Ranko stared at the gates of the castle, wondering about the hooded figures that lurked there. "Oh, well," she decided, "if they bother me, they'll get what's coming to 'em alright, and if they don't, well, good for them."
Looking down at the silky black robe that swirled about her and the golden form of her wand of air, she reached up and rubbed her finger over the tips of her ears thoughtfully, wondering what sort of creature the folk of this world would take her for. Sirius had seemed quite uncertain as to what she was but he had not even mentioned an elf as a possibility. Now she looked different again from what she had when first he saw her, for he had insisted that to gain tutelage at Hogwart's she would need to be far younger than she appeared.
She had, of course, immediately dismissed his suggestion of applying for a teaching position. She knew nothing of their way of magic, a fact he was obviously not clear on, thinking that she merely did magic with less of the restrictions his sort of wizard dealt with. She had no intention of disabusing him, but she also wanted proper training. Now, through his coaching, she had the appearance of an early-blooming thirteen year old. Her hair was still long skeins of silver and her skin a midnight black as smooth and flawless as Chinese porcelain. Her eyes were the deep blue of the sky in early evening, her lips a glistening silver.
"It's not important," she told herself, "it just means I'm getting closer to home. There weren't any elves there, neither."
Rising from her concealment, she strode down the path and up to the gates. The hooded figures shifted about then glided smoothly across the grounds in her direction as she approached. She felt a sudden pressure on her mind, almost familiar, and felt the slow stirring of memories she had blocked away, memories that led only to depression and pain, and instinctively reacted. She was lifted from the ground as her aura of sheer confidence burst into brilliant blue life around her. That felt like a emotional attack of some kind, almost like a drain, she mused. Let's see them deal with an overload. The figures fell back in disarray and she passed unmolested between them.
She strode up to the gates and waited a moment, but they did not open. Shaking her head in irritation she leapt upwards but encountered an invisible blockage just above the gates. Instead of landing on the top of the gates, she fell back to the ground in front of them, touching down lightly upon her feet. She glared about her flaring her aura again, but the figures surged forward, seeming ready for the magnitude of her emotions this time, and she felt a strong pressure, as if she were being pulled apart. Recognizing her mistake in an instant, and berating herself for reacting incorrectly, even after hearing Sirius' tales about them, she focused her ki into the Soul of Ice, her emotions vanishing behind an icy wall.
The dementors drew back for a moment, then moved forward again, renewing their assault, but she felt no more pressure from them. Try as they might, she had successfully locked her emotions beyond their reach. One came directly towards her, away from the group, and she grimaced when its gray and rotted skin became visible under its heavy hood. Still, unlike its usual prey, she was far from paralyzed with fear or emotion. More to the point, perhaps, the disgusting thing's appearance and behavior triggered an unfortunate sequence of memories. Ranko had little reason to feel sympathy towards the dementors at the best of times, after hearing Sirius's story, but when her memories of the illithids of Faerun surged up, particularly of her encounter with an undead illithid, she lost all restraint.
Giving in to her irritation and dislike, and no longer perceiving any distinction between these soul-leeches and the brain-feeding, tentacle-mouthed illithidae, she whipped into motion. The foremost dementor had barely crossed into her reach when she shifted her stance and dropped into a powerful spin, bringing her right leg all the way around, pivoting on the ball of her left foot, accelerating her turn and the force of her kick still further by allowing the sphere of lead she used to control her center of gravity to plummet into her right foot. Her toes dug into the dementor's unguarded abdomen, and she felt a distinct crack as it crumpled forward, even as it hurtled backward.
It slammed into another dementor behind it, but she took no notice, having already dropped her weighted foot into the ground, transferring its momentum into her left foot, spinning with her torso nearly horizontal, as her left leg came whipping up and over, slamming hard into the shoulder of another of the dark-robed creeps, crumpling it. As soon as her foot made contact with it, and both her feet had something to press against, she dropped her torso backwards and kipped up, lifting her upper body and driving her left foot even harder into the dementor's shoulder. Once more she heard a painful sounding crack.
The other dementors were beginning to reel back in shock, but far too little time had passed for them to be out of her range. She allowed the upward momentum of her torso to rotate about her pelvis, bringing her forward and then down, as she dropped her hands to the ground. Planting her palms into a handspring, she bent her elbows and tucked into a roll, getting her feet under her and then powering into an uppercut into the gut of the next dementor.
