Welcome everyone!

Okei, so a bit of info about this story? It begins in 1989, when Fred and George are first years, and will follow the timeline from there. While I am focusing on my OCs, I will try and explore the other characters as much as possible. I know that I can't hold a candle to J.K. Rowling's work, so I'm keeping my own style of writing to tell you this story. I will make it a little bit AU I suppose, but I will try and contain myself.

About the updates: Irregular. I will try and update as often as possible, but don't count on it being regular. Quality over quantity.

World: Book. I will try to stick to the books as much as possible. It's not that I didn't enjoy the movies (I own a DVD of each one in fact), but I simply prefer the books. Also, I will be using pottermore as a legitimate source of potions and spells. (If anyone wants to add me on pottermore, message me :D)

OCs: I'm a bit uncertain about my main female OC… I've been making her into a realistic character for at least three or four years, so I've been thinking for a long while… Please tell me if she is a Mary Sue in any way, I'm trying to keep that to a minimum…

My male OC? Well, he is a long-time dream of mine… I kinda thought him up when I started reading Harry Potter (when I was eleven xD) and he has been developing… I wasn't sure whether to put him in this fic or not, but decided to take a chance in the end.

Plot: It will be minimal, I'm focusing on exploring Hogwarts and characters, also the love story later.

Note: I'm writing this and switching POVs a lot, so a lot of things may seem confusing, as they are seen through my OCs eyes.

Now, I don't own Harry Potter in any way or form.

Enjoy the story!

The Runaways – Cherry Bomb (1976)

"Are you sure you want it that short?"

"Yes, Pa. Just cut it right there, below the ears."

"But, that's too short, midget! All this long, beautiful hair! I won't be able to braid it if it's that short!" The man complained to the small girl, uncertainly holding the scissors in his hand.

"That's the point, Pa. I can't take care of my hair alone at school. I need you to cut it for me." The young girl fidgeted on the bar stool nervously, acting more mature than the man behind her. It ws only natural that she pretended to be grown up, despite understanding less 'big' words that she would like to admit. The young girl had grown up without many children around. Her friends had all been serious adults.

"But you won't be my little Rapunzel then!" The middle-aged man whined once again. Somehow, it seemed like their minds had been trapped in the wrong bodies by some unfortunate magical spell. Then again, it had always been that way. The man had become a father a bit too early for his liking. That didn't mean that he loved his little girl any less, just the opposite. He loved her the most, as she had allowed him to stay a child a bit longer than expected.

"I won't, Pa. I'll be your brave Jeanne D'Arc." The girl said, tilting her head to grin excitedly at her old man. He gave her an unsure smile right back, still not happy about her decision to cut all her beautiful hair off. It had grown all the way to her bum during the past year. It had been her pride and joy. It had been his pleasure, as he had learned how to braid it in various ways. But, he couldn't say no to his little girl. Especially if she was comparing herself to the infamous Gryffindor witch.

"You little spitfire." The man cooed, trying out the scissors in his hand. They made a sharp metallic swish and snap sound, causing the small girl to fidget once again. Despite acting mature, she was pretty fond of her hair. It was a special thing for her. She had her mother's hair, her father would say. His was darker and spikier. Somehow, he could never tame it. Hers, on the other hand, fell in soft, natural waves of auburn all the way down her back. When the light hit it at just the right angle, it gave off a reddish tint.

However, the middle-aged man obliged his daughter's request and started cutting the long, silky locks of hair. There was silence for a while between them, as the man allowed the strands to fall onto the floor soundlessly. The faint sound of rushing cars and an occasional train could be heard from outside. It was muffled by the closed doors and windows. Besides, there weren't many people out and about at this ungodly hour. The sun had barely peeked over the edge of the world, its first rays of warmth caressing the huddled houses of London.

A train passed, shaking the rented flat and causing the man to slip up in his work. "Bollocks!" He exclaimed loudly, causing his daughter to giggle, not really caring that her hair was partially uneven now. Her father had gotten much better during the years of practice. Now, he could actually style her hair a bit, rather than just chop it off.

