The Letter
After the incident at the zoo with the Brazilian boa constrictor, Harry and Cheyenne wouldn't see each other outside of school again until the beginning of the summer holidays. From what Harry had been able to gather upon arriving home that night, Piers had been the one to rat him out to the Dursleys, which had earned Harry his long punishment. The one good thing that came out of all this, though, was the fact that Piers hadn't seen Cheyenne talking to the snake, though the Dursleys still knew she'd been at the zoo, too, which meant they were even less friendly toward her the next time she came around their house. It was just good she never stepped foot inside...
Cheyenne kept herself busy while her best friend served his time; since she was already on top of her schoolwork, the only things she really had to concentrate on were her chores and making sure her grandmother rested. Thankfully, the sprain she'd gotten at the zoo healed within a couple of days, so she was able to get back to helping Arabella around the house just as she promised. Of course, the older woman still encouraged her granddaughter to get out of the house when there wasn't anything else to be done at home, so any time not spent at school or on Wisteria Walk was at the local library or riding about Little Whinging.
Things did get rather lonely for Cheyenne after a while, though; Harry was the only friend she had in school, so whenever he was being punished, she had no one else she could spend time with. She often got picked on by Dudley and his gang because she was friends with Harry, but she never let the bullies cow her into submission like they had the rest of the students and stuck by her best friend's side.
Dudley's gang was made up of him and several other young man; aside from Piers, there were three large, dumb thugs named Dennis, Malcolm, and Gorden. Seeing as Dudley was the biggest and dumbest of the lot, though, he'd been dubbed the leader. The five of them ruled their primary school and, with no one else brave enough to argue with them, Harry, who was their favorite punching bag, was the odd man out. This subsequently made Cheyenne an outcast herself, since she refused to let them scare her into turning a blind eye to their bullying ways. She wasn't going to leave Harry to suffer alone like the rest of their classmates had, especially since he had to actually live with one of his bullies and those two prats, he had the misfortune to call his aunt and uncle.
Well, there was an upside and a downside to be had at the dawn of their summer break; the downside was that without lessons and homework to keep them occupied, Dudley and his gang had nothing better to do outside hanging around Privet Drive and partaking in Dudley's favorite sport: Harry Hunting. The upside: Harry and Cheyenne had a place to hide to avoid their tormentors when they were out and about. And, since the Dursleys didn't care either way whether he was home or not during the holiday, Harry spent most of his nights over at Arabella and Cheyenne's. He still tried to return to Number 4 at least once a week, but only did so once he was sure the other boys had cleared out for the day.
When Harry and Cheyenne could get out of the house safely, they usually biked down to the theater to see the newest blockbuster movie out on the big screen or went to check out the shops in town; their favorite was a quaint little teashop by the train station, where they liked to sit at a table by the bay window and blow off steam. Cheyenne was often silent while Harry vented about the Dursleys and their stupid rules over a pot of tea and some cookies. Most of the pair's talks this time, however, revolved around the bit of good luck coming their way that coming September, when they would be starting their first year of secondary school; while Harry and Cheyenne had been enrolled at Stonewall High, the local public school, Dudley had been accepted into his father's old private school, Smeltings, along with Piers. Naturally, when Dudley heard Harry and Cheyenne would be attending the Stonewall, he thought it was hilarious.
"They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day," Dudley snickered one day when Harry came back to number 4 to check in; he'd followed his cousin back out of the house and was smirking at the pair from the sidewalk, "You two want to come back inside and practice?"
"No thanks," Harry climbed onto the bike behind Cheyenne, "Our poor toilets never had anything as foul as your head down it before, it might get sick." Cheyenne stifled a laugh as she took off up Private Drive, escaping before Dudley could sort out what Harry had just said.
Shortly after, in late July, Mrs. Dursley took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform; without their leader around, none of the other boys were seen around Private Drive that day, giving Harry and Cheyenne free reign around Little Whinging until that evening. Unfortunately for Harry, he was expected that night to admire his cousin's clothes, so, after storing his bike, Cheyenne brought him home, knowing full well her best friend would describe the uniform to her the following day. And speaking of uniforms...
"Hey nan?" Cheyenne looked up from her breakfast the following morning while her grandmother hummed around her sip of tea, "When're we going to go get my school uniform?"
"School uniform?" Arabella raised her grayed eyebrows, peering at Cheyenne over the lip of her teacup, "School doesn't start for over a month, why are you worrying about that now?"
Cheyenne shrugged, "The Dursleys got Dudley his uniform already, I just wondered when we'd get mine."
