one ; diagon alley

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Aurora Areli

ODDLY ENOUGH, THE AIR around me felt like soup. Warm, heavy and uncomfortable to breathe in. I could tell it was springtime, because it also smelled like pollen and the way new plants do, but there was something like crumbling ash or dust as well, lingering faintly in the background.

When I opened my eyes, I was standing in a forest of tall, ancient-looking trees that blocked out most of the sunlight, if there was even supposed to be much at all. I couldn't tell what time it was.

I turned my head to look around and figure out what was going on, gather my bearings. The dark bluish-green light made everything seem eerie, but that wasn't why I was afraid. I knew that something much worse than waking up in a forest was happening. There was no noise other than the breeze rustling the leaves above me. No birds, no other animals, not even a twig snapping. Complete and utter silence.

Then, as if each word was rehearsed without my knowledge, I said, my voice hushed, and somehow different, "I don't know how to help anymore."

There was a pause, during which I stared out into the trees. I became aware that my clothes felt uncomfortably stuck to my skin, though whether by water or sweat, I wasn't sure. Someone was supposed to answer me.

I turned my head once again to look around, perhaps for another person, but all I could see were trees and plants across the forest floor. The sun must have been coming out, because it was getting brighter. Warm white light continued to flood my vision, until I couldn't see anymore, and squeezed my eyes shut against it.

But when the air around me cleared and I could breathe easily again, I opened my eyes. I immediately closed them again, though, because of the harsh sunlight streaming through my window.

With some struggle, I rolled out of my tangled blankets and onto the floor where I sat and tried to take in my surroundings. I was in my room sitting on the hardwood floor facing the old mahogany writing desk that I'd had ever since I could remember. Not in those unsettling woods like before.

My heart was still pounding from the adrenaline rush that nightmare gave me, so to calm myself down, I got up to check the mail, something I had been doing for the entire month of July. I had been waiting anxiously for my Hogwarts letter. Every day it didn't arrive increased the fear I had of never receiving the same envelope with the school crest stamped on the front that my brother had gotten a year prior.

"If you're looking for the mail, Dad took it into his office," a male voice said. Startled, I turned to face my prat of a brother who was sitting at the dining room table eating a bowl of porridge.

I frowned, but nodded anyway. That combined with the anticipation of my letter was doing nothing to calm my heart rate.

"Dad?" I said, before cautiously knocking on the door. If he was doing work in there I didn't want to disturb him. Dad always told us it was okay to visit him while he was in his office, but that didn't stop me from feeling bad for interrupting him.

𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐄𝐋 ; h.potterWhere stories live. Discover now