Chapter Text
The morning unfolded in a spectacle of light and sound, with birds singing soft melodies under the bright blue sky. However, for Anne, the day began with a shadow hovering over her mind, an echo of the disturbing dreams that haunted her during the night. Her dreams were filled with sinister witches with pointed noses and greenish skin, an unrelenting chase that left her fearful, like figures from a dark tale.
Upon waking, Anne prayed silently that it was all just a dream, a frightening reverie that had no roots in reality, a fantasy that would fade with the morning light. The arrival of Mr. Slughorn with his gooseberry-colored eyes only reinforced her fears, but she chose to remain silent, fervently wishing that the matter would be forgotten, for neither Matthew nor Marília mentioned anything about it.
As she washed the dishes in the kitchen, Anne pretended normalcy, trying to ignore Marília’s cautious glances that weighed upon her. Every movement was meticulously calculated not to reveal the tumult of thoughts consuming her inside. She dared not open her mouth, fearing that any word might bring forth the nightmares that still haunted her mind.
With each dish she scrubbed, each drop of water that ran down her hands, Anne sank deeper into her turbulent thoughts. The memories of the man with gooseberry-colored eyes were like persistent shadows in her mind, even though he no longer seemed as threatening as in her nocturnal vision, with his stunned face after Marília's shouts. Anne recalled the stories she had heard, that even the devil could disguise himself as an angel of light, and this only intensified her internal unrest.
Anne finished her tasks at the sink with trembling hands, longing to quickly retreat to her room and find refuge from the anxiety consuming her. However, before she could escape, Marília's call cut through the air, causing Anne to shrink back, avoiding the eyes of the woman who had become her guardian.
"You need to get ready, for you will be going out with Matthew soon," Marília said harshly, Anne unable to discern the tremor of concern and love hidden behind the facade of coldness. The fear of the unknown tinged every word, making Marília's tone as cold as glaciers. Anne trembled like never before, her nerves on edge.
Marília's words were like a sharp blade cutting through Anne's fragile hope, and she felt her world collapse at hearing Marília's words, a wave of despair and anguish overwhelming her. "Oh, Marília, please don't take me back to the orphanage!" she pleaded, her words mingling with the sob of her incessant tears. "I would rather die, die! I would rather die than be separated again. End my suffering and let me join my sinful-blooded ancestors!"
Anne could not contain the tears that began to stream down her cheeks, a torrent of uncontrollable emotions overflowing from her being. She did not want to be taken back to the orphanage, not even by mistake. The mere thought of being separated from her new family, from the beauty of the haunted forest, the shimmering lake, and the white trail of delights made her tremble with fear. Her beloved Diana, even the annoying presences like the crybaby Ruby and the unbearable Josie Pye, and yes, even Gilbert, she would miss. Oh, how she longed to preserve those precious moments, fearing the imminent end of the life that had become so meaningful.
With a desperate impulse, she threw herself into Marília's arms, embracing her with all the strength her thin arms could muster, as if that embrace could ward off the cruel fate looming over her. Anne did not want to say goodbye to her new life. The fear of the unknown, of returning to a past of loneliness and uncertainty, was overwhelming, and Anne felt as if she were at the end of her life's times.
Tears welled up more and more in her eyes, a torrent of repressed emotions emerging to the surface, as Anne continued, "Marília, please don't take me back to the orphanage," Anne pleaded in a mix of despair and agony. "It was a mistake, I'm sure! Oh, Marília, please don't make me go back. Let me die with the memories I built here."
Marília firmly held Anne's arms, looking at her with a mix of regret and exasperation at the girl's intense words. "Clumsy girl! Who told you that you were going back to the orphanage? Never repeat those words about sinful blood," Marília reprimanded firmly, her serious demeanor contrasting with the gentle kiss she placed on Anne's forehead. "You are not going to die, don't speak those words!" Marília continued, her tone now softer but still firm in her rebuke. She gently caressed Anne's face, looking into her red eyes and tear-swollen face. The kiss on her forehead felt like a balm for her wounded soul, a gesture that transcended words.
"You must go out with Matthew to buy materials for your new school, that was it, indeed! And don't ask me for information, I don't want to know anything about it! Now go, go get ready," Marília spoke dismissively, her words sharp. She wanted to protect Anne in her own way, hiding her own insecurities behind a facade of rigidity and distance.
Anne felt a knot form in her throat at Marília's words. Her heart still raced, a mix of relief at not having to face the return to the orphanage and anxiety for the journey ahead with Matthew. She nodded silently, her eyes still wet from recent tears. She could not help but feel gratitude for Marília's gesture, even if it was shrouded in a veil of harshness.
Without saying a word, Anne slowly stepped away, feeling the weight of the tumultuous emotions surrounding her. She climbed the stairs to her room, where she began to prepare to go out with Matthew.
Every movement was slow and deliberate, her mind still processing everything that had happened. She wondered about her new school, about the magical world she was about to discover, but remembered Marília's words and kept her thoughts to herself.
Looking in the mirror, Anne tried to push away the memories of the disturbing dreams from the previous night. She took a deep breath, seeking to find the determination and courage needed to face the unknown.
When she finally finished getting ready, Anne descended the stairs, ready to leave with Matthew. She found Marília in the kitchen, who said nothing more, only nodded toward the door, indicating it was time to go.
The sun still shone brightly outside, painting the world with golden hues as Anne approached Matthew, who waited under the comforting shade of a tree. Her heart beat a little faster at the sight of Mr. Slughorn beside Matthew, the memories of the past night still fresh in her mind. However, she focused on Matthew's gentle smile, who offered his arm for them to walk together.