"Don't you be worrying about that yet; we'll get your things soon enough." Arabella finished her tea and got to her feet as there was a click from the hall, followed shortly by the sound of paper envelopes plopping onto the doormat, "Now, why don't you get the mail while the clear the table."
"Yes, nan." Wiping her mouth, Cheyenne pushed away from the table as Arabella started to gather their dishes; there were just a couple pieces of mail waiting for the young woman as she stooped to retrieve them from the doormat. One was in an official looking brown envelope, more than likely a bill; the second envelope was thicker, made of heavy, yellowish parchment with their address written on it in emerald-green ink, but no stamp. Cheyenne gave the mail a once over as she stood, only to do a double take when she caught her own name written out as the addressee:
Miss C. Power
The Second Bedroom
44 Wisteria Walk
Little Whinging
Surrey
Furrowing her eyebrows, Cheyenne flipped the envelope over, wondering who in their right mind would include her bedroom in the address as she examined the purple wax seal that enclosed the letter. The coat of arms pressed into the seal was comprised of a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.
"Nan...?" Cheyenne made her way back to the kitchen, still clutching the letter in her hand as she looked up at her grandmother, who peered back over her shoulder, "Nan, I just got this weird letter, it has my room written in the address. Do you know where it could have come from?'
Arabella turned off the faucet and dried her hands as she turned to face Cheyenne once more and glanced down at the mail in her hands; her eyebrow arched when her gaze fell on the envelope made of parchment and she chuckled quietly under her breath.
"Speak of the devil." Shaking her head, she set the dishtowel aside while Cheyenne looked on, confused; gently taking her arm, Arabella led her into the living room, where she lowered the pair of them onto the couch, "Go on and open the letter, dear, I'll explain everything afterward."
Still profoundly confused, Cheyenne set the brown envelope aside and broke the seal on hers, which contained several pieces of parchment. One looked to be a list detailing school uniforms, the second comprised of a list of school supplies, and, finally, a letter, which she unfolded to read:
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chef. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards).
Dear Miss Power,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress.
In that moment, Cheyenne felt like her brain went into complete overload as questions flooded in, filling her mind and jocking for their rightful place, impatient to spill out of her all at once. What...what did this all mean? This school...she'd never even heard of this place before and now she'd been accepted on as a pupil? At a school of...of witchcraft and wizardry?! Did such a place really exist?
"Wh-what is..." Cheyenne put a hand to her head, her temples throbbing as she tried to wrap her brain around this whole thing, "Hogwarts - witchcraft – wizardry – owl...what...what is going on, Nan?!" she turned her attention to her grandmother now, demanding answers. Arabella, who'd been watching silently from beside her, could only offer a quiet smile.
"Breath, dear." Sitting up straight, Arabella put a comforting hand on Cheyenne's knee, encouraging her to take a deep, steadying breath. Once she was calm, the older woman sighed softly, "I'm sorry to have kept this from you, Chey, but I had to wait until you were old enough to understand." Arabella paused, as though gathering her thoughts while Cheyenne listened intently, "You remember those strange incidents that happened when you were angry or upset, the ones you thought were just accidents?" Cheyenne furrowed her brow, trying to recall one such incident, "Like what just happened recently, when the Dursleys' son ran me over with his bike when we were crossing Privet Drive. Do you remember how he flipped himself over on the curb? At the time, I let you believe he'd done it to himself, but, in reality, it was you."
"Me?" Cheyenne whispered, eyes stretching wide, wondering how she could have possibly done such a thing. On the day in question, Cheyenne had been fussing over her grandmother, throwing glares over her shoulder at the retreating forms of Dudley and his gang as they rode away. By the time Dudley had flipped his bike, the boys had been on the far side of Privet Drive, far from Cheyenne's reach; he'd scraped himself up pretty badly from what she'd been able to see as he came waddling back up the street, his jeans torn and knees bloody as he ran home crying to his mother. There was no way Cheyenne could have done something like that, unless...
"Nan, a-are you..." Cheyenne paused, unable to fully grasp the notion, let alone say the word aloud as she stared at Arabella, who nodded slowly, her smile softening, "You're a witch, Cheyenne."
The revelation rang in Cheyenne's ears, hanging between them in the silence of the living room as it sunk in. Finally, Cheyenne swallowed and wet her lips.
"A-and...my parents?" She whispered.
