Wow! I haven't been on FanFiction in ages! Can I blame it on homework? Anyway I've decided to rewrite the Three Bromsticks and I wrote this last night. It has absolutely nothing to do with the story (which now has a plot!) I just felt like putting it in. Although I might do something with this...

Prologue: A Very Unimportant and Pointless Beginning

Ivy was a very boring girl. Nothing strange and inexplicable ever happened to her. All though many strange things happened to her younger twin brother, or, to be exact, he did many strange things that she received. Green hair, chickenpox three times in a row, her favorite shoes become suddenly shrinking and becoming several sizes too small, her ice cream melting and evaporating at a mind boggling speed... She'd never quite gotten over the last one.

Because of all these strange occurrences her brother received ten times the attention she did, often leaving her with only her musical instruments.

If her parents had bothered to spend a little extra time with their daughter they would've noticed how gifted she was-for a Muggle that is. For starters Ivy could memorize extremely complex pieces by merely glancing at it, or hearing it. Mix in the fact that she had never studied for a test in her life and did all her homework in under thirty minutes, yet get straight A's and you had someone who is a bit strange, but not magical. And that most definitely was what Ivy Evans Dursley was, strange-if someone bothered to look at her closely- but not magical.

X.x.X

Ms. Smith was rather grumpy old lady who had, somehow, discovered love. Not a soul mate type of love, but a steadfast, unrelenting type of love. The type of love that despite how many people say is impossible or stupid one refuses to give up on. That is how Ms. Smith found herself teaching children how to play instruments for $10 a lesson.

She was Ivy's fifth teacher and the only one who Ivy actually enjoyed. She was strict and took music seriously, but when you got the song right she would give you a rare smile. The thing Ivy like about the the most was that Ms. Smith loathed metronomes as much as Ivy did and only Ms. Smith knew how many metronomes Ivy had lost or had been accidentally broken in the past 3 years: 153. 153 metronomes and only Mrs. Smith understood.

Ivy had started music lessons back when she was six and within the first five months she'd gone through four teachers and 152 metronomes. Meeting Ms. Smith had been the only good thing for six year old Ivy, it had been the year that Marcus had discovered his strange ability and stopped spending time with his sister, who had been his only friend. The now friendless Ivy haunted the school yard, watching other girls play, unable to gather the courage to request joining them. It was because of this loneliness that taken to playing different instruments and because of this Ivy discovered her own specialty. (A/N: Ivy is 9)

_
Ivy woke up and smiled, staring out the window she appraised the gorgeous sunrise outside, it looked like it was going to be a wonderful August day. The perfect day for a girl to turn 11. Nothing could make the day go bad. Not even the fact that her brother had chosen to have his birthday party a day early (the 20th), which ment he would have his many friends over; nor the fact that her father's parents would be coming over supper, making the meal strained with anger and resentment simmering beneath the surface of friendly talk, ready to explode over the slightest thing. Today she would get another instrument. One to add to her group of three.
Ivy glanced at the things she worshipped. Each without and dent or scratch marring their perfect shape. Flute, Trumpet and Trombone. Today Ivy hoped to add a stringed instrument to her trio and make it a quartet.
There was a steady thud of stairs as Marcus raced down towards the smell of egg, bacon and mushrooms, telling Ivy that it was time to get up. So she did. After brushing her teeth, washing her face, combing her hair and slipping on shorts and a t-shirt she hurried to join her brother. She only paused for a moment when she heard her father shout to her mother to come to kitchen table.

Downstairs both her father and mother were telling Marcus how proud of him they were, in her father's hand was one, single letter. With a sinking heart Ivy realized that the one day her parents gave her extra attention was being taken from her.. again.

Without a word Ivy grabbed a freshly buttered piece of of toast, half a omelette, a glass of orange juice and started for her room. Only when she reached her room did she realize that she had forgotten a fork, but decided against getting one. After all who cared what she did? Her parents definitely didn't.

With these bitter thoughts Ivy began to eat the only thing that would be done by her parents to recognise that today was her birthday. Later on when she went back downstairs she found the house empty and the car was missing from the driveway.

X.x.X

Ivy flipped through the T.V. channels and wondered where her parents had taken her brother. Ivy didn't bother to simmer on the fact the August 20th was her birthday and that Marcus's was tomorrow. Ivy was finally getting used to this treatment. Finally convinced that there was nothing good on the T.V. she turned it off and began to debate about visiting Ms. Smith.

Shrugging she decided that even if her parents came back they wouldn't care.

X.x.X

Nearly two hours later Ivy re-entered her house carrying with her a brand new violin. It was only ten and Ivy had the whole day ahead of with, just her and her brand new instrument. Or so she thought until she entered her house and was assaulted by smell of smoke. Gagging, Ivy tried to remember whether or not the fireplace had been lit when she left, but she could come up with no recollection or reason why it should be on. She finally decided to look.

"Hello?" A voice called out, "Is anyone here?" The voice sound male and her seemed to be in the kitchen.

Ivy took an involuntary step back. There was some in the house! Someone who wasn't supposed to be there! As she fought off a wave of panic Ivy took in the situation. She was in the living room-there were no flames coming out their fireplace-and the man was in the kitchen. The front door was right beside the kitchen, so she should avoid it, but there was a back door, near her parents' bedroom, which was beside the living room, on the other side of the hallway that lead up stairs.

Quietly Ivy pulled open to door that lead to the hallway and peeked out. Clear. Stomach twisting into knots she crept out into the hallway and poured all her attention into reaching the door.

"Oh, Hullo there! I thought everyone was g-" The man's cheerful voice was cut off by the sound of Ivy screaming. She swung around and for a second debated about hitting the man with her violin, but the man had a friendly and open face, so she hesitated, then decided against it-unless he tried to come closer.

"Yeah. It always is a bit of a nasty shock. Anyway, you're a witch." Ivy stared at him like he was crazy and began to seriously think about knocking him out and phoning the police.

The man pulled out a stick and waved it around several objects began to rise in the air. Ivy couldn't help but gape.

"Now then," the man continued, "I need to visit a Marcus Dursley next, so if you wouldn't mind coming with me to Diagon Alley. We need to get wand and what-not." Several seconds later there was a distinct Pop! sound and a short and chubby young lady walked into view, and then promptly began to scold the man, whose name, from what Ivy could hear, was Neville, With a sigh and a Pop! he was gone leaving Ivy to the woman's mercy.

"Let's get to Diagon Alley now." She said walking hurriedly to Ivy, who simply nodded in obedience.

My friend read this I asked who the lady is, so, just to clear things up the lady is Hannah Abott, Neville's wife.