Purus Iungebit

Ch. 2: Arrival

Being on board of a plane for over 10 hours was not a pleasant experience, and now she could add it onto her list of 'things never to do again'. Her mother had scolded her for wearing her skirt and shirt again, but she had refused to change. She had been talked into bringing a light sweater along though. Now they were walking, still a little stiff from sitting the same way for several hours, down the airport corridors, away from their arrival gate. She suddenly found herself surrounded by white people.

"Ma look! They're everywhere!" she whispered to her mother sarcastically.

Her mother rolled her eyes. "Sush, they might hear you."

Cynthia smirked and shut her mouth, she had to refrain herself from having a giggle fit (she was proned to having those, it was quite embarrassing sometimes) when she heard the accents. Oh, the accents. She'd never heard anything like it, not even from those American tourists and actually she found them quite pleasant. Soon they found themselves outside trying to hail a taxi. She was chilled down to her bones.

Her mother looked to her. "Re-thinking that outfit now, Cynthia?"

She rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue. "I'm perfectly comfortable."

"Claro, that's why you're shivering. Don't worry though, we'll get a taxi soon."

As if by magic a taxi finally stopped for them, they stepped in, relieved to be out of the cold. She held her face almost pressed against the window...there were so many people, and not to mention buildings and cars!

Soon, the amount of activity on the streets reduced and they found themselves in a quieter part of the city. She looked up to the building they had stopped in front of, and wrinkled her nose.

"They all stand so close together...are they supposed to be like that?" she asked her mother slowly.

She nodded, "Yes Cynthia. Plus, they aren't houses, they're apartments...or flats as they call them here."

"Flats," she repeated, "Interesting."

Two hours later Cynthia found herself sitting in her room, surrounded by clothing she had yet to put away. The 'flat' was not the most spacious thing she had encountered in fact, she found the whole space, eleven square meters, to be a bit suffocating. Without the large and numerous windows and warm afternoon breezes she was accustomed to, it all seemed so...gray.

Gray in the sense that it was dead, where as at home everything used to be so alive. The room she had claimed as her own seemed such a tiny box with only one small window. She sighed and suddenly smelled incense, her mother walked into her room carrying a small dish with burning coals and little pieces of incense.

"What's wrong?" asked Cynthia.

Her mother was fiercely superstitious, evil spirits and all, and she used a lot of incense (Cynthia found the smell was to be very comforting), but usually only when something bad was happening.

Her mother shook her head and she walked around the room with the incense burner.

"Nothing, just cleansing the house. I mean, flat."

Her mother left her room, Cynthia was hungry and absolutely exhausted. That and the time change were still weighing heavily on her, in the form of a killer jet lag. A half an hour later she fell into a dreamless sleep.

***

She had slept until the next morning, and when she woke up her stomach was grumbling loudly. She reached for the mosquito netting, but instead fell onto the floor with a smack, realizing too late that there were no nets anymore. She rubbed her back, 'OW, great way to start the morning...' She was not looking forward to today.

She reached for a bathrobe and wrapped herself in it, then made her way to the small kitchen. On her way, she noticed some mail at the foot of the front door and plucked it up. Fifteen minutes later, the mail lying on a counter, she was drinking her coffee and eating a piece of toast.

Her mother came into the kitchen, yawning, "Ah, this time change is going to be hard, no?"

She nodded, "No kidding. That, and breaking habits."

She thought back to her fall and grinned, she wasn't the most graceful human on the planet, but she wasn't the biggest klutz in the world either. She just had her moments sometimes.

Her mother gestured to the mail lying on the counter as she poured her own cup of coffee, "Mail already?"

She shrugged, "Most likely advertising of some sort."

Her mom reached at the mail and shuffled through it. She stopped when she came across a fat envelope.

"What's this?" she said aloud, "It has your name on it."

Cynthia looked up.

"What??" She took the letter in her hand and read the address.

Cynthia Soraya Moore

Apartment thirteen e

Nr four Westing Dr

Clothing infested room

She scoffed, "What...is this?"

She turned it over and eyed the seal, which was uncommon (unless these English people had a strange way of mailing things).

"Well, open it," her mother encouraged her.

