Chapter Two: A Story of Realization

     Tick, tock, tick, tock. It seemed like the day was going on perpetually. Thousands of things had already occured this gloomy Tuesday, and the day hasn't even at my school house. I wanted to bad to rip the wax seal off of the beatiful parchment and soak in the information. I wanted everyone to feel jealous that they weren't me. I wanted everyone to feel jealous that they didn't have the power. But the consequences could be severe. And I didn't feel like crying today. 

      Tick, tock. Just a minute left of school. Tick, tock. Thirty seconds. Tick, tock. Fifteen seconds. Tock, Tick. I was practically clawing at my rough chair, eager to jump up and dash back home. Tick, tock. Three more seconds! Tick, tock. At last, the school bell announced the end of the school day. I usually am the last student to leave my classroom, but today was the day I would change. Today would be the day, where I could finally show my true colors. And no one could stop me. 

       "Nope. Get back in your seat, Celleste," declared Mrs. Clockston, slapping her yard stick on her desk. Oh, right. Mrs. Clockston sucks up all the fun like a sponge, and turns it to dispair. But I didn't feel like listening, today. So, taking a colossal risk. A risk that changed my life for the rest of my years of living. As I shook my head, I collected my bag and books, and dashed out of the classroom, my scroll clutched tightly in my hand. 

       "Excuse me?! Get back here, Celleste!" shrieked Mrs. Clockston, as I turned the corner of my school house out of sight, smirking at my cleverness. I had too many things to discover, that I couldn't waste another second of my life, staring at Mrs. Clockston, the terrible witch. I'm sure my dear mother would agree with me, as she and I were like twins. 

       As I reached the front entrance, a large crowd of kids stood in my way of the door, as if knowing exactly what I was doing. All I had to do was push through the crowd of kids, and push out the front door, keeping my scroll held tightly in my hand. But as I reached the origin of it, I froze in my tracks. For a classmate had collapsed to the ground in front of the door, like apples plummeting from a tree. But she was twitching. Twitching uncontrolably, her face as white as a sheet. 

       "Out of my way," shrieked an obnoxious voice from behind me. "EVERYONE, OUT OF MY WAY!" As I moved to the side, I was rudely shoved to the ground, the woman crashing into me. But that wasn't all. As I attempted to see what this anomynous woman would do to the twitching classmate, something hard slammed into the side of my head, my unconcious body collapsing to the concrete floors.

^^^^^^^^^

     As my brain began to function again, my head was splintering with pain. I couldn't remember what had happened, but the pain was extruciating. I was shivering on uncomfortable, rough concrete floors, my eyes blinking open nervously. How long had I been unconcious?! What had happened?! Was my father worried about me? Where's my scroll? Immediately, I began to feel around myself, with the expectation of the feeling the smooth parchment on my fingers, but nothing appeared in my hands. Someone had taken it - I couldn't believe it. Someone had stole it! I shouldn't have dashed out of that arithmetic witch's classroom. I should've stayed just a little longer, and keep it protected in my personal bookbag. But what did I do? I decided to break the rules, and receive the consequences that I never thought twice about. 

     "Ah," sighed a familiar voice from behind me. I took my time sitting up, as stars began to twinkle carelessly in front of me. "You've finally gained conciousness." As I turned cautiously around, I found myself staring into the eyes of my father, who was frowning. All of my pain instantly was replaced by worry and regret. I attempted to weakly smile and act as if nothing happened, but my father shook his head and snapped, "It's your fault that you got knocked out!" 

     I didn't know how to respond to that comment. I shouldn't be getting yelled at, considering the school bell announced the endless school day was over, allowing all studnets to exit. I raised my eyebrows, and steadily stood up, placing my scratched hand on the the textured walls. 

     As my father and I stared into each other's blue eyes, I noticed a scroll in his clutched hand - my scroll. Relieved that my scroll was in safe hands, I croaked, "May I have my scroll back?" 

     "It's all your mother's fault!" shrieked my father, as he began to pace, pinching his temple in annoyance. It was all my mother's fault? How did my mother have anything to do this situation? She was gone. I had said goodbye, and she was gone. She wasn't even here with me, anymore. 

     "She never told you. I instisted she would, but she refused, Celleste! Celleste, it's about time you know. Your mother was a witch. Your mother held magic in her blood. And lucky me, I married your mother, hoping that you wouldn't have those freakish powers. But what happened? You got handed your mother's veins. You hold magic in your blood, Celleste. But I can't let that happen. I can't lose you, too. So, please forgive me when I do this." my father cringed, keeping the scroll clutched tightly in his hands. What was he about to do? I began to ask, but my questions and theories were answered immediately afterward, as someone's cold hands clasped over my mouth and nose, and began to pull me outside. I began to wriggle and squirm, as to force this man to loosen his grip on me, and let me go. I was starting to lose oxygen, and started seeing twinkling black stars appear around me. 

     "L-let me go," I attempted to yell, muffled by the strong person's grip. I tried my best to stay awake, but it was getting harder and harder every minute, until the person threw me into a car, whispering something under its breath. I had a slight second to yell and scream, but I was suddenly silenced, my mouth shutting closed. 

