The light filtered through the leaves on the tree outside Elena's bedroom window, gently at first and then all at once, filling up her room with the warm sunlight Elena always said could only be found in Spain. The hacienda where her family's villa was located on was surrounded by fields of grapes that made up the Alvarez family vineyard. Their village was small, but her life felt large whenever she rode with Lucia on their bicycles to shopping center one town over, and they spent their summers on the coast, laughing and dancing.

Papá always told her that no matter where life took her, their little village of Iliane would always be home. Sometimes if she just looked in the mirror, deep into her dark eyes she could see the Spanish soil that surrounded her home, in her straight nose she saw her Abuela, in the waves of her hair was Mamá and, like her eyes, it was dark like her Papá's.

The magical children in her village went to a local school that was separate from the other children in the village, and because most of these children belonged to the elites and hacienda owners, no questions were ever asked. Even though they went to different schools, all the children got along and Elena loved to play and dance with the children in her village. Her family never disapproved, since her Papá was still best friends with his childhood friend, even though he was mortal. Elena grew up thinking of Juan Martinez as Tío, and his son Antonio was both her best friend (after Lucia of course) and her first kiss.

It was one of the hottest summers Elena had ever experienced, it was the summer before she turned eleven. She was sipping on a glass of grape juice that was making her lips red and swollen when Antonio came by on his bicycle to say hello and play in her pool. Her large black sunglasses looked comical on her heart shaped face and when she smiled her teeth were tinted ever so slightly. Antonio stopped and, remembering something his older brother Julian had told him just the other day, he swooped down and lightly pressed his chapped lips on hers. Elena's eyes widened and she nearly dropped her drink when he leaned back and grinned cheekily back at her. Setting her juice down gingerly, she got up and started chasing Antonio around her yard, until she finally just pushed him in her pool. It was a very silly way to lose your first kiss, by having it stolen by the boy you've known all your life, and Elena silently vowed to never let another boy kiss her ever again. Papá just smiled when she told him this.

The next summer, Elena was turned eleven in June, and she had a big birthday party with all the kids from her village and some of her friends from the next town over. Papá contracted a Cuban musician who he met in Madrid on one of his business trips, and they bonded over their mutual love of salsa music, a new music style that was quickly gaining popularity even in Spain. She didn't ask for any gifts because she knew that a lot of her friends' weren't as fortunate as her to have been born into a family that had been looked upon favorably by God when it came to business, so she just told them that coming would be the best gift they could give her. She was surprised when they all presented her with various knick knacks and hand-made drawings as presents either way, and because she loved them all so much, she made sure they all got extra-large pieces of cake. After the party, Papá pulled her aside and gave her a gold rosary, with little pearls going up and down the intricately made chain, with a gleaming crucifix at the end that she could easily tuck into her shirt.

"Mija," Papá began in Spanish, "I give you this so you may always have protection and a little bit of home, even when you are very far away. Do you remember all your prayers?" Elena nodded obediently. "Good, good mija, you must always remember them and more importantly, you must always remember where you come from."

"Papá?" Elena looked up at her Papá in confusion, she could see in his eyes her own reflection and the worry lines beginning to form on the smooth planes of his face. "What's going on? Why do you always say these things, you know I would never leave Spain."

Papá took out an envelope with a red wax seal and handed it to her, silently telling her to read it. Elena looked at the address written on the front of the envelope and her eyes widened in recognition.

TO Ms Elena Valeria James Alvarez

Third Bedroom, Down the Hall and to the Right

Second Floor, Alvarez Villa

Iliane, Spain

"Papá? How do they know where I sleep? Who is Hogwarts?" Elena looked at her Papá in confusion, her eyes squinting comically in a way that caused her dark eyelashes to fold onto each other. Papá placed his large, worn hands on her skinny shoulders, brushing against the frilled straps of her sundress, and looked at her levelly.

"Elena, not everything is as simple as it seems," Elena suddenly thought to herself that Papá seemed much more tired than usual as he said this, and worry began to form between her eyebrows. "Mija, our family has long been blessed by God with special abilities most of your friends do not have. There are those of us who have been blessed with the power to do good, but just as splendid Lucifer once fell, many have also fallen. There are those who abuse of those without power and there are those who have tried to defy death, mi amor."

Elena took this in with a somber expression, her mind reeling with this new knowledge. "Papá, is this not brujería? The dark magic that Abuela always talks about?"

Papá sighed, rubbing her tanned shoulders and spreading a comforting warmth throughout her body. "There are both good and bad powers in the world, our family has long been blessed by this good magic, and so have you. Normally we learn to control and wield this power at home, with private teachers and the such, but your Mamá has friends who went to this school, this Hogwarts. There is a man there who can protect you from evil, the most powerful wizard in Europe. His name is Dumbledore." Elena widened her eyes in awe as Papá continued, "There is another man, not as powerful, but very evil. He is rising. Mija, you need to stay safe, and this Hogwarts will prepare you to become a wonderful witch."

Elena's dark eyebrows folded into a crease that made up the rest of her "concentration face" as had been dubbed by those close to her, made up of squinted eyes, a crinkled nose, and furrowed brows. The dimple in her right cheek became deeply pronounced whenever she made this face and Antonio had the annoying habit of poking it mockingly, Abuela scolding her for giving herself wrinkles.

"Is Antonio coming too? And Lucia? And Magdalena? And -" Papá interrupted her before Elena could finish listing the names of the entire village children.

"No, mija, just you."

Tears began to well up in Elena's chocolate eyes, making them appear glassy and almost blue, "Papá, what will I do without my friends? What if the other children at Hogwarts (she pronounced it like "Hoog-warts") don't like me? Or they don't have grapes?" Her face took on an especially stricken expression at the next sentence that fell from her lips. "What if Antonio forgets all about me?"

