Hi! OK so let's start things off with an obligatory first time posting please don't be too brutal :) . Sorry the chapter's quite short, I just hate it when the chapters too slow, if anyone has any advice, it's incredibly welcome. I'm pretty busy so don't expect any sort of regularity to my posts here. Thank you so much for giving this a go, hope you enjoy!
P.s I'm British so some spellings may be different, don't blame me.

Disclaimer: I do not claim Harry Potter and it's surrounding universe as my own, that genius is down to J.K Rowling

Chapter one: Hope is a Thing with Feathers

It was one of those summer days. Deep blue skies, not a single cloud. However, the heat was stifling. The humidity from the dark Thames water chocked anyone unfortunate to be near it, the river like a black serpent slithering among the city. The grass which was usually the needed relief to the harsh city was faded to a light yellow with patches of the light dry dirt. There was complete and utter silence. Car exhaust from the rush hour lingered like a poisonous fog, its tendrils reaching and searching among the yellowed apartment building. The colour of the building was almost reminiscent of the ring of tea that had dried on the scratched and chipped coffee table in the fourth apartment on the third floor. Not that it was like tea was really drunk there anymore. Instead beer cans littered the floor these days, providing the only colour in the room. A woman lay on the sofa, passed out and another can fell from her thin fingered hand onto the floor; it rolled slowly across the room, only stopping when it hit the wall leaving a trail of beer behind, staining the carpet so worn the colour was no longer discernible. As it hit the wall it splashed a little more out against the peeling yellowed wallpaper. The small amount of dimming sunlight peeking through the gap in the blinds cast long shadows across the room. The room gave off an air of isolation like the woman who still lay unstirring on her side. She looked in short, unextraordinary. Her thin, greasy, straw coloured hair lay across her face and her face was yellow and sallow. She was neither thin nor fat. Perhaps once she could have been pretty, even beautiful but that was no longer the case. The past was the past and it stayed that way. least that was what she had been trying to convince herself of for the past 11 years to the day. Ever since he had left her, taking everything. Left without even a word. Well not everything. She had her daughter whose presence meant more benefits from the government. More money to be spent on forgetting. Well, more so trying to forget. Besides the brat was a constant reminder of what was she better have a way of making her keep. It was better like this really, without him. He had taken any hope she had. She had no one, having been abandoned as a baby. Everyone had always left her. She began to stir, drunken yells from the pub drifting in. She shielded her tired eyes against the sun making her head pound like hell. She felt empty. The loneliness ate at her night and day. She jumped slightly as a letter was pushed violently through the stiff letterbox. For some reason unbeknownst to her, she felt uneasy. The brat could get it when she got back. As if on cue, the door was being unlocked and a girl walked in. The girl had dark hair with a long fringe and the rest half in a ponytail. She had a pair of slightly broken rounded glasses framing clear brown eyes and freckles speckled haphazardly across her face. She was a little reddened by the heat of the day and walking up the flight of stairs. Her t-shirt hung loosely of her small frame due to her constant lack of nourishment and sleep. Her arms were bruised from exploring but also the outbursts of her mother's rage.

"Mia, get the post," her voice was harsh, shattering the silence from before. She lent on the sofa; the roughened fabric scratched her bare skin a little. She opened another can and waited. She took the lack of reply as a yes. Then the sound of an envelope opening could be heard

"Don't go looking at my private stuff! Come here brat," Perhaps it was a letter from him. A letter she had waited so long for. For so long that it had overridden all longings. It was her only longing. It was her way out. It was-

"It's addressed to me…" Mia stood in the door way holding the parchment envelope in her shaking hand, making sure to stay a distance away from her mum knowing firsthand how her mum snapped violently, especially when intoxicated. She accidentally kicked on of the cans and winced as some splashed out on her shoe, soaking through to her foot. The alcoholic fumes hit her nose making her feel looked to see her mum's reaction; her brown eyes unblinking as she gazed across the room.

"Don't be so stupid, who would be writing to you?" came the slow reply at last, "give it here" she ordered as she got up, the world spinning a little around her. considered her options. If she refused her mum was in no state to run after her but if some how she managed to catch her… well it wouldn't be wise.

"Now, or I get out your father's belt," and Mia handed her the unread letter. She couldn't help but hope the letter was her way out, maybe even her long-lost family willing to help. She wished her had been a little strong and stayed. His name was only ever mentioned when accompanied by the belt. She wished knew about him. Losing her train of thought she looked her mum.

"Well?" Mia's voice broke the silence, "Who's it from?" in reply her mum threw the letter at her simply saying with contempt:

"It's obviously a prank" and unable to control her curiosity, Mia read the letter:

Dear Miss Alden,
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Due to the fact your parent is a non-wizard, we will be sending a school representative in the late evening of the 31st of July to help you collect your books and equipment. Your parent(s) may accompany you.

Best Wishes,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts.

Mia was dumbstruck. The first ever letter she'd received was an invitation to a wizarding school. And the letter said she was to be collected tomorrow evening. She walked cautiously across the hall to her small bedroom. She turned on her floor lamp, the battered yellow lampshade casting a soft, glowing light, reminiscent of a candle, across the off-white walls. She slumped on her bed, an old mattress simply placed on the floor with a light blue duvet set covering them and placed the letter on the small pile of her school books. She sighed irritably, kicking off her shoes and laying down confused. It had all seemed too good to be true she guessed. A one trip way out of here. But how could it be real? Magic wasn't real, it couldn't be. She shook her head sighing. It was probably just a practical joke from someone at school. Sure, it was creepy as it meant they had obviously followed her home but she knew it was best not to get her hopes up, ever. She couldn't help but sigh with the disappointment of it all. She was mad to even consider the possibility of magic even existing. But still, her hope built into a tower one which she thought she knew would only be toppled and crushed by tomorrow. She could only hope, it was all she had. And thinking of this, she drifted off into the blissful nothings of sleep.

Just through a door and a corridor however, her mum sat, her mind racing. She had really believed it was him, saying he was sorry, saying he would help. She felt so vulnerable here alone in these flats. She'd always thought of this as a place where dreams died even when her dreams were stronger than ever. She needed the pain to numb but she knew that the hope he was coming back was the only hope she had. The only one she needed now. At the that revelation she held her can up in an imaginary toast, meant for no-one: To hopes and dreams. She smiled sadly, relishing the pure emotion and took a swig.