     "Forgive me, Celleste," whispered the voice. Once again, an unanswered question swirled in my head like a tornado, as the car doors shut closed, blinding my vision. But I wasn't in my worried state for long, for the car doors opened once again, and I was unsilenced. Instantly, I opened my mouth and screamed, "WHERE AM I?!" There was no response, but I got my answer immediately, for I blinked and watched the atmosphere change from dark and musty, to bright and crowded. There were thousands of men and women in cloaks, and millions of kids just like them. Some were dressed in ridiculous robes, - all of which were extremely large for most of them - while others were draped in comfortable sweatshirts and denim. 

     I was completely clueless as I began to look around, until I noticed that the car had vanished. I was alone, and I didn't know what to do. I knew where I was, but I couldn't believe it. I expected to be exeburant to be at the one and only Diagon Alley, but I - wait. How did I know about this magical, extraodinary place, where the most electric humans in the world were chosen to escape the world of reality, and become a person known for magic? 

     "Are you lost, child," croaked a raspy voice from behind me. I immediately whipped around, expecting to see a witch or wizard pointing a wand at me, but it was an old, smiling woman. She instantly made me feel welcome, and created a sense of calm and kidness. "Are you lost?" she repeated. I slowly nodded my hand as she smiled, revealing a toothless grin. 

     "Don't worry, child." she whispered, grabbing my hand. I didn't know what to think - an old woman was grabbing my hand in Diagon Alley. Was she to be trusted? As my mother wasted away, she always claimed to not trust strangers. They're not always what they seem. But this woman seemed kind and wise. Wrinkles were spread over her face like a cobweb, making me invision my grandmother in a rickety rocking chair, as she knit hideous sweaters. 

     "Is it okay if I hold your hand, child?" muttered the ancient woman, as if she read my thoughts of worry. The old woman's smile was replaced by worry. Guilt flooded through me, but I didn't know why. She was, indeed, a stranger, but her presence tricked my brain into thinking that I knew her. And before I knew it, I reached my hand out and clasped the woman's hand softly, as to not bruise her skin or fracture her thin bones. 

     "It's nice to see you after all of these years, child," she beamed, attempting to pull me into a hug. Nice to see me? As she came forward, I smelled a wif of her perfume, and smiled. It smelled exactly like my mother's perfume. A chill went down my spine as I thought of my mother, making me beam. Mother was there with me. She was right next to me, either attemtping to push me away from this stranger, and hugging the two of us. That's the thing about the after life - they are still with you, giving you tips and warnings throughout your years of life. 

     "You are not speaking, child." observed the old woman, stumbling back. I cracked a smile and shook my head, clearing my throat. What was I going to say? I didn't want her to think that I didn't know her, - even though I didn't - but I also didn't want her to feel awkward as to know that I didn't know her. I was stuck. But the old woman's comforting smile urged me to ask who she was. So, cocking my head, I asked, "It's been so many years, considering that I don't remember you." 

     "Indeed it has," she replied, beginning to putter over to a large pub, in which a large, conspicuous sign, read: The Three Broomsticks. I followed this woman unconciously, absorbing every inch and location of this exquisite place. As I looked over my shoulder, someone ran into me. 

     "Oh," the person exclaimed as I looked at her. "So sorry! I'm so clumsy - so clumsy. Are you alright? I didn't mean to run into you. Did I hurt your foot? I apologize if I did, Miss. I, uh-"

     "No, it's okay." I insisted. The girl was peculiar, as she had long, lucious blonde hair, a mismatched outfit, included with a navy blue skirt and sun yellow shirt, and odd sunglasses. The sunglasses were pink on the outside, and there was a vortex of pink, purples, and blues on the lenses. I was intrigued by this object, but she took them off and stuffed them into a bookbag hurridly, as if hiding them from me. 

     "Yeah, er, sorry about that. I'm known for being clumsy." the girl muttered. I smiled and glanced at the old woman next to me, who was beaming proudly at me. I had only known this woman for about a minute, and she felt like family. I looked back at the girl and laughed, "It's alright! Everyone makes mistakes, I guess. I'm Celleste." I reached out my hand to shake hers, but she looked at my greeting as if it were a red bead in a jar of blue beads. 

     "What are you doing?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. I opened my mouth to speak, but closed it. What did she mean? Being as kind as I could, I responded, "I am attempting to shake your hand as a greeting?" 

     "Oh! You're doing that! Sorry," she apologized, grasping my hand and shaking it vigorously. "I'm a pure-blood, and we normally just know each other by heart. You must be a half-blood, or something, right?" Half-blood? Pure-blood? What did all of these words mean? I didn't want to sound dumb, so I just nodded quickly, and put my hands behind my back. The girl smiled, and exclaimed, "I'm Dawn. Dawn Lovegood. Daughter of Luna Lovegood. It was nice meeting you, Celleste. I'll see you at Hogwarts. Too-da-loo!" And just lilke that, she was gone. 

     Dawn Lovegood. Why did that sound familiar?