It too crumpled forward as it flew backward, though its flight took it well above the dementors stumbling back behind it. Realizing that all the hooded figures had begun to retreat, Ranko straightened from the stance she had dropped into after her uppercut. Turning away from them, she strode back to the gate.
That ought to teach them to leave a poor, innocent little girl alone, she grinned to herself, thinking about how the fight must have looked from the outside, a petite third-year student throwing around... she snorted to herself suddenly, thinking how much more the dementors had looked like the prototypical dark wizard than poor, bedraggled, tangled up Sirius. Not that she was unfamiliar with the habit of the actually powerful dark wizards of violating those stereotypes, but still, that surely must have fit the picture. All those dark, robed guys surrounding a defenseless little girl, doubtless preparing to make her a virgin sacrifice. She grimaced then, glaring up at the castle. "Don't I rate a knight in shining armor?" she muttered angrily, irritated at the perversely silent castle and persistently closed gates. "You're supposed to be the good guys, so where was my rescue?"
Examining the gates she finally found a heavy rope to one side. Walking over to it, she gave it a healthy pull and from somewhere in the distance the tolling of a deep bell sounded. She was about to pull on it a second time when she saw movement in the distance and decided to wait. Perhaps she'd caught someone's attention. Sure enough, a few minutes later a mountain of a man came puffing up to the gate and looked out at her. "Okay," Ranko murmured, "so why do I feel like I'm at the wrong castle?" Weren't giants usually the inhabitants of the evil castles? Holding fair damsels in towers, and what not?
"Here, now, wha's all this about?" he said, looking with a pale face at the hooded figures about, not noticing the three unmoving dementors, still crumpled on the ground. "Yeh'd best come in quick before they get a min' ter do summat, then," he said rapidly, opening the gates before her, a look of near terror on his face. Ranko slipped in and watched as he barred them again. He heaved a great sigh of relief before turning to look at her. "Here now little lady, what're yeh doin' here, early and all? There's weeks still ter go before school begins. Best yeh come up an' let the headmaster have a look a' yeh, I 'spect. Well, come on then. I'm Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds here at Hogwarts. What migh' be yehr name?"
"I am called Ranko," she said.
He nodded and muttered to himself then turned and began walking with great swinging strides up the hill. He dwarfed her, of course, yet when he reached the main doors of the imposing fortress, he seemed small before them, and she wondered again if she might not have come to the wrong place. Had Sirius sent her astray? She was relieved, though more at not having to lose her trust in Sirius than from any concern for herself, when the stairs and doors she spied beyond the entrance hall seemed normal enough for a castle. Hagrid gave her only a moment to look about, however, glancing around himself as if unsure where to go, or perhaps merely deciding where the person he was looking for might be found, before striding determinedly on, leaving Ranko to follow quickly behind, concealing as best she could her irritation at having to trot to keep up with him. It would be so easy to raise her scale back up to match his long strides, but that would ruin all hard work she'd put in setting herself up as a third-year student.
While he seemed to give little thought to any difficulty she might have in keeping up with him, he did open doors for her, one after another, standing by the open door and waiting until she had entered before following after and taking up the lead once more. She gritted her teeth, fighting the urge to protest his irritatingly courteous treatment of her, having to remind herself time and again that it was not his fault that she was a woman now.
He stopped suddenly and called out, "Professor McGonagall!" Ranko saw an older lady with iron-gray hair and square-rimmed spectacles, wearing robes and a bent hat, turn and begin walking towards them. "Well," the big man muttered, "She i'n't the headmaster, mind, but she'll know what ter do with yeh, better'n me, anyways. Professor, I found thi' young lady up by the gates. Didn' figger it righ' ter leave her out there with the dementors and all, e'en if she i'n't rightly s'posed ter be here yet."
The lady looked down through her spectacles at Ranko for a long moment. "I don't recognize you, young lady. What year are you?"
"What year?" Ranko asked, her forehead wrinkling.
"You are a student here at Hogwarts, are you not?"
"Not yet," Ranko replied, "I'm here to see about getting in."
