Disclaimer: I own nothing- J.K. Rowling owns it all. Yes, in this and later chapters I will possibly be borrowing from Rowling's books, but I will make it known so that I am not infringing upon anyone's copyrights (don't wanna step on any toes Oo).

Author's Note: Rebecca is not my first character that I've created for the HP world- she's actually my second, but my first was set more for the Marauder's Time/Harry's time. I may post that story as well. But, all things considered, this is my first HP fic that I've posted on here. Flames are welcome (though I don't really see a reason for them yet ;;) as well as critism or just plain old comments. I like comments. Anyway, I'll stop babbling so you can get onto the story.

Chapter One: An Owl at the Front Door

"Becca!" called her mother's voice from downstairs. "Be a dear and go get the mail!"

The girl, her long, dark red hair sprawled out on her pillow, heaved a large sigh. "All right, mum!" she shouted, rolling off the bed.

The girl- Rebecca- had just turned eleven the day before, and had been treated as a princess. As soon as the clock struck midnight, however, it was as though her birthday had never happened. Her parents loved her, and she them, and though they always treated her kindly, it was growing ever-harder to grab their attention from their other child, Nicholas, Rebecca's older brother.

She tromped down the stairs, trying to cover up the sound of her elder brother's tale; it was obvious he had friends over yet again. A ball of laughter so loud was thrown her way, and she gritted her teeth. She hated her brother's friends. They always treated her like such a child, just as her parents did.

Rebecca reached the bottom of the stairs, only to find that the mail was not at the foot of the door where it normally was.

"That's strange," she wondered out loud, going to open the door. She turned the key and the door clicked loudly open. Pushing slightly, she found an owl sitting on her doorstep.

"OH!" the girl cried in fright, though the owl remained unmoving.

Rebecca, hand to her mouth, stared at the creature for a long while. It was a tawny-coloured thing, fairly large in size, with bright yellow eyes that blinked lazily back at her. She saw that it held all of her mail in its large talons.

"Nice birdie," Rebecca said quietly, kneeling down to the bird's level. "Good birdie… Can I have my mail now?"

Without warning, the owl took off, thrusting the letters at Rebecca, and once again leaving her crying with fright. She peeked out from between her fingers to find that the bird was gone, and quickly gathered the mail to go inside, nearly slamming the door behind her. She was clearly shaken up by the incident, but she didn't feel like explaining it to her parents, who would never have believed her anyway.

She began sorting the mail to calm her nerves. Most, as usual, were for her parents: bills, or something of the like. There was one for her brother, a subscription to a magazine of some kind; she'd give it to him later. What caught her eye was her name written in green ink upon a rather large envelope, one made of very old, yellowing paper, almost as if it had come from another time. There was no stamp. Placing the other letters on a tiny table nearby, Rebecca stared at the envelope for a long time before gathering up the courage to open it.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss Felan,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

"Owl?" Rebecca asked herself quietly. "What the blazes are they talking about?"

She almost balled the paper up, but then took another look at it. She decided to ask her parents, to see if there was a new scam going around. Taking up the other letters, she walked from the entry way into a long hallway separating it from the kitchen. Upon entering, a burst of sound reached her ears, mostly laughter.

"And then I told, him- you'll never believe it!" her brother was saying.

"Mum," Rebecca said, tugging on her mother's sleeve. "Mum!"

Her mother waved a hand at her daughter. "One moment, dear," she sad dismissively.

"Mum, it's really important," Rebecca argued. "Look at this letter I got in the mail."

She shoved the letter into her mother's line of vision. Taken aback by the sudden appearance of something in her way, Mrs. Rosemary Felan pulled away from it. When her eyes had adjusted themselves, she looked the letter over, only her eyes moving. Then, she snatched it from Rebecca's grasp, scrutinizing over the letter.

"Get me the phone, Rebecca," her mother said quietly. "I need to call your father."

Rebecca did as she was told, going across the kitchen amid the laughter and antics of the four teenaged boys that sat around the table, unaware of the sudden change of mood in the kitchen. She took the phone from off the wall and went back across the room, holding it out to her mother, who took it quickly, frantically dialing the numbers to her husband's cellular.

"Roger, it's me," Rose said quickly. "No, no one's hurt, but I need you to come home immediately."

She paused.

"No, this is no joke," she said, looking down at the letter, then to Rebecca. "It's about Becca."

Rebecca heard the other line click soundly, and her mother turned the phone off, then handed it back to her. She took it and hung it back on the wall.

"Nicholas, it's time to send your friends home," she heard her mother say from behind her.

"Mum, what's the matter?" the sixteen-year-old asked, his voice showing concern for his mother's sudden change of attitude.

"I'll explain in a moment, but your friends need to go home," Rose said sternly. "I'm sorry, boys, but maybe another time?"