"Jar, Pa. That's a swear." She reminded the man of their bet. He had promised to lessen his swearing, but, so far, it wasn't working out too well. The 'swear jar' had been filled at least three times with silver sickles and bronze knuts. Of course, the small girl had taken the money from her bet. She was going to use it to buy herself an owl, after all. They didn't have a family owl. And her father had never really bothered getting one. She would need it to send letters and packages to her Pa while she was at school. She couldn't wait to visit the Diagon Alley once again!

"All done, spitfire." Her father said, smiling at his handiwork. It wasn't as uneven as it had seemed to be in the beginning. He brushed the remaining strands from his daughter's shoulders and gave them a short squeeze in affection. The young girl jumped up as soon as he was done, twirling happily. It felt nice and strange to suddenly have almost no hair on her head.

"How does it look?" The girl asked happily.

"Blimey! If I didn't know better, I'd say you were Pat Benatar!" The man exclaimed. The girl giggled, allowing her father's compliment to slide. She looked around the room, wincing at the strange sight of her own hair lying on the ground.

"Jar, Pa." She reminded her father and he laughed, obeying. "Two silver ones, you said the 'B' word, too." She excitedly jumped to the counter, grabbed the jar and opened it and held it out to her father. He grumbled, but took out his muggle wallet.

"Which 'B' word?" The man asked after tossing one sickle onto the pile. The look that he got from his daughter said enough. "Blimey, you mean? That's not a swear word." The man argued, closing his wallet and putting it back into his hind pocket. The girl frowned, moving the jar around and causing the money to jingle.

However, her father ignored the clanking of the metal coins, so she gave up, closing the jar and slipping it into her sky-blue robes. Knowing her father, she would have at least five more sickles when they arrived to the Leaky Cauldron. She ran to the wardrobe next and grabbed the old leather bag that was hanging on one of the round knobs excitedly. It had been her father's when he was at Hogwarts. She had packed her necessities for the short trip to Diagon Alley last night into it. And then she had checked them. About ten times.

"Ready, midget?" The man asked, his hat steady on his head. It looked strangely out of place on her father. She was so used to seeing him in his muggle clothing when he went around, blending in. Now, he was wearing long scarlet robes that accented his dark, almost black, unruly hair. His hat was pointy, tilted on one side, as if ready to fall off. His hair appeared to be battling with it for dominance on his scalp. The young girl giggled at the image in her head. "Here you go." Her father offered her a pot of green powder and she grabbed some in her little hand, attempting to not spill any. "Incendio." Her father murmured, setting the logs in the fireplace ablaze.

The young girl stepped forward, tossing the green powder into the fireplace. She waited for a second for the flames to change color before entering into the fire fearlessly. This wasn't her first time travelling by Floo. In fact, she was a rather skilled young thing, having gone at least ten times by herself through the complicated network of fireplaces.

"Diagon Alley!" The girl yelled out in her childlike tone and vanished from the fireplace with a loud bang. The last thing she saw before she closed her eyes to protect herself from ash was her father vanishing the chopped off hair from their rented flat's floor.

X

Diagon Alley was as lively as usual, despite the early hour of the morning. The colorful stores attracted many young and old witches and wizards who were looking to purchase their pets, supplies or books. People rushed about, pushing each other, pulling their children of various ages from one window to another, searching for all the necessary things for the school year.

The middle-aged man in scarlet robes and his young daughter in her sky-blue ones snaked through the crowd, heading towards the Gringotts Wizarding Bank. The tall, slightly ominous, building loomed over them as they approached and the young girl wriggled her small hand out of her father's larger one. He turned around immediately, looking worried. His little girl knew how he was about her letting go of his hand in crowded places.

"I don't want to go in there, Pa." The girl said. She was fidgeting with the hem of her cloak. The man gave a small sigh. Well, she always had had a problem with Gringotts. He should've predicted this.

"It's ok, midget. I just need to get us some money for the shopping." He straightened to his full height once again, looking around. He pointed to a shop across the street. "Why don't you go over there and get your new robes while you wait? And then we can pick everything else up and get some ice-cream?" He asked with a grin. Her father was always smiling. The little girl had never seen him angry or sad. He was always cheery.

