Dark Come Soon

The first week of classes went by quickly for Alexandra. She was taking five classes. All of which had been chosen by her father. He was very serious when it came to her education and although she wanted to be an artist, he wanted her to have a viable career.

It didn’t have to be something grand. It just had to be a job where she would be able to provide for herself in the future and also be happy, because even though his daughter’s artwork is extraordinary, the art world was a fickle place.

Alexandra understood her father’s concerns and to appease him, decided to go through the motions of becoming a potioneer. She was good at brewing potions, having scored high marks all throughout her education in that subject and since she was good at it. She figured that pursuing that career would calm her dad’s worrying and give her something that she wouldn’t mind doing, if art didn’t work out.

And that could very well happen, considering the fact that hardly anyone has seen her work. There are other artists that are putting themselves out there and submitting their portfolios to galleries and museums, but not Alexandra. No. Her portfolio was hidden behind her clothes in the closet and once her work was put into the portfolio, it rarely got out.

Alexandra knew that she had to put herself out there if she ever wanted to have any success, but with the way things were. She didn’t have time to break down her barriers that kept her from sharing her art with others. That wasn’t a priority. What was a priority, was mastering her abilities. And after all the hours she’d spent with Sybill, she was no closer to understanding her gift, than she was the day she first discovered it.

Sybill was making an effort to teach Alexandra everything she knew. That much was obvious. But it didn’t matter how passionately Sybill spoke or how long they studied ancient text together, nothing clicked and with each passing day, Alexandra grew more and more frustrated with herself.

“Isn’t there somewhere we could go? Like a Mecca for seers or something?” Alexandra asked early that Saturday morning.

“Afraid it’s not that simple, my dear. If it were, I would have gone long ago.” Sybill removed her glasses, resting them on a nearby table.

“Are you alright?”

Sybill pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s nothing a nap won’t cure.”

“You sure?” she asked hesitantly. “You look tired and stressed out.”

“Tired and stressed out.” Sybill laughed to herself. “What trivial things to be at a time such as this.”

“Just because they’re common, that doesn’t mean you should underestimate them.” Alexandra walked towards Sybill. “I know you have a lot of work to do with all the students and Professor Firenze . . . and . . . and I may not say this often, but I really do appreciate what you’re doing for me.”

“But I haven’t helped.” Sybill’s shoulders slumped forwards. “I’ve consulted all that there is to consult yet nothing helps, nothing at all.” It was then that her voice cracked. “All I want to do is help. I'm your mother. It’s because of me that you are the way you are and the least I could do is help you understand, but nothing I do helps . . . nothing! And I know you must be getting frustrated, I'm getting frustrated and you’re a sweet child for humoring me, but I know that I haven’t been of much use.” She began to weep.

This was too much for Alexandra. She wasn’t the type that could ignore someone that was crying, let alone a woman that had just poured her heart out to her. She couldn’t believe that Sybill was apologizing. The middle aged witch always seem so sure of herself during lessons that Alexandra had recently started wondering if she was the one that was strange. But hearing Sybill’s words, made her heart soften and before she realized what she was doing, she took Sybill’s hand in hers.

“All that matters is that you’re trying. That’s all anyone can ask for.” She gave Sybill’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

“But you’re not learning anything,” she sniffled.

“I'm learning more about you, aren’t I? That counts as something in my book. I’d never known anything about you, other than the fact that you were a beautiful English witch that captured my dad’s heart.”

“He described me as beautiful?” Sybill looked up, her dark green eyes sparkling with the fresh tears.

Alexandra nodded. “Dad always said you were the most beautiful witch he’d ever laid eyes on.”

“Such a sweet man, a liar, but sweet nonetheless.”

“You are beautiful,” Alexandra reassured. “Underneath that fringe and glasses, you have a very beautiful face, you just hide it.”

“Hiding is comfortable,” Sybill whispered. “One can not be hurt if one if invisible.”

Alexandra nearly laughed. “How can you be invisible when you’re style is so . . . so flashy.”

