Chapter Text
"Alexandria Hall, you have a visitor!"
The shrill voice echoed up the stairwell and yanked Lexie from her slump on the bed. She squeezed her eyes shut and groaned at the fact that Mrs. Tobias refused to use her nickname. She had "graciously bestowed," as she liked to remind Lexie, a strong, dignified name, and Heaven forbid it be shortened.
"Figures," Lexie muttered under her breath, "She was the one who named me, of course she thinks it's brilliant."
Heavy footsteps thudded up the stairs as the voice got loouder. "Alexandria! I said you have a visitor! Now get down here so he doesn't have to wait any longer than necessary!"
A visitor? Lexie never had visitors.
A thin thread of anxiety wound through her chest since she had discovered after what felt like a lifetime of hardships, surprises rarely meant anything good. She pushed herself off the bed just before Mrs. Tobias could storm in and drag her by the arm, she squaring her shoulders and slipped past the middle-aged woman and made her way down the narrow staircase, "I'm coming, I'm coming, no need to shout."
Standing amongst the worn, sagging furniture was an elderly man with a long silver beard and startlingly bright blue eyes that seemed to sparkle with private amusement. "Alexandria Hall? I'm Professor Dumbledore. It's a pleasure," he said warmly, extending his hand.
She took it hesitantly. His grip was gentle but firm. "Lexie," she corrected quietly, "Only Mrs. Tobias calls me Alexandria—and that's only because she picked it because she's absolutely mad about Egypt."
The man's eyes twinkled, "Let's sit down and talk, shall we? I have an offer for you—one I believe you might find interesting."
Lexie stiffened. The last time someone had offered her anything, she'd ended up living with someone who made Mrs. Tobias look like a saint and she wasn't sure she could survive another experience like that.
Professor Dumbledore seemed to sense her unease and instead of allowing her imagination to run wild, he simply said, "I'm here to offer you a place at Hogwarts School."
Lexie blinked—then giggled despite herself, "Hogwarts? That's a bit of a silly name, isn't it?"
Dumbledore smiled serenely. "It is. Name aside, I believe you would enjoy it. It would give you the chance to be among people who are more… like you."
She frowned and blurted out, "People like me? It's not a special school, is it?"
"It is a special school, Lexie," he replied thoughtfully, "though probably not in the way you're thinking."
She stared down at the frayed rug beneath her feet before asking, "It's not for orphans and abused kids, is it? I mean… children nobody wants." The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Dumbledore's voice softened, "No, my dear. It is not a school for the unwanted, nor is it for troubled girls." He paused as she opened her mouth in shock, wondering how he'd anticipated her next question, "It is a school for people like you—people who can do magic."
"M-Magic?" she stammered, "That's—that's crazy. I can't be magic, I'm just an orphan."
"Not just an orphan," he corrected gently, "you're a witch."
Her eyes widened. "Excuse me? That's not a very nice thing to call someone. Honestly, if I didn't know better, magic and witches? I'm sorry but you have more nuts than a chocolate bar. A little rude don't you think?! Calling me a witch…" Her cheeks flushed with indignation, she had decided a long time ago that being an orphan didn't mean she had to tolerate name-calling.
Dumbledore chuckled, which only deepened her frown. "Lexie, my dear, I meant no insult, the word 'witch' is simply what we call women who are magically gifted. Wizards and witches. And you, I assure you, are very much a witch—in the highest sense of the word."
She crossed her arms, unconvinced. "I'm sorry, Mr.—Professor—Dumbledore, but I think you've made a mistake. I'm not any more magical than Mrs. Tobias."
His eyes gleamed again. "Have you ever experienced anything you couldn't explain? Think carefully, Lexie. Anything unusual? Anything that defied reason?"
Her expression darkened as she sifted through painful memories—missed birthdays, cruel punishments, nights spent wishing to be anywhere else before something clicked. "Well… there were a couple of times," she swallowed the lump in her throat, "I—I healed faster than I should have. Bruises… cuts. Sometimes they'd be gone by morning by the time I had to go to school." She hurried on, embarrassed, "I know that sounds silly. Maybe I just heal fast, but that doesn't make me magic."
Dumbledore's smile lingered, but there was sadness in it now. He studied her over his half-moon spectacles and Lexie suddenly sucked in a breath—she can't believe she didn't realize it before, but his face was familiar to her. Not someone she had seen in person—but in her dreams. Not clearly, not in conversation, just his face, watching her with those same knowing eyes. The resemblance was uncanny.
"Sir," she began hesitantly, "you won't think I'm mad if I say I've seen you before… will you?"
"Not at all," he replied calmly, "where have you seen me?"
She shuffled her feet before responding, "In a dream. Well—not exactly a full dream, more like… a picture in my mind. You looked just like you do now and you were just… watching me." She cringed, "that sounds ridiculous."
"Ah," he said softly, "the mind is a curious thing, is it not?"
She nodded slowly. To test herself, she pinched her arm hard. "Ouch. Right. So I'm not dreaming," she said with a small, nervous giggle.
Dumbledore chuckled warmly, "No, Lexie. You are quite awake."
And somehow, she believed him even if she didn't know why. Perhaps it was the gentleness in his voice, or the quiet certainty in his eyes. Perhaps it was the strange sense of familiarity she couldn't explain.
For the first time in years, something inside her shifted, a tiny spark of hope. She didn't know what Hogwarts was and she definitely didn't understand magic or witches or wizards, but deep down, beneath the scars and doubt and fear, she felt it—things were about to change.
And maybe, just maybe, they were about to change for the better.