She ripped the seal, pulled out a letter, and read it aloud.

Dear Miss. Moore,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September first. We await your owl by no later than July thirty first.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva Mcgonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

She put the letter down shakily, "What kind of joke is this?"

Her mother took the letter and read it again as if trying to find some answer hidden in the paper, "Robes, Books of Spells, what is this?"

"Maybe it's some sort of advertising...you know like for one of those shops there used to be in Ecuador," she said hopefully.

Her mom shook her head, "Trust me Mija, there are no shops like this in Ecuador."

All of the sudden, the doorbell rang, they looked to each other, who'd be here this early? Cynthia decided it best for her to go get the door seeing as her mother was still staring at the letter. She sighed and pulled it open. She had to stop herself from gaping, there was a woman standing there.

She was a stout woman with a smile on her face and pleasant short blonde hair. What struck her was the fact that she was wearing her clothes rather strangely. She had on blue outdated pants, a horrible old Christmas sweater, and the strangest hoop earrings she had ever seen. She wasn't sure if this just the woman or all English fashion in general. She sincerely hoped it wasn't the latter, and this was saying something considering she herself had little taste in fashion.

The woman held out her hand, "Hello, I'm Ms. Merriweather, Hogwarts correspondent, you must be Cynthia Moore? My, you're a bit older than we expected."

Cynthia numbly took a hold of her hand, her mind wildly searching for who this might be. Then she realized, 'Hogwarts.'--that was the school in the letter.

Somehow she found her voice, "Er...come in then." She turned around, "Ma! There's someone here for...me!"

Her mother came shuffling out of the kitchen a hand running through her hair. When she caught sight of the woman, she stopped mid-step.

The Merriweather woman smiled, "Hello, you must be Cynthia's mother? I'm from Hogwarts, we have a lot of talking to do."

"Hogwarts?" her mother repeated and help up the letter, "You mean this is real? You must be joking."

Ms. Merriweather took a seat on their sofa and gesture her mother to follow her, "Tell me Mrs.--"

"Ms," her mother interrupted a bit annoyed.

"Ms. Moore, have strange occurrences ever happened with your daughter? Any unexplained broken windows, glasses, plates and such?"

Her mother nodded slowly, "But..."

"Well my dear, these are all signs of a perfectly well adjusted young witch..."

***

Hours later their jaws were literally to the floor, Cynthia couldn't believe that any of this was true...actually she still didn't buy it. No, it had to all be one huge joke at her expense. She decided that this country was much crueler than her own. Her mother was literally using the wall to support herself.

"So this is true?" she asked again weakly.

"As true as the color blue!" said Merriweather cheerfully, this woman was starting to get on her last nerve, "Though it is curious...how old are you Cynthia?"

She cleared her throat, "Sixteen."

Ms. Merriweather bit her lip as if thinking of some grand plan, "I'll have to speak with the Headmaster about this...we've never had such a first year...or for that matter would you be in sixth?..." She threw up her hand enthusiastically, "No matter, I'm sure we'll figure something out, we are Hogwarts after all!"

Cynthia smirked. Ms. Merriweather seemed intensely proud of her position.

After rummaging in her enormous bag she handed them two things, "Here are your instructions to get to Diagon Alley, quite simple trust me, and your ticket. Don't lose either!" She gave them one final smile and turned to leave.

"Oh and Cynthia, until further notice, buy those 1st year materials. Well, good luck and buh bye!" And with that she was gone.

Cynthia looked down to the papers in her hands, "This is real, isn't it?"

Her mother sighed, "It's only as real as we make it...are you sure you want to do this?"

Cynthia was silent for a moment. Could she really trust that the world wasn't just playing a cruel joke? This should be what was best for her--if it was in fact real.

"Yes Ma," she replied, sealing her fate, "I'm sure."

***

Ms. Merriweather stepped out of the flat a frown on her face. 'Sixteen? That's impossible...we only give letters to first years exactly at age 11 no more no less...this girl may not even be able to attend...' She sighed and settled on writing a scribbled note to Dumbledore asking for an emergency meeting. Once outside, she discreetly sent it off with her owl and a second later, she was gone with a loud crack.