suppose as they guide and explain, of separation for we are not allowed to be the same. 

Names called and time passes for each of us wait to be bearing the burden of attention, until fatefully or eventually 

Temporel, Alice

What cruelty they bare to force us to be seen by all, to have everyone stare and wait, to judge and anticipate. A hallway of students murmur to pass the time, for what value for does one have to the many. Unlike the child with potter as a name I am unknown, and unlike the children of lineage, I don't have to care.

A hat is placed upon my head, and a voice speaks. 'So another difficult child has come, so many for one year.'

The hat mocks me so, claiming difficulty when there is really only one option.

'You have shown bravery to be yourself and reject others ideals.'

And yet, I, the coward I am, fled from the world because I couldn't accept a world against me.

'But is it not brave to fight for yourself.'

You claim bravery for an act needed to survive.

'Perhaps your cunning and manipulation should be called to attention.'

How about your willful ignorance, this ambitionless self trapped in the house of deceivers.

'Yet you would thrive, seeing through deceit and remain unchanged.'

Unchanged is to claim perfection, a fools errand you wish of me, their games and plays stolen from elders would tear myself apart.

'And your intellect and wisdom shows a place you belong.'

A high ask, they who learn but never seek, blind of the false pursuit.

'Then do you seek the house of loyalty?'

What blindness do you have to believe that question.

'Why else would you challenge all other houses then?'

The house of fools, who pride themselves of courage and recklessness suits not the coward I am. 

The house of the misguided, who follow the whims of lineage suits not my tired self.

The house of family, who care of loyalty and others suits not I who fled the world.

The house of knowledge, who seeks not integrity or truth suits not, myself, the fool who cares.

Is it not obvious which line holds the weakest?

'I see in that case then it better be.'

Ravenclaw

The applause rings out with the hollowness of a pleasantry, as I am free to think without others invaded. To violate even the sanctuary of the mind and the peacefulness of death, this normalcy hurts my curious self.

A feast holds a simple ending as the linger of food remains on my tounge. Annoying stairs hinder passage, and moving paintings line the walls, amongst we climb to find the place we must make home. 

They spin words of tales, and mention ways to enter. Through puzzles we claim our stride, or a call of help for our misfortune. They guide and grace us rooms, in which time passes as I fade to sleep.