"Marcus and Michelle were both very talented sorcerers in their own rights." Arabella told her softly, the corners of her eyes wrinkling at the memories, "Your mother got her own letter when she was your age and attended Hogwarts herself, where she met your father. It was inevitable you would be accepted there as well."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Cheyenne's voice broke, tears welling in her eyes as she stared beseechingly at her grandmother; Arabella knew Cheyenne ached to know about her parents, so why had she so deliberately kept such a big part of them, of her, a secret? "About them? All this...?"
"I had to protect you, dear..." Arabella sighed, shaking her head sadly, "Your parents' death was no accident...nor was the Potters'." When Cheyenne's eyebrows rose, Arabella took a deep breath and leaned warily back into the couch, gathering herself together once more, "I'll tell you what I can, dear, but keep in mind there are parts to this story that are still a mystery, okay?" Taking her granddaughter's hand in hers, she stroked her knuckles with her thumb, a familiar, soothing gesture, "It was twenty years ago now when a strong, dark wizard emerged, went by the name Voldemort." Arabella paused, the color draining from her face, as though she was remembering something she'd much rather forget, "He started gaining power, gathering followers, though everyone had their own reasons for following him. Some wanted a bit of his power, others were too afraid to turn him down...it caused a lot of tension in the wizarding world, made it increasingly difficult to trust strangers as he started to take things over and...kill those that stood in his way. There were safehouses, of course, including Hogwarts; Albus Dumbledore is one of the few wizards Voldemort has ever feared, one he wouldn't dare taken on..."
Cheyenne tucked her legs up on the couch with her, leaning into Arabella's shoulder as she continued to stroke Cheyenne's knuckles with her thumb, "And, of course, there were those who went against Voldemort, including your and Harry's parents. They were some of the best witches and wizards of their time, smart, charismatic, kind. They were each prefects to their respective houses, not to mention Lily and James were head boy and girl their seventh year." Arabella smiled faintly, getting lost in memories of a simpler time, "There were a handful of times Voldemort tried to recruit them as Death Eaters, of course, but they were all too noble, too loyal to Dumbledore."
A sigh escaped Arabella once more, the smile slipping from her lips as she looked down at Cheyenne, "I've told you before that you and Harry have known each other much longer than you think you have and it's true. You've known one another even before you came to live here in Little Whinging, and you can thank both your parents for that."
"Our parents knew one another?" Cheyenne lifted her head to peer up into Arabella's face as she nodded, "They did, they were childhood friends, too." Arabella chuckled quietly, "You've known that boy since the day he was born." Cheyenne smiled quietly, picturing it in her minds' eye, "The four of them were incredibly loyal to one another, too, looked out for each other like family." Arabella shook her head, "Even in dire straits...there was a prophecy that involved the Potters that forced them into hiding; During that time, Marcus and Michelle had to make the difficult decision to hide you with them and left you in the Potters' care while they did their part to protect their friends...even -" Arabella's voice faltered and she had to take a deep breath to force back her tears; Cheyenne frowned, squeezing her grandmother's hand tight in hers', letting her know she was there for her, that she could take her time. Arabella took a shaky breath and swallowed, "We don't know how, but Voldemort found out where you and the Potters were hidden and went looking for you, ten years ago, on Halloween night. Your parents lived in the same village, as a first line of defense...Marcus would be the only one there to try and give them time to escape...Michelle was killed by another Death Eater...but he couldn't fend Voldemort off long...and he came for James and Lily..." Arabella sniffed and took a tissue from the box on the side table to blow her nose.
"The real mystery of that night, however, is why he couldn't kill you or Harry." Arabella sniffled, turning to Cheyenne once more; the young woman frowned and opened her mouth to speak when Arabella touched her cheek, her fingertips brushing the marks under her eye, "The spell was aimed at Harry, but rebounded back on Voldemort, destroying him...some of it hit you during the attack, left these scars." Arabella ran her thumb lightly over each mark, her brow furrowing, "I lied when I told you they were birthmarks...you and Harry both got your scars the night Marcus and the Potters died...they bind the two of you together. It's because of these scars both of you are famous in the wizarding world. No one, not even the best witches and wizards of their time have survived a killing curse as powerful as the one Voldemort tried to cast on you that night. You were both just babies..."
A sharp pain shot through Cheyenne's head as her grandmother's story came to a close, blinding her temporarily while her temples pounded; she clenched her eyes, gritting her jaw against the ache as a brilliant flash of green light filled her vision, ears ringing with the echo of a memory. A woman dying scream, a baby's wail...cruel, high-pitched laughter.
