Abigail Potter and the Wish of Doom

"Hello Abigail," he said.

Abigail nearly screamed, but she stopped herself. The door, she thought, If I can just get to the door, I can run downstairs and call for help. In a split second, Abigail jumped up and rolled across her bed. She ran to her door and threw it open, where she froze in shock. Two more people, a man and a woman, were standing outsides her door. This time, she truly screamed, loudly and shrilly. What are these people doing in my house? She thought panicky. Suddenly, Abigail abruptly stopped screaming. Perplexed, she screamed even louder, yet no sound left her mouth. She spun around to look at the first man, and saw him tucking something into his rather long jacket.

"I'm sorry Abigail," the man said. "But I had to stop your screaming."

"Your silencing charms always were excellent," said the woman as she and the man entered Abigail's room, her waist length raven hair and frosty make-up illuminated in the moonlight. Abigail was too nervous to even pick up on the word "charms".

"Abigail, I'd like you to meet my colleagues, Jonathan Stewart - "

"Jon or Mr. Stewart, which ever you prefer - " interrupted the man from Abigail's doorway, a tall man with a thin toothbrush mustache and a rather Cheshire-cat-like grin.

"And the Lady Mandrea," finished the first man.

"You can call me either Lady Mandrea, or Miss Mandrea, or Persephone, which ever is to your liking," said the woman, raising her thin suspiciously penciled-looking eyebrows, which were accompanied by another large grin. "Oh, silly us, this is Graham Pritchard, and you can call him Graham or Mr. Pritchard," added Persephone, gesturing toward the first man.

What have you done with my voice?! Abigail frantically thought to herself as she glared at Graham.

"This might help," he said, handing her a piece of parchment, a quill, and some ink. Abigail paused for a second; confused, but then hastily scratched across the parchment Who are you and where is my voice? Graham snatched the parchment from her hand and quickly read her message. "Excellent questions Abigail, we'll answer them on the way." Way? Thought Abigail. Way to where? But the strangers had steered her out of her room and into a green car on the curb. In a flash, Jon jumped into the driver's seat and after Abigail had been sandwiched between Persephone and Graham in the back, they were off.

The two adults suddenly rounded on Abigail extremely stern. "Now listen carefully, we can only afford to say this once," said Persephone as Abigail's town shot past them at an incredible speed.

"You are in the books as number 2168575, under the gender of a witch," said Graham. Abigail's heart stopped. I'm a - a - a - witch? Is this some joke? She thought shakily.

"Now, about your situation," said Persephone. Abigail's head was moving as if she were watching a game of Ping-Pong as she listened to the two military sounding adults.

"In the year 1999, a dark wizard by the name of Voldemort was defeated by the following witches and wizards: Virginia Weasley, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom, Lunvea Lovegood, Seamus Finnigan, and Charles Weasley. Voldemort had been after this group for years, most of all your father, Harry Potter." Abigail's head pounded with this sudden dose of information. When she had heard her father's name, her breath had quickened, but the other names had no meaning. Her father. Was he, in fact then, still alive? "Life was well, until four years later, when Arthur and Molly Weasley were murdered, along with their nine children, with the exception of Virginia and Ronald," continued Persephone. "The murderer used the method of magically killing people, the killer curse, known as Avada Kedrava." Something about that spell sent shivers up Abigail's spine. She listened intently as Graham began speaking.

"Some of the murdered Weasleys, however, had children, one of which was the son of the oldest child, William. His name was Roger, and he is indeed the same Roger who raised you for six months, and is your cousin." Abigail's pulse quickened. All these people, all these strange names... and even the familiar ones, ones only heard but not remembered, it was unreal to imagine them... as wizards. "He was what is referred to in the magical world as a Squib, someone born into a magical family without magical powers, to put in bluntly."

They had reached a building, with people buzzing back and forth constantly talking. Abigail would have acknowledged the pandemonium had she not been wrapped up in the truth of her past.

"To backtrack a bit, after Voldemort was defeated, Harry Potter and Virginia Weasley were married, and eventually, they had you. However, they went into hiding after the Weasley Massacre, knowing it was a warning sign to them that someone was after them. Sadly enough, one night eight years ago, someone broke into your home and kidnapped your parents. We believe it to be the same person who kidnapped the unfortunate Moniqué tonight. We believe that they also tried to kidnap you, but according to the neighbors, there was a blinding flash of white light, which consumed your home and brought the roof down. Amazingly, this white light also seemed to have protected you, since after the collapse, you were unharmed except for this." They were now sitting in someone's office. Persephone leaned forward towards Abigail and tucked her hair behind her right ear. She then handed Abigail a mirror. Cautiously, Abigail picked up the mirror and gazed at her face. At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Yes, she was paler than a snowdrift, but that was to be expected. However, something caught the corner of her eye. At the end of her right eyebrow, by her hairline, was a small cut. The strange thing about this, however, was it looked oddly a crescent moon. Abigail realized that it was a mirror, so it was backwards, but it still scared her a bit. Carefully, she ran her finger around the edge, tracing the almost C shape. The cut - scar - was perfectly healed, but Abigail could never remember having it before. Maybe I wasn't supposed to remember, she thought as she set the mirror down on the desk, God knows what happens in this world. When he saw she had finished, Graham continued with the story. Jon had long since vanished in the crowd of the building.

