Title: The Origin Story

Prompt: Beginnings

Word Count: 1,067

Rating: K+ - May be changed for later chapters.

Summary: A muggle-born witch is on her way to her first year at Hogwarts.

Chronology: 1989, first year; pre-Sorting

Author's Notes: Boring stuff, yeah yeah, but I wanted to get all of this backstory out of the way first. It seemed suitable for the "Beginnings" theme: chronological order and order of being written. I'm very new to this fandom and haven't read all of the books so I am not 100% confident in my ability to write the canon characters correctly, but hoping to overcome that anyway. Be gentle. It's marked OC/Fred because well, it gets there eventually but not quite yet. I am not quite certain how I will be updating this, either; it is for my personal, informal, unofficial attempt at the fanfic100 challenge so things may be jumbled around the years to fit my muse at the time and may never be finished at all. For that purpose, I'm going to mark the time/year in these author notes before every chapter I upload. We'll see. Cheers!

Ciara Melody O'Shaunessy was the great granddaughter of a squib. How unlucky could one be to be born to a family of witches and wizards without any magical ability of her own? That was the phrase, after all – "the luck of the Irish" – when in fact, the Irish, like Ciara, were known to have absolutely no luck to their names. Thankfully for her, Ciara was all too oblivious to her magical (or lack thereof) heritage and lived quite a normal life as a muggle. Making the most of the '60s, the most delving Ciara did into her magical origins was in the form of mushrooms. It was during a trip to Greece that she met the love of her life, Benjamin Brooks, and at the age of twenty-five, she became Mrs. Ciara Melody Brooks. Needless to say, it was a real trip for both of them that eleven years after their first child was born, the happy couple learned they were the parents of a witch.

They called her Salamandra with the hopes that she would be just as fiery in personality as the salamander of legend. Ciara hadn't realized it at the time, but she heard the name in an "old childrens book" – one that was actually a textbook on magical creatures her great great grandmother had left behind. And what a little spitfire she was, more of a bundle of energy than the parents had anticipated! Due to her name being hard to remember for a child, her friends would simply call her "Sally" or "Mandy" even as she got older.

Salamandra was the most gregarious girl in her class when she attended elementary school. A strong believer in honesty and integrity, Sally was sometimes too honest and borderlined on downright sassy when it came to speaking her mind.

"Me mum said I could be anything I want t'be," Salamandra once explained with a smile to her second grade arithmetic teacher. "I'd quite like t'be somethin' that doesn't use math very often!" In her mind, it was a perfectly valid reason for refusing to do her homework – and her free-spirited parents agreed.

A curious mind and a troublemaker by nature, Sally was admired by her peers for being brave and adventurous. Once during recess, she led a three-girl-and-two-boy team of tots into the forest. Why?

"Why? Because we don't know why yet! That's why we're explorin'," she kindly informed her distressed classmates. Again, her teacher wasn't quite so understanding.

It was written in the stars for Sally to be something extraordinary indeed, but not even Sally knew it until Minerva McGonagall showed up at her door in 1989.

"Hello…" Ciara answered, squinting at the aged woman in…a pointy hat. Was it October already? "Can I help you?"

"Good evening. I hope I'm not interrupting anything important. You are Mrs. Brooks, correct?" the woman responded, lips pursed not in a smile but not quite a scowl. McGonagall was simply a no-nonsense type of woman and was here on business.

"That's right, but you can call me Ciara…" the short-and-stout Irish woman replied, clutching her bathrobe tighter. "But, um, what is it I can help you with, miss…?"

"McGonagall. Minerva McGonagall. And I'm here to…well, inform you of something you don't seem to be all that aware of. Do you mind if I come in?"

"Oh, sure, make yerself at home," Ciara offered, opening the door wider to accommodate an entrance. Upon stepping in, Minerva's eyes immediately wandered to take in her surroundings, as if she were performing an inspection even before she explained her purpose. Ciara led her guest to the living room and they both occupied the couch, joining Benjamin who was already unconscious in his lounge chair, a light snore in the background. Minerva passed a scrutinizing glance his way while Ciara served tea.

"Oh, don't go mindin' me husband," Ciara snickered. "Long day."

"But of course; I understand that concept quite well." Was that a thin smile? Illusion or not, it faded quite quickly as the prim woman paused to adjust her spectacles. She cleared her throat to continue.

"This may come as quite a surprise to you, Mrs. Brooks, so it's fortunate that you are already sitting down. It's concerning your daughter…"

"Oh no," Ciara fretted, a sigh instantly leaving her as she made assumptions. "She didn't say that word again, did she? We encourage free speech in this house but—"

"It's nothing of the sort," Minerva interrupted, setting down her tea. She didn't want things to get off-track. "Your daughter is very special, Mrs. Brooks. Perhaps you've noticed – small things, peculiar incidents – things that make her different from her peers—"

"Of course!" Ciara exclaimed, a grin crossing from ear to ear. "Sally's a natural leader; s'the Irish in her, y'see? She got it from me. Sure she gets into trouble sometimes but she makes good marks so we just say—"

"Not quite like that, Mrs. Brooks." Minerva paused only for a split second before retrieving the letter from her cloak's interior. Glancing it over for any folds or rips, she dubbed it tidy enough to hand over to Ciara, who simply blinked at it without a clue.

