Disclaimer: I do not, cannot, would not, should not own Harry Potter or any of its affiliates. The franchise belongs to the ever-lovely J.K.R.
Note: As there is not much canon information on the second-generation characters, I have used my artistic license and have taken many liberties. I accept flames and non-constructive criticism of all sorts. In fact, I encourage it. This is a Mary-Sue self insert story I wrote as a joke and as an escape. It has graced this site for the sole purpose of experimentation and the hopeful attraction of crazy LiveJournal trolls to dissect and discredit the story. With that having been said, I bring you:

Hogwarts, Revisited

By: Kitzaku

Chapter One: The Hogwarts Express

Platform nine and three quarters had never looked so beautiful. The scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express was busy chugging out steam into a world that was as invisible to the naked eye as air. I stood at the entrance, my cart filled with my belongings in front of me. It was hard for me to move, not only because I was filled with astonishment, nervousness and anticipation, but because there were so many students and families milling around me.

A small path opened up between a frail old man patting a small boy on the head and a stern looking woman with small, round spectacles giving another girl a lecture about proper behavior. I smiled at the two very different, but very similar families. Despite being rather embarrassed by their parents, both of the children had a sparkle in their eye for they, too, were on their way to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

I seized my opportunity and took this tiny opening and made my way over to an open door to one of the carts of the train. My trunk was heavy, but my heart was light and the difference made it far easier for me to pull my belongings on board than I had hoped. Coming to the Hogwarts Express by myself had been hard, but coming from a family of Muggles had made life quite difficult for me the day I had turned eleven years old.

I had never heard of witches or wizards or of this silly place called Hogwarts. My entire family, for as far back as I could trace, had all been Muggles. I received the owl in the middle of my eleventh birthday party. My mother had invited a few family members over for some cake and ice cream when the owl flew in the moment my Aunt opened the front door. It was rather odd, mostly because it was daytime, but also because any strange bird flying into a home was anything but normal.

The visitor did not stay long. It dropped an envelope into my lap and flew back toward the door where my Aunt had hastily left it open. The envelope was addressed to me and I quickly ripped it open, pretending not to hear my mother's cries of worry about the bird flu or anthrax.

If it hadn't been for the odd appearance of the owl, I could have sworn the entire thing was a joke. In fact, I'm sure my mother is still convinced it was all a hoax. I sent the response later that evening when another owl appeared, rapping at my window. The very idea or thought that I could be anything other than what I was, seemed to give me a kind of confidence I had never known before.

My sisters grew jealous of me, not because they believed the letter, but because they thought I had a secret admirer. The thoughts of young girls are seldom anything other than their own hobbies and who might like them, after all. I did not quite believe the owl myself, but I made constant reassurances to my sisters that I did not have a secret admirer, and, if I did, he would certainly not send me an owl or a fancy letter. Clearly, no boy my age would have the mental capacity or imagination to dream up such an idea.

The rest of summer progressed without event, until the week before the date on the letter proclaimed that school would begin. Another owl graced us with another letter, and this time, it was in the middle of dinner. My mother would joke that the phone would ring every time the family sat down to a meal, but now I'm sure they joke that an owl would arrive at precisely the same opportunity. This owl contained a letter with a list of school supplies and directions to a strange place called Diagon Alley.

That second letter really opened my eyes to all of the possibilities, and even my mother grew curious. She had not notified the authorities about the first owl, but remembering back, she would look at the phone a number of times that evening. This letter mentioned that Hogwarts was located in Scotland, but Diagon Alley was located in London, England. I remember my mother asking no one in particular why England was so special. These letters would have been more believable if I had to go buy my books at the Loop and then rush myself off to some private all girls academy. I, too, wondered why I was being sent to England. After all, if there were witches and wizards in America, why were there no schools in America? Or, if there were, why would I be accepted to Hogwarts and not to, say, the St. Louis School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?