She gave a happy nod and accepted his hand that ruffled her, now oddly short, hair. He straightened once again to his full height and headed towards the intimidating bank. The girl turned her back on it, running away quickly. She had never liked that building. It reminded her of some ancient creature, wise and powerful, ready to devour her at any moment. It somehow let out an aura, too. Like there was suffering deep inside it. And the small girl couldn't stand that feeling.

She pushed her way through the crowd slowly. She was rather short for her age and without her father, she could move only so many wizards. She had noticed how her father seemed to get the crowd to disperse before him. Hushed whispers followed them wherever they went. An occasional brave witch or wizard would stop her Pa to talk to him, ask for him to sign a photograph. It was all quite mysterious to her. She knew that her dad had been a great player of the famous Quidditch team the Ballycastle Bats. However, an injury had destroyed his career. Now, he was a coach for the same team.

The small girl knew her father's nickname from back in the day. The Scarlet Dragon of the Bats was quite famous, even now. The nickname had come from an unfortunate incident during a game, when the man in question had spit out fire after scoring a point, singeing the opposing Chaser. Turns out that mixing Firewhisky and Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans can be quite flammable under certain circumstances (then again, the girl had always suspected that a little bit of magic had been involved, too). Back then, everyone thought that the man had performed some wandless magic while celebrating. Of course, it had become tradition. Now, everyone called him Dragon, even though he was retired.

The girl 'oof'-ed as a rather large wizard pushed her to the side. She accidently bumped into a redheaded boy who ignored her.

"Sorry." She politely apologized, but the boy was preoccupied.

"I dare you." Another child's voice came from the right and the girl saw one more redheaded boy. When she looked closer, they were identical. The same to their last freckle with two mischievous smiles on their bright, round faces. Troublemaking twins, she thought, how unoriginal.

"I will if you will." Said the one that she had bumped into. Now, she, too, was curious. What was this dare about? She pushed herself onto her toes and looked over the boy's shoulder. There it was, the frightening, dark, Knockturn Alley. The passage was narrow and seemed devoid of all sun, despite the clear and bright morning. There was witch in tattered robes a little ways inside. She was leaning against the wall, her matted brown hair unkempt hanging across her shoulders. The girl couldn't see her face because of the large, old hat on her head, but she was willing to bet that the woman didn't have kind face. Wrinkling her nose at the thought of running in there and passing that woman the young girl backed away from the bickering twins.

"Alright, then, Forge." Said the one to the right. "On three-"

"We both go, Gred." Finished the left one.

"One."

"Two."

"Thr-" They chorused in perfect sync. The girl was a bit amazed, despite the degree of wrongness in their actions. Thankfully, they were interrupted before they could enter the ominous alley.

"Fred! George!" A short, plump, redheaded woman with a kind face (that seemed rather scary back then) yelled loudly making the twins cringe. "What do you think that you were thinking?!" She yelled, grabbing an ear in each of her hands. The twins yelped in pain simultaneously and started making excuses through her yells.

The girl smiled to herself and left the scene, committing the memory to her mind. She was a bit envious of the twins. Now only did they have a loving mother, but they weren't alone. They had each other. She had wished for a twin at times. At least a sibling. Someone to play with. Someone to confide in. But, she knew that she would never have that, so she had given up. Now, she was making the best of what she got. Her father was a wonderful man and her best friend. She could tell him anything. She trusted him with her life.

With a smile on her face, the girl pushed the door to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions open. The shop was well-lit with various materials hanging left and right. The small girl shuffled forward, her sky-blue robe rustling against the polished floor.

"Welcome, dear!" Madam Malkin was a short woman with a stern, but kind face. Her smile was wide, welcoming. She grabbed the young girl's shoulders and pushed her towards the end of the room where a boy was standing in front of a large, full-body mirror. He looked a bit unsteady on the stool, but he was holding his head high, trying to look as noble as possible. The girl wrinkled her nose at the air of mightiness and general superiority that the boy was giving off, but she pushed it down. It wasn't polite to judge. She hadn't even met the lad.

