DISCLAIMER: This is NOT my story. I'm posting this for a friend. Also, I don't own Harry Potter. I know because I'm under eighteen, in the USA, and NOT RICH.
Two chapters to go. I'd already read this about ten times, but I always loved them. I clutched the plastic model of a snitch in my fist. I was finishing Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. I loved Harry Potter more than my life. In merely three days, I would be waiting for my Hogwarts letter. I couldn't tell anyone how desperately I wanted to leave.
I, being ten, was put in charge of the other children at the orphanage. I had no family left. Truthfully, I couldn't blame Tom Riddle for becoming Voldemort if he had to deal with these people. The only thing keeping me from running away was these books, and the fact that the Knight Bus wouldn't pick me up.
"Cecelia?" called a voice from the door. I groaned loudly and stuffed the book into my pillowcase and jumped to my feet, running to the door and poking my head around the corner.
"Sirius, Madam. I told you to call me Sirius. Or at least call me Cece," I said, skidding to a halt in front of the woman in the orphanage. She was short, with gray hairs and a thin mouth.
"You're on kitchen duty," she said. "I'll help you with the potatoes, alright?"
"Ok, Madam," I said shortly, sliding down the railing to the ground.
"Cecelia, I've told you not to do that!" yelled Madam. Everyone called her Madam, and I didn't know why.
"I don't have an apparation license yet!" I called back, running into the kitchen.
The kitchen was merely two stoves in a brightly lit room, a silver fridge, which was locked, and several yards of shiny countertops. The kitchen was connected to the living room, which I detested. Whenever I would show my face, the eight-year-old girls would point and scream "Witch!" which was why I spent all my time reading.
I prodded the fridge with my finger and said "Alohomora," but nothing happened.
Madam walked in after me.
"Good news, a family is interested this week!"
"Hooray," I muttered.