Chapter 1 – The Men from the Fireplace

It was a bright round room. The afternoon sun was shining through the windows, making patterns on the rich carpet. Collection of delicate silver instruments were seated on the shelves along the walls. Some of them were moving and puffing, or making quiet, humming sounds. By the window sat a beautiful large bird. Its eyes and red fiery feathers were shining in the sunlight. The Phoenix turned its large head towards his master and made a low musical sound.

The old man with long silvery hair and beard however did not pay any attention. He was too immersed in the heavy book in front of him. His bright blue eyes behind the half-moon spectacles were mowing slowly along the lines of the text. He was wearing a magnificent set of robes of emerald green with thin stripes of gold. His pointed hat sat on the desk next to the book he was reading.

Although old, the man still looked vivacious and strong. He had an air of a respectable and honorable man. And sure he was – Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, awarded with Order of Merlin, First Class, and the most celebrated Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry – Albus Dumbledore.

Along the walls there were the portraits of the previous Headmasters of Hogwarts – Dippet, Everard, Black, Fortescue and many others. They were all moving lazily in their frames. Some frames were empty as their inhabitants had moved away to visit other portraits. In fact, at this very moment Dilys Derwent was returning in his portrait. He was red in the face and panted heavily.

“Dumbledore,” he called, “urgent situation. I have just been informed that a serious magical damage has been done in Colchester, Essex.”

The old man raised his head and looked around.

“What are you saying? Damage?”

“Yes, yes. Wizengamot asks if you would like to go yourself as this is a peculiar case.”

“Naturally, naturally, I will go,” Dumbledore said, getting up.

“Be careful, Dumbledore. The girl is said to have blown apart the whole house.”

“Indeed? That is remarkable,” Dumbledore muttered, putting on his pointed hat.

“Well, the case seems to be involving delayed magic,” Derwent said uncomfortably.

At this Dumbledore stopped in the process of tightening his belt.

“Then I should hurry,” he said finally and strode across the room towards the door.

“The Muggle institutions are on their way too, I believe.”

“That will only add more fun to this task.”

With these words the Headmaster closed the door behind him, leaving the whispering former Headmasters alone.

Dumbledore hurried along the stairs and corridors of the Hogwarts Castle until he finally came out in the vast grounds. He still needed to get out of the boundaries of Hogwarts so he could Apparate to the scene.

Delayed magic was indeed always a serious case. It was rare but not unheard of. Children of magical people usually become aware of their skills a little after the age of five. In cases of delayed magic this awareness comes only in their teens. Such children are almost always mistaken for Squibs. This was a grave mistake, for Squibs are capable of basic magic while these children can do nothing - nothing, until a certain moment in their life, when they experience a powerful emotion. This emotion is usually sad and painful, like a loss of a loved one. And then, the magical powers within the poor child come alive like water which has broken a dam.

Dumbledore had reached the boundary of the Castle grounds and stepped over it. Then he concentrated hard on the event that had taken place in the Essex. He did not even need to know the exact place. Being a great wizard he was, he could go to any place he liked, without even really knowing where it was. He turned on the spot and when he opened his eyes he was already in Essex.

He had no doubt that he had arrived at the right place. Everything was misty and dusty. It was hard to see, but Dumbledore decided to not use magic for now. He clambered over the rocks and bricks inside the desolated house. Everywhere he looked were pieces of broken furniture and dishes. A little further along was a little fountain of water, coming from a broken sink.

He did not see the girl yet, so he moved along in the next room, which, judging by the lumps of sofa upholstery had once been a living-room. Shattered glass from windows crunched under his feet, almost like a snow. Fluffs from some pillows were still floating in the air. So the room seemed like some kind of weird Christmas performance scenery.

Dumbledore heard little sobs to his left and turned to look. In the corner of the room was the girl he was looking for. She was hugging her legs and had hidden her face between her knees. Her probably light, now grey and dusty curls were about the only thing to be seen.

“Hello there,” he said quietly and politely, not wanting to scare the girl even more than she already was.

