Disclaimer:Anything that you might recognize is not owned by me. Harry Potter and all the characters (except for Alex) are owned by J.K. Rowling. Charmed is owned by The WB network. The song is owned by Switchfoot.

Everything inside looks like everything I hate
You are the hope I have for change
You are the only chance I'll take

You know, if asked to describe myself, I'd call myself normal, a little weird. Also really sarcastic, bitter, cynical and angry, with a twisted sense of humour. Often I caught myself wondering why I am the way I am. Why do I pretend to be really strong, that I don't need anyone or anything to make me feel good about myself? Is it just me, or do we all build metaphorical walls and hide behind them just so no one can hurt us? Don't we all just have very few friends, the less people you know and trust the better; that way you have less people likely to abandon you when they get tired of you. Don't we all not care about what people think about us cause, hey, who gives a damn about what the others think about me, I only care what the people I care about think about me. Don't we all pretend that we don't believe in the love crap and fairytales are for idiots?

Well, I for a fact know that not all people think like me, I guess I don't anymore either. But for the longest time I was angry. And in pain.

So what helped me change?

Seven years at Hogwarts and the people around me.

You see to understand how things are different now, you have to understand how things were back then for me, and why they were the way they were y'know. And when I say Hogwarts changed me, I don't mean just the magic part helped. 'Cause you see, I've been surrounded by magic ever since I was born, but just the atmosphere, the people, that's what helped the most.

Magic- as a child I was always taught that magic was in the blood, that it was passed through generations, there could be times where it skipped a generation or two, but magic always stayed in the family. If someone didn't have magical ancestors, then they could never have magic in them. You see, my family was a very powerful family when it came to magic, now it's only my grandmother, her sister and me, but once there was a time when people traveled from all over to ask us for help, magical help. I was also taught that while magic made us different from others, it didn't make us better than them, it simply gave us an opportunity to help others, the ones who couldn't help themselves, the ones that needed help; I was taught that our powers weren't for ourselves, but for others. I've lost count of the number of spells that backfired on me when I used them for personal gain.

There were many times I wondered that if we saved the world, then who would save us?

Anyway, us Wiccas went to normal schools and high schools and colleges and worked. We didn't have special magical occupations as such. Infact we had to work in absolute secrecy. We didn't wear black robes or pointed hats and we certainly did not wave around wands and cackle while mixing something vile in a huge black pot that hung over a fire. And we most definitely did not have a black raven cawing in the background.

As a child I hated the stereotypes that people associated witches with, we weren't some evil, ugly spinsters who didn't have anything better to do than wreck havoc in other people's lives.

You see, my grandmother and her sisters were really powerful witches, the Charmed Ones. Yeah I bet you've heard of them, so I'm not going to go into the details of their power and stuff. People believe that my grandmothers had happy endings. That after seven years of non stop fighting evil, things finally worked out for them. Everyone thought that they all settled down and had kids of their own, but that's not what really happened. My grand-aunt Paige died while saving one of her charges, Luke. After her death her husband moved to New Jersey to be closer to his family along with the twins and Henry Jr. I still see them occasionally on Christmas (if I'm not spending it at Hogwarts) or over the summer. They aren't much into magic though.

My other grand-aunt Phoebe's husband, Cooper too was killed in a surprise demon attack on the manor. Heart-broken, Grandma Phoebe never married again. They never had any kids.

My grandmother, Grams, their sister, Piper, well she had a roller coaster ride too. My uncle, Wyatt, was so sick of magic and the 'bad luck' that it had bought our family, left home at the age of eighteen and no one ever saw him again. He didn't want Grams keeping an eye on him through magic either. My aunt, Melinda, lives in a gorgeous apartment in the city. She went to fashion school in New York and is a brilliant designer. I'm pretty close to her. She gets lots of designer clothes for free which she passes on to me. Hence my extensive and ridiculously beautiful wardrobe. She helps Grams and Aunt Phoebe keep the demons in line while I'm away.

My dad, Chris, fell in love with a beautiful, British woman when he was studying abroad and soon she got pregnant with me. They then got married and I was born. (Yes, it happened in that order) But like always, things didn't work out like everyone hoped they would. After my dad died when I turned five, my mother was too heartbroken to raise a child all by herself. She said that I reminded her too much of him. So she left. Just like that.