The letter had described something of a Floo Network and it had connected fireplaces all over the world. The house in which we lived had a fireplace once, but it had long since been boarded up, even before I was born. What scared my mother the most, was that a small package of powder came with this second letter. The world had become quite a scary place, and packages of white powder delivered by owls had, until previously, not been on the top of my mother's worried list. I believe, at some point, she had decided that it was indeed nothing to worry about, mostly because we were all still alive. She did, however, throw the package of powder away, and I had lost all hopes of experimentation.

That was, until, two days before I was supposed to have left for this amazing school, my little sister knocked on my bedroom door once, and then let herself in. I had been reading and re-reading my letter while sitting on my bed, so I had mostly ignored her entrance.

"Mary," She said, getting my attention. I pried my eyes from the letter and they only widened more when I saw what it was that she had been holding: the package of powder.

"Where did you get that?" I asked, awestruck.

"Where else?" she grinned wide and sat down beside me. "I want to try this stuff out." She explained. My little sister, Susan, is one year younger than I. I believe she felt the most connected to me at that moment because she was only ten years old at the time, and felt that she had hope that the following year she, too, would receive an owl.

"We can't use the fireplace." I whispered back to her. Even though there was no chance our mother would hear, I did not want to take any risks, and our conversation continued in hushed voices.

"I was thinking maybe the stove." Susan smiled coyly. My darling little sister had always been a creative thinker, but she never let herself know this. My older sister, Gretchen, was very good with her hands, so she often let her creative ideas flow in the form of sewing projects and building small objects. Susan thought creatively and differently. She had different ideas for storylines when we played with dolls and she had wonderful pretend voices to go with each plotline. The two of us never ceased to amuse ourselves with the simplest of toys because of this creativity. It was not until that moment, that I began to see her for that wonderful mind.

And so, the two of us ventured into the kitchen and turned on the stove. I felt a tiny pang of anxiety because I had no idea what this powder could do to our stove. If it caught fire and made a horrible smell, my mother would catch us and we would never have heard the end of it.

As luck would have it, the wires in the stove grew hot and my little sister tossed the contents of the package into the stove. We both nearly fell over as the entire stove began to glow green. What was even stranger was that it gave off no heat, despite the temperature of the stove being set to 400 degrees. My little sister and I exchanged two and a half glances before she spoke. "What do we do, now?"

I had read the letter so many times that I responded instantly. "I have to speak the name of my location and step into the fire… or, oops, I guess in this case, the stove." It sounded feasible on the paper, but now that I was standing in front of a green stove, I had my doubts. The opening was far too small for me to step in to and I didn't want to step on the door in case it should break. I looked to my little sister with a scared look in my eyes.

To my surprise, my little sister simply nodded and said quietly, "Diagon Alley," and then she stuck her head directly into the oven—and disappeared.

I nearly cried out in alarm, but my hand covered my mouth first. Even looking back, I don't know how or why I found the courage to repeat the steps my little sister had, but I am glad I did. I hastily cried out Diagon Alley and shoved my head into the fireplace.

It is hard to recount the feeling of flying through the Floo network. Everything was in flashes of black and green, and I felt as though I were being shot out of the back end of a rocket. I remember being disappointed that I had forgotten my money tin, not realizing that my money was essentially useless.

I landed in what looked like an ordinary cobblestone road at first glance, but a few glances later told me that I most certainly was no longer in the states. People filled the streets, and they were all wearing robes of every assortment of colors. The shops were all closely held together and it reminded me of a scene directly out of a children's fairy tale book. There were signs hanging from over the shop doors, and the windows displayed every type of strangeness imaginable.

I had no time to take the sights in, of course; I was here to rescue my sister. I looked around to find her, and it did not take long. She was walking slowly up the street in front of me. I called her name and ran to catch up with her. She turned to me, slowly at first, and I remember her eyes looking as wide as they ever had in her entire life. In that moment, she told me what I had wanted to know since my birthday:

"It's all real."

I whispered those words again to myself as I boarded the Hogwarts Express. My little sister and I were no fools. We immediately began a search for someone who could help us. As it turned out, my letter held some sort of significance because it bore the special seal of Hogwarts.

