"Hazel!" the caretaker's stern voice pierced the stillness of the orphanage. Startled, I hastily stood up and opened the door, hoping to avoid another reprimand.
"Yes?" I replied, my voice echoing down the dimly lit hallway.
"You have a visitor," the caretaker announced as she turned the corner, her disapproving gaze fixed on me. Behind her stood an elderly man, dressed in a long crimson robe that nearly touched the floor. His flowing white hair cascaded down to his waist, and his long beard added an air of wisdom to his appearance.
I had never seen this man before, nor had I ever had a visitor. "Visitor?" I questioned, my curiosity piqued.
"This is Mr. Dumblydore... or was it Dumblerdode... whatever it is, he's here to deliver a message," the caretaker grumbled before departing, leaving me alone with the enigmatic stranger.
I gestured for him to enter my room. "Who are you?" I inquired, my arms defensively crossed.
Seated in a chair across from me, the elderly man extended his hand. "I'm Professor Dumbledore."
"Professor?" I raised an eyebrow. "Are you a doctor? Did she send you here to examine me?" I nodded toward the door, where the caretaker had exited.
"No, no," Dumbledore reassured me with a warm smile.
"Don't lie. She thinks I'm crazy and wants you to prove it, doesn't she?" My voice quivered with frustration. This wasn't the first time the caretaker had summoned doctors to assess my mental state.
"Who I am is precisely as I've said. I'm Professor Dumbledore, and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I've come to offer you a place at my school—your new school, if you'd like to come."
I recoiled, my anger intensifying. "Are you from an asylum? You are, aren't you? Well, there's no way I'm going. I'm not crazy. I've done nothing wrong!"
"I'm not from an asylum," Dumbledore calmly stated. "I work at Hogwarts, and if you'll allow me to explain, perhaps you'll consider joining."
I remained skeptical. "Who are you really?"
Dumbledore sighed. "I've told you, my name is Professor Dumbledore, and I work at Hogwarts, a school of magic."
My anger subsided somewhat, replaced by curiosity. "Magic... like the kind I can do?" I whispered.
Dumbledore leaned forward slightly. "What can you do?"
My excitement grew as I began listing my abilities. "I can move things without touching them, make things appear and disappear, speak to snakes, and sometimes I feel like I can read people's minds or emotions."
Dumbledore's expression became more intrigued. "You're quite right, Ms. Potter. You're a witch."
My voice quivered as I whispered to myself, "I knew I wasn't crazy. I knew I wasn't a freak. I'm just different."
Looking up at the ceiling, I smiled, experiencing happiness for the first time—a sense of belonging.
"Does that make you a wizard?" I asked, turning my gaze back to Dumbledore, my smile intact.
"Yes," he confirmed.
"Prove it," I challenged, my head tilted. "Prove you're telling the truth."
"If you're telling the truth," I said, my skepticism waning, "then I accept your offer to go to Hogwarts."
Dumbledore nodded. "That means you'll have to refer to me as 'Sir' or 'Professor' from now on."
"Please, Professor," I pleaded, needing reassurance.
YOU ARE READING
Hazel Potter
FanfictionEveryone knew about the boy who lived, the boy who defeated you-know-who. But what if it wasn't just him, what if he had a sister; a twin? Hazel grew up in a muggle orphanage. When she was around six or seven she began showing signs, what the muggl...