That's when I moved to San Francisco and I have lived with Grams and Grandma Phoebe in the manor ever since.

So, back to what I was originally saying, about magic, and the horrible stereotypes; I hated them and I hated Halloween where people paraded the streets dressed as evil witches and monstrous werewolves and blood-thirsty vampires. People didn't know the truth about werewolves or vampires or witches or anything magical so they distorted my world into something convenient for them.

Seeing how magic had not done anything remotely good for my family, I never had faith in it, much like my Uncle Wyatt. Still I never thought of running away, I loved whatever was left of my family too much for that. But I never used my magic much, and being a charmed descendant I have a lot of it. I'm a whitelighter on my dad's side. I also have telekinesis and faint telepathy, my Aunt Prue's powers, and my Aunt Phoebe's power of empathy. I can do the normal chanting spells crap, but I was never the one for rhyming, so someone had to write the spells for me.

Every time I saw someone dressed as an 'evil witch', in the damn black robes and warty noses, I wanted to inflict some serious pain. Damnit, not all witches were evil just as not everyone is a Ted Bundy or Jack the Ripper.

From an early age I was angry and bitter. Here I was a young part Wicca part white-lighter part mortal, living among normal people, but not really one of them.

Things got even more complicated the year I turned eleven when I got a letter that seemed to be written on really old and thick paper (or parchment as I now know it's called) with a really cool emblem that said Hogwarts and had a lion, a serpent, a badger and an eagle. Also there was a saying in Latin, Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandos. I remember laughing when I read that; never tickle a sleeping dragon. The letter itself seemed very weird then and I had looked to my grams for some kind of explanation, I remember her having this really serene, knowing expression on her face.

Later that day, this really weird looking man, with a really long silvery beard and even longer hair, in this plum coloured suit that smelled of mothballs came calling. Looking at him, I couldn't help but feel suspicious, but one look into his twinkling blue eyes, I relaxed. I could trust him. His name, it turns out, was Albus Dumbledore, and he explained to me about Hogwarts. That's when it hit me- it was real, the stupid black robes and pointed hats and boiling cauldrons and swishing wands were all fucking real. But these people were good witches too. I was going to be one of the cauldron using, wand swishing, black robes wearing witches. Damn, I hated magic.

It would also mean I wouldn't get to go to school with Lily in England. Lily Evans and I had been friends ever since I can remember. My dad's wife was British and after they got married by dad moved to London to be with her. She had gone to Hogwarts herself, which is why I had those abilities as well. After his death and my subsequent abandonment, I moved to San Francisco and I had to leave my best friend behind. We kept in touch and always met during the holidays. I hadn't told Lily much about my family, but whatever she knew she had accepted it without any question and I will always be grateful to her for that.

But going to Hogwarts would mean making new friends, which meant I would have to open up to them, trust them, more importantly tell them about me and hope to God they would accept me. I'm not hesitant to tell people about me just because of what I am, also because of who I am. You see, the Halliwells, they are sort of like magical royalty of sorts. Not that it make us a cent richer, only a lot more famous. I was hesitant to leave grams and Aunt Phoebe too. I wasn't much of an adjusting person.

Alexandria Rose Perry Halliwell. Quite a mouthful and so damn long to write. But that's how I signed my Hogwarts forms, thinking life couldn't get any worse.

I remember calling Lily to tell her how I wasn't going to go to school with her and her telling me in an uncomfortable voice that she, too, was going to go to another school. Understanding that she didn't want to talk about it, and at that moment I didn't either, I had simply hung up. I didn't feel any anger towards Lily for not going to 'our' school or that she hadn't told me about it sooner. Sometimes you keep the thing that you're dreading to most to do for the last moment, hoping that maybe you won't have to do it after all.

And so I went to London with Aunt Phoebe and Grams. On platform 10 3/4th, that took a little while to find, I remember this weird nervous feeling that settled at the bottom of my stomach. All those kids, people, trunks, the owls, the noise, the excitement, it had been so overwhelming. Looking at the magnificent and scarlet Hogwarts Express, I couldn't quell the excitement that took over me too. I had turned to grams Grandma Phoebe and Aunt Mel and very unlike me, enveloped them all into one huge smothering hug. "I'm going to miss you so much," I had whispered.

