A/N: Hello to all who are reading this. If you have me on story updates and such, Arabesques will be finished soon. I swear XD But this has been poking at the back of my mind for a while, and I wanted to get it up. Sooo...I hope you enjoy and don't despise the character. Constructive Criticism is always welcome.

Disclaimer: I OWN MY OC! MUWAHAHAHA!!

End of summer,1970.

There have been two truly defining moments in my life. The first was when I first found out I could do things if I got over emotional. I set my mum's antique Oriental rug on fire during a temper tantrum when I was four. Mum cried for weeks after that. Dad was scared stiff over a fire appearing in the rug out of the blue. No one could explain it.

Which leads to my next moment.

My acceptance to Hogwarts. I turned eleven in June and was working on the rose bushes with mum when I saw an owl flying.

In broad daylight.

And it was flying towards me.

Very, very quickly.

I opened my mouth to scream and a letter with an old wax stamp holding it closed landed in my open mouth. Yes, I practically ate my Hogwarts acceptance letter. It's not that bloody funny, shut up.

Well, my mother noticed that I was making gagging noises, since parchment does not taste good at all, and immediately rushed over her prized roses to make sure I wasn't dying of plague or something ridiculous that her superstitions led her to believe. When she saw that I was simply choking to death on an old fashioned letter, she looked puzzled and began to drag me inside.

When she noticed the owl on top of the house, hooting softly, she let out a scream about the devil trying to steal her baby's soul and ran inside, nearly taking my arm out of its socket.

Now, before I go any further in my story, I would like you to know that up until I was choked by a letter, I did not believe in anything mystical, magical, or miraculous. Everything happened for a reason. Of course, I still have that mindset, but it's a tad different. Now I know that if my dress catches fire, it's because either someone got upset, or they thought it funny to see me scream and run around in circles all while trying to keep my dress from becoming a charred mess.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

You see, my mother is deeply religious. She is also absolutely in love with magic. Wizards, witches, wands and the like astound her.

So, when she read the letter and saw that I was accepted to a school of magic, she screamed happily and announced that we would be getting the supplies at once. Father rubbed the bridge of his nose and I whined, saying that it was most likely a practical joke.

Mum sulked for a while after that and didn't say another word on it until a few days later when the cat was attacked by an owl with a letter. She dragged me and dad to London, even though we're dirt poor, and looked at the instructions in the letter for…"muggles".

So, that led us into a pub where we were supposed to get my supplies. We were led by a portly man to the back room, and I snorted. "I told you this was a joke, mum," I sighed. She frowned at me. "We're probably going to be murdered or mugged or something," I muttered, causing the man to laugh. I looked at him and he tapped a few bricks with a stick—though I know now that it was a wand—with a certain order.

And the wall bloody opened to reveal an alley of shops. Full of people who wore dresses—I also know now that they were robes, not dresses—and flying toys, sparkles, and strange store names.

I fainted after that, so I don't remember much else. Well, other than going to Gringotts and dad yelping about" the strange, mutated midgets who worked there" –he now flushes bright red when I mention it, now that we know they were goblins—and going to get a wand.

Oh, my wand…

Fourteen inches, oak with a dragon heartstring. I love my wand.

Mainly because it was the wand that convinced me that magic really was real. I could feel it pulsing through my veins when I waved the wand around.

Mum says I cried, though if you ask her, I will furiously deny anything of the sort.

And so that leads us here, in between platforms nine and ten…

And I'm about to run into a wall.

God help me.

A/N: Rather short prologue..but the next bit is longer, so don't worry. If you like it, add it, review. No flames, please. They make me feel bad ;