I later learned that I was not alone. There were others like me who had come to Diagon Alley because of this strange summons. Most of the students were probably from England, based on their accents, but there were a few, like me, who came from other countries. The books and clothes that we were given were all charity. The clothes were too big for most of us, and the books were in serious need of re-binding, but I'm sure none of us minded much. We were all far too excited.

My little sister, I am sad to say, was sent back. She was not of age, and did not have a letter, and was escorted back to our house on Fawnhaven. She gave me a sad smile of farewell, and that was the last I would see her for some time. Looking back, now, I'm glad she was there with me for that brief moment. She made the transition easier, and I'm sure told our dear mother of my whereabouts and assured her of my safety. I also believe another wizard went back with her, to help explain.

I wished they could have come with me, however. I wished I could show them the beautiful scarlet engine, the excited children, the owls, the robes, the books, the wands—oh, the wands! They were such a wonderful addition. I had not thought that I would even need a wand. The thought caused me to place a hand in my pocket just to run my hands over the wood. My wand was nothing special. I had a holly wand with the core being a hippogriff talon. It was to my understanding that this wand was purely ordinary. There was some talk that the wand chooses the wizard, but I didn't take it seriously. I was no one special, so I got a third-rate wand. Of course, it did not matter to me at the time, and it does not matter to me, now. I appreciated everything that had happened to me, no matter how ordinary it may be to the wizarding world, it was extraordinary to me.

I had barely sat down in a compartment before there was a lurch and the Hogwarts Express began to move. I quickly took hold of the wall beside me and was happy to find that there was a handle for my convenience. In no time at all, I was staring out the window at the mothers and fathers, grandparents and relatives alike, waving to their loved ones as we were rushed off to school. I was then overcome with an entirely new feeling excitement. It's all real.

My peace was soon disrupted when the door to my compartment opened and a boy nearly fell into the cabin. His hair was unkempt and disheveled and it was as dark as his school robes. There was another shape behind him, and I noticed a flash of red hair. The dark haired boy in front stopped falling before I could even think to get up and help. It seemed as thought he had been caught by the back of his school robes. When he had steadied himself, he collapsed onto the seat across from me. The red haired person behind him came into the compartment as well, with an apologetic look. She was female.

"Sorry about that, Al has suddenly developed motion sickness." The redheaded girl smiled brightly at me. I waved off the intrusion and looked over at the boy she had called Al. His eyes were closed and he was breathing forcedly, as if he were trying to keep his breathing even. She must have noticed the concern in my expression, because she clarified. "He'll be alright, now that he's sitting down… oh! I'm Rose. Rose Weasley." She extended her hand to mine, and I shook it, thought it was a bit awkward as we were sitting next to each other.

"Mary Galvin." I said quietly, trying to hide my nervousness. Indeed, I felt the same way as the other boy at that moment, only it was much easier to control my breathing, but my heart still wanted to beat its way out of my chest.

"This is our first year." Rose explained. She didn't seem to be nervous at all, or if she was, she was doing a wonderful job of hiding it. "Al's brother has been telling him all sorts of stories, so now he's worried."

"Stories?" I asked. I had only skimmed my textbooks the night before. I hadn't had much time to research the history of the school or what exactly I was getting myself into.

"Well, like, he doesn't want to be sorted into Slytherin, you know?" Rose stated matter-of-factly.

I looked at her, dumbfounded. I had never heard of this Slytherin place and if someone like Al didn't want to go there, then I certainly did not! "Is Slytherin bad?" I asked.

"Not really, I guess." Rose shrugged. "Loads of witches and wizards are sorted into Slytherin, but all the Dark Lords and bad wizards were all Slytherins, so they must be doing something wrong."

If being a Slytherin meant becoming evil, then I didn't want to have any part of it, either! I looked over to Al, who was slowly coming out of his shell. He even opened his eyes, and I couldn't help but notice their bright shade of green. I felt compelled to reassure him. "You don't look like someone evil." I said directly to him.