"A set of Hogwarts robes, my dear? First year, no?" Madam Malkin waved her wand in a smooth and swift motion, making thousands of pins move on their own, puncturing measurements into the fabric that lay over the boy's shoulders. The small girl nodded as she watched, wide-eyed the skill and speed of them. True, she came from a magical family, but her father had always been adamant on teaching her how to survive in the muggle world. She was well-informed of the magical world, just hadn't had a lot of practice in it. Who knew? Maybe it was for the best. She valued her multicultural knowledge.

"You're next, dear. Let me go get some more fabric." Madam Malkin left the room in a hurry, her beautiful, layered robes swishing behind her. The boy turned to her, giving her a full view of his sky blue eyes. They matched her robe perfectly. He seemed a bit nervous to her, despite his arrogant aura. The girl gave a small, gentle smile to him. He was rather handsome in her opinion. More on the pretty side than on the rugged, boyish appealing one.

"Are you starting Hogwarts, too?" She asked, her voice gentle. The boy raised his head in a certain angle that made his neck look longer, more noble.

"Indeed." The boy's voice was deep, calm, despite his young age and fidgety demeanor. His eyes went over the girl carefully, analyzing her. They weren't unkind, though. Curious and calculating, but never cold.

"Me too." The girl's grin grew. It was a boy. A boy her age. One that would be going with her to school. "Do you want to be my friend?" She asked next, just like her characters in the books did, extending a hand to him. The boy stood there, baffled for a couple of seconds, his façade broken.

"You have not even properly introduced yourself to me." He frowned then, one delicate brow rising. The girl's grin didn't falter. It got even wider, if that was possible.

"I'm Jack." She said, grabbing his hand now and shaking it, like all the adults did. He stared in disbelief.

"That's a boy's name."

"So what?" She shrugged, still shaking his hand. "I like it."

"I'm Dmitry." The boy finally spoke. The girl looked him over. With his shiny black hair he didn't look one bit Russian to her. Then again, the blue eyes and the pale skin fit quite nicely with her image of someone from the Northern country.

"How come you're going to Hogwarts? Wouldn't Drumstrang be closer?" Wondered Jack, still shaking the poor boy's hand. The pins were flying all around them, taking measures of the Russian.

He tilted his head a bit to the side, thinking. Jack noticed how his noble demeanor had changed. He had let go of his confident and arrogant façade. He seemed so much more like an eleven year old child now. "Mother decided that I should attend Hogwarts rather than Drumstrang. She deemed that it gave better quality education." The words were a bit clumsy, and way too big for him. But, it seemed alright to Jack. She could tell that Dmitry had been raised in a strict, noble home, probably pureblood, too.

"Here we are, dear. Let's get you fitted!" Madam Malkin returned to the room, her perfume filling it once more. At the sound of her voice, to two jumped away from each other, letting go of their long handshake. The pins stopped moving, waiting for the next task. The boy shed his cloak-in-the-making, stepping down from the stool. Dmitry offered his hand to Jack, gentlemanly helping her onto the stool. Madam Malkin gave a small smile and draped the dark material on the girl's shoulders, letting it swallow her. The pins started moving once again at the wave of her wand.

"I'll see you at school, Miti!" Jack turned to yell after her new friend. He turned around, just enough for her to see the crimson blush on his cheeks. He tipped the hat that he had put back onto his head and exited the store with a melodic jingle of the bell. Madam Malkin kept humming as she worked.

X

"Definitely an Antipodean Opaleye!" Jack exclaimed as she pulled her father's hand from time to time for attention. She was used to him being glued to anything that had 'Quidditch' on it. Unfortunately for her, Diagon Alley was like a candy store to her father. "You should've seen him! Oh, Pa! His eyes matched my robes perfectly! And you know that I had looked for this material for ages, to match the Opaleye, of course. Pa? Sheesh!" Jack gave up, allowing her father to gawk at the new model of Nimbus. He was such a Quidditch geek. With a laugh and a shake of her head (she was still getting used to her short hair), Jack let go of her father's hand once again and headed towards the Eeylop's Owl Emporium.

"Opaleye, hm? That's the most beautiful one, isn't it?" Her father caught up, draping one hand over Jack's shoulders. She smiled up at him. She had known that he would follow.

