Author's Note: Hey everyone! I'm not going to talk too much here. I just wanted to give everyone a little bit of background on this story.

I have previously posted this to FanFiction. I had seven chapters up and an eighth chapter being prepared when I just got really overwhelmed so I stopped writing it and I took it down. Recently though, I decided I would return to this site and rewrite what I had already written for my HP fanfic and repost it. So that's what I'm doing. Any writing can help; plus this is fun.

The premise of my story has changed a bit. I'm no longer rewriting them so that everything's different and crazy; I'm rewriting the HP story but with another main character. So basically, the trio of Harry, Ron, and Hermione becomes a quartet.

So yeah. I think that's all I have to say for now.

Happy reading!


Chapter One: A Whole Mess of Nonsense and Magical Things

I clicked my pen, tapped my foot, gnawed on a pencil, and spun around in my chair until I got dizzy.

WHERE WAS MY LETTER?

I spun around a few more times before getting up and staggering a bit to my bedroom door. I regained control of my balance and ran downstairs where I bounced up and down on the couch while looking anxiously out the window.

The letter should be here by now. When things weren't on time, I turned into an anxious, worried mess.

I paced back and forth in the hallway, tapping the doors to the bathroom and to the basement each time I passed. "Sweetheart, calm down. The letter will be here any minute now," my mother told me as she came out of the kitchen. "You can't expect everything to be precisely on time. The owl is flying all the way from England."

"That's what you said six minutes ago!" I wailed. "What if I don't get in? What if I end up a failure? What if the letter never comes? What if I don't—"

"Calm down!" my older brother yelled from upstairs.

"Shut up!" I yelled back.

What was I waiting for exactly? And who am I? I can only imagine that you're wondering something along those lines.

Hi. My name is Ryan. Why my parents decided to give me a boy's name, I'll never know. (Well, they said they didn't want to give me a boring name. But really? A boy's name? Sheesh.) I just turned 11 years old but everyone says I am way more mature than most people my age. I suppose it's true. I'm pretty smart and level-headed, and I've led a mostly normal life (you know, outings with the family, scraps with my older brother, getting yelled at for having a messy room) until I found out that I'm a witch.

Yes, you did read that correctly. I am a witch. No. Not a bitch, though I can act like one if the occasion calls for it.

My parents apparently knew I would end up like this all along, so they already had a whole spiel prepared when I got a letter from the Salem Witches' Institute. I think they were disappointed, though, when I told them I was completely uninterested in attending that school.

I wanted to go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Yes, I knew about that school, which means I must have known about my being a witch, yes? Yes and no.

I didn't know for sure that I was a witch. But like I said, I was relatively smart, and I tend to notice when strange things happen (for example, I knocked my mom's favorite lamp off the table and when I went to catch it, it turned into a teddy bear. Strange? I thought it was).

So being the nosy little girl that I was, I went onto my parents' computer and did some research. And lo and behold, I found a folder all about the Salem Witches' Institute, and another one about Hogwarts. My dad wanted me to have a choice, but my mom wanted me to go to the Salem school, because it was closer to home.

Well, when the letter from Salem arrived, I announced that I would rather go to Hogwarts. It seemed like a much better school, not to mention safer. (Hello, Salem witch trials anyone?)

After a little discussion, my parents agreed. We sent a letter off to Hogwarts, and that brings us to today. The day where I should have already received their verdict.

I was sitting on the couch, my face becoming more and more dejected as the minutes passed and there was still no sign of an owl. I sighed and twisted to crack my back. I screamed, my back cracked, and I jumped up and pointed out the window. A handsome tawny owl was flying towards our house.

My mother hurried over to the window and opened it. The owl flew in, landed gracefully on our piano (my mom insisted on putting me through lessons), and stuck out its leg, where an envelope addressed to me in emerald ink was attached.

My hands were shaking as I tried to remove it. After a minute or so, and much shaking of the owl, which left it slightly disgruntled, I had the letter in my hands.

I opened it, thinking the worst (I was a pessimist by nature), and then scanned the contents quickly.

I screamed, threw the letter and the envelope in the air, and started dancing around the room.

"I'm going to Hogwarts, I'm going to Hogwarts!" I shrieked with delight as I bounced from one couch to the other.

My brother had come downstairs, being curious as to why I was screaming. (He's not a wizard, for those who are wondering.) My mom picked the letter up off the floor and read it out loud.

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 Ms. Harmon,

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 September 1.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress


So you know how, in the movies, when the directors don't want to make you sit through all the boring stuff about how a character got from one place to the next? They just kinda fade out and fade back in and the character is in a new place.

So.

Ryan is jumping around, happy, in her house in New Jersey.

Fade out.

Fade in.

