Chapter 1: Just Like Deja Vu All Over Again
D.D. are my initials, it stands for Darcy Dursley. Just about the worst name on the planet. You're probably thinking….Dursley...Dursley. Where have I heard this before? Let me give you a hint. Harry Potter. The Harry Potter. As everyone knows he had a cousin Dudley. His horrible turned semi-ok cousin. That's my Dad. Yup, dear old Pops. Which is why it was a tad awkward when we found I was a witch. Yeah, that was fun. Dad just about had a stroke. But, that's another story.
We moved to England this summer. My Dad left England once he turned eighteen and lived in America. My Grandpa Vernon (Mom calls him the radish cause he sometimes turns purple) had some health issues and Grandma Petunia couldn't take care of him on her own. So, Dad picked us up and we moved to little whining. Literally the most boring place ever. I desperately missed Louisiana. The food, the music, the people. Everything. No, I don't have a southern accent. My dad is (obviously) English and my mom is from Pennsylvania. We lived there because my mom loved New Orleans with pretty much her whole self. Also, both my parents met and work there. She worked as a community organizer and was on the City Council. She always says she wanted to help her city. I think she misses it as much as I do. But, she knew we had to move.
My mom is 5'9". I'm about three or four inches shorter. We do share the same body type though. We aren't skinny, we are however tallish. But, we aren't big like Dad and Brock either. Brock is my older brother. He's eighteen and believes that because of that he thinks he has some kind of power over us. He's wrong. He looks just like Dad (except a little darker skin and curly hair), big and beefy. Howie isn't like that though. He looks like he will end up being a combination of both my parents. Willowy with dark blue eyes. Howie is my younger brother and is only 13 years old.
Sophie is my older sister (only a year), she takes after my mom and Grandma Petunia. She's tall and rail thin with slightly larger eyes. Then there's me. I have my dad's broad shoulders but overall I take after my mom more than my dad, so my skin is darker than my siblings. Which becomes awkward because people assume I'm just my mothers' daughter. Kids at muggle elementary school didn't realize that I was related to Brock and Sophie because of that.
When we lived in Louisiana, Dad worked as a music producer of all things. Perfect city to have that job. This also meant we all grew up going to seedy bars on their music nights. We have met some famous musicians too. Hozier? Met him, he wanted to a New Orleans album. He choose Dad and his studio to do the album. I won't lie he has really nice hair.
When we realized I was witch, I could have gone to any of the wizarding schools in the U.S.. But, the Young Witches and Wizards' Preparatory Academy is in Louisiana and I didn't really want to go all the way to Salem or Arizona. I love it there, it is my second home. Yes, we did have to wear prep school uniforms. It's actually two single-sex schools not one large one. The rivalry is as bad as you can imagine it would be. I once turned a boy's hair rainbow for a month. He insulted my friend Alexandria so it was totally deserved.
I miss all my friends and I text and call all of them constantly. Alexandria and Hope both went to school with me. Along with Joshua and Louis. I had briefly gone out with Louis last year but, had ended it because it just didn't work. Something felt off to me about it. We were still good friends albeit not as close as once.
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Now, we always got our list in the mail since both of my parents are muggles. Howie and I are the only magical ones in our immediate family. So, when Dad told me the letter would come by owl, I was a little surprised. I was going into what here would be my fifth year and Howie would be in his third. Dad had explained that we would be going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He told us that he had called our Uncle Harry and he would take us shopping for all our school stuff.
We were all in various stages of getting ready for the day when the letters did come. Grandma Petunia and The Radish were both sitting at the wooden table (we kept all our furniture from home) eating breakfast along with Sophie. The table wasn't big enough to fit all eight of us. Dad and Howie were in the kitchen pouring cereal. Mom was probably upstairs brushing her hair and getting dressed. Brock was still asleep, he slept more than anyone else I knew. I had just walked downstairs for some pop tarts or something of the like. I missed the amazing fried chicken at Gary's from home. Dad knew Gary so we went there a lot. Interestingly enough Gary ended up marrying Mom's sister Harriet (another awful name), so he was technically Uncle Gary.
I had just entered the kitchen when there was a weird sound.
"What's that weird noise?" I asked. Dad looked up.
"It's your and Howie's letters" He walked over to the window and there was an owl pecking at it. Dad opened the window and it flew in dropped two letters and flew out. While this was going on Grandpa Vernon (The Radish) was turning his signature purple. I had the stories of what it was like for Harry the first time he got his letter and couldn't help but chuckle a little at the current situation. I picked up the letter that was addressed to me. It was rather heavy parchment and the writing on the front was in green ink. I waited until Howie had come over and was holding his in hands.
"Ready, Howie?" I asked.
"Of course, I am. Are you?" he replied. I nodded and we both opened the letters. In mine was a list of everything I needed. Some of the stuff I already had, but I expected that they weren't sure what I had. Better safe than sorry.
"Hows it looking, Howie?"
"Pretty good. I'm going to need to buy some stuff but I already have some of this stuff"
"Yeah, same here." I told him. "Hey Dad? When is Uncle Harry coming to take us to get our stuff."
"Probably today sometime, his kids got their letters today." He said. I nodded and set my letter down on the counter. I went to get a pop tart when something suddenly occurred to me.
"Dad, we don't know the conversion rate of pounds to gallons." We didn't keep wizarding money in the house. So we would need to find a bank when we got to wherever we were going.
"Look it up yesterday, Fitz. It's about ten pounds to a gallon"
"Ok cool. Thanks Dad." I responded and hopped onto the granite kitchen counter and eat my pop tart. Mom walked downstairs a few seconds. She saw the letters on the counter and got all excited.
"Why didn't you tell me they came?"
"Hey Mom!" Howie said from where he sat next to me on the counter. "Fitz and my letters came!" Mom made a face at him and started laughing. That was the awesome thing about Mom she could be really funny and just fun when she wanted to be.
"You guys shouldn't be sitting on the counter to eat breakfast." she admonished us. She poured herself some cereal and went to sit next to Sophie and The Radish.
"Good morning, Vernon" she greeted.
"Morning" he grunted back. He doesn't really like Mom, I think he kind of blamed her for keeping Dad in America with her. "Those damn owls are flying into my house again"
Breakfast pretty much continued like that. Howie and I were both excited about meeting Harry Potter. He was famous even in America. Brock eventually made it downstairs to eat something. He grunted hello to everyone and sat down to eat his pop tart. By the time he finished there was a loud pop outside. Howie and I looked at each other and grinned.
"Race you!" I said as I sprinted to the door.
"If Mom let us fly in the house, I would so win" he shouted after me.
"But, Mom doesn't cause Mom values her vases" She called from the kitchen which was now down the hall from us. That woman had the ears of a bat. We reached the front door and we both stopped. I looked at the door for a few seconds and suddenly felt very apprehensive.
"Ready?" I looked at Howie.
"Ready" he replied. I opened the door. The man standing on the other side of the door had messy black hair and emerald green eyes.
"Hello, I'm Harry Potter" he said.