"Well, you can't say that one dragon is the most beautiful, but, the Opaleye definitely makes my list of the prettiest dragons." She told him in her 'grown-up-and-teaching' voice. The man didn't dare counter her. His little daughter knew the Dragon Encyclopedia by heart. He was used to her comparing people to different species and explaining why she thought that they were similar. He, himself, had already been identified as a Hungarian Horntail. In his daughter's opinion, he was fast, dangerous and deceptive, just like the dragon in question. He supposed that that had something to do with her being ticklish and him always catching her, but, he wasn't going to ruin her fantasies. He rather liked the comparison, too.

"Do you like this boy, midget?" The small girl gave a huff and a look of disbelief. He laughed, enjoying the small blush on her cheeks. It was his fault. He could've picked a job that would've allowed his daughter to go to a muggle school, have friends and grow up normally. Instead, he had pursued his dream, providing the best he could for her, and she had been grateful. He really had been given a small angel.

"Don't be silly, Pa. I just met Miti." Jack frowned, making her steps awkwardly large in an attempt to keep up with her father's huge ones. "When I get to know him I might fall in love with him. And then we will get married and go live in Russia and have ten children." The child said seriously and continued on, leaving her father with his jaw on the floor. His little girl couldn't get married yet!

"So, you said something about some twins, too?" The Scarlet Dragon attempted to stir their conversation onto a safer topic. The girl grinned and pushed the door of the owl shop open. It was dark and slightly damp inside, the scent of the birds strong in the air. Jack wrinkled her nose.

"They are some subspecies of Wyverns. I don't know yet." She wandered around the shop, looking at the sleeping or grumpy owls. They mostly ignored her or shuffled away. "If they are at Hogwarts, I'll talk to them and tell you." She nodded to herself finally standing in front of one owl. It wasn't sleeping or grumpily looking at her. It was glaring. With a loud screech the owl opened up its wings, showing their impressive span of at least a meter. It was huge compared to the other owls in the Emporium and it seemed much angrier than the rest, which looked bored. Jack stood for a moment, unflinching, but a bit surprised by the aggressiveness of the animal.

"Bloody Hell!" Her father exclaimed, pulling her back and away from the owl and tucking her into his arm, as if to shield her from the bird. The owl folded its wings, but it was still overly fluffed out, warning them to stay away. Jack couldn't tear her eyes away from the magnificent bird. It resembled a cat to a certain degree, with its large eyes and horn-like ears. It was brown, with some white and black, blending into the darkness of the store nicely. She liked it, Jack decided.

"Hello! Hello!" The store owner came from the back, whisper-yelling, trying not to disturb the owls. "Welcome! Welcome!" He repeated once again. "Looking for an owl, I presume? You've come to the perfect place! All the owls here are for sale, Sir, Miss!" He smiled at them as Jack's father nodded. The girl was still staring at the temperamental owl. "This way! This way!" The man repeated and Jack decided that she didn't like him. He kept repeating his words, as if they were stupid. He was also rubbing his bite-ridden hands, like he was waiting for the money to be handed over. It unnerved her. A man like this shouldn't be working with animals. Owls especially.

"We have many owls here, Sir, Miss!" The plump vendor in the purple robe led them further down the rows of slowly awakening owls. "We have Barn, Brown, Screech, Snowy and Tawny owls. If I may ask the purpose of your purchase, Sir, Miss?" The man didn't stop talking. He got a bit confused when the small girl with a boyish haircut took a jar of coins out of her robes, eyeing him carefully and shook it at her father. The man sighed and dropped a sickle from his wallet into the jar. The girl smiled, content, and put the container away. She then looked up at the vendor with her strangely wise, grey eyes.

"Which is that one?" She asked, pointing to the large temperamental owl that was cleaning its feathers now. The vendor gasped and her father spluttered.

"Surely you can find a tamer one, midget?"

"That one is a special case, Miss. I'm afraid I can't sell it. I can't."

Jack frowned. "I want that one." She was adamant. The vendor's face was going a bit red now. Her father smiled nervously, attempting to diffuse the situation.