She lifted her head and looked around the room, until finally found him. Her face was grey, but streaked from the many tears she had shed. Her eyes were wide as she looked at what she believed to be a vision – an old man with long silvery beard, wearing silky bright green robes, standing in the middle of a catastrophe she had somehow caused.

“Who are you?”

“Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

“School of what?” the girl asked, frowning.

“Witchcraft and Wizardry,” Dumbledore repeated.

“And what kind of school is that?”

“A school for magical children, children like you, my dear.”

“I am not magical, whatever that means. Now, go away, you’re trespassing.”

“I wouldn’t mind leaving, but I have to take you with me.”

The girl laughed bitterly, “you’re not the first one today.”

“Oh? And who else wanted to take you away?”

“The men from the Orphanage. I won’t go! I don’t want to live there. My home is here.”

“This is hardly home anymore, my dear,” Dumbledore said, with the slightest hint of amusement in his voice.

“I don’t want to go to an Orphanage!” she repeated.

“I quite agree, Orphanages are a bad place for children, I should know.”

“Have you lived in an Orphanage?” the girl asked, now looking interested.

“No, no, but I once knew a boy who came from an Orphanage. Turned out quite the wrong way, he did.”

“What happened to him?”

“It is rather a question of what happened to others because of him, but he passed away, at least for the time being.”

“What do you mean by that?” the girl asked, looking suspiciously at Dumbledore.

“That is a story that you will hear someplace else, sometime other,” said Dumbledore mystically, “now, we really should get going.”

“Where to?” the girl asked, her voice quavering slightly.

“I will take you to my school, where we shall discuss all the matters.”

“Why should I go with you? I don’t even know you.”

“I have come to help, you …,”

“Who said I need help?” the girl interrupted him sharply.

“I believe anyone who would see you now would say that you need help.”

There was a moment of silence. The girl seemed to be thinking over what Dumbledore had said. Distantly the signal of a police car hooted. It was rapidly coming closer. The girl whimpered, starting to cry again.

“What is your name, dear girl?” Dumbledore asked.

“Elisabeth Cole,” she answered uncertainly.

“Tell me, how old are you Elisabeth?”

“I’m thirteen, why?”

“Well, well, still underage. By all the rights, you should be going with them, or rather, you should have gone with the men that came before me. What happened to them, coincidentally?”

“They left.”

“Ah yes, no wonder,” Dumbledore smiled, “I daresay I feel a little rebellious today and I think I could break some laws today.”

Elisabeth looked up at him in surprise. He certainly did not look like a man who might feel rebellious or break laws. But then again, that outfit of his … He might be from some forbidden sect. And what about all that rubbish about magic?

“You have a choice, whether to go with them or to come with me.”

She seemed to be considering this offer for a moment. Then she jumped to her feet, “I’m going with you.”

“Well, that is gratifying,” said Dumbledore happily, “now, you’ll need to take my arm.”

“What?” she asked suspiciously.

“My arm, Miss Cole, quickly now,” he added as the police car had already reached the house.

The girl grabbed his arm painfully and in almost the same moment he turned on the spot and they both vanished from the demolished house. They materialized just outside the Hogwarts grounds. Elisabeth fell to the ground coughing and clutching her stomach.

“Are you alright? The first time is always unpleasant, especially for one who does not know what to expect.”

“What the hell was that?’’ she wheezed out, “where am I?’’

“Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” Dumbledore said proudly, extending his arms towards the Castle.

“I want to go back,” the girl said, crawling backwards away from Dumbledore.

“Oh,” said the old man with a hint of disappointment in his voice, “are you quite sure? I know the school is old, but in my eyes it is still beautiful. Just like the first day when I arrived here. Of course, if you insist …”

“Take me to London,’’ Elisabeth seemed to have a sudden change of heart.

“My dear girl, what are you going to do there?”

“It’s none of your business.”

It was clear that the girl was now scared from both Dumbledore and the unfamiliar place she had been taken to, and, of course, the way she had been taken there. The idea of getting away from the police had seemed great only in the first moment. Now she even considered running away from the old man in the forest.

