The Dark Witch

P.O.V. - Becky Sinclair

I’m not kidding, the world had just dissolved around me. Only me and the old lady remained as darkness pressed around from all sides, pulling me into its vice like grip. I couldn’t breathe. This was not the way I wanted to go, crushed and suffocated to death, no it wasn’t the way for me. A furious anger began to fill me and I felt my eyes beginning to burn, the way they always did before I lost control.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the crushing pain stopped and I felt air once again fill my lungs. We were outside the asylum now, behind it, to be matter of fact. It was night and stars twinkled over head, mocking me. I felt that if the strange woman wasn’t clutching my shoulders I would fall down. I could hear the wailing of sirens from the front of the building.

“What…” I gasped, staring wide eyed at the ancient woman in front of me, as she removed her grip, letting me fall to the ground, “did you do?”

The woman stared at me, her gaze very intense as she looked me over, “Have you ever done anything strange, Becky?”

I gaped at her, my mouth fell open, “You…you…take me, I don’t know how, out of my cell and outside without ever actually entering or leaving my room and you ask me if I’ve ever done anything strange?” Shakily I stood up, towering over her small form, my eyes ablaze. I must maintain control, I thought to myself, “And how do you know my name?”

The woman chuckled, but I could sense fear in her eyes, she was afraid of me for some reason. She began to fumble inside her cloak, “Your name is not hard to come by, Becky. Sixteen year olds are rarely changed with eighteen attempted murders and let off by claiming insanity.”

I flushed, she had to bring that up, “I didn’t mean to…” I stuttered, she had caught me off guard, “It’s just when I get upset…” I tapered off at the sight of a smug look on her face, “things happen.” I finished, following her gaze to my hand, which had a small fire forming in the palm. My eyes widened, and I shut my hand quickly extinguishing the flame.

“You answered my question perfectly. Now I can answer yours. My name is Theresa Lankins and I am a witch working for the Ministry of Magic. My department…” She stopped speaking, the look of pure disbelief on my face must be showing. She steadied herself by focusing on a passing car, “You who can create fire with your hands and who have been taken out of a room by magic should not be questioning my explanation.” Said Theresa sternly, her eyes meeting mine with a fierceness that had not been there before, “My department works specially in finding people whose magical abilities develop late, people like you. You’re a witch, Becky. Just like me.”

I felt my stomach drop out from beneath me, I was convulsing again. Everything this woman said made so much sense…

“Becky!” I heard her shout, but I was to far gone…

“Aguamenti!” I heard Theresa shriek and I was doused with icy water, yanking me back to the present as I fell to the ground sopping wet.

“What happened?” I asked, my teeth chattering, as I looked up at the ancient woman, she had pulled out a stick and was pointing it at me.

Calmly, Theresa let her arms fall to her sides, “You were producing fire again. It’s an uncanny ability of yours. I have never seen anything like it…” She stumbled off in thought, leaving me wet and cold on the grass. I felt a little insulted. “I wonder…if you had some training…”

“Theresa.” I said irritably, standing up clutching my arms, that got her attention.

“Mrs. Lankins.” She said sharply, her purple eyes piercing.

“Mrs. Lankins,” I corrected myself, briefly startled by far off footsteps, the firemen were almost upon us, finally, “What can I do, about this witch business?”

She looked at me, as if disapproving my word choice, “We have a school, Hogwarts, I will write to the headmaster and see if I can get you in.” Mrs. Lankins, turned her head in the direction of the footsteps, “You can expect to here from me in around two weeks.”

Then she was gone, leaving me to confront the approaching firemen and nurses with butterfly nets, alone.