"How... unusual," McGonagall replied, frowning down at the silver-haired young lady. "Hogwarts is by invitation, young lady." Almost to herself she continued, "You cannot be a Muggle, or you could not have found the castle, yet if you were a witch, you would have already been at school..."
"Are you transferring here? From Beauxbaton's perhaps?" she asked, then continued in a lower tone, "Though surely we would have been informed?"
"No, I've not studied magic of your sort before."
"But you have studied magic?" a new voice queried, though it felt more a statement than a question. Ranko turned to see a kindly looking old man, with long white hair and beard and a pointed hat with a crooked tip.
"Come," he said, gesturing at them all, "let us step outside once more and see what the young lady can do."
A few minutes later they all stood outside on the grounds, though Hagrid hardly seemed to know why he was there or what to do with himself.
"Demonstrate for us, my dear," he said. "What sort of magic do you know?"
Ranko nodded and looking at the wand of air she held, wondered what she should use to demonstrate. She was thinking at first to demonstrate only minor magics, perhaps a bit of levitation, when she caught the doubtful expression on Professor McGonagall's face. Her own expression hardened then and she strode quickly away from the group. She did not see McGonagall direct an apologetic glance at Dumbledore, obviously realizing that she had pricked the child's pride.
Mist began to rise from the ground and swirl about her, thickening as she moved. A soft wind arose as mist rapidly spread about her, defying the strengthening wind. Her robes began to flap as the wind strengthened to a breeze and then a gale. Hagrid moved behind the Professors and placed a hand on each of their backs to steady them.
Ranko continued walking and after a few moments the watchers realized she was rising. Streamers of mist trailed after her as her feet rose from the mist as if she were climbing a hill, except that there was no longer any ground beneath her.
Wind began to swirl about her, stirring the mist and lifting it, shadowing her form. She raised her hands and they noticed that clouds were swiftly forming overhead, blotting out the stars even as the mist swirled more violently.
A light rain began to fall, quite suddenly. Just as quickly a pink umbrella opened over Professor McGonagall's head, held by the meaty hand of the groundskeeper.
The bottom of the clouds directly above the thirteen year old girl were beginning to swirl and descend, evidence of the strength of the whirlwind forming about her.
"Albus, are you quite sure this is safe?" McGonagall asked Dumbledore, glancing anxiously at his placid face. He was untouched by the rain, in spite of his lacking an umbrella.
A sudden rumble of thunder brought their attention to the clouds in time to see another bolt of lightning streak across the darkening clouds, now black and heavy. The rain intensified, then a sudden bolt slashed downward, striking the heart of the whirlwind and lighting up Ranko for them to see, her arms flung wide as if welcoming the wind and lightning, her silver hair streaming in the wind.
"She'll be hurt," cried out McGonagall as she took an involuntary half-step forward, her hand raising, but her words were drowned out by another strike.
A third time lightning flashed downward, but this time it hit the ground, throwing up dirt and grass into the wind. Quickly on its heels strokes followed, one after another, yielding a continuous peal of thunder as the bolts traced lines across the field.
McGonagall and Hagrid stared across the field with pallid faces, certain that the girl had tried to impress them and in so doing, called on power too great for her to control, costing her life.
Slowly the storm subsided and as the winds fell once more, and the rain eased, the watchers became aware that they had company. Professor Snape and Madame Hooch had both come out to see what the others were doing out in this weather, and what had produced the obviously magical disturbance.
The whirlwind finally lost its cohesion, dispersing and taking with it the concealing veil of mist and rain. From the dwindling mists a small figure strode forth. Walking as if down a mild slope, Ranko came toward them.
"How was that, Professor?" she challenged, smirking. McGonagall strode forward, moving at little less than a run.
"How could you?" she cried, still dismayed, grabbing Ranko's shoulders and turning her about, running her hands down her, her eye's darting about, obviously looking for the wounds she expected from such foolish behavior. "How could you do something so risky? You could have been killed if you lost control!"
"Lost control? I bloody signed my name with lightning and you say I haven't got control?"
Indeed, as the assembled looked past her to the field, they could see that there were two definite patterns carved into the field, which a few among them recognized as Japanese Kanji.
---
Hagrid looked out past the door and a broad grin split his face when he saw that his unexpected guest was none other than Albus Dumbledore. "C'min, come in, Professor Dumbledore, sir," he said, stepping out of the older wizard's way.