"Once Aurors - those are kind of like, what do you call them, those law people in the Muggle world - once Aurors arrived on the scene, you were taken away and brought to the Ministry of Magic, which is where you are now. From there, we sent you to Roger and his wife Kathy, who had a fully-grown daughter as well, your second cousin Moniqué. Sadly, however, one night six months there after, Moniqué stopped to visit her parents and found them dead, with you in the next room crying. You were then forth put into her care, for it was the safest place you could be, since she constantly traveled for her job. This arrangement was supposed to last until the end of July, for by then you would have received your admission letter into Hogwarts - a wizarding school, everyone goes there -" he added at the look of confusion on Abigail's face. "And would have spent the rest of the month with your uncle and aunt until it was time for you to attend school. However, it looks as though we will have to send you there sooner than we expected." He and Persephone led Abigail out of the office and into the corridor, which was even more jammed with people - who Abigail now noticed were all wearing robes - than it had been when they arrived. They led Abigail down many corridors, occasionally shouting memos over their shoulders at people as they passed. Finally, they reached a small door, seeming out of place in the busy office, as no one was flocking around it. Graham pulled out a stick - His wand, Abigail thought automatically, and tapped it on the lock, muttering something. The door swung open, and inside was a small camp bed, toilet, and sink. Abigail felt as though she was being sentenced to prison. Persephone led her to the bed and push on her shoulders, forcing her to sit.

"You'll stay here for tonight, until we sort out some of the fine lines," said Persephone, her hands still on Abigail's shoulders. With that, she and Graham turned and left Just before Graham shut the door, he flicked his wand, and Abigail felt a peculiar sensation around her neck. Must be my voice coming back, she thought, and tried humming to test it out. She was right. A light click was heard from the door, and Abigail knew she was locked in. Whether to keep people out or to keep her in, she didn't know. For the second time that day, Abigail crawled under the thin sheets, and cried.

***

The next morning, Abigail was abruptly woken by an owl flying in through the window above her bed she had failed to notice the night before. The owl flew across her room, and back out again, not without dropping a package on her bed along the way. Abigail ripped open the brown paper. Inside lay three things: a small note, a letter, and another wrapped package. Abigail opened the letter first. The address looked rather strange.

Abigail Potter

Ministry Holding Room #12

Ministry of Magic

London

That's odd, thought Abigail. How could they know where I'm staying? Suddenly, Abigail wasn't so sure if she really wanted to know what was in that letter. With shaking hands, she slid her thumb under the sealed envelope, and ripped the paper. Inside was a folded piece of paper, thick and yellow. Slowly, Abigail unfolded it, and another paper fell onto her bed. Ignoring it, she read what was before her, her eyes widening with every sentence:

Dear Miss Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Hogwarts, Abigail thought. The wizarding school Graham mentioned last night. I'm going to become a witch! She thought with glee. She skimmed through the rest of the letter, and quickly read the other paper, which was a list of school supplies. Then she picked up the note.

Miss Potter-

Please meet us down in the visitor area upon receiving this note. You'll find the door is unlocked. Once you leave, an elevator will be in front of you. Just step in, press the blue button, and speak 'Visitor Area'. You'll then arrive there.

Lady P. Mandrea

Lady P. Mandrea

Auror

Abigail had her hand on the doorknob when she remembered. "Oh no, I'm still in my pajamas!" she exclaimed. Abigail looked down. Wearing an oversized tee shirt and flannel plaid pants was not the way she wanted to present herself to these strangers. She then realized that the package she had received hadn't been opened yet. Quickly, she tore off the brown paper. Inside was a robe, plain and black, much like what the people had been wearing in the halls the night before, though Abigail couldn't remember that. Underneath was a heavy long sleeved velvet dress of a cheerful purple that beyond her doubt, Abigail discovered when she put it on, was quite comfortable to wear. Abigail located her sneakers in the corner of the room, which she had thrown on the night before. Abigail wrinkled her nose at how badly they clashed with the dress. She quickly ran her fingers through her hair as a makeshift comb, and walked outside. The corridor was deserted, but whether Abigail had been expecting that or not, she didn't know. She noticed an elevator with gold (or gold leaf, she wasn't a person who could tell) doors, and pressed the down button, since she wasn't sure if she would go up or down. A few seconds later, the elevator doors dinged open, and she stepped inside.

The inside was golden colored, as Abigail had expected. She turned to the elevator wall where the buttons usually are and found that not only the right side of the doors, but the left side, and even the part of the wall above the doors which Abigail, at 4 feet, 11 inches (she wasn't too good at the metric system; she had gone to school in America when she learned measurements) could just barely skim with her fingertips, was covered in neatly spaced buttons. They were all different colors, most various shades of red, green, and purple with odd symbols on them when suddenly Abigail spied a sky blue button centered above the door. She jumped up to reach it, and, on her second try, she pressed it. A cool voice sounded in the elevator.