“I know you are confused. At least give me a chance to explain you what happened,” Dumbledore begged, “then, I give you my word, if you will not like my offer, I will take you personally wherever you wish.”

“Do you promise?”

“I give you my Chief Warlock parole.”

“And what is that?” Elisabeth asked, frowning.

“Ah, just a figure of speech,” said Dumbledore airily, “now, anytime you feel like getting up, Miss Cole …”

The girl blushed and got up quickly, flicking off the dirt from her pants. Of course, it did not do much to improve the way she looked.

Dumbledore led the young girl across the green grounds of the Castle, up the stairs in it and along the corridors to his office. He was satisfied to see the awed look on her face as she took in the greatness and strength of this place.

Finally Dumbledore opened his office door and held it open for her as she entered slowly, looking around with her mouth slightly open. The Headmasters in the portraits had had the sense to tactfully stiffen, when they heard the steps outside the door.

The Phoenix at the window sang happily at the sight of his master returning. Elisabeth, however, jumped at the sight of the magnificent bird. He was nothing like anything she had ever seen before - the most beautiful creature on the earth.

“Ah, now that is Fawkes,” said Dumbledore who had seated himself behind his desk.

“He’s beautiful,” she mused, extending a finger against which the bird rubbed its neck.

“Please, sit down, Miss Cole,” Dumbledore said, indicating at an empty chair opposite him, “we have a lot to talk about.”

She sat down smartly on the edge of the chair and watched as the Headmaster took off his hat and placed it carefully on the desk, “now, what to start with?”

“You said something about Magic.”

“Oh, yes, you and I are Magical people, and so are many others of course, and this is a facility for Magical education.”

“I’m … Magical?” these words sounded like a wonder to Elisabeth’s ears, but still she did not quite believe the old man.

“You certainly are. You just were not aware of it until now.”

“I don’t understand,” she said.

“I believe you suffered a loss?” Dumbledore asked and Elisabeth nodded, “It caused a chaos in you head and soul and the sleeping magic inside you was awakened. That is what we call a delayed magic.”

“We?”

“The Wizarding world,” he explained, “now, I’m sincerely sorry about your loss, but I have to ask whom did you lose?”

“My grandmother,” she said sadly, “well, she’s not my grandmother really. She adopted me when I was about five. I just called her grandma, because she could have been one, by her age.”

“I see,” said Dumbledore, “so you don’t know you real parents?”

“No, I don’t even know their names.”

“That is most disappointing. Very well, I will try to find out something about them myself. Do you have other living relatives?”

“There is my grandma’s ex-husband. But he is not really a relative, only in theory. You shouldn’t call and bother him either. He’s extremely busy.”

“Hm, this is rather confusing, I shall see what I can do.”

“Please don’t make me go to the Orphanage,” Elisabeth pleaded.

“I’ll do my best. When is your birthday?”

“November 30th.”

“Still more than three years … Good, now …’’

“Three years to what?” asked Elisabeth, feeling a little scared.

“Until you come of age, in the Wizarding world it happens at the age of 17.”

“Really?” she broke into a smile.

“Really, Miss Cole. Perhaps, we should find a room for you and talk about everything else tomorrow? It is getting late and you have had a long day.”

Indeed, the sun was already setting behind the Forest. The room was getting steadily darker, the shadows were no longer playing on the walls and the floor. Fawkes, the Phoenix, had put his head under his wind and was dozing.

“Now, let’s see. I think it better that for now we keep you in secret, perhaps,” Dumbledore spoke again and winked at Elisabeth.

He got up and strode towards the fireplace so determinedly that Elisabeth was sure he was going to climb right into it. She was not much mistaken. Dumbledore took a handful of green powder and threw it into the fireplace. Green flames appeared immediately. Instead of climbing in the fireplace he poked his head into the flames and called, “Severus, I’d like a word. Now.”

