Author's note: Let's get this out of the way first: I do not own the Harry Potter series, I am merely an enthusiastic fan with a good imagination. JK Rowling and Warner Bros owns the series, this is a reinterpretation.
Now, let's get started. I am excited!
Chapter 1: Where All Things Begin
You heard the distant ringing of the morning bell. It's time to get up, but perhaps a few minutes wouldn't hurt...
Five minutes, you decided, and dozed off again.
"Amy? Are you up?" A voice is at the door. You turned your body a little, still half asleep, grunting a little. Four loud thumps came from the door. "Breakfast in five minutes!" the voice became quieter and you heard footsteps.
With a sudden burst of motivation and strength that you know will not appear again for the rest of the day, you sat up, pushing the cover off of your body, revealing blue floral-patterned pajamas. Using speed that surprises even yourself, you change into your day cloth: dark jeans and t-shirt, with an olive green Hollister jacket on top and converse sneakers. For an orphan living in an orphanage, that's the best you can afford- it's even name brand, and looks normal enough, normal meaning not too shabby. Brushing your teeth in the common bathroom, you pondered your schedule today. Will someone ask for my company or help today, or will you just sit in your room, reading, pondering the meaning of life, or scribbling in your notebook about observations and thoughts again? You may never know what's ahead of you. Fate has its own ways of leading people, and you are determined to be lead somewhere. Or it's just luck and hard work, and you just have to work really hard to get lucky.
You look up after having put your toothbrush away, into the smudged and clouded mirror. A small, soft featured, eleven year old girl with brown hair and blue eyes full of golden specks stares back at you. You are skinny but surprisingly strong, and a couple of the boys made the mistake of underestimating your strength in a game of arm wrestling and bruised their knuckles on the table. Your look is normal enough to pass the inspection of most by passers in the crowded city of London, but those closer to you realize that you are special- some might even say freaky.
You head downstairs. Unsurprisingly, the table is already full of other orphans. You are late, after all. You sit down at your usual chair, around the middle area. You do not like to attract more attention than you already do. Sophia and Edwin on your left and right respectively muttered a good morning, and a happy birthday. Oh! Is it August the fifteenth already? Well, it doesn't matter. No one will give you gifts anyway. Perhaps you'll buy yourself a birthday cake. You return the greeting. Holding out your hand, the milk carton became afloat and came to you. Over the years, you have developed a handy set of - er, skills- that are quite curious, some would even call magical. That's why a lot of people call you a freak- because you are special, and they are jealous. You poured milk into your bowl. No one near you looked up at this extraordinary phenomenon, but a couple of the newcomers stared. The owner of this orphanage, Mrs. Jones, glanced disapprovingly at them. In this orphanage, manners are highly regarded. Staring is rude, and therefore, mostly not done here.
Stirring your tea by spinning your finger above it, you head upstairs again after you've finished your breakfast of toast, sausages, and scrambled eggs. No one asked you to hang out. It's Amy's turn to help with the dishes, Edwin has late homework assignments, Laura is sick, Sam is on a field trip today, Bella is helping to teach the little kids, and the rest are either not close friends or still find you too weird. You set your mug down on your desk and started your daily practice of your skills.
You clap. The drawers of your desk open and a notebook shoots out, landing on your desk. A pen from your pencil holder drifts gracefully to your hand, hovering in mid air. This one is rather useless, you don't have to move much to reach these and they tend to knock things over from the strict route they always take.
You clap twice. The door shuts and locks. This is for when you are blasting music, or trying out new techniques. The room is also now soundproofed, but if something is particularly loud, like metal music, the whole building can feel the vibration. Last month, you learned how to install and invisible barrier at the door, but during the experiment process you made the door explode into flames at least twice. Of course, you fixed it without a trace of black, but it had left a charred smell in your room for a week. It was only luck that no one was walking through the corridor at the time. Even now, you cannot let the barrier down without it releasing a blinding flash. You had bought yourself a pair of sunglasses after that
You hold your hands up in the air, stare at your bed, and move your hands closer, almost like zooming in on a touch screen. The bed immediately became smaller. You grinned. Sometimes, if you're bored, you use this as a prank on other people's rooms. You would make something, the desk, for example, so small that it is not functional. Or you would make the blanket slightly smaller so that it cannot cover their shoulders and feet at the same time. One time, you enlarged the chair to fill the whole room, but it had taken forever to make it exactly the same size and height again.
You hold two fingers in the air and hover it over the bed, and speedily zoomed it to the right. The miniature bed followed the movement, sliding to the right, almost knocking over you lamp. This one needs more precaution: some of the larger furniture has a slower reaction, and others tend to skid a little after your fingers have stopped.
With a wave of your hand everything goes back to normal. The door opens, the bed unshrinks and goes back to its original position. Only the notebook and the pen remains on the desk. Sitting down, you shove the notebook to the corner of the desk and pulled out a book, starting to read.
A raven flew up and perched on your windowsill with a croak. "Hi," the croak had meant.
"Hello, old raven." You mutter. The range of your skill is quite wide, but the aspect of talking to animals had only extends to crows and ravens. This one is your friend. London is full of ravens, but this one is special. There are many like this one, but this one is yours.
"Something's going to happen today." The raven croaked. It was nibbling on a piece of French fry in her mouth.
"Something happens everyday; you've been telling me this for years." You haven't looked up from the book. This is almost an inside joke, but the raven seems to take it very seriously. "Or are you planning a birthday surprise?"
"Oh, happy birthday, then. But we've only know each other for 1 year." She put the fry down on the windowsill and looked you in the eye. Ravens don't care much about human celebrations, unless it gives them extra food. "Anyway, something special is going to happen today. I can feel it. There is disturbance in the air I fly in. It is especially strong near you."
"Yeah, sure." You rolled your eyes a little. She may behave mysteriously, but in truth she is just a big fur ball that likes to be petted and left over fast food. "But tell me what is going to happen today anyway, Morrigan."
"You're going to receive a visitor- I think. My senses are clouded by that bitter drink of yours." Morrigan glared at your steaming hot tea. You had not expected an answer, but the raven has given it. You have never been informed before. She had always refused to tell you, saying that you will find out eventually. That is why you have always taken it as a joke. However, perhaps today will be the special day.
"It's actually pretty good, if you get used to it." Like the British stereotype, you've always defended "the bitter drink". "Just like half rotten fast food. You like it, but I don't."
Morrigan let out a little squeak, the ravens' way of grunting.
"Anyway, tell me about this visitor." You continue, taking a sip of the hot tea, feeling its steam run against your lips. You bend your head down to continue reading. It is a very interesting book.
"I cannot. Only time will tell." The raven made a little pun. Ravens and crows are very clever creatures.
"Then ask him for me, if you talk to his boss so much." You responded, referencing to the fates. Ravens are often associated with divination; you've read that in a history book about the Celtic religions. That was what made you name the raven Morrigan, the Celtic goddess of crows.
The raven produced a series of short croaks, sounding almost like a human laugh. Then her head shot up. "Here comes the visitor," She said, and flew off without another word. Sure enough, you soon hear knocks on the door of the orphanage.
Author's note: So that was that. What do you think of my first chapter? Please review or follow if you like it, and feel free to tell me if there's something you would like me to fix. I shall try to update regularly, perhaps once a week. I look forward to publishing the next chapter J.