yellow ribbon | a harry potter fanfiction

in time and space

BOOKS SHARED STORIES, most of them were pure fictional, others were autobiography, and the rest were based on true events. Because Harry Potter was fictional, and a fantasy no less, Wendy never thought any of it would be real. Although, she had to admit that she sometimes wished it were and just like that she was pinching herself in Dumbledore's office, wishing to wake up instead. 

The room was quite messy. Books, scrolls, and other things Wendy couldn't even begin to understand laying around like Diego's toys, her dog, around the house.

Wendy was still looking around when Dumbledore offered her some candies, which she absentmindedly refused.

"Do you know why you were in the train?" He asked as he sat down on his big chair.

"I was going home from London," She answered truthfully. She still had doubts whether or not all of that was true and if she should be telling them information about herself, but she believed in 'honesty is the best policy'.

"But the train you took was not the same one you left," Professor McGonagall observed. "Malfoy said to have found you in one of the compartments... on the floor," She said, "do you know how you managed to get there?"

Giving it a moment of thought, the last thing Wendy could remember was an odd fit in the stomach as she fell. But she had no memory of how she got in the 'Hogwarts Express' nor in the 'Hospital Wing' of 'Hogwarts'.

"I don't know what has happened to me in the past—uhm," She wasn't even sure how much time has passed from her last memory, or how much time has not passed; if she really got younger. "What date is it today?"

"It's the 2nd of September, 1992," Dumbledore answered solemnly.

Wendy let out a sharp breath. A big weight fell on her chest and her vision blurred as things started spinning around her. It was 2019, how could it be 1992? She was supposed to be two years old that year. What kind of sick joke was this? She searched for a chair to sit on and found one near her; suddenly that piece of candy wasn't a bad idea.

"How old are you, dear?" Professor McGonagall asked putting a hand on her shoulder, as to make her feel a bit more at peace.

"Uh—I'm 29."

Professor McGonagall backed out a little, a clear shocked expression on her slim face, "You don't look a day older than...15?" She glanced at the old man as to search for some support in her statement.

Wendy looked at herself in the mirror she brought with her from the hospital wing. She had the round face she did when she was a teenager, skin not broken yet from any pimples, hair far too long because she insisted that it made her look more mature. Curls fell down on both side of her face framing it, and a slight side bangs that was trying to grow from an overdone bangs phase she had when she was around thirteen, "thirteen, I'm thirteen," She said surely.

The two professors looked at each other. The young girl, with the mind of a woman and the body of a child, lost in time and in a place she didn't know existed. Was she even a witch? Or just an unfortunate muggle that found herself in a wrinkle in time and in the making of a magical war.

"Well, for now, why don't we wait it out?" Professor Dumbledore broke the deafening silence, "We will find ways to bring you back to where you come from but, for now, enjoy Hogwarts."

Wendy looked at him, "Do you mean... Like a student?"

"Why not?" He asked.

"I'm not a witch."

"You are inside the heart of Hogwarts," he said looking at his office, "this place beats magic from its walls—you couldn't be here if you didn't have some of that magic in you too."