Papá eyes are soft and kind, the kind of brown that they remind Elena of the way Antonio always has dirt on his hands from helping Tío in the fields, doing nothing to help calm her nerves. "Eli, Antonio will never forget you," he says, using the familiar nickname only a selected few ever do. "Besides, you can always write letters to him like your Mamá did when she went away to school, and you can always return to Spain for the Holidays. Now smile for me my darling, you know I hate to see you without a smile."

Elena smiled widely for her Papá, giggling nervously when he stuck a large finger under her chin and tickled her neck, still not entirely sold the idea of magic school so far away and a land so cold just to be under the authority of some Doomblé-door. She sighed when Papá finally left, after having explained a bit more to her about the magic school and where she could get her supplies without having to go to the wizards shopping area in London. Elena didn't know how she would adjust to living so far from her village in a castle chock-full of Brits, safe while everyone she loved so dear was left in danger of the dark magic coming their way. Looking out the open window, the tile cool under her bare feet and the warm air of southern Spain on her face, Elena could her the sound of the other children playing in the garden, Antonio pulling Lucia's hair no doubt. She grasped the golden crucifix than now lay in the center of her flat chest, and sent a quick prayer to María for protection before she plastered on a smile and went to join the other children. She somehow believed she would need it.

Weeks later, Elena was being poked by what felt like thousands of little needles by the wrinkled hands of her Abuela, a sharp witted old woman with leathery skin and gray hair that shone stark again her dark features. When she was little, Elena believe her Abuela to be a million years old because of how wise she was and the sheer amount of stuff she knew. Elena absolutely adored her. Right now, with her bony fingers digging into her sides and pushing her this way and that, Elena was not so endeared.

"Elena Valeria," Abuela was the only person who called Elena by her full given name, "You are going to have the loveliest robes at that school, that is for sure! Those Brits, as smart as they may be, have no appreciation for the art of working with your hands. Elena Valeria it is in the hands where all good things come, and a woman's hands can only create things with love. A shirt is not a shirt, it is a blouse, a skirt is not a skirt, it is the petals that twirl as you spin, mi hermosa flor." Abuela's hands spun Elena around, harrumphing now and again at the fashion of Scottish, or the British, or the northern European, Elena could not keep track. She breathed a deep breath of air once Abuela released her from her vice grip, taking notes with one hand and feeling for the perfect fabric with the other.

They were in Abuela's little home, a clay building with a flat red roof and white walls, draped in shawls and Persian rugs and smelling of lavender incense from her many travels. Elena had many memories stored in this place, a lovingly disorganized place that was meticulously cleaned each Saturday without fail. Abuela was full of contradictions and mysteries Elena loved to uncover one by one. From her, Elena inherited an odd love of bugs and other "creepy crawly" things, as Lucia would say, but also from her Abuela, came her strong aversion to pants and shoes. Elena lived almost exclusively in some dress or another, all made by hand with only the loveliest of fabrics and most eye-catching of colors. The black robes and black shoes and dreary weather that awaited Elena was not something either her or her Abuela were looking forward to.

Nevertheless, Abuela was determined to "spice things up" per say, sneakily adding stitching to Elena's robe that would reflect in a certain light shifting carnations and whimsical spirals. Elena's blouse was more fitted than the regular cotton button down, and her sweaters were a soft material that felt inviting rather than itchy. Her socks had ribbing and little frills at the end, her shoes had a slight heel and were more pointed than rounded in the toe. Abuela also gifted her with thick trench coat that was a deep merlot, and it was the only article she had charmed with a self-adjusting spell, so it would never have to be refitted or replaced.

Elena truly had too much clothing to take with her, but as long as it appeased her Abuela, she paid it no mind. Mamá had given her a brand new Polaroid camera with plenty of film for her to take to Hoog-warts, and made her promise to make the most of her time at the witching school. Lucia cried when she said goodbye, her golden curls frizzing around her tear-stricken face. Tío told her to write often and to make them proud. Antonio... Antonio was a different story altogether.

He kept on as if nothing was happening and kept dragging her around the village, buying her ice-cream and dancing salsa with her in the square. He could never bring himself to look her full in the face though, and his sweaty hand grabbed hers whenever he had the chance, almost as if he believed she'd disappear from one moment to the next. Finally Elena had had enough. She was leaving tomorrow and Antonio was still playing this silly game. She grabbed him tightly by the arm, her nails digging in to his skin, and ran to the far side of the village that was close to the marina in the neighboring town. She didn't stop until her dirty feet felt scalding sand and then she finally stopped, not yet turning to Antonio although she had already dropped his arm.

Taking a deep breath, Elena turned around and found herself face to face with Antonio's bright green eyes. No one in their village had eyes like his. Rumor had it that Antonio's mother was a French gypsy who had left Tío and Antonio as quickly as she had come into their lives. Still, Elena was never a match for those eyes. She clumsily took his hand in hers, and said, "You know I'll come back right?" Antonio's eyes softened but did not stop what they were doing to her heart. "I'll never leave you." The two friends sat on the white sand, quietly watching the ocean waves lap onto each other, moving apart and coming together violently and then softly.

The sun set long before Antonio spoke again. He had not let go of her hand.

"I'll be waiting."

Whew! That was a long one! Hope you guys enjoy the start of Elena's journey and are as excited as I am for this story, it's an idea that is close to my heart. I feel like my writing style has evolved a lot since I was 12, and now that I'm a junior in high school I think I can offer a more mature and well-though out story line.

Up next: Hogwarts!

As always, please review! I am planning on responding to all my reviewers in the next chapter, so any questions, ideas or helpful criticisms are welcome!

Vera