Finn Jones wakes slowly, unable to work out why he feels so excited. Then it clicks and he realises — it's his birthday. His eyes light up and he leaps out of bed, pulls on his clothes hurriedly — shirt on backwards — then glances at the clock as he makes to go downstairs, taking in, for the first time, how dark it is. It's 4:30 in the morning — post wouldn't be coming too soon.
Disappointed, he sits down back onto the bed. He knew the Daily Prophet would send its daily newspaper at five — they always did, by personal request. Due to this request, he always pays two Knuts instead of one. He smiles, reminiscent of a time when once, the owl had pecked at the window for five minutes — he had had a very late night that night, reading up on the procedure to become an animagus (Far too difficult to attempt, at least before he got into Hogwarts) and the owl had been rather irritable with him.
Not long later, the proud-looking owl soars out of nowhere, the Daily Prophet clutched in its beak. He opens the window and holds out his hand. The owl drops the paper into said hand, ruffling its feathers importantly. He drops two Knuts into the money pouch and it flies away.
He drops back to his bed, gazing at the front page. He blinks. The man on the cover blinks back, then snarls mutely up at him for a couple of seconds before going back to looking politely indifferent, though there's a wicked twinkle in his eyes. The headline reads:
SUPPORTER OF HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED APPREHENDED BY MINISTRY OFFICIALS IN THE EARLY HOURS OF THE MORNING.
Finn suppresses a shudder. There was increased activity of you-know-who supporters worldwide — none cared that he was dead, just that they had the same ideals. Some were Muggle-baiters, others were murderers, some specialised in the Imperius curse. All were horrible. He reads on.
Garian Grant, age twenty-four, was found to be guilty of a total of eleven murders (victims listed below) and subjecting sixteen known people to the Cruciatus curse. He was captured whilst making an attempt on the life of Bartholomew Grain, a Ministry worker in the Improper Use of Magic Office. Mr. Grain was unavailable for comment. The Auror who apprehended Garian Grant wishes to remain unnamed. Garian Grant admitted that he supports you-know-who and is currently awaiting his trial.
Finn sighs, and flicks through the newspaper for other news of interest before tossing it into the bin with impressive accuracy.
About an hour later, his father wakes up and goes downstairs. He never knew his mother — she died while giving birth to him. He had put his shirt on the right way around as he waited for his father to wake. Dylan Jones was Muggle-born, but had been top of his classes once — Got nine 'Outstanding' N.E. in Hogwarts — and had been accepted into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
Getting back on track, Finn walks down the stairs, whistling lightly. Dylan looks up.
"Morning!" He grins. Finn returns the greeting and the grin.
"Hmm... Today is important, right?" He says, in mock thoughtfulness. Finn laughs and makes some cereal. Dylan doesn't press about birthday celebrations or the like, knowing Finn gets irritable and bored about this.
At about eight in the morning, a letter drops into Finn's lap. The owl, which had flown through the window Dylan left open — quite probably for this purpose — circles around the room and flies back out. Finn rips the letter open with an excited yelp. He reads through it, barely taking it in. Then he looks up. Grinning madly, he says, "I've been accepted!" The letter flutters down to the ground as Finn leaps from his chair, hugging his father with rib-cracking strength.
Finn was accompanied by his father around Diagon Alley. He had already gotten most of his schoolthings. His tawny owl — christened Theol — perched comfortably in its cage.
All that was left was a wand.
Finn hesitantly enters Ollivander's. There's already a boy coolly sat in the chair, with a pile of already-tested wands to one side. After another two, the boy is presented with a wand that works for him. Ollivander nods at the boy, then turns to Finn.
"Hello, hello..." He says curiously. He catches sight of Dylan and smiles. "Ah... Ten inches, flexible, unicorn tail hair, Yew wood?"
Dylan, blinking slightly in surprise, nods.
"Yes.. Yes.. Well, of course, I remember... Thirteen years ago.." Then Ollivander shakes his head. Without further words, he walks off, soon returning with a wand. Finn hesitantly takes it. A second later, it's taken back roughly with an exclamation of "Definitely not!" and replaced into its box. Another wand is thrust into Finn's hand. After a while of this, Finn boredly does some calculating in his head and realises, to his surprise, that Ollivander was about, at a rough estimate, one hundred and twenty years old.
Eventually, Ollivander finally finds a matching wand for Finn.
"Yew wood—" Finn was struck with an almost irresistible urge to say 'Would I?' but stopped himself. "—Dragon heartstring, twelve and a half inches, supple... Your wand." Ollivander says triumphantly. Finn smiles happily, then he and his father leave the shop, to wait for September the thirtieth with bated breath.
When that day finally came, Finn and Dylan hurriedly drive down to the station. Dylan accompanies Finn onto the platform.
Finn wasn't sure what to do — he was suddenly struck he probably would not see his father again for half a year or so. But Dylan gives him a light push towards the train, smiling. "Go on." He says fondly to his son. Finn hesitates a bit longer, then bolts onto the train.
He darts past several people, a small box kept well hidden under his jacket. The box was charmed to maintain high heat on the interior. One effect of this was it kept Finn warm. He slides open a compartment door and sits down. There's nobody inside it. He studies his reflection in the glass of the door.
His eyes were a deep blue, his hair — it had been blonde in his younger days, but now was a dark brown — hanging around his head like a large and particularly messy mop.
He scratches his nose and sighs. He wonders who'll end up sitting in the compartment with him as he sits back, zipping the jacket up. A second later he unzipped it as the bulge of the box was too noticeable.
A/N: I didn't want to end this so soon, but:
Firstly, I want to get this story posted today and I still have to proofread it.
Secondly, I wanted to make sure main characters that people offer up as OCs get introduced before the Sorting. (If anybody offers OCs; though they'll be accepted at any time in the story)
Thirdly, I wanted to apologise for if my storytelling is poor in quality. I haven't written for a while and I was never the best, even when up to scratch. Also, this story will centre only on OCs. Albus Severus Potter, Scorpius Malfoy, etcetera, will not be featured unless unavoidable.
If you wish to submit a question, messaging me directly would be preferable. If you don't have an account, review with your question and I'll try to answer it next chapter. If you wish to submit an OC, message me (or, again, review if you don't have an account) with the form below filled out.
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Blood status (Pure-blood, Half-blood, Muggle-born):
Hogwarts house:
Sexuality (Which gender they feel attracted to — straight is people who like the opposite gender from themselves [example: a man liking a woman], gay and lesbian are males who like males and females who like females, respectively, and bisexual is liking both genders):
Appearance:
Personality:
Patronus (It doesn't matter if your character is a first-year who cannot perform the Patronus charm, unless your OC will not ever be able to produce a Patronus, this should be filled in. Try the Patronus test on Pottermore if possible for ideas. Note: You need an account there and once you have submitted it all to Pottermore you cannot resubmit.):
Other information (Example: Animagus form [only allowing fifth-year OCs and higher to be Animagi, except for possibly one or two exceptions — you can request your character develop an Animagus form at some point if you like], subjects they excel at, spells they have created, pets... Pretty much anything you want to add.):
Thanks for taking the time to read all my babbling crap! Please remember to give any criticism or feedback you think of — I appreciate it all!