Ryan is wandering around lost in London. Yes, on my own. My parents are the type that believes in learning through experience. They also trust me, since I've never given them any reason to believe that I would purposely get into trouble. (What they don't know won't hurt them.)

So here I was, wandering around London, looking for a place called the Leaky Cauldron. That's where my dad had told me to go, and apparently it was a place only wizards and witches could see. But since I couldn't find it, I was having serious doubts about my witchness. And since Muggles couldn't see it, I couldn't very well ask someone to point me in the right direction.

I hitched my backpack over one shoulder and dragged my wheeled suitcase along behind me. I looked—and felt—like such a tourist.

It took about another twenty minutes of wandering until I stumbled upon the famed Leaky Cauldron. Though, looking at it, I couldn't really imagine why it was so famous. It looked kind of grimy and rundown and not very inviting.

But it was the only Leaky Cauldron I had found, and it did seem like everyone walking around me couldn't see it, so I squared my shoulders, took a deep breath, and strode inside like I knew what I was doing.

It was dark and shabby, and there were only a few people inside. They looked up when I walked in and then returned to their drinks.

I peered around to see if I could pick out the bartender. I picked out a man who looked like he was and went and asked in a quiet voice, "Do you have any available rooms?"

He eyeballed me while wiping a glass with a rag. "Got a couple. You interested?" he asked, still staring.

No, I was just asking for my health. "Yes," I squeaked.

"Follow me, then," someone said behind me. I jumped and turned around, cracking my elbow against the counter.

"O-o-okay," I stammered, grabbing my backpack. This man took hold of my suitcase and led me up a wooden staircase. He brought me to a door with a brass number 14, unlocked it, and then left me alone.

I went in to see a comfortable looking bed, some oak furniture, and a crackling fire. I smiled, dragged my bags inside, and jumped on the bed. I pressed my face into the pillow. I reached into my pocket for my cell phone before realizing that I didn't have it, because my mom had told me it wouldn't work in the wizarding world. (I know what you're thinking. An 11-year-old with a cell phone? WHAT!?)

I sighed, cuddled up with the pillow, and drifted off rather quickly.


I woke up to the sun glaring into my eyes and a terribly stiff neck. I was curled up into a ball, the pillow on the floor and the blankets strewn all around me. I sat up, yawned, stretched, and winced. I got off the bed and went to wash up and change.

Approximately fifteen or so minutes later, I skipped down the stairs and approached the bartender with a little more confidence this time. "Excuse me," I said. "How do I get to Diagon Alley?"

The small bit of confidence I had faded as I heard someone snort behind me. I turned around to see a boy with red hair and lots of freckles. "Ronald, don't be rude," a woman who appeared to be his mother said to him. She turned to me, smiling, and asked, "What's your name?"

"Ryan," I said, some of my previous confidence coming back.

"That's a boy's name," said Ronald.

"Ron, shut up," a redheaded girl said. "I'm Ginny. Ginny Weasley Nice to meet you."

"Thanks," I said a little awkwardly. "Soooo, I need to get my supplies and stuff...do you mind showing me where Diagon Alley is?"

"Not at all," Mrs. Weasley said. "Right this way."

She led the way to a brick wall where she tapped several stones and then...

Diagon Alley!

I walked through the opening with my mouth hanging open, gaping at everything. There were dozens—hundreds!—of witches and wizards coming in and out of shops. The shops! It was way cooler than I ever thought I would be.

Outside the nearest shop were cauldrons of all shapes and sizes. I walked along, my eyes wide and my mouth hanging open, trying to take everything in all at once. I walked by an Apothecary, a shop called Eeylops Owl Emporium, a robe shop, and a shop with telescopes and other strange items.

I tripped a couple times while trying to look at everything at the same time. I'd left the Weasley behind, but I appeased my guilty conscience a little by thinking that I had never agreed to walk around with them. I'd only asked them for directions.

My guilt was completely forgotten as I walked up the white stone steps of a large white building. I walked up to the doors and a small creature that looked like a goblin or something opened them. I went inside and was greeted by another pair of doors with words engraved on them.

Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.

I'll keep that in mind, then, I thought as I walked inside to see more of the strange creatures there like the one that had opened the door for me. I walked slowly across the marble floor, my sneakers making virtually no sound. The goblin-creatures were ignoring me anyway. I stopped when I reached the counter. A particularly nasty looking goblin peered down at me, seemed to sneer, and then said, "Key?"

I dug around in my pockets for the little golden key that had magically appeared in my room one night. (I'm lying. It came in an envelope from another owl after my parents had set up this whole vault thing here at Gringotts.)

The goblin took it and looked at it before telling me, "I will have another goblin escort you to your vault."

"Um...thanks," I managed to say before another goblin came up and said, "Follow."

I obeyed and after into this rickety looking cart and going on the most brain-rattling ride I had ever been on through twisting passageways, it stopped.

