A/N: Hey I'm back! I know that this kind of story about a muggle ending up in the Harry Potter universe is a little overdone (okay, REALLY overdone), but I couldn't resist! I'm going to try and make it as realistic as possible though, so please give my fanfiction a chance, and tell me what you think!

Thanks!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters. :)

-:-

"Go away!" I yell at my brother Paul, and slam my bedroom door in his face, "I hate you!" I say to the now closed door. The white paint on it has been pealing, a testament to our crappy apartment. To our crappy life.

"Lauren!" He says on the other side of the door, "Can you act mature, just this once, please?"

"Don't tell me how to act!" I yell back, louder. "When you've gone and... and..." I couldn't finish my sentence because a fresh wave of tears consumed me.

"I'm sorry." He says, sounding defeated. "I had to."

"Just leave me alone!"

I sit on the floor, by the door, trying to calm myself. I can hear Paul on the other side. I wait until I hear footsteps walking away, and a muffled door shut. He probably went outside to smoke or something. It was a nasty habit, and I wished he wouldn't do it.

I stand up, and flop down on my small bed. I suddenly feel exhausted. I turn to where I'm staring up at the ceiling. I shouldn't have spoken to Paul like that, it wasn't his fault that he had been let go from his job, and we had to move so he could live closer to his new work. I understood that, so why had I acted so psycho?

I get up quickly, suddenly feeling as though I had to find Paul and apologize.

I run to the front door, and call out, "Paul?"

Instead of Paul's reassuring voice, I hear the sounds of sirens, and people shouting. My stomach sinks, where's Paul? I follow the flashing lights, and the sound of chaos, and that's where I find him.

I scream louder than I ever have before, and before someone can catch me I run towards the scene. "Paul!" I shout, "Paul! I'm so sorry! PAUL!"

A kind police officer pulls me away, "Is this man related to you?" he asks gently.

"Y-yes." I choke through my tears, "He's my brother! He's the only person I have!"

The policeman is now looking at me, his expression sad.

The night flashes by, somehow I'm in a hospital, a man in a white coat that I've never seen in my life is telling me that, despite all they tried to do, Paul didn't make it. I can't hear the rest of what he's trying to say because I'm crying so hard.

All I can think about is one of the last things I said to him. I hate you. Guilt, stronger than anything I've ever felt consumes me.

-:-

A few months later, I'm in state care. Where I'll probably always be until I turn eighteen in a year. The guilt of the accident a few months ago hasn't gone away, but some of the overwhelming sadness has. Only a little, though.

I go to a different school, one where I don't know anyone, and resolve to work harder in my studies. It's more of a distraction than anything. My days are filled with studying, eating, and sleeping. I only go through the motions, trying hard not to think about the fact that I'm alone now.

Today is the same. I'm walking home from school late, the sun's already setting, wondering if I would get in trouble for getting a detention for the next two weeks. It wasn't my fault Felicity decided to insult the way I dressed. Usually I paid remarks like this no attention, I grew up poor, so I didn't have very many new clothes. Almost none. I shop at thrift stores, and it's fine with me.

But today, I just snapped.

As I walk, the sun sets. A few streetlights flicker on. I'm still a few blocks away, wondering what they'll tell me about getting detention. Will I be punished?

I don't notice initially, but while I'm walking, everything just seems to get darker and darker. Thinking the streetlamps must not be working, I continue into the darkness, trying not to think about what might be in front of me. My experience the night Paul died had made me a coward; I was terrified of the dark, and I had horrible nightmares at night that I woke up screaming from constantly. The girl who shared my room, a tall, awkward girl named Serena, who always had a blank look on her face complained about them waking her up every night.

Suddenly, I hear a sound. I jump automatically. Calm down, I think to myself, There's nothing out there.

It gets louder. Footsteps, getting closer and closer to me.

I continue to walk, my pace quickening. The footsteps grow closer still, and I find myself running. Panic floods my mind, and I'm sprinting in the direction that I think is my new home. My follower is relentless, however, and soon I'm clutching my side. I've never been much of an athlete, but I have to continue.

I hit something. A person. "Going somewhere?" A man's voice drawls at me, he's obviously been drinking. I feel someone grab my arm.

No. It can't end this way.

"NO!" I shout, and wrench my arm away. Thankfully, I'm free, and I began to sprint away. It's still almost impossible to see, but I continue on. "Help!" I shout, "Someone help me!"

I run into someone else, but it's not the same man. I can't see his face, but he's taller than me. I feel a hand on my shoulder. "Is something wrong? Are you okay?" The voice asks. It's a nice voice, I think.

"Help." I say again, feebly, and then everything goes black.

-:-

I wake up to someone shaking me awake. "Are you okay?" They ask me frantically.

I open my eyes, to find that it isn't Serena waking me up, but an unfamiliar redheaded boy around my age, maybe a little older. He's eying me worriedly, "You were screaming, and I couldn't wake you up."

I shake my head. "What's going on?"

"You ran into me on the street." He answers, "You were screaming for help, and then you fainted, so I brought you back here with me."

It all comes rushing back to me. The running, the creep that grabbed my arm, and then passing out. "Sorry." I say. Was I late for school? Were they looking for me? I look around at my surroundings, it seems I'm in some sort of room with a lot of merchandise stocked on shelves haphazardly. "What is this place?" I say.

"You are in the backroom of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, our soon-to-be famous joke shop." The boy says, with a tinge of pride in his voice. "I assure you, the front of the shop looks better than this mess."

Cautiously, I stand up from the floor where I had been sleeping - and apparently screaming. There's a blanket off to the side, and I'm right next to the chair. I must have fallen off during my nightmare. Something about the name of the store sounds familiar, but my mind's too hazy to remember.

"I'm Fred Weasley by the way." He says, after silence from me, "Co-owner of the shop."

I nod, "Lauren Anderson." I say.

"Fred." A boy that looks exactly like Fred appears. His eyes move to me, and widen. "She's awake."

"George," Fred says, "This is Lauren Anderson."

"George Weasley." He says, and shakes my hand.

And that's when it happens. It finally dawns on me who they are. With that realization, I pass out for the second time that night.