I must admit, I am a reincarnated person.
…Or maybe I am just a psychopath.
I think I was five years old, when I realized how utterly moronic the other people at the orphanage were. Thought perhaps I shouldn’t expect much from 5-year-olds, but shouldn’t I compare myself to my peers? It wasn’t anything more than that, which lead me to my own path. For all their stupidity, perhaps they sensed I wasn’t quite as interested in them, so I guess they are not hopeless cases. I guess condescending behavior is easy to dislike, who knew.
Most of the orphanage was divided into different clicks, so I was an odd one out. I wasn’t cruel though, so I did not go hitting people with bricks at night for revenge in response to some of the more daring pranks I’ve been subject to. I also wasn’t stupid enough to be in positions where the risk of me being insulted and beaten up was high. In fact, I would call myself intelligent. But I guess that’s not what a truly intelligent person would say, so let’s just say I can manage. Where most children liked to form deep connections to survive in the unending politics and power struggles of the unforgotten children, I, instead, chose differently.
I am not in favor of conflicts. I feel very stressed out whenever in a confrontation with anybody. The rapidly beating heart, and swear I could sometimes even taste blood in my mouth. It’s all much too intense for me. Instead, life should be a spring breeze, light and refreshing, not ever staying too long. That was my philosophy, keep everyone just close enough for cordiality, but deflect every attempt for anything more to nothing.
I just didn’t have the time. Our orphanage, in London, was a few blocks from a public library, which I had grown to be a regular of. It was quite the conundrum, at first, to convince the orphanage mistress that I would not be, in fact, pickpocketing on the streets. Month after month, her fears gradually disappeared, and she seemed hopeful for my future. A small thanks to the librarians encouraging words for my reading habit.
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Books were so much more interesting than people. Books were truthful, they did not deceive. The writer might have lied, but the books themselves were treasures, telling from unimaginable adventures to unbelievable creatures. A book would never hold secrets, for it was open for everyone. Everyone who wanted to read, wanted to know. A story in a book was infinitely more captivating than hearing how little Brook had fallen in a ditch and found a frog. Even the conflicts, through books, there existed no stress or panic for the most gripping of conflicts. Books were a caring mother's hug, invulnerability, regardless of what was happening. But instead of confined by a hug, the books opened new worlds, each one more individual than any child in the orphanage. All welcoming me with open arms.
As the years went by, I grew up in the books. The librarian praised that I was by far the fastest reader she had ever known, reading thick books of hundreds of pages in a single hour. I didn’t consider myself a particularly fast reader. At least I didn’t try to read fast, as it wasn’t why I read books. The books were my friends, it felt wrong to try to rush them. I once tried, I only ended up using more time, while forgetting the content. The books weren’t for me to conquer, they would open up for me on their own if I just gave them the time.
I had my whole future planned out for me, an apprenticeship after school in the library for a librarian position, when a single, structurally compromising, crack arrived at my eleventh birthday on the 7th of July 1977 in the form of a letter.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Reed,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy headmistress