He smiled shyly and tried to sink lower into the seat and he mumbled something that sounded somewhat like a thank you.

"Oh, Albus." Rose said, crossly. "You're never going to make friends if you're that shy." For a moment I thought she was talking to someone else, but I then realized that Albus must be Al's real name. "Introduce yourself properly to Mary."

Albus looked mortified, but he pulled himself from the seat cushions and extended a shaking hand to me. "A-Albus Potter." I shook his hand and tried not to grimace from how cold and clammy it felt. His shyness and anxiety seemed to make me feel better. He was clearly from England by his accent, and the same went for Rose. They were both well-versed in the world of magic, and I found myself rather happy to have such nice people to share a compartment. I could learn a lot from them.

"It's nice to meet you." I said softly.

Rose perked up again. "Your accent—are you from America, by chance?"

I nodded, a bit hesitantly. I never know how well Americans are received in most places. We did, after all, have a policy where we considered ourselves the world's police. "I came from Missouri, but I'm afraid I don't know very much about magic or wizards or Hogwarts…" I trailed off. At the time, I could not remember what word the wizarding world used for people like my family, but Albus reminded me very quickly.

"You're Muggle-born?" he nearly squeaked.

"Y-yeah… I think. Muggles are non-magic people, right?" I asked rather stupidly, but at the same time, was very inquisitive.

"They are." Rose nodded. "My mum is Muggle-born, and Al's grandmother was, too." I smiled, relieved that they had some idea about where I was coming from.

"I… I'm a first year, too." I explained. I told the two of them about my family and how I found out about my powers. I had never demonstrated any sort of magical talent when I was younger. I used to joke that I had the power to change my hair color when it was wet, but that did not make me a witch. I finally confided in the two of them something that had been gnawing at the back of my mind. "Sometimes, I wonder if they made a mistake."

My insecurity had the same effect on Albus that his shyness had on me. He slowly pulled himself out of his shell. "I don't think they would make a mistake. My dad told me that he got loads of owls telling him he was a wizard, and he had never heard of magic, either." He grinned a little to himself, his eyes silently sparkling. I could tell he had a very special bond with his father.

"Well that's because Uncle Harry is famous." Rose said, proud. "I read it in the history books. He defeated The Dark Lord Voldemort… twice!"

"He killed a guy before he came to Hogwarts?" I asked suddenly, astonished that an eleven year old could do much damage.

"Oh, no no no. He was just a baby and a spell backfired." Rose clarified. "He doesn't talk about it much. But when he was older, he and my parents fought Voldemort and killed him. It's all in the new edition of Hogwarts, a History. Here, I've got mine with me." She rummaged through her trunk and extrapolated a large, leather-bound book with gold writing on the cover. It looked new, but the binding was well worn. She had a section bookmarked and opened to it immediately. "See, right here." She shoved the book toward me and I could only skim the page, but I saw the names Potter and Weasley and Voldemort.

I looked at the two of them, astonished. I had never heard of any of these people before, but in the magic world, they were probably famous, or, at least their parents were. My parents were divorced and my mother worked for an insurance company. They were far from famous. I suddenly felt very privileged to be talking to such prominent people. "Wow…"

Albus was probably not used to the attention because he turned a bright shade of red that matched Rose's hair. "My dad is just dad to me." He mumbled softly.

Rose was mostly startled that someone had not heard of her parents, but at the same time, looked pleased. She explained a bit more about the history of her parents and the school and I grew to appreciate her intelligence more and more. As the train bounded across the hills and valleys, I was learning more in those few short hours than I ever had in my entire life.

Rose explained to me that Hogwarts was divided into four houses: Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. All first years were to be sorted into one of these houses before the Start of Term Feast. After she had explained a great deal about the process, I was beginning to feel less nervous and more excited. "I hope we're all sorted into the same house!" I was at the edge of my seat, now, and had changed into my school robes. "What house do you guys want to be in?"

"Gryffindor." The answer came almost automatically and it was simultaneous between the two of them.