“They see my clothes. They see my glasses. They don’t see me. To them, I'm nothing more than a nutter. I hear them whispering about me, such cruel things they whisper, even some of the Professors. That’s why I take my meals in here.” Sybill motioned to her tower. “Here, I won’t be judged.”

It was at that moment that Alexandra realized just how similar she was to her mother. She’d thought Sybill a strange but confident woman, one that wasn’t afraid of speaking openly about her abilities, but Sybill was just like her.

Sybill was scared, afraid of being judged and most importantly, she longed for a place absent of fear.

And shortly after realizing that, Alexandra stumbled across another realization. She could help Sybill and through helping Sybill, could help herself so as to avoid the same mistakes that Sybill had made. Because the last thing Alexandra wanted for herself, was to end up hiding the rest of her life. That wasn’t going to help her. It would only serve to keep her from being truly happy.

“I don’t think you’re a nutter.” Alexandra told her. “I think . . . I think you’ve had a lot to deal with. This thing isn’t easy. I know you think it’s a gift, but half the time it’s a curse because people think seers are crazy, but I just want you to know that you’re not crazy and that you don’t have to hide in here.”

“Alexandra –”

“Mom,” she blurted out, the word feeling strangely right. “We’re both hiding from the real world. And we’re both miserable. I know you’re gonna say that you’re not miserable, but I can see it in your eyes that you are and me. Well, I might not be miserable all the time, but most of the time I don’t feel anything and that’s even worse than being sad.”

“You just called me mom,” Sybill broke into a grin. “You’ve never called me that.”

“That’s because I never really felt that you were my mom,” Alexandra explained. “But right now, I do.” She wiped away the tears that stained Sybill’s cheeks. “We deserve to be happier than we are.”

Sybill remained silent.

“I know it’s gonna be hard for us to change, but we can do it and,” she took in a deep breath. “If you want to find the witch that you were all those years ago, I’d be glad to help.”

Sybill shook her head. “There’s no point in finding her. It won’t bring back what I lost.”

“I'm here, aren’t I?”

“You are,” Sybill raised Alexandra’s hand and kissed it affectionately. “But that was a lifetime ago for me. I was young, had a daughter and a husband that loved me.”

“He still does.”

“What?” Sybill swore she’d heard wrong.

Alexandra sighed. “My dad, he still loves you.”

“Has he said that?”

“Doesn’t have to,” she took a seat beside Sybill. “He’s never had a girlfriend or been out on a date. I used to ask him why he never went out with anyone, when I was younger, and he’d say that he’d already had his love. There was no point in searching for something that wouldn’t come close to it. Those were his words.”

“Don’t tease me like this.” Sybill’s voice was softer than usual. “I wouldn’t be able to endure such heartache.”

“I'm not teasing.”

Sybill lowered her face, her hair shielding her from view. “But he’s so handsome . . . even after all these years. He’s still so bloody handsome. Why would he want me? The years have not been as kind to me as they have him.”

“Well, I think you’re very pretty and my dad does to. But I bet he’d think you were even more beautiful if he could actually see your face.” Alexandra laughed lightly.

“You think so?” Sybill looked up.

“I know so.”

Sybill fiddled with her hair. “What do you have in mind?”

“Not sure yet, but it’ll be grand.” Alexandra reassured. “You’ll still be you. I wouldn’t want to hide your eccentric style, but it’ll be more . . . I don’t know how to describe it.”

“No need to describe it. I trust your judgment, darling, I truly do.” Sybill grew quiet. “You know, if we’re going to do this, I have a favor to ask in exchange.”

“What is it?”

“Be friendlier.”

“Huh?”

“Be friendlier,” Sybill repeated. “I’ve only ever seen you talk to two students, there are others that seem keen on getting to know you, but you only give one word responses. That’s not very nice.”

“Can’t really help it,” Alexandra muttered. “But I get what you mean and I will work on it. Shoot. That reminds me, I have to go do some sketching.”