Dumbledore made himself comfortable in the small wooden hut, waiting until Hagrid had served tea, though he knew better than to try Hagrid's biscuits, preferring to keep his teeth where they were, before bringing up the reason for his visit.
"You, of all the people in this school, Hagrid, are the most interested in Magical Creatures. That is, of course, why I've offered you the course, but," and he held up his hand to forestall Hagrid's quick thanks, "no, no, don't worry, I'm not here to take that away or anything of the sort, Hagrid. I want your advice, or your knowledge. That young girl that was just here, I want your opinion on her, Hagrid."
Hagrid munched thoughtfully on a hard biscuit for a minute. "Well, Professor, the firs' thin' I noticed, righ' off, was that she didn' seem at all scared of the dementors at the gate, sir, an' they make me feel ruddy terrible. I don' know why they were staying s' far away from her, either, after what you said about them and all."
"She had p'inted ears an' silver hair fer all she wa'n't but thirteen 'r so. I dunno fer sure, Professor, I can't say what she'd be, but yer right, I don' think she's quite all-human. Like a veela, kinda, but dark, not fair. Vampire blood, migh' be, though tha'd not 'splain the hair."
Dumbledore frowned, looking thoughtfully out Hagrid's window to where the Hogwart's gate was visible through the light rain that had settled in shortly after Ranko had left the castle. She had indeed shown no qualms about leaving through the gate alone, though they had offered her an escort.
---
"Well, Minerva, what did you think of our new student?"
"Albus, she scared me out of my wits with that display. I was sure she had tried too hard to impress us and let the spell go out of control, and there she was, writing her name on the lawn with lightning. A gold wand? I'm not sure she even used it. I don't think she's a witch, Albus. She's something else entirely, though I've little idea what.
"But mark this, Albus! She came right up to our gates, so she's no Muggle. She showed no fear of the dementors, but how could she know they'd be here? If I came to the gates unsuspecting and felt their touch I'd not be so calm, of that you may be sure!
"I'm a bit worried, I must admit, what with Black out and about, that she might not be from the Enemy. It seems suspicious, does it not, for her to show up just at this point? Can you imagine what would happen if she was provoked into a spell duel with Harry, even if she's not working for them knowingly?"
Minerva turned away so that Dumbledore could not see her face. He had accepted her as a student, even agreeing to let her try the third-year classes...
"And that's another thing," she said, spinning back to face the Headmaster. "We get a new student unlike any before, and she just happens to be Harry's age, Albus? How likely is that?" She turned away again. "Are you going to sort her? What if she has a way to manipulate it?"
She caught the movement of Dumbledore's pointed hat as he shook his head. "No, Minerva. There I think you are right. Besides, we don't really know what year to place her in, yet. Still, remember, she did in fact show tremendous control out there, and those bolts of lightning could as easily have struck us. If she is not dark, do we really want to chance her turning to it because we turned her away?"
---
Snape growled irritably when the tapping sounded again. "Come in!" he shouted, trying not to lose the count of his stirring. His frown lessened when he saw who it was. Dumbledore, at least, would have sense enough to wait until the potion was finished before saying whatever he had come to say, unless it was some sort of emergency.
A small smile grew on his face for an instant when the potion cleared then turned a delicate light blue. A wave of his wand banished the flames that burned beneath the small cauldron. He placed a metal lid on the cauldron then turned to Dumbledore.
"I'm finished. What do you need?"
"I want your opinion," Dumbledore responded, taking no offense at Snape's curt tone, "of the girl whose demonstration you saw this morning."
"It's obvious," Snape hissed, "she's one of His!"
"You've seen her then, Severus?"
"No, I've not seen her before, nor heard of her." Snape was reluctant, knowing that he was weakening his case in spite of his own certainty, but he could not lie about this to Dumbledore. "But what else can she be?"
"It is obvious to me that that demonstration was no young witch trying to gain a place at a school. Those were spells of great power, Albus, but I've never seen even one of them before! That means there are no standard defenses for them, no known counterspells. He's mocking us, I tell you, you can't mean to allow her to attend. One duel and His task will be complete!"
"But she will attend. And at least at first, she will be allowed to take the third year courses, until we've placed her level. Do keep an eye on her, Severus."