another day

by , Saturday October 1, 2016

                

                    Chapter 1:

“AHHHHHHHHH!” I screamed, causing the Great Hall to go silent and turn my way. Tears streaming down my face, I reread the letter, hoping the news would change. Staring at me with a worried expression, my best friend, Hella, from

Hufflepuff house, swallowed what food was left in her mouth and aske,

 

“Amanda? What’s wrong? What happened?”

 

“My parents are-are-are DEAD!” I sobbed, and grabbing the letter I jump up and began to run out of the Great Hall, tears unceasingly rolling down my face. I could hear gasps ripple through the Great Hall. I felt all eyes on me, but I didn’t dare look back, and ran as far as my feet could take me. I finally ran out of breathe, and with a quick look around, I realized that I was on the seventh floor, in a hall I had never been in before. I could hear footsteps gaining on me from down the steps.

 

All I want is a place to cry by myself. I thought.

 

Suddenly a door appeared out of nowhere on the wall.

 

“Whoa,” I whispered, and stepped through. Inside was a couch with a warm fuzzy blanket and three tissue boxes. I closed the door, and noticed it had locks on it, so i slid the chain. As soon as I sat down on the couch, I could hear voices outside the door.

 

“Where did she go?” One of them asked. I recognized it. It was the voice of Claire, my best friend from Gryffindor, whom I had met on the train.

“I don't know.” Another said. It was Hella this time, my Hufflepuff roommate and best friend.

 

“She couldn’t have gotten too far.” A third voice said.

 

Paige, I thought. She was another one of my best friends that i met on the train my first year as well, even though she was in Slytherin.

 

“Have you found her girls?” An older voice asked.

 

Must be Professor Sprout.

 

“Did she say how her parents died?” Another, much older voice with a slight Scottish accent said.

 

Professor McGonagall. I recognized.

 

“No.” Hella said. “I didn’t get a good look at her letter before she snatched it away. Come on, let’s keep looking.” She said and they headed off. Once the footsteps disappeared, I started sobbing again. Memories of my parents flooded me. My mother and her long, blonde hair. Her kind, brown doe eyes and her soft smile. I sobbed harder. My father and his dark black hair. I got my hair from him, but no one knew where I got my waves from, though. His eyes black and fierce, yet kind. They would always take care of me, when I was sick, when I was hurt, everything. I started shaking. One repeating thought would pop in and out of my head:


What’s going to happen now?

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