Thank god, because I was ready to puke. The goblin opened the door we had stopped beside and my eyes nearly popped out onto the floor. "Holy crap," I breathed as I looked at the piles of bronze, silver, and golden coins. I took a bag and shoveled some money into it.

I took one last, awed glance at my vault before the goblin shut the door and we climbed back into the cart for another wild and rickety ride to street level.

I left Gringotts in a pleasant mood and pulled out my supply list, prepared to get myself lost while shopping for all I needed.


My arms were loaded down with bulky packages and the like after about two hours of me running around trying to find shops, and then once in the shop, trying to find the right items I needed. I had gotten almost everything on my list, except a wand. And I wanted an owl; my parents had told me to get one, so I could communicate with them fairly regularly.

I went back to the Leaky Cauldron and dropped all my packages in messy disarray on the bed and then returned to Diagon Alley to find Ollivanders.

I skipped inside the shop to see an old man pulling down thin boxes from creaky shelves. "Hello," I said.

"Come to get your wand?" he asked briskly, climbing down the ladder he was standing on.

I was taken aback. He was pretty energetic for someone so old. "Yeah."

"Hold out your wand arm." Would that be my right arm? I'm right handed. Well, that's the arm I stuck out.

Mr. Ollivander—as I learned that was his name—whipped out a tape measure and measured my arm. Shoulder to finger. Wrist to elbow. Shoulder to floor.

He disappeared. The tape measure continued measuring. I could hear him moving around the shelves, pulling out and putting away boxes.

What is the significance of measuring the distance between my eyes? I wondered as I watched the tape measure with interest. "That's enough," Mr. Ollivander commanded as he came back with several thin boxes. The tape measure stopped and fell to the floor in a crumpled little pile. "Try this one." He handed me a wand.

I took it from him eagerly and waved it around in the air. One of the legs on the table in the room disappeared and the whole thing fell over. My eyes widened as I dropped the wand. "Um..."

Mr. Ollivander just waved his hand and handed me another one. This one was longer and swishier. I waved it somewhat hesitantly this time.

The chair behind me exploded. I shrieked and practically threw the wand away from me.

"Quite destructive, aren't you?" Mr. Ollivander muttered.

"I'm sorry!" I cried.

He just handed me another wand. I closed my eyes, crossed my fingers, and waved it. Silence. I cracked my eyes open. "Did I destroy anything?" I asked hopefully.

There was a creaking sound...and then...one of the shelves toppled over. Mr. Ollivander sighed and waved his own wand. His shop returned to its pre-destroyed-by-Ryan state. "Let's try another one, shall we?" he said quietly, staring at me like I was destroying his shop on purpose. He handed me a fourth wand.

This one felt...I dunno...more solid? It felt right, I guess...if that doesn't sound too weird. Hesitantly, and yet more confident that I wouldn't destroy anything, I waved it through the air, expecting a bear to come bursting through the wall.

No bear. But the air became warmer and the lights grew brighter and a small fog swirled around my feet. "HOLY CRAP!" I yelled, dropping the wand.

"The wand chooses the wizard," Mr. Ollivander said. He sounded excited I picked up the wand and he put it back in its thin, velvet-lined box. I paid and then left the store, feeling a little worn out after that oddly destructive experience.


It was still bright out. I looked around and spotted a clock. But before the time could actually process in my brain, someone bumped into me and I fell, not having the greatest sense of balance in the world.

"Hey!" I shouted as I rubbed my sore back and sore elbow and sore hip and sore rest-of-my-body. Stupid cobblestones.

The person that had knocked me over was now scrambling about, picking up books that had fallen. It was a girl with extremely frizzy and curly hair, and front teeth that were rather on the large side.

"I'm sorry!" she said.

"Yeah, me too," I said distractedly while wondering why she had so many books. Were there that many books on the supply list?

"So...I'm Hermione. Hermione Granger."

What kind of name is Hermione? "I'm Ryan. Ryan Harmon," I said. Well, I guess I can't talk. I do have a boy's name. "Uhh...were there actually that many books on the supply list?"

"Oh, no," she said. "I just got some extras for some light reading."

One of the books was the size of a dictionary. A really big dictionary. The kind with, like, every word in the English language in it and then some. "Anyway, I expect I'll see you on the train to Hogwarts," Hermione said cheerfully.

Then she left, heading towards Flourish and Blotts. "As if she needs any more books," I muttered.


End: I don't really have all that much to say here; hopefully you enjoyed it and chapter two should be on its way shortly. If you don't mind, please review my story. And I don't mean just leave a nice or a nasty comment; critique is always welcomed.

I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors that there may be. I do read the chapters over and edit them, but I'm only human so I won't catch everything.

Until next time~