Chapter Text
prologue.
Emilia Greene didn't like the rain, didn't like water in general; lakes, puddles, the ocean – anything with large bodies of water turned her off if she was even a metre within them. It was not that she couldn't swim - well, it was true that she couldn't - but her aunt and uncle had insisted on her doing lessons because they would be damned if their niece sat like a wallflower for the teachers to coo over and write home about asking why Emilia didn't have the proper swim gear or the permission to get in the pool with the other students. The lessons went to waste, and she could barely keep her head afloat; Emilia hated it nonetheless, and had floundered in her swimming lessons and she supposed it was just her luck to be born in a place where it rained all the time.
There was only one exception to her loathing towards water and the rain: it always signalled the return to Hogwarts; British weather wasn't always the best regardless of what time of year it was but it always got worse in the Autumn and was the sign of the time turning for when she would go back and it made Emilia inwardly ecstatic about it all. She was already packed two weeks in advance for her return and entry into her last year and Emilia felt as if she were a child awaiting the night before Christmas, a buzzing beneath her skin that she could not contain and didn't attempt to quell; her aunt and uncle had no interest in going with her to Diagon Alley and the novelty of the Wizarding world had worn off when third year had rolled around and they showed no attempt to leave the Muggle world as that was their place and Emilia was too different, too... abnormal.
Not that it bothered Emilia. She was quite happy to spend her days in and out of Diagon Alley, to buy the books she needed as well as buying non-essential books on the sly with the money left over; her guardians couldn't figure out Wizarding money and made no move to try and pry the change from Emilia's hand since it wasn't as if they needed knuts and pennies anyways. Her suitcase was threatening to pop by the time she had everything zipped up, filled with clothes and books and novels of both Muggle and magic alike and she was excited.
Emilia had never thought herself to be special and after being lumped in to live with her maternal aunt and her husband, being mundane was expected and all but enforced. When Professor McGonagall had knocked on her door the summer after her eleventh birthday, her entire world was flipped upside down and she had half thought it was all a joke even up to the point she ran through the wall at the station.
Yet, for nearly seven years in a row, Emilia had ran through that very same wall and had not yet been met with brick and swallowed stone and cement, so perhaps the idea of it all being a dream might have been a bit unfounded.
It was raining the day she left for Hogwarts; her coat was zipped to her neck and hood was over her hair as the taxi driver had to heave the suitcase into the trunk with her help. He asked if she had stuffed a lorry load of concrete into it; she supposed the weight of knowledge was far too heavy for some people and laughed at his comment before they left for King's Cross.
The ride was silent, radio spitting out crackles and static every so often and grey clouds suffocate the sky over head, rumbling and spewing out fat raindrops that splattered and slithered down the glass windows; her copy of The Hobbit laid in her lap, yellowed and old with dog ears from years of rereading and it would be her only company on the train to Hogwarts, the spine threatening to split apart from her constant flipping through of the pages. Emilia doubted she would have time to reread it during the school term as, despite passing her O.W.L's, the time ahead meant even more work for her as she began work for her N.E.W.T's. Though, she supposed it didn't seem too arduous once she remembered that she only had this year left – a home run until she was out. Maybe she could use the money her grandmother left her to buy a flat and get a Muggle education; she could still feel the old woman's wrinkled, cold hand clutching at her cheek and gasping for breath as she pinched the chubby skin, already dead eyes staring at her only grandchild and blindly remarking how much she looked like her mother, save for the eyes.
Even after all these years, Emilia still wasn't sure if it was an insult or not.
Traffic was choking the road and causing congestion, smoke from the clogged vehicles making it hard to see and Emilia decided not to risk waiting for everything to clear up as she tapped the driver on the shoulder, telling him that she was going to walk the rest of the way and paid him in full for the ride.
The rain was unrelenting, merciless, and Emilia kept her book tucked in her jacket under her arm as the driver handed her suitcase off to her, passing her a wave and a g'luck t'ya before he went to sit in his car, unmoving and still. Time around him went on and Emilia rushed, lugging her suitcase behind her heel and heard it desperate to keep up with her, wheels clicking and clacking over the stone.
It was like every other return to Hogwarts, like every other September.
As she ran through the stone and brick wall to 9¾, Emilia hoped that it would be just like any other year as before.