The Day's Secret Lore

'But daaad! I don't want to leave here,' Dagrun said, taking long strides and running after her father. Dagrun, whose actual name was Charity Dagrun Gryon, had long silver-blond hair that was mysteriously sleek from the top of her head to about halfway down her shoulders, after which it started to curl like mad and her turquoise-green eyes shifted hues according to the amount of light that shone into them. In light of Voldemort's return, Dagrun's parents had decided it was too dangerous for her to continue her studies at her home, and they had sent a letter to Albus Dumbledore to ask for her to be admitted as a sixth year to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

'Grunny, I understand you don't want to leave, but sweetheart, it's for your own protection,' her father said simply. Alain Gryon was man in his late thirties; he had wild red hair and dark brown eyes. Dagrun thought he was the sweetest dad ever to exist, but he could be so... grown-up at times! Honestly, couldn't she whine about this predicament in peace?

'Daddy, Quidditch!' Dagrun stretched the syllables as long as she could.

Her father stopped walking and turned around. 'You can still play for Adrastos, even if you're in Scotland,' he said, smiling.

'How?' Dagrun asked, playing with a strand of silvery hair. 'No! You wouldn't! Really?' Dagrun was always an expert on guessing other people's thoughts, but she didn't have to be a genius (which she was, nonetheless) to understand what her father meant. Dagrun squealed excitedly, and pulled her dad into a hug. 'You're giving me that? How did you get Mum to agree?'

'Your mother had to go through a lot of trouble to get the Council's consent, young lady. Use it wisely.' Her father gave her a silver chain with a glowing pendant (a Muggle would have thought it was the Evenstarpendant from the Lord of the Rings movies) and smiled. 'You'll want to hide it under your clothes, though.'

Dagrun stopped in front of a mirror and hung the pendant around her neck. Dad was right; the glowing white didn't go well with her clothes. Dagrun always wore a short silk top in the colours of early autumn (dark greens with hints of yellow and red), that exposed her belly. (Dagrun's belly was covered with various tattoos, she didn't know where she'd gotten them, she'd simply been born that way.) She also wore dark green (almost black, really) leather pants that hugged her hips quite nicely; and over that she wore a short velvet skirt, in summer greens. During the winter, she wore brown suede boots; but in the summers, she wore green leather sandals. She tucked the pendant under her top and looked herself over. Her right eye was still dark and stormy, a mirror of her feeling annoyed and frustrated at having to leave her home and go to a new school. Her lips were naturally full and red, and her eyelashes were long and curly. Strangers always asked her what brands of make-up she used, but she didn't. Her face just looked this way on its own.

Dagrun sighed. She didn't have a choice, the matter had been decided on weeks ago, when the British Ministry of Magic made the return of Voldemort known to the rest of the world.

She had been in her room, practising on her drums, when her mother had come in. 'Dagrun, your father and I have decided it's too dangerous for you to continue your education at home,' she'd said, only yesterday.

'Where am I going, then? Ba-'

'Hogwarts. I've sent a message to Dumbledore already.' It hadn't been fair. The entire idea had been discussed behind her back.

Dagrun went to her room to pack her things, today her dad would take her to Platform Nine-And-Three-Quarters.

With her Firebolt in one hand and her trunk in the other, Dagrun walked through the barrier separating Platforms Nineand Ten. She waved goodbye to her parents, and then boarded the scarlet Hogwarts Express.