That was the most peculiar thing Elisabeth had ever seen. She would have laughed if she had not been afraid that the old man would catch fire right in front of her eyes. But what happened next was even more curious – the green flames appeared again and this time a man stepped out from them. Elisabeth let out a little shriek and almost fell off the chair.

The man from the fireplace looked at her with his right eyebrow arched gracefully. He was all clad in weird black robes. His hair was black and a bit greasy, even his eyes were black and he had a large hooked nose. And when he looked at her, she wished nothing else than to disappear. His look was so intense and perishing, she almost felt his eyes boring into her.

What the man saw was a dirty little girl, which for some reason had poured grey chalky water over her head and then made stripes on her face with fingers. She had a mass of violently curly hair, which made all the sight even worse. Her throughout Muggle attire was not much better – torn jeans that had once been light blue and a t-shirt of undeterminable color. Where did Dumbledore come across such poor little creatures?

“Severus,” said Dumbledore, “this is Miss Cole, Elisabeth, this is Professor Snape.”

Snape nodded at her, while she just continued to stare at his clothing.

“Severus, would be so kind and find Miss Cole a secret room down in your dungeons? And before that, a shower, I think. She will be staying with us for a while. After you have done this, please come back and I will explain the situation.”

“Yes, Headmaster,” said Professor Snape and turned towards Elisabeth.

Her eyes widened. That old man wanted her to go with him? She had the impression that he would take her to some dark basement and do horrible things to her. Dumbledore, however, smiled and nodded encouragingly.

“Off you go, we’ll talk tomorrow.”

Professor Snape was already standing by the fireplace, with the green powder in his palm. He ushered her in it and stepped inside himself. Needless to say, that Elisabeth felt very weird indeed being crammed in the fireplace together with the scariest man she had ever seen. He dropped the powder and as the green flames appeared everything started spinning. Elisabeth screamed and wanted to jump out of the fireplace but the man next to her grabbed her elbow and held her tight.

Seconds later she toppled out of the fireplace on the floor in a completely different room – cold and dark, with jars of dead animals along the walls – nothing like the warm and pleasant study of Dumbledore’s. As she sat on the floor, Professor Snape stepped out of the fireplace carefully and made it to the door.

“Follow me,” he said coldly.

Elisabeth got up quickly and ran out of the terrible room after the man. The cold dark corridors were not much better. She followed the black billowing cloak in front of her until it stopped and he spoke, “in here.”

She entered a room that was a mediator between the two previous rooms she had seen. This one had nothing but a bed and a little desk with a chair. The walls were covered with stripy dark blue wallpaper. To her right was another door.

“Bedroom,” the man said, “bathroom,” he indicated at the door to the right, “you will find everything you need there.”

With these words he left, closing the door with a little snap behind him. Elisabeth heard his steps dying away. She opened the bathroom door and smiled. It was really small but indeed had everything she needed, most importantly – a shower.

She undressed quickly and stepped under the steaming water. She closed her eyes and sighed in contentment. This had really been a bizarre day. The house blew up, a strange bearded man arrived and took her away, and an even stranger man took her here. Although all that had been very queer and even scary she liked everything so far, well, except the strange black man from the fireplace. She smiled to herself, “you are crazy, running away like that and you don’t even know where you are, what they are going to do with you.”

She suddenly froze listening intently, scared of everything. What if all this really was some kind of trap? She did not know who these men were or what this place was.

“Relax,” she told herself, “that Dublydorr man seems nice. And this can’t be worse than the Orphanage. Just can’t.”

She stepped out of the shower and found a large nightshirt in one of the drawers of the little commode. She walked back in the room and checked whether the door had a lock or something. To her great relief, there was. She turned it and smiled at the little click.

Elisabeth crawled under the surprisingly warm, welcoming sheets of the bed. It felt like heaven to her tired bones. Soon she was asleep, dreaming various dreams about men with pointed hats coming out from the fireplaces and showering her in rainbow colored sparkles of magic. Later she had to admit to herself that it had been a very childish dream indeed.