A/N: Alright, so I know this is a really cliche kind of plot, but I'm going to try and make it work. Review and let me know what you think!

Blare POV

When I woke up this morning to the sound of my alarm clock, I knew that today was going to be different. I didn't know how, but it was a strange feeling all the same. I pulled on my black jeans with a dark red shirt and a black hoodie. Then, of course, I had to add my favorite key necklace. It was silver with a crown on it and gems all over it. I did my make up which consisted of pale foundation(which surprisingly matched my skin tone), heavy black eyeliner to bring out my green eyes, grayish-black eyeshadow, mascara, and nude lip gloss. I straightened my hair as usual, and pulled on my ankle-high high tops. I looked at my skinny 14-year-old-girl reflection in the mirror for a minute, and then walked out the door.

The school day went surprisingly normal, except for when this kid named Mason Cline kept giving me strange looks. Mason is kind of cute, I guess. He has brown hair and light brown eyes that get darker as they move towards the whites and pupil of his eye.

Hmm, I thought. I got home, did my homework as usual, and that's when it happened. Since I got home an hour ago, there's been a bird staring at me through the window. No, not a bird. An owl. After about two hour's worth of homework, I finally opened the window to see if it would scare the bird away. Instead, it took this as sort of an invitation, and flew merrily through the window.

Stay calm, it has to fly out eventually. And I was right, because all the owl did was fly in to the living room, drop a piece of paper, and fly out. Whoa. Bird on steroids. Or at least happy pills. I didn't scream, as most people my age probably would have done, but what was the point of screaming when no one was home to hear you? My mom doesn't get home from work until about 5, and my dad 6:30, sometimes varying. Then I noticed there was a note on the table. It read:

We'll be having visitors. Clean up the house a little bit- you know, dust the picture frames, fluff the pillows, flush the toilets, stuff like that- and dress nicely. They'll be here at 7:30. We'll tell you more about it when we get home. If a bird comes in with a paper, don't read it. Promise? Probably not. You won't understand it, anyway. What am I saying? You're not going to listen. Just do what I said about the house. Kay, hun?

XOXO

Mom

Jesus Christ! How could my mom not tell me? I have to get ready! I have to dress nicely! I have to- Oh wait. The paper from the owl I had forgotten about. My mom thinks she knows me so well, thinking I'll read it. Hmph. I'll show her. I'm not gonna read it! Nope, not gonna read it. Not gonna read it. I HAVE TO READ IT! No you don't Blare, no you don't. In order to get my mind off of the mysterious paper, I began getting ready. What to wear, what to wear? After tearing through my closet, I decided that I was dressed fine, and moved on to clean the house. I put the dishes in the dishwasher, fluffed the pillows, flushed the toilets, dusted the picture frames, and even mopped the floors. Which was a very messy job, by the way, considering I spilled the bucket of water a few times. Luckily, I didn't get any water on me.

Assuming our guests would be here for dinner and possibly desert, I set out a bowl of chips with some salsa. At around 5:30, I heard a car door slam from out in the distance, so I walked to the door to unlock it. My mom was home, and surprisingly, so was my dad.

"Dad! What are you doing home?"

"Very important guests will be coming in 2 hours. We have to get ready."

"And who are these very important guests?"

"Some friends from work, Mr. and Mrs. Cline. I heard that they'll be bringing their two sons, too."

"Cline? But dad, there's a kid in my grade with that same last name and-"

"It's probably him. I think they mentioned something about him going to your school, but I didn't think it was important at the time."

"But dad!" This was going to be extremely awkward, sitting at a table with someone your age who you saw every day, but never really talked to. Well, at least it explained why Mason kept giving me strange looks.

"But nothing. The Clines are coming for dinner and desert and you will be courteous and polite. Now go help your mother." Deciding it was useless to argue with my dad, I went over to find my mom and help her cook dinner.

About two hours later, The doorbell rang, and my dad tried to catch my eye to tell me to go get it, but I ignored him, instead staring at the plates I was setting around the table. Finally, he walked towards the door with a smile already plastered on his face and greeted the Clines. They all filed into the kitchen.

"Have a seat. Make yourself at home," my mom said kindly.

Doing as she said, they all shifted into seats next to each other, extremely stiff. I helped my mom put the food in the center of the table, and sat down in a seat the farthest away from Mr. and Mrs. Cline as I could, trying to avoid Mason's gaze.

We all ate in silence for a few minutes before Mr. Cline said, "Well, we ought to tell poor Blare why we're here."

"Please do," I said sarcastically. Mason snickered behind his hand and my dad shot me a glare.

But Mr. Cline only smiled. "Now, there's no easy way to tell you this. Let's start with that piece of paper, shall we?"

Ah yes, the paper I've been thinking about all day. "Don't even. She's probably already read it," my mom chimed in.

Thanks for the support. "Actually, I haven't," I said through clenched teeth.

I got up the get the paper. It wasn't very big, in fact. It was quite small and rolled up, tied with a red ribbon. When I got back to the table, Mr. Cline gestured at me to read it. It said(and I quote):

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 Ms. Greene,

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 by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Well that's interesting. Not. "What kind of a sick joke is this? Oh sure, tell the girl who has to go to summer school to keep her grades up that she got accepted into a prestigious wizard school. Real nice." I saw Mason look down at his feet. I started to walk away.

"Blare Greene, you stop right there, young lady," said my mom in her best no-nonsense voice. I would have kept going, but she kept my arm in a firm grip. "Now, no one is lying to you here. Please try and listen."

Whatever. "What are you trying to do?" I asked Mr. Cline.

"I am trying to tell you that you are a witch," he replied.