“This early?” it was only nine in the morning.

Alexandra nodded. “It’s better to sketch early in the morning, less people around to invade the space. Which is important to me, can’t really work when there are a bunch of people around.”

“I remember your father saying something to that effect.” Sybill placed her glasses back on. “I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, bye mom,” Alexandra smiled awkwardly before leaving the tower.

The Hogwarts grounds were deserted when Alexandra walked outside. She hadn’t expected there to be any students out so early on a weekend. Most teenagers slept in and only left their rooms when they got hungry. That was the way things were for most people, but not for her. On weekends, she liked to sketch and as soon as she reached her favorite spot beside the Black lake, she began to do just that.

Her purple sketchbook was pulled out from her oversized bag and she turned to a free page near the end of the book. She’d only had it for two weeks and she was already running out of space. The same could be said of her canvases. She had bought fresh ones awhile back and now only had three left.

Alexandra lost herself in her sketching, completely shutting out the world around her. All she had eyes for, was the picturesque lake that stood before her. She devoured it with her eyes, taking in its rich color as well as the trees that surrounded it and the way that the water met the shore on certain spots. It was a beautiful lake, by far the most captivating one that she’d ever visited and she believed she would never tire of it.

Alexandra went undisturbed from her sketching, until a little after noon when Harry and Ron crossed her path. The boys had been hard at work practicing Quidditch. Tryouts were coming up and Harry was helping Ron train so that he’d be able to keep his position as keeper. They were on their way to the Great Hall when they saw her sitting by herself.

Ron was the one that first spotted her. His cheeks flushed ever so slightly when he saw the face he’d been spending a considerable amount of his time, thinking of. And after telling Harry that Alexandra was there, Harry took it upon himself to make their presence known.

He knew that Ron fancied her. He’d figured it out when he heard Ron mutter her name in his sleep. Ron didn’t know that Harry had heard him. He didn’t even know that he’d muttered her name, so as they walked towards her, there were two thoughts going through his mind.

The first was that Harry was just trying to be friendly to Alexandra since she was friends with Ramona. The second was that Harry fancied her and was hoping to get to know her better. Ron seriously hoped it was the first.

“Hello there, Alex.” Harry was the first to speak.

Alexandra closed her sketchbook. “Hello Harry. Hello Ron.”

“Hi,” Ron replied.

Harry waited for Ron to say something, but seeing as how he was just standing there, he decided to carry on the conversation.

“What’s that in your hands?” Harry asked.

“Oh, this,” Alexandra held up the sketchbook. “It’s just a sketchbook.”

“You sketch? That’s wicked! I can’t draw anything for the life of me, Ron’s just as bad. Isn’t that right, Ron?” Harry nudged his friend.

“Yeah, I'm rubbish,” Ron said quickly. “Not even my stick figures come out right. Tried drawing some once for a chart we had to do, didn’t work out. Not even Harry knew what was what.” He mumbled awkwardly.

“That’s how my writing is,” Alexandra commented.

“Your writing?” he asked.

She nodded. “I can draw pretty well, but my writing’s another story.”

Harry laughed. “Well at least you can draw. We can’t do either, but we can play Quidditch. Ron’s a really good keeper! The best there is!”

“Oh come on Harry, you know that’s rubbish.” Ron fiddled with his broom.

“You are!” Harry turned to Alexandra. “Maybe you should come see us one day during our practices, so you can tell us who’s telling the truth.”

Her instinct was to tell him that she wasn’t much for Quidditch, but then she remembered the mornings events and did something out of character for her, she accepted their invitation.

“Yeah, that sounds like it’ll be fun.”

“Really?” the nervous ginger blurted out.

Alexandra nodded.

“Right, well, I think we’re going to head out to the pitch after lunch. Want to come with?” Harry asked.

“Wow, you guys are committed to your sport.”

Harry was, Ron not so much. He always complained whenever Harry wanted to practice twice in a day but the thought of Alexandra sitting in the Quidditch pitch sweetened the deal.