"What is this?"

"Open it, please."

Ciara did as instructed, and briefly read out loud before reducing to mumbling: "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump…?, International Confed. of Wizards…Dear Salamandra Brooks…"

During the remaining silence, Minerva took a sip of the tea. It was quite good, but before she could finish the thought of enjoying it, Ciara appeared to lose the ability to breathe properly. Reaching to shove her husband awake, the woman shrieked.

"Benjamin! Benjamin!"

"Wha-?" was the gangly fellow's lethargic reply, prying his eyes open through a set of blinks.

"What is this?" Ciara practically screamed at both Minerva and her husband.

"It's just as it looks, Mrs. Brooks. Your daughter is a witch," Minerva stated frankly, hands folding in her lap.

"I'm a witch?" spoke a squeal of a voice from above the stairs. And when they saw the twinkle in Sally's eyes, Mr. and Mrs. Brooks knew that this Hogwarts would become an important name in their life from that evening forward.

Salamandra was always a quick learner. After McGonagall had told her how and where to obtain the required items in the list of the Hogwarts acceptance letter, Sally was quite successful at independently wandering Diagon Alley while her parents took a tour of London. After being introduced to the wizarding world currency at Gringott's, the first thing that caught Sally's eye was what appeared to be a magical petshop. Between the choice of an owl, a frog, or a cat, naturally, Sally chose a cat – a brown-haired Abyssinian she dubbed "Mocha" was her choice, or perhaps his.

The next stop was Ollivander's Wand Shop. After a short string of failures, the wand that "chose" Sally was ten inches long, "springy," and made of Cherry wood.

"It's a very happy wand wood," Ollivander explained to the wide-eyed, eager little girl. "It's willing to work with its witch or wizard and give consistent results with, oh, anything but the Dark Arts."

"The Dark Arts?" Sally reiterated, tilting her head a bit.

"Oh, yes. You haven't heard of it, eh? Probably for the best. Forbidden magic," the old man explained. "Nasty business. I wouldn't recommend getting mixed up with it to anyone! Now, where was I? Ah—yes, this wand's core is a phoenix tail feather. It's versatile and powerful—this wand will do you well so long as you treat it well in return!"

"Wow…" was all that Sally could respond with, slowly forming a grin at the stick in her hands. "Thanks, Mr. Ollivander!"

Salamandra paid up and moved on. Wand, check. Magical familiar, check. She went on to purchase her books, uniform and other equipment and gathered it all up on a cart. Eventually, she reached platform 9¾ of King's Cross Station just like the rest of the young witches and wizards, though she faced the same confusion about its location as many beginners. Upon witnessing a wizard father encouraging his child to run through the entrance, however, Sally didn't hesitate in doing the impossible – running through solid wall to reach a secret platform. She was ready.

Salamandra's hair at that time was in a frizzy, dark chocolate ponytail, her stature short and stocky but with the muscles of a gal who'd played her fair share of sports. Sweatshirt and jean shorts were her attire of choice; one of the only drawbacks McGonagall mentioned was a uniform which consisted of a skirt which appalled Sally. Quidditch was an exciting concept, however. But this whole world was still new to Sally and there was a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach that she wasn't acquainted with.

Going through the aisles of the train, her eyes were saucers and her shoulders hunched. First, she saw a set of red-headed twins encouraging a fellow with wild dreadlocks to sit next to them while he was oblivious to the whoopi cushion awaiting his bottom and decided to avoid them, despite the amusing sight. The second option was two quiet, seemingly shy individuals – a boy and a girl – in another booth, sitting silently with their hands in their laps. It was the booth containing two girls already chatting up a storm that she opted to scoot into, greeting them both with a friendly smile.

"Hi," she said.

"Hello," said the blonde-haired, heavier set of the two of them. She, too, wore a smile.

"Hi there," the darker-haired, bespectacled girl replied. All smiles so far. Things were going well for Salamandra.

"I'm Salamandra. Friends call me Sally. Or Mandy. Or anything else they wish to call me, typically," she informed the two casually, not seeming to mind how long-winded her introduction might have been. The two girls looked at each other and giggled before replying.

"You're funny! I'm Yvette," said the brunette, who pointed to the other girl. "And this is Ashton."

"Nice to meet you. Am I ha-ha funny or do I act funny?" she asked quite bluntly, though smiling while she did so. Yvette Connelly and Ashton Webley learned something about Salamandra Brooks: she liked to talk.

They spoke of their origins, Quidditch, what they knew of the school, and their disinterest in boys. Yvette hoped to be sorted into Ravenclaw, while all of them agreed they'd simply hope to avoid Slytherin. Salamandra began a love affair with pumpkin pasties. There was lots of laughter and Salamandra had a feeling they would all be good friends.

The train stopped. Their adventure was only beginning.