I blinked a few times, as that was a very quick response. "Why?"

"Our entire family was in Gryffindor… and all but one of our cousins so far have been in Gryffindor." Rose explained. I almost asked why she mentioned both her cousins and Albus' cousins when I realized they must be related somehow. Before I could ask, the door to the compartment opened and a nice old lady was smiling down at us.

"Would you like anything from the cart?" She asked. I looked at the cart she was pushing down the aisles and my eyes almost fell directly from their sockets. Sweets and treats of all shapes and sizes littered the cart. I couldn't even begin to list what types there were, because I had no idea. Rose and Albus seemed to know because they each bought a few different things, but I merely shook my head. I still didn't have any Wizard money.

"What's that?" I asked Albus. He was opening a tiny green box.

"Oh, these are Chocolate Frogs." He said, holding it up so that I could see. "There's these famous witch and wizard cards in them. I like to collect the cards, especially because…" he trailed off and shook his head. "You can have it." He pushed the box toward me.

"Oh, I couldn't. You bought it with your own money!" I protested. I felt horrible because I had barely known these two and had already received a wonderful present of conversation.

"Well…" Albus was turning a shade of pink. "I was hoping we could be friends, you know, because Rosie and I have only got each other… and… and my dad met his best friend on the Hogwarts Express their very first day." He smiled a little, trying to hide it.

I returned the smile, and looked down at my Chocolate Frog. I was still too nervous and excited about Hogwarts to eat anything, so I stowed it away for later. "Thank you very much. I would very much like to be friends to the both of you."

Rose smiled, too… but then she handed me something. It was a small, yellow bean. I looked at her inquisitively and her smile only widened. "They're Bertie Botts' Every Flavored Beans. Try it." Hesitantly, I placed the bean in my mouth and my eyes widened.

"Lemonade!" I cried out, astonished. "Are they really every flavor?"

"Yeah…." Albus said, and then grimaced. "I once ate one that tasted like old socks."

Rose giggled, "I remember. You ran downstairs in tears and Aunt Ginny had to wash your mouth with butterbeer just to get the taste out."

"Are you two cousins?" The question finally came out before I could stop it.

Rose and Albus looked at each other and then at me and Rose spoke, "We are. My mum and his dad are siblings." Rose pulled her hand out and began to count her fingers. "You see, I have six Uncles total, well, five. My Uncle Fred died in the Second Wizarding War at the Battle of Hogwarts and my only blood-Aunt is Al's mum. All of my cousins except for my brother, Al's little sister and my cousin Louis are at Hogwarts. Let's see…. Tell me if I forgot anyone, Al." Rose began. "There's Victoire; she's the oldest and a seventh year. She's a prefect. Her little sister, Dominique is a third year. And then there's Uncle Percy's daughters, my cousins Molly and Lucy, They're in their fifth and third year. And then there's My Uncle George's kids; he's got Fred who's a second year along with Albus' older brother James and then Roxanne is a first year, like us!"

I stared at Rose for a long time. She lost me somewhere around Uncle Percy. My jaw must have gone slack because Albus finally spoke up. "Don't worry, it's a lot to take in at once."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "You said there was another first year, which one was that?"

"Oh, that's Roxanne." Rose stated, and then, as if she had just forgotten something, she stood up. "We should probably go and find her and make sure she found everything okay!"

Albus reached a hand up and pulled down his talkative cousin. "She's probably with her brother."

Rose looked relieved for a moment, but then her face grew white and she panicked again, standing up once more. "All the more reason to look for her! Fred and James probably have her tied up and locked in a trunk somewhere!"

"Would they do that?" I asked, curious.

Rose paused and thought a moment, which caused her to sit back down. "No, not really." She sighed heavily and looked beyond me and out the window, popping another Every Flavored Bean into her mouth. The landscape was thinning and Hogwarts was looming in the distance. Her eyes grew wide, and she didn't need to explain it to Albus nor myself, for we already knew: Hogwarts was near.