As the story that will unfold takes place within the walls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, it is not mainly about Harry Potter and his many adventures. No, this story is about another student who remains an outsider just as Harry does at first. This story is about Hadley, a girl in Harry's year who has a large impact on his life and decisions.

Narrator

The Hogwarts Express had barely stopped rolling along the track before eager first-years came barreling off the train. Rubeus Hagrid, the school's gamekeeper, led the first-years by lantern light to the old boats that were to take them across the lake to the castle. Harry Potter, famously known as "The Boy Who Lived", along with his newfound friend, Ron Weasley, headed toward the boats and pushed off from the shoreline, sending themselves toward the castle. The wide-eyed eleven-year-olds stared in wonderment as they approached the gigantic structure looming across the lake. As they reached the docks, the children leaped off their boats and headed up the hill. Once inside, the children gathered along a staircase as their headmistress informed them that the Sorting would begin momentarily. As soon as she had left, a pale-haired boy announced, "So it's true then, what they were saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts." Gasps erupted from the crowds and gave way to whispering as the boy walked up the stairs to introduce himself. The two chatted until Professor McGonagall came to fetch the children. As names were read off the list and children sorted into Houses, McGonagall announced a name which caused no response other than Headmaster Albus Dumbledore who leaned forward in anxiousness. No child came forward as the name was read. Older students looked around the Great Hall, wondering where the missing first year had got to. What name could trigger this response from the crowd?

"Will this student come forward? This student is going to be important to sort ." McGonagall was not referring to Harry Potter when she read the name, she was referring to a girl named Hadley McAllen, an American. I ask you to return to the scene within which the first-years scramble off the train. Not all the students came by train to the school, you see. For some witches and wizards, other modes of transportation are used. While all the British children may have gotten to Hogwarts on the train, the one American student enrolled has not yet arrived at the famed school.

Hadley

I remember sitting on my luggage in my grandparent's living room for the Headmaster of Hogwarts to come and take me to the "magic" school that my parents had attended, according to the Headmaster. Judging from the number that the hands of the clock pointed to, I didn't think that he would be coming to get me. I had just missed my first night there already, what was another day. I was already out of sorts from the day before, the day that the Hogwarts Express had departed from the station in Britain. My grandmother had told me weeks before that Papa wasn't in any state to travel. What she meant was that she didn't want to travel across the sea to get me on a train, only to come back the next day. I thought it was just that she didn't want me leaving her side. Without me, who would dust the furniture, wash the dishes that piled up in the sink, and fetch and carry for her. She was a witch, so why did I have to do all that for her! The Headmaster's letters had said that he would come at midnight the day after the sorting, which happened to be Saturday, the student's first weekend. Leaving my luggage in the living room, I trudged up the stairs to my room. I had barely made it to the landing, when I heard a knock on the door and figured Grandma or Papa wasn't going to get it, so I had to answer it. Glancing out the window, as I had been taught to do whenever someone knocked on the door, the porch light displayed an elderly man with waist-length hair and a beard of matching length wearing a velvet suit which seemed awfully surprising seeing as the thermometer read seventy-eight degrees Fahrenheit. Despite every warning I had ever been given about opening the door for strangers, I opened the door and at an instant, knew who I had come face-to-face with. Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts. My grandmother was holding her wand at ready until she saw who had come through the door. "Ah, Albus, so nice of you to show up." The bags under her eyes and the expression on her face showed how irritable she was, since she had been up this late, waiting for Dumbledore to fetch me.

"Maggie, I apologize for the delay in my coming to fetch Hadley. Ah, Will, good to see you, too. Now, Hadley are you ready to go."

"Yes, I'm all packed but how are we going to get my trunk to Britain. I certainly can't carry it," I replied, looking out the window at the driveway expecting to see a car to drive us to the airport. Curiously, there was no car in the driveway. "Mr. Dumbledore, how are we getti

"Disapparation," he said as though this word could somehow explain how we would get there.

"What's that? Some fancy term for flying in a plane?"

"Disapparating and Apparating are ways of traveling within the Wizarding World."

"So how do we do this 'disapparating' thing?"

"Maggie, Will, you haven't taught her about Apparation yet? My, my. Well, Hadley, you cannot Apparate until you turn seventeen. We will be using Side-Along Apparation. Just hold onto my arm and we'll get there in a few mom

"Yes," I answered, doling out a round of hugs to my grandparents.

"Hold tight to my arm, now." I was barely given a moment's notice before I was pulled through what felt like a small tube and everything went black. All the air was being forced out of my lungs and once I thought that I could no longer breathe, we erupted out of the tube and into a small village near a large castle. I gulped down lungfuls of air, still recovering from the odd phenomenon. "I apologize, the sensation does take some getting used to."

"This is Hogwarts?" I asked, unbelieving that this smattering of buildings was the school that my parents had attended. Thinking about my parents made my scar burn. The moon-shaped mark that I had had for nearly my whole life, according to my grandparents.

"Is something wrong, Hadley?" Dumbledore asked me, noticing how I was cradling my forehead.