"Let's look at the other ones, midget?" He offered, hoping that she was going to be willing to compromise. His daughter was nice and noble and kind, but she was one bloody stubborn child. He had to admit that she had a certain talent with animals, especially those that had been given up on by their former owners. But it was one thing to take in an abandoned litter of kittens and another to buy a dangerous owl that was almost as big as his daughter. However, Jack nodded, allowing her father to breathe. There was still hope.

"Here we have the Barn owls." The vendor led them to a section where a dozen or so beautiful owls sat on their branches, sleeping or watching the newcomers. They each had a white heart shaped face and their feathers were different shades of soft and dark browns. To Jack, they seemed pretty, but also somehow confused. She walked from one another, but none of them acknowledged her presence. They were all watching the vendor that was rambling to her father about the properties of this species.

Jack extended her hand towards one of the larger owls and tried to pet it. It hooted at her and moved towards her hand. Pretty soon, the pale brown bird was nestled on her shoulder comfortably, enjoying the way her small fingers went through its feathers. Owls were rather adorable, Jack decided. But, she would always prefer the more dangerous and much more ferocious avian creatures (dragons were her passion from a young age).

"Do you like that one, midget?" Her father asked, bending to pet the owl. She smiled at him softly.

"Yes." Jack nodded. "But I like that one more." She told him, pointing at the grumpy owl in the corner that was preparing to sleep. Her father laughed then, ruffling her short hair. His semi-loud laugh caused the owls to hoot in displeasure. The middle-aged man ignored the birds. He had never been good with animals. He turned to the vendor instead. It had been clear that the old shopkeeper had recognized the former Quidditch star upon their arrival. He was waiting for Dragon to spill his money.

"Tell me more about that big one." Dragon pointed at the owl that was now glaring at them for talking, tucked in and ready for its nap. The vendor changed colors again.

"Sir, Miss, that is a very temperamental owl! I promise! We don't sell that species in this store! Never! Never! It would simply be irresponsible for me to sell that one to you!" The vendor argued.

"But, you said that every owl here is for sale, sir." Jack tilted her head, forcing her stare to be child-like and tear filled. She knew her puppy eyes well. She had been collecting money for this owl. She was going to get the one that she wanted.

The vendor sighed suddenly, as if giving in. "That is a Great horned owl. They are native to America." The plump man explained, massaging his temples in defeat. He finally looked genuine, thought Jack. "Frankly, it has been causing me a lot of trouble. It has a specific diet and it doesn't get along with other owls at all. It doesn't like people and, if I'm being honest, I doubt that it can carry mail." Explained the man. "However, the traveler that sold it to me had been adamant that the owl was great once it selected a master. Unfortunately, that hasn't happened. I will probably send the damned bird back to the States soon. Not worth it. Not worth it." The vendor shook his head.

Jack smiled. "You don't understand that bird at all, do you, Mister?" The young girl placed the Barn owl back and walked to the Great horned one. It regarded her approach with watchful yellow eyes, assessing the threat. Jack extended her hand, slowly, carefully. She stopped a little over half way and waited. The owl didn't move. It simply glared.

"See, Miss?" The vendor spoke. "It's untamable." He shrugged, giving up. Dragon, however, was watching like a hawk, his hand gripping the wand in his robes.

"But I don't want to tame it." Said Jack, frowning a bit. The owl's ear moved, as if it was listening. "I just want to give it a better life." The girl said, smiling once again. A loud screech sounded as the owl once again opened its magnificent wings. It flapped a couple of times and launched itself up. The chain on its claw jingled in protest, limiting its flight. Dragon had his wand out, now, a 'stupefy' on his tongue. The vendor was trembling, hoping that the girl wouldn't be hurt in this silly quest.

But, instead of maiming the small witch, the huge owl's claws landed on the outstretched arm, digging in uncomfortably. Jack winced, but didn't otherwise show any sign of pain. The owl sat there, waiting.

"Isn't that much better?" Asked Jack. The great owl hooted in response. "I know." Jack replied. The vendor watched in disbelief as the young girl proceeded to converse with the monstrous owl, as if she was holding a pet hamster.

"You get used to it." Said Dragon, tapping the vendor's shoulder in comfort. "How much for the bird?"

That's all folks!