Mitigate [S. Black]

two | not-so-fictional

The concrete floor was cool against her skin when Alessia woke up. It took her groggy mind a moment to catch up with what had happened, and it wasn't until someone cleared their throat did she finally remember. The brunette jerked herself off of the floor, holding a hand against her dizzy head as she squinted up at the strange old man responsible for it. "What the hell --"

Her words died in her throat as she began taking in the room around her. They were no longer on the boardwalk she had parked her car against; in fact, Alessia suspected they weren't even anywhere near Nora's Novels... or maybe even her hometown, in general.

They were in an office of sorts. The walls and floors were both made of cold, aged stone, and there were pillars around a large vintage desk that lay beneath an ornate chandelier. There was a fireplace, as well as large shelves filled with old books. In the corner, Alessia could see what looked to be a large silver bowl, framed with long mirrors behind it against the wall. All in all, the entire place felt insanely familiar to her... but it wasn't until she noticed the portraits hanging on the walls did she realize; especially given the fact that some of them seemed to be leaning closer as they peered down at her curiously.

"Oh, my God," she breathed, stumbling to her feet. "Is this -- is this some kind of sick joke?!"

"On the contrary, Miss Ashwood," the old man said with the tiniest hint of a smile on his face. "Though I must apologize -- you took quite the spill when I transported us back to this realm. I suspect your mind was overwhelmed with too much magic at once, seeing as how you haven't been exposed to it since you were born."

Alessia glared at him in both confusion and frustration. "What are you talking about?" She demanded. "Where the hell did you bring me?"

He merely looked at her. "I believe you know the answer to that question already."

"You expect me to believe you somehow brought us to the fictional world of Harry Potter? That we're really standing in Dumbledore's office right now?" She scoffed. "No way."

The old man raised an eyebrow. "I expect you to believe both of those things, because they are true. After all, I believe I would be able to recognize my own office." Alessia turned from examining one of the portraits, just in time to see Brian pull out a wand and wave it over himself. Her eyes widened in shock as his appearance changed. Instead of the inside-out dress shirt, dark slacks with socks covering the hems, he was now in a billowing navy-blue robe that had crescent moons and twinkling stars scattered across the fabric. The hair-tie disappeared as his silvery-white tendrils lay flat against his back, then reappeared loosely around his long beard to hold it together. As she watched, gobsmacked, he simply smiled at her. "Allow me to reintroduce myself with the name most hold familiar to my face: Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. I apologize for misleading you earlier this evening."

She simply stared, and then laughed in disbelief. "This... this isn't real. I've lost my mind."

"I assure you, this is very real," Brian -- er -- Dumbledore responded. "And if you allow me to prove it, I can."

"How?"

He gestured toward the silver bowl in the corner of the room. If this place was truly real, Alessia realized it must have been a pensieve. "Come. I assume you know how this works?"

Against her inner voice telling her not to go along with the man claiming to be a fictional character, Alessia nodded and followed him over to it. He retrieved a vial from inside his robe, dumping a clear liquid that must have been tears into the bowl. Then he offered her a reassuring smile before dunking his head into the gas that appeared in the pensieve, and after a moment of hesitation, Alessia did the same.