Rebecca watched silently as the boys were led from the kitchen and shown the door. When they left, she took a seat at the kitchen table, wondering what the big deal was about. She was confused and wanted an explanation. She crossed her arms over her chest in frustration and concentrated on glaring at the tile in front of her. Her mother entered the room a short while later, Nicholas in tow. The boy looked at his sister, shook his head, then took the seat next to her, putting his arms on the table in front of him for support.

Rebecca's father, Roger, came home about a half an hour later. Rose showed him the letter, and both were quiet for a very long time, looking at the old paper, then at each other, then at Rebecca.

"What?" the girl finally asked, becoming irritated with the looks they were giving her.

Both of her parents looked up at her. Finally, Roger approached her, letter in hand.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked.

"Is it some sort of joke?" Rebecca asked. "Because if it is, I didn't sign up for it," she added defensively.

Roger shook his head. "I've heard about these people," he said, spitting out the last word as if it disgusted him. "There's been talk about it for a long while, but I've never believed it till now."

"What?" Rebecca asked. "What people?"

"Apparently, there are such things as witches and wizards," her father told her. "And, I suppose, you're one of them."

Rebecca felt her mouth drop open. Magic was real? She had believed all those fairy tales as a child, but she was almost a teenager now, and the fairy tales had been long forgotten, along with the thought of there being magic in the world. Her family was so plain… How was it possible that she could be any different from them?

"They want an owl back from her," said Roger, looking again down at the parchment. "What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"

"An owl had it," Rebecca said, remembering how she had gotten the letter. "It gave it to me, along with the other letters, only about an hour ago."

"It must be how they communicate, the bleeding savages," her father muttered, glaring at the paper. "Well, I can tell you right now, you're not going to this school of theirs-- if you can even call it that."

He began shredding the envelope, letter, and all with his bare hands before tossing it into the garbage pail.

"No daughter of mine is going to be a freak," he said quietly, walking from the kitchen.

Rose went after him, leaving Nicholas and Rebecca alone. Her brother pushed her lightly.

"I always knew you were a loony," he said.

"Shut up," she growled back at him.

"Remember how I always told you that you couldn't possibly be a part of this family?" Nicholas continued, ignoring her. "You've got red hair, not blonde, and your eyes are blue, not brown. You're adopted, that's why you're such a freak."

"I said shut up!" Rebecca said through clenched teeth, slamming her fist down on the table and glaring at her brother.

Without knowing it, her eyes were beginning to change colour. They went from the usually light blue to a faint yellow color. Nicholas didn't notice, and continued chiding her.

"What are you gonna do about it?" he asked, smirking at her. "Beat me up? I'd like to see you try, shrimp."

He stood as she did, laughing as she chased him around the table; he was always just a couple of steps ahead of her, always keeping at least two chairs between them. Rebecca stopped, grasping the back of a chair, and screamed. A vase sitting on a shelf just behind Nicholas' head suddenly exploded, making the boy jump nearly over the table.

Both parents rushed into the room.

"What just happened?" Roger asked, looking ready to fight the intruder he was sure had broken into their home.

"Dad, the vase just broke!" Nicholas said, clearly shaken. "It- it just exploded. I dunno what happened!" He was looking at the remains of the vase, which were strewn about the floor just under where it had been a few seconds before. "I was- I was teasing Rebecca, and she shouted, and it just… Well, look at it!"

Roger and Rose turned their attention to Rebecca, who still was grasping the back of the chair she stood behind. She was amazed at what she had just done. She didn't know how she had done it, but somehow, she knew that she had.

Sitting in her room, Rebecca had plenty of time to think. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, and her chin rested on her hands, which were on top of her knees. Her parents had sent her to stay in her room, without supper, a number of hours ago. They said they needed to sort out a few things. She'd looked out her window a couple of times, and seen quite a few owls perched outside their home, waiting patiently, letters gripped tightly between their talons or beaks. She knew the letters were for her. Once, her father had gone out to frighten the birds away, but they had merely risen up into the air, then fluttered back down to earth in a different spot in their front yard. Rebecca laughed at his stupidity.

Another hour passed, and Rebecca was staring out her window when she saw an older woman approach the end of her street corner. Growing interested, Rebecca stood and went closer to the window to observe the woman. She seemed to be looking for something, then spotted all of the owls and smiled before coming closer to them. With a wave of her hand, one flew to her and landed on her arm, surrendering the letter to her before flying away. The rest followed. It was one of the most amazing things Rebecca had ever seen anyone do. She saw the woman was dressed in strange attire: long, flowing green robes, and a large, green hat, that almost looked like the stereotypical witch hat she'd seen in old movies. The woman had wrinkles on her face, Rebecca could see as she got closer, and she had a kindly look about her, as though she could be a grandmother. The woman stopped in front of Rebecca's house, then went for the front door. Rebecca ran for the door to her room and went down the stairs two at a time to meet her at the front step.

Her father and mother got there before her, much to her dismay. Rebecca stopped on the fourth step from the bottom, and watched as the woman came into view of the opening door. She, who was clearly a witch, Rebecca decided, smiled at her parents.

"Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Felan," she said in a shaky, yet very clear voice. "My name is Professor Minerva McGonagall, and I'm here to speak with you about your daughter."

"We know what you are, and we don't want any of it," Roger said harshly, about ready to slam the door in Professor McGonagall's face.

She held up her hand. "I want only a word, if you please," McGonagall said calmly. "If you wouldn't mind too much, I would prefer if we spoke indoors."

Roger considered the woman for a long time, then finally stepped aside to allow her entrance.

"Thank you," McGonagall said, stepping inside. She spotted Rebecca almost immediately. "And you must be Rebecca," she said, smiling up at the girl.

Rebecca nodded.

"Well, come here, dear, this concerns you as well," the professor said, motioning for Rebecca to come down the stairs.

Rebecca approached her, unsure, yet excited all at once. She could feel her hands beginning to shake slightly, and her mind was racing with all sorts of questions. McGonagall turned back to her parents.

"Where would be the best place to speak?" she asked the Felans.

"In the kitchen," Rose said, trying her best to be polite.

McGonagall nodded, then followed husband and wife to the kitchen, Rebecca scurrying along after them, eager to learn what this witch was doing at her home. McGonagall quickly made herself at home, taking the nearest seat, placing her hat on the table beside her. Nicholas, who was already in the room and pouring himself a glass of water, stared at the intruder, nearly spilling his drink on the counter. Fortunately, he caught it just in time.

"What's the meaning of you coming here like this?" Roger asked, wanting her to leave as quickly as possible.

"We've sent a number of letters just today to your daughter, Mr. Felan," McGonagall said. "But, I realised that since you are not of magical blood, you might not have understood the letter completely. So, the headmaster decided to send me here to talk with you, in person, upon this matter."

"I already answered you at the door, we don't want any part of your world," Roger said angrily.

"That may be the case, Mr. Felan," said McGonagall, her lips growing into a straight line and her voice becoming very serious, "but it is the decision of your daughter's, not yours, I'm afraid."

She looked to Rebecca, who stood silently in the doorway, listening in on the conversation.

"Did you look at the letter we sent you, Rebecca?" the witch asked.

"Yes."

"Do you understand what it is telling you?"

Rebecca nodded. "That I'm a witch."

"Yes," McGonagall said, nodding back. "Yes, you are." She paused, looking the girl over. "Would you like to learn about our world? Would you enjoy learning about magic at our school, where there would be hundreds of other students like you?"

Rebecca considered the sudden offer, taken aback at what she was faced with. She could feel the eyes of her parents and brother upon her. Her father glared at her, almost daring her to say yes. Her mother had a look of compassion mixed with fear for the unknown. Her brother was simply shocked; his little sister had never received this much attention over anything, let alone run the risk of disownment.

"What would I do there?" she asked, stepping closer to the witch.

"You'd learn how to harness your power, use it to your advantage," McGonagall explained. "You'd learn about witches and wizards of the past, and what all has happened in the wizarding world, and how we get along with muggles- that's non-magical people."

"Rebecca, I will not have you going to any school like this!" her father said loudly, ripping the girl's attention from the witch back to him. "It's a conspiracy against the government, and the Queen mother! And I won't have it."

"Mr. Felan!" McGonagall said, so shocked, that she stood. "We have no reason to go against the government of this great country, let alone the Queen. This is a school for those who possess the power of magic, and I will not allow you to stand between this girl and Hogwarts!"

"If she wants to go!" shouted Roger, his face turning red from anger.

"Yes," said McGonagall, subdued for a moment. She looked back to Rebecca. "Well, child, what is it that you wish to do? Do you want to remain a muggle, or will you go to Hogwarts?"

Silence filled the entire house; it seemed not even the ceiling fan dared to make a sound. Rebecca thought, weighting the situation again in her mind. Going to this school would bring her new experiences, as well as get her away from her family, whom she was sure wouldn't miss her very much anyway. Then again, if she did go, it was likely her family would not wish to speak with her, and she would be forced to create a new life elsewhere in England-- a daunting aspect of the choice for one so young.

She bit her bottom lip, a habit she had developed that annoyed her parents. In fact, she thought, nearly everything she did annoyed her parents, so how would this be any different? She wasn't particularly close to either of them or her brother, and she had only a few friends at school, and none of them were as good as they claimed to be. It seemed the only right thing to do was to press the "restart" button for her life, whereas before there had been none. Now that she had the chance to do it, what was she waiting for?

"Hogwarts sounds great," she told McGonagall with a smile.

Her father's face turned a bright red, and he stormed from the room; Rebecca could track his movement with the sound of his thundering footsteps through the house. McGonagall grinned down at her.

"Very good," she said, holding the letter to her. "I'll be back for you on August the thirty-first, to help you gather you supplies."

Rebecca's grin only grew wider as she took the new sealed envelope from McGonagall. "Thank you," she said. "I'll show you the door… professor."Head