Chapter One (Hanna):

It's early, but things are definitely happening.

Loud things.

Much too loud for – my eyes scan for my bedside clock, and – 6 in the COCKING MORNING.

I blink and sit up on my mattress, groaning and huffing in tiredness and repressed distress. It's still dark outside. I rub my mop of brown hair, slap my palms into my brown eyes, and outwardly grown. Blinking, I look around.

"Room still sucks. Good," I say, shifting off the bed, clad in sweatpants and an overly-large shirt. "that means this is real life. Which is also bad," I mumble, opening the bedroom door, "because that means someone thinks it's okay to be up at six in the morning during summer!" The last part I legitimately yelled out, and I received my response swiftly.

"Would you shut the FUCK up?! JESUS…" High-pitched, grated, slightly slurred – definitely my doting mother.

I look down the stairs, pinching the bridge of my nose in annoyance before deciding that I might as well step down and see what the fuss is about. The stairs, thank goodness, aren't as broken as everything else in this shithole of a house. I breathe in deep when I reach the bottom of the stairs, and I'm disappointed to find not the smell of bacon or eggs, but the smell of coffee and Jack.

It is six. In. The. Morning.

I step into the kitchen.

My mother is seated at the dining-room table, one hand on her alcoholic's coffee, and the other on the mail. She keeps groaning and occasionally cursing under her breath, and her hair (usually blonde and full) is haphazardly about her face, obscuring me from seeing her mouth or eyes.

I sit down across from her, despite the anxiety in my stomach.

"Hey, mom." I say, softly. I lean forward on the table, and put my hands together, and then I realize that may piss her off so I shove them under the table and wring them together, breathing as softly and as calmly as I can manage. I look at her.

She looked up at me, brushing her hair out of her face. Her lips pursed, her eyes red-rimmed and sleepless, and her hands tightening around the mug and crinkling the parchment. She spit the question.

"What?"

I gulp. "Sorry. I mean, I'm not sorry, I just –" I swallow. Apologies make her unhappy. That isn't my goal. It never is. I take a breath and try again. "I guess…I mean, it's six in the morning, mom."

She glares and lifts up her coffee, and drinks swiftly, and slams the cup back down on the table, making me jump and blink. "Really? I had no idea." She huffs and I blanch, looking down at my hands and then back up at her. "Did you have anything remotely intelligent to say, or are you down here to fuck up my already fucked-up morning?"

I blink and gulp and run a hand through my hair, and then I choke on my swallowing, and cough softly. I look at her. "I mean, I just…what…what has you up, so, ah, early?" And then I look away, back down to the hardwood table.

I can feel her looking at me, so I glance up, and my eyes become trapped. She seems to be studying me, assessing my entire person. Her eyes rake up and down my face, and it feels like she can see my hands under the table. I swallow. Her lips part, and I can see the paste separating, and I swallow again.

"…Okay." She finally says, and my mother – Laura Martin – hands me the parchment in her right hand, wrinkles and all.

I blink at her again, stupidly, my mouth dry and my hand that holds the parchment shaking.

"Read it." She prompts, and my head registers the command before I can think of anything else, and my eyes flick to the wavy writing on the parchment, swallowing slowly.

Miss Hanna Miha

15 New Road

Swindon, Wiltshire

Dear Ms. Miha,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We expect your owl no later than July 31st.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

I blink. I swallow. I drop the parchment, and I look up at my mother, and she is no longer sitting in front of me. My mind pounds out excuses by the dozen, trying to come up with an explanation, but finding none, and having to pound out more excuses only to end up nowhere. I rub my head, look back down at the parchment. The words are blurry and wrong.

Hogwarts? What…what the FUCK?

There is a hand on my shoulder, and it grips down, hard. I gulp. I try hard not to make a sound, but a small whimper escapes my chapped lips and my mother's voice tickles my ear.

"You're a witch, you absolute idiot." And she leans closer, her lips grazing my cheekbone, and her grip tightens, and I am shaking. "And it, as well as you, are a mistake."

A/N: This is gonna be a collaboration between my boyfriend and I. He has done the first chapter here and will write Hanna's chapters, and I will be writing James' chapters. Hope you enjoy!

P.S. Harry and Hermione are tagged because we will probably talk to them the most out of the characters. our two OCs aren't very social and wont be a major part of Harry's adventures