Cheyenne blinked her eyes open, hot tears burning twin trails down her cheeks as she sought Arabella's familiar gaze, seeking her comfort. The older woman pulled her into her arms and Cheyenne sank into her warmth, body quaking with sobs. Arabella simply held her, rubbing soothing circles into her back while she leaned her head against the top of Cheyenne's. It was a lot all at once...but it was necessary to reintroduce her granddaughter to their world. She had to know if she was going to attend Hogwarts and Arabella would much rather Cheyenne heard this from her than a third-party source.
It would be a few minutes before Cheyenne would be calm enough to speak; Arabella offered her a fresh tissue when she pulled away, sniffling softly.
"Thank you, nan..." Cheyenne whispered, wiping her eyes, her mind a whirl of questions, "Nan...can I ask you something?" Arabella nodded, smiling encouragingly, "How have you been able to hide this for so long...surely hiding your magic must have been very difficult..."
Arabella hummed to herself as she continued to rub Cheyenne's back soothingly, "Well, it's easy to hide something you don't have." When Cheyenne frowned, Arabella's expression tightened, "You see, dear, in our world, we have a lot of witches and wizards from different backgrounds. There are pure bloods, half-bloods, and Muggle-borns. Pure blood folks come from old wizarding families that have been around for generations; half-bloods are children born of a witch or wizard and a Muggle, and Muggle-borns come from non-magical families. Though I was born into a pure-blood family, I never presented as a witch; in the wizarding world, I'm known as a Squib...they aren't looked upon favorably, mind you, but I still carried a magical trait. Though I never got the chance to attend Hogwarts, I still knew witches and wizards in the magical world, like your headmaster, even before Michelle presented as a witch herself. In fact, I've been an ally of Dumbledore's since Voldemort started gaining power."
"Are you still helping him?" Cheyenne cocked her head; Arabella hesitated and glanced away uneasily, unsure if she should say. Well, Cheyenne was bound to find out sooner or later, wasn't she...? After all, it seemed coincidental that they would live one street over from the Dursleys after what happened to Cheyenne and Harry's parents. After a stretch of silence, she sighed and nodded, peering at Cheyenne out of the corner of her eye, "I am...once Voldemort had set his sights on the Potters, I was assigned here to watch over the Dursleys...and then Harry when he was brought to live with them. There hasn't been a threat against either of you since you were babies, but Dumbledore wanted someone from our world nearby, just in case. If Voldemort were to return, you and Harry would still be his targets. There isn't much I can do, especially as I'm getting older." She put her free hand on her cast, making Cheyenne's frown deepen.
"Is there anything I could do?" Cheyenne put a hand over Arabella's, squeezing softly, "Now that I know, I can help keep an eye out, the more the better." The older woman's expression softened, and she shook her head, "The most I can ask of you is to continue doing what you are now, dear. Look out for Harry as you have been, but remember to pay attention to your surroundings, okay? Always be aware." Cheyenne nodded, "Just do me a favor: don't tell Harry about my alliance with Dumbledore." When Cheyenne furrowed her brows again, Arabella squeezed her hand, "I'm supposed to be undercover. Can you promise you won't say anything?"
Cheyenne stared deep into her grandmother's eyes, weighing her options; though she couldn't rightly say she understood the magnitude of the promise and she wasn't thrilled at the thought of keeping this from her best friend, Cheyenne knew Arabella wouldn't ask this of her unless it was of great importance. After a stretch of silence, Cheyenne nodded and squeezed Arabella's hand once more.
"I promise, nan, I won't say a word."
"Thank you, dear," Arabella smield, grateful, before sighing softly, "Well...do you have any other questions?"
Cheyenne bit her lip, "Do you think Voldemort is still out there somewhere...? That he survived?"
Arabella hummed, "To be honest, Cheyenne, I'm not entirely sure, but there's a possibility. Voldemort did a lot of terrible things in his time, things that made him less...human than others. It's likely there wasn't enough human left to die. He could still be out there, waiting for his opportunity, bidding his time. Which is why we must do what we can if and when he comes back, right?"
Cheyenne nodded, "Right."
Arabella smiled gently, deciding a change of subject was due, "Let's not dwell on this, dear, today's supposed to be a happy occasion and I'm sure you're curious about your new school. We're going to need to get your supplies soon."
At her words, Cheyenne lowered her gaze to the parchment on the couch between them; picking them up once more, she flipped one open to look over her uniform list.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Uniform
First year students will require:
Three sets of plain work robes (black)
One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
One winter cloak (black with silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags.
Humming to herself, Cheyenne turned to the last piece of parchment to read through the list of required books and supplies:
Course Books
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble
Additional Equipment
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set of glass or crystal phials
1 telescope set
1 set of brass scales
Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad.
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS.