"Which department?" it asked. Abigail wasn't used to answering robot-sounding voices; the closest she ever came to that was the drive-thru at the local fast food place.

"Errr, visitor area?" she answered questionably. Suddenly, the elevator jerked upward, and Abigail had to lean against the back wall to steady herself from the sudden movement. A few moments later, the doors opened, and the cool voice sounded again.

"Visitor Area," it spoke, as Abigail stepped out of the elevator. She was in a carpeted hallway that reminded her of a hallway at a hotel, for it was also lined with doors.

"Over here Abigail!" cried a voice down the hall. She spun around and saw Persephone waving to her from a doorway. As quickly as she could (she was still getting used to the outfit) she ran down to greet her. "My, you look as though you were bred in the wizarding world!" exclaimed Persephone when Abigail approached her, both females beaming.

"Well, she was for three years, don't forget!" said a cheerful voice from the room. Persephone led Abigail into the room and sat her down in a soft chair with a velvet cushion. Across from her were three people: one was Graham, one was a woman with her hair up in a bun, and one was a man with flaming red hair.

"Abigail, this- " said Graham, starting to introduce the two people, when Abigail interrupted.

"Wait a second, I've seen you before!" she shouted, jumping up and pointing to the man with red hair. "At St. Bensons church yard, just yesterday, you where there!"

"St. Bensons?" asked the woman. She turned to the man. "Oh Ron, you didn't, you promised!"

"I couldn't help it," said the man, grinning. He held out his hand. "I'm your Uncle, Ron. And this lovely woman here," he gestured toward the woman, who had a scowl on her face. Abigail felt as though she were a balance, and someone had taken a small weight off of this woman's side and placed it on the man's. "Is my lovely wife, your aunt Hermione." The woman's expression softened, and she smiled.

'It's so good to see you again dear," she said, standing up and hugging Abigail. Abigail was shocked. She could never remember being truly hugged before. Moniqué often hugged her on the street when she was younger, and had been crying about something, to prove that she was her guardian, but this woman - My aunt, her mind corrected her - hugged her as though it was her last five minutes on earth. She hugged Abigail liked she loved her.

"Now Hermione, I know you're not going to like hearing this, but we're particularly strangers toher. You can't act like that," said her uncle as her pulled her off of Abigail. She sighed.

"You're right. Well then, all set and ready to go?" asked her aunt. Abigail couldn't help but wonder: Go? Her confusion no doubt had shown upon her face, for then Uncle Ron put in his two cents.

"You'll be living with us for now, Abigail, until you have to go to school. Now come on, the Ministry has kindly reserved a fireplace for us to leave by."

"Fireplace?" questioned Abigail as the three of them left the room. They headed into the elevator and her aunt pressed a button as her uncle explained.

"You see Abigail, most wizards and witches travel by Apparation, which is when they can be at one place and the next second, appear at another. However, you can't attempt your Apparation test until your 18, so we'll travel by Floo Powder." Abigail didn't even bother asking what Floo Powder was, she knew she was going to get an explanation someday. "Floo Powder is...well, it's kind of a bit complicated to explain. You'll see." The elevator stopped, and they stepped out. The room was made of old stone, and a small fireplace with a tiny fire inside was the only source of light in the room. As Uncle Ron moved over to stoke the fire, Aunt Hermione dug through her purse, finally pulling out a vial of silver powder.

"Here we are," she replied cheerfully. "You'll go first Abigail, so we'll be able to know if anything goes wrong," she said. Abigail paled, and shakily took the vial from her aunt's hands.

"Just uncap it, and throw the whole thing into the flames," said Uncle Ron. "Don't worry, we can Apparate," he added, seeing Abigail's face.

Abigail slowly walked up to the fire, her heart pounding. She could feel the hot heat on her face, yet, felt it no where else. Cautiously, she uncapped the vial and tipped it into the fire. She yelped and jumped back, as the flames turned bright green and grew, their roaring filling her ears.

"Shout 'The Weasley House'!" she heard her Uncle shouting faintly.

"THE WEASLEY HOUSE!" she roared, the volume raised due to her own fear. Within seconds, she felt as though she were pulled into the flames. Her elbow smacked against something, and she pulled them in. She took a deep breath from her nose, and felt her nose hairs burn from hot ash. Holding her breath, she flashed her eyes open for a second, seeing glimpses of living rooms and parlors fly by faster than an out-of-control bus. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, and dug her nails into her palm, imaging the crescent moon marks that would be their, and her mind jumped back to her own scar on her head...and then she fell onto an oriental rug. She coughed several times, and sat up, taking in her surroundings. She noticed a comfortable looking sofa, a large grandfather clock, and several odd looking gadgets that lined the walls. Suddenly, she realized that there were people in the room, right in front of her, and they were staring at her as if she had an extra nose. She blushed, though no one could see under the amount of soot on her face, and her eyes widened to match the eyes of the kids in this room. A small boy cautiously crawled toward her, and brought his face right up against hers.

"Who are you?" he whispered.