"Um, no. Mr. Dumbledore, could you tell me why I have this scar?" I said, pointing to the outline of a moon on my forehead.

"I can't say I know exactly how you got it. But, may I ask, how your parents died?"

"I don't know how they died. I was only a year old. Papa and Grandma told me that they died in a car accident while we were staying with them in Britain with me in the backseat. They live in my parent's house now. Their old house is in some place in Southern England. The only time I've ever been there, or so I'm told, was when we visited them the week that my parents died."

"Who were your parents?"

"Blair and Derek McAllen."

"Your parents were some of the most gifted students in their year. You will soon find out how much you are like them."

"Grandma always says that I look exactly like my mother. Except for my eyes," I explained, pointing to my emerald eyes.

"Have you ever heard of the Order of the Phoenix?

"Not a lot, but it sounds familiar. I think Grandma or Papa might have said it a couple times. I used to listen at their door after bedtime to hear them talk. They usually talked about it when they spoke of my parents."

"The Order of the Phoenix is an organization dedicated to the downfall of Voldemort. Your parents were very involved with it."

"That's a name I've heard a lot. Voldemort's a Dark wizard bent on conquering the Wizarding and Muggle world, isn't he? My grandparents don't like to talk about him. And, I can see why. I'm not an idiot. They only ever talk about him when I ask how my parents died. Didn't he die after he killed my parents?"

"I am afraid not. Your parents were in the Order of the Phoenix. One of the reasons, he sought out your parents. Hadley, I believe I know how your parents died. He caught them off guard one night in their car, without their wands and killed them. He did that often with those who were against him. Voldemort noticed you were also in the car, and thought that, while he was there he might as well kill you too. But when he tried to kill you, his spell rebounded on him and caused him to, in a matter of speaking, die. Though Voldemort was not dead. Later, that same year, another murder of two parents left another child an orphan. That child also has a scar such as yours. How Voldemort managed to return to a body before the murder of the other family, I don't know. But I do know, that the scar on your forehead is the mark of a curse. You and the other child will have a great role to play in the future of the Wizarding world."

"But, how can I be alive? And the other person. How is he or she alive too? How is it possible that we both survived the killing curse? And why does Voldemort want to kill me?"

"Dear, it would be better if you called Voldemort by another name, such as 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' or 'The Dark Lord'. We shall have time to discuss this subject later..."

"Why can't I just call him Voldemort? You called him that."

"I realize that I did. But, others in the Wizarding world would prefer that we use his nicknames. Many people are afraid to say his name, for fear he will return and harm them."

"But, fear of a name, that only increases the fear of the object, or person, itself. No one should be afraid of a name. Even a Dark Wizard's name. And I'm not afraid. If others are, that is their own problem that they themselves need to solve."

"You're very brave to say that. But, it would be beneficial for your social growth that you refrain from using the name."

"But, if they're going to be my friends, they should respect that I can use his real name without fear. And Voldemort is not even his real name. It's Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"How do you know that?"

"My grandmother worked at the Ministry of Magic as her real job in the record-keeping department until my parents died. Then she was a psychiatrist And there was a criminal record for Voldemort, a rather thick one she said, that had his latest felonies and a history of his life. And his full name."

"And she told you this?"

"Yeah. Grandma tells me everything. At least that I need to know. The other stuff I find out by listening on the stairs when they're in the living room. And she told me that after I'd asked how my parents died. I'd asked who did it, and she told me. Simple as that." Dumbledore was quiet for awhile, so I decided to change the subject. I didn't have much to go on so, I had to make it worse by asking, "Why won't you tell me the other person's name? If you think that I'm going to have some huge role in some war that's going to take place in years to come, I wanna know who my help's gonna be."

"I don't know if I should be the one to tell you. But, I suppose there is no harm in knowing his name. His name is Harry Potter."

"What does he look like? Is his scar a moon, too? Or is it some other thing like a lightning bolt?"

"We shall not speak of this now. We have to get you up to the castle for you to be sorted into a House."

"What's a House?"

"A House is a series of dormitories within Hogwarts. Hogwarts had four founders. Each founder has a House. Gryffindor, who chooses the courageous and strong. Hufflepuff, who chooses the fair, honest, and loyal. Ravenclaw, who chooses the intelligent and strong-minded. And Slytherin, who chooses the clever and sly. Which House you will be in, I will not know until you are sorted. We will go to my office and have Professor McGonagall, she is the Head of Gryffindor, bring the Sorting Hat."

"Who's Professor McGonagall? Am I supposed to address the teachers as 'Sir, Madam, and Professor'"

"It would be easier for you to address them as such for your classmates will address them as such. Are you ready to enter?"

"Yes," I gulped as I looked up at the sky, which was oddly a pale blue, "Professor, what time is it?"

"Half past six o'clock in the morning."

"But, it was half past midnight when we left New Jersey."

"Ah, New Jersey is a great distance from England. The time has changed by nearly six hours."

"Will any of the students be awake yet?" I asked, eager to meet some of my fellow classmates before I was Sorted and labeled.

"I doubt that they will, but who knows? Ah, here we are. Hadley, welcome to Hogwarts."