"Okay, so..." Cheyenne scratched behind her ear with a frown, "Where exactly am I supposed to get all this stuff? Is there some secret shop around the corner I should know about?" She looked up at Arabella again, who chuckled softly and shook her head.
"No, not here in Little Whinging, you need to go to Diagon Alley in London." Arabella sighed once more, giving her cast another dark look, "I'd take you myself if it weren't for this bloody cast...but seeing as how I'll need to send Dumbledore a letter letting him know you'll be attending, perhaps I could ask him if he could send someone to help you find your way." Rubbing her chin thoughtfully, she scooted to the edge of the couch, "Harry should have received his letter by now, too, so he'll need someone to show him the way as well. Oh, but we have to be sure before I can send a message." Pushing up from the couch, she hobbled toward the kitchen, waving a hand behind her, "Cheyenne, you go gather Harry from the Dursleys and bring him straight here, we'll get this all sorted out." Arabella paused then and turned to face her once more, "To make things easier, leave your uniform and supply list on the coffee table and bring your letter along with you, so he knows you received one as well. Quickly now."
Eager to do as her grandmother asked, Cheyenne left the lists on the table, stuffed her letter back into its envelope and swung around the living room door into the hall. Her foot caught on the carpet, sending her stumbling into the wall, but she barely paid it any mind as she bolted for the front door, pausing only long enough to yank on her trainers, "I'll be right back, nan!" She threw over her shoulder as she tossed the door open and sprinted out into the humid summer air, down the front walk and out onto the street.
Though she enjoyed riding her bike, no one could rightly say Cheyenne was slow; thanks to her long legs and lanky frame, she was easily one of the fastest girls in her year, which was why it took her less than a minute to reach Number 4 Privet Drive.
"Good morning, Mr. Dursley." She slowed to a stop in front of the house, inclining her head politely; Mr. Dursley cast a disdainful glance over his shoulder as he closed the front door sharply behind him. Taking note of his pale pallor and his ruffled mustache, Cheyenne wondered vaguely what could have agitated him so before casting her questions aside. The Dursleys were not known for their patience, especially when in a foul mood, so she knew badgering the rather pugnacious man would not be the smartest move; it would be best if she let him be and focused on what she came here to do, "Well, erm, I-I hope you have a nice day, sir...I'll just pick Harry up and be on my way. May I?" She indicated toward the door with the hand that held her letter. Mr. Dursleys glanced in her direction as he left the front step and grunted, starting to turn in the direction of his car when he froze and whipped back toward her so fast it made her jump.
"You," He growled in a low, dangerous voice, his cheeks flaming a brilliant red; Cheyenne tensed and took a timid step back, the hair at the nape of her neck prickling, "You're one of those...those..." Mr. Dursley appeared to struggle for a moment to find his words, his eyes flashing while his chest swelled with indignation, like a bullfrog's, "You're just like him!"
"W-who, M-M-Mr. D-Du-Dursley?" Cheyenne squeaked, clenching her letter in front of her, cheeks flaming with embarrassment; she hated her stutter, though it only appeared when she was scared or nervous, like she was now. It reminded her of Dudley mocking her every time she spoke softly or stumbled over her words.
"Him! The boy!" Mr. Dursley waved a hand toward his own home, glaring down at Cheyenne with such venom tears prickled at the back of her eyes. "You two, I knew there had to be something between you, but this!" His hand shot toward her, and Cheyenne flinched away as he snatched the letter from her hands, waving it angrily in her face, "These bloody letters, you're a freak just like that boy is! Well, I refuse to allow this rubbish in my house!" He snarled as he tore the letters to pieces right before her eyes, leaving Cheyenne with little to do but watch on in shock, "Now, you listen to me, girl." Mr. Dursley tossed what was left of her letter to the ground and took a single, threatening step toward her; she instinctively scrambled back and tripped over her own feet. Falling back onto the stone path, she could do little more than stare up at the man's form as it loomed menacingly above her, "That boy is not to know a thing about what he is, I will not allow it. He will attend Stonewall High as planned, not that freak school to learn some bloody magic tricks! And neither you nor those fools that run that school are going to change that, do you understand me?" Cheyenne nodded, swallowing back her tears.
"Good, now." Mr. Dursley deflated somewhat, though his face remained a dangerous shade of red, "You are never to come 'round here again, girl. From this day on, if I see either hide or hair of you there will be consequences. I'll involve the police and make sure you can never set foot on Privet Drive again." He leaned over her, glaring daggers into her eyes, his next words punctuated by the mist of spit that escaped his lips as he spoke, "Now get. Off. My. Property!"