The journey to London was long but filled with expectations and anxieties. Anne could hardly wait to see Diana's reaction upon knowing she was in the famous city. As they walked through the busy streets of London, Anne observed the elegant people and their sophisticated clothing, contrasting with her own simplicity. A frown appeared on her face as she realized Mr. Slughorn was leading them down a discreet street, between a bookstore and a record store, to a bland brick wall. Until she saw him tap his wand a few times, making the wall open before them.
Her eyes widened in awe, Anne clutched Matthew's arm tightly, her heart pounding with excitement and her imagination filling with possibilities and enchantments. Could there be more secret passages like that? She allowed herself to dream of fantastic adventures, imagining herself performing spells and having a wand like the one the man wielded.
The excitement almost made her jump for joy, almost made her forget the fears and tears she shed hours before, fearing a return to the orphanage. However, now, before the magic unfolding before her, Anne felt a mix of fear and excitement, a delicate dance between the unknown and the promise of extraordinary discoveries awaiting her.
Anne was quickly enveloped by the magical world unfolding before her eyes, a profusion of wizards and witches with pointed hats and flowing robes. She could hardly believe the diversity and magic permeating that place. Her attention was captured by elves with pointed ears, a glimpse of fantasy that left her marveling.
Matthew, beside her, widened his eyes as he noticed the variety of magical beings around and took a step back, surprised by the unusual scene. Mr. Slughorn, with his gentle and welcoming manner, introduced them to the Leaky Cauldron, a place that served as a restaurant and lodging for wizards and witches of all origins.
Anne was enchanted by the lively and welcoming atmosphere of the Leaky Cauldron. People praised her red hair, and she felt radiant receiving more compliments in one day than in all her eleven years of life. The sense of belonging and acceptance was palpable, and Anne found herself genuinely smiling, her eyes shining with joy and curiosity.
She allowed herself to be enveloped by the vibrant energy of the place, absorbing every detail with fascination. The lively conversations, the tempting smells of magical food, the soft music floating in the air, all this created a magical and unforgettable setting for Anne.
They soon went to Diagon Alley, and it did not disappoint, it was like a portal to a world of unknown wonders, where every step Anne took was an exciting discovery. Mr. Slughorn guided them to the white marble bank, which rose majestically above the surrounding shops. The attendants were goblins, magical creatures with piercing gazes and deep voices that echoed like a warning from fairy tales. Anne felt a shiver of excitement and fear before the grandeur and aura of security that hung over the bank.
Mr. Slughorn assured them that this was the safest place in the world, where even fools would think twice before entering and hesitate to venture. It was as if they were standing before an enchanted fortress, protected by ancient magic and the cunning of the goblin guardians. Anne felt part of something grand and untouchable, absorbing every detail with bright, admiring eyes. Anne was enchanted by the idea of writing about all of this. Mr. Slughorn also explained about the exchange of money from dollars to Galleons, the wizarding currency that shone with a magical glow in her hands.
And then they went to Madame Malkin's shop, a vision of purple and elegance. Needles and ribbons floated in the air while creating Anne's school uniforms, a spectacle of magic and craftsmanship. Anne briefly wondered why someone would choose such a common job in a world full of magical possibilities, but soon dismissed these thoughts, remembering not to underestimate each person's choices.
The visit to Flourish and Blotts was a true delight for Anne. The shelves extended to the ceiling, filled with books that seemed to have a life of their own. Books that floated, books that bit, books that contained knowledge beyond comprehension, there were books without titles, books that seemed larger than herself. For Anne, it was like being in a treasure trove of knowledge and magic, a place where her thirst for discoveries and adventures could be satisfied.
However, what excited her the most was the prospect of obtaining her own wand.
Anne dove into a sea of expectations as she entered Ollivanders' shop, where the magic of wands seemed to dance in the air. She imagined her own wand, imagining what her piece of personal magic would be like. Her mind danced between possibilities: a wand of golden wood like the purest gold, or perhaps shining like diamonds on a starry night. Or maybe, she dreamed of a cute and shiny wand, like Cinderella's fairy godmother's, capable of fulfilling all the most enchanted wishes.
Mr. Slughorn introduced the shop owner as a wise and talented man whose wands were true works of magical art. Anne trembled with excitement as she entered the shop, where wand boxes piled up to the ceiling, each containing its own story and power.
Anne tried several wands, each more intriguing and enchanting than the other, until she came across a simple and unassuming wand, looking like a mere branch. Without hesitation, Anne held it, but her enthusiasm turned into disappointment when a slight tingling sensation ran through her body and a few sparks emerged from the wand.
She tried to hide her grimace, but the feeling of having such a common and dull wand left her disheartened. She dared to ask if she could exchange it, but the shopkeeper's penetrating gaze made her hesitate. He explained that the wands choose their owners and that trying to exchange it could hurt the wand's feelings, a response that made her feel even more out of place. The shopkeeper's words about wands choosing their owners resonated in her mind, leaving her with the feeling that even her wand was judging her.
Anne felt soulless, as if even her personal magic was being questioned. Her red hair, her freckles, her thinness, and her gray eyes were not just physical characteristics; they were stigmas that made her feel different and often excluded. However, she decided not to judge her wand based on its simple appearance. After all, she knew what it was like to be judged by her appearance and did not wish to inflict the same judgment on her future magical companion.
"But it sure is ugly," Anne murmured, her sad voice echoing as she left the shop while Matthew laughed softly beside her and Mr. Slughorn tried to hide the slight curve of his lips.