Unlike other people, I didn't have to drag along a heavy trunk, mine had been shrunk thanks to Gram's spell and I had the counter spell in my pocket, that I would have to chant before getting off the train so that it would be brought to the school later along with everyone else's.

Anyway, there I had been walking through the corridors, looking for an empty compartment, when I walked past a couple of guys, four of them actually, they were really noisy and loud, but they'd had that companionship amongst them that achingly reminded me of Lily and me.

And then suddenly, out of nowhere, I'd heard a shriek, "Lexie?" And then bam! I was flat on the floor on my back, my skull throbbing where I'd bumped in on the ground, a lot of red clouding my vision and a very loud voice yelling in my ear, "Oh my god! Lexie, what in the world are you doing here!"

Even though I was being crushed to death (it's not that Lily is fat or something, it's just that I'm really tiny. Sometimes the best of us are beaten by something as stupid as genes. I inherited Grams silky hair, although her's is brown, my is midnight black. I inherited Aunt Phoebe's petite frame and her love for exercise and martial arts. But I also inherited our family's pitiful height when it comes to women. At age eleven, I was only four feet eight inches, all short and skinny. I still managed to roll my eyes as I awkwardly patted her on her back, "Oxygen Lils or I might just die." Since I was so winded, it hadn't come out quite the way I planned it to and she took it as a grunt of approval, continuing to hug the life out of me.

"Ahem." I heard somebody clear his throat.

"Erm, you girls need some help?" Another voice asked.

This time I successfully managed to shove Lily off me and stand up. Throwing a smile her way, I looked at the person who had asked if we needed any help. It was one of those boys, and I could tell he meant well, his warm but tired amber eyes said it all. The boy was a little too tall for his age; a little too thin but not third-world-country-looking like I was; his face had premature lines and several scars.

Biting back a retort, I forced myself to be nice, "Nah, its okay. Thanks anyway." I even smiled, hah Aunt Phoebe, I can be nice!

He grinned widely and thrust his hand forward, "American, eh. I'm Remus Lupin."

I shook his hand, "Yup, I'm Alex Perry."

"Lily Evans. British, Long live the Queen."

He had a nice laugh, a genuine one where he threw his head back and the sides of his eyes crinkled, it was a hearty laugh. "Nice to meet you too, but I must get back to my friends." With that he walked towards his friends, who had disappeared into a compartment.

Later that journey, Lily and I had found ourselves an empty compartment and talked. She'd explained how she'd got the letter, but didn't want to tell me anything yet since she knew of my hatred towards black robes and wands and such. She was scared that I'd hate her and never speak to her for going to a place that endorsed the things that I so hated. I had laughed and thrown my arms around her, only Lily could think something like that. I loved Lily like a sister. She was always so thoughtful of others feelings, so concerned about me and tried every possible way she knew to make me feel comfortable with myself and around others. As she talked animatedly about her trip to Diagon Alley, I tuned myself out; just looking at her, listening to her pleasant voice, man I felt so at ease around her. Lily was a very pretty girl; the kind you knew would grow up to become beautiful. She had long, dark red hair, silky and slightly wavy; vivid green eyes, not the murky green that most people have, but the real, emerald green ones; pale complexion dotted with freckles. She was taller than me, five-two already; the bitch. She was sure going to break hearts when she grew up, if not now.

Anyway, we continued talking and I told her about my trip to Diagon Alley and how it had nearly driven me insane, how Aunt Phoebe actually had to drag me into Madame Malkin's to get robes for school and how I'd been very rude to Ollivander when he's asked me to try out several wands.

Together we'd laughed as we tried out the all the sweets that the lady with the food trolley had; Lily was a little scared of the chocolate frogs at first, and I had loved the Bertie Bott's jelly beans till I had the vomit flavoured one, after that I was a little wary of them. Least to say that my first trip to Hogwarts was memorable, and I knew my years there would be too. I knew that there would be several other obstacles concerning my roots and magic, my thoughts and my feelings, but with my best friend right there next to me, I remember thinking, 'Bring it on.'