This story is going to be in a little different format and I apologize if it is hard to follow. Just let me know how I can fix it and I'll work on it.

August 31, 1971

Tomorrow is my first day at my new school. That's why I'm starting this journal today. I've had it for a while but just couldn't find anything to write about. Now, I have plenty.

But I guess I should write about myself before I get into school.

Though, if I think about it too long I won't. Let's face it, no one is ever going to be interested in this book I keep hidden underneath my pillow when I'm not writing in it. But, just in case some really bored person comes along and finds it some day, I want them to know who they're reading about. I'm not really sure why, but I think I want it to be important that they know this is my life and my story.

So here goes:

My name is Icera Jade Hunter and I am eleven years old. I am an orphan and an only child. I have long blonde hair and light grey eyes. I'm not very tall but I haven't stopped growing. I grew about an inch over the summer. I don't smile very much, but I haven't had a whole lot of reason since my parents were killed.

I like school. Well, not school, but I love learning new things. I spend hours and hours at the library. It's the only place that the orphanage doesn't mind us hanging out at. I go there every day. Well, I did before I came to this new school.

I'm procrastinating telling you about my new school. I know it shouldn't matter, because I'm probably the only person who will ever read this. But, it's weird. I don't know if I believe it yet myself.

I'll have to back up to really explain it.

About two weeks ago the orphanage had a very strange visitor. I was in the playroom with the other kids, reading a book I had read about a hundred times already. The knock on the door had every child rushing to the door to peek down the hall. They hadn't been here as long as I had. Visitors came early in the day, not this close to supper time.

I stayed where I was, thinking it had to be business of some sort. Worse, it might be a new arrival. I hate new arrivals. They were always so desperately sad. They hadn't gotten to the point where they could hide it yet. I know it's not nice of me and probably makes me a very bad person, but I can't stand the way they cry at night.

After a few minutes one of the girls who had attached herself to me came over to tell me what all the fuss was about.

"Hunter, have you ever seen him before?" "Seen who, Anna?" "It's a funny looking man with a long silver beard that goes all the way to the floor!" "No, I don't know anyone like that. Did he bring someone with him?" "No. He just went into the office with Sister Abigail. What do you think they're talking about?" "I don't know Anna." "Do you think he wants to adopt one of us?" "If he has a long silver beard I bet he's too old to be adopting kids. More likely he works for the government and wants to cut our funding." "Why would you say that? That's awful!" "Awful things happen all the time. Eventually you learn to expect them." "Don't be mean, Hunter." "I'm sorry."

I really was sorry. I'm the oldest kid at the orphanage. I've been in one since I was two. I've seen all the hope when someone comes to look at you and all the disappointment when they choose someone else. And I've never really wanted to be adopted. I miss my parents but I can barely remember them. But I don't want some other family either. What if I forget my parents completely? I don't want that to happen.

Anna doesn't understand how bad it can get yet. She hasn't been here a year yet. She's young, only seven. Her parents died in a car crash. She's sad, but she misses having a family more than she misses her own. She has been loved and petted because of how pretty she is with her curly blond hair and blue eyes and bright smile. They don't expect her to stay here very long.

She can't keep a frown on her face though. In no time she's bouncing around the room asking everyone if they've ever seen a man with such a long beard. Someone else mentions how expensive his suit looks. And then everyone is silent.

At the door stands the man with the long silver beard. Sister Abigail is standing next to him, searching the room until her eyes land on my corner of shadow.

"Icera," she's the only one who ever calls me that anymore. Everyone else calls me Hunter. "Icera, come here please. This man would like to talk to you for a moment. You may go to your room and speak."

That was weird. The Sisters don't let us go to our rooms during the day. We wake up promptly, make our beds, change our clothes and stay outside for the rest of the day. Even the prospective parents don't see our rooms. But she let me pass her on my way out of the playroom and watched as I led the man to the dormitories. He didn't say a word.

When we got to the dormitories I went straight to my bed and sat down, offering him the chair beside the window. He sat down and stared at me for a long while.

I couldn't stand the silence.

"I guess you know my name is Icera Hunter. Can I ask what this is about? I haven't done anything wrong, have I?" He grinned, a little twinkle in his eye, "No, you haven't done anything wrong. But have you done anything strange?" "What?" "Strange. Have you done anything out of the ordinary?" "I don't know what you're talking about." "Do strange things happen around you? Bullies getting hurt or things you want finding their way into your hands? Anything at all?"

I was really confused. Who was this man? Then I started getting angry. Who did he think he was to ask if I was weird? What kind of person just goes around asking orphans if they're weird?

"I guess you could count my parents' death as weird. That was pretty out of the ordinary. I hear most kids don't have to suffer that."

My temper rarely came out but when it did, people got out of my way. This man just grinned down at me.

"Who do you think you are, coming in here and asking if I'm an oddball. News flash, you're in a home for oddballs."

"Forgive me, my dear. I let my curiosity get the best of my manners. My name is Albus Dumbledore and I am the Headmaster of a school. I'm here to see if you belong at my school." "I already have a school. I don't need to go to a special school for weirdos." "It is not a school for 'weirdos' as you put it. It is a school for very specially gifted young people. I think you are gifted and you might fit in at my school. But you'll have to prove it to me."

I gaped. Open mouthed. I looked like a fish out of water.

First this random guy I've never met comes in to my orphanage and acts like he owns the place. Then he calls me weird. Now he wants me to prove how weird I am? Are you kidding me?

"I'm not weirder than any other person! I'm a completely average eleven-year-old girl! I don't care what kind of school you run, I wouldn't go if you tied me up and carried me there on a broomstick!"

He smiled full out.

"Do you often imagine flying on broomsticks?" "No." I did. All the time. Every night when I went to sleep I flew through the air on a broomstick.

"And do you often get bad weather when you're upset?" "What?"

It had been a perfect evening with the sun lighting up the sky as it made its slow descent for the night. The air was warm and the crickets had started to chirp. Now, lightning flashed and the wind beat the leaves off the trees. The orphanage felt like it was swaying.

It had happened before, everything would be bright and sunny and then something would happen and everything would go gray. The first time I got rejected by someone looking to adopt we had a hail storm that lasted a week. But that wasn't my fault. It couldn't be.

"What else can you do, Icera?" "I don't know what you're talking about." "Yes you do." I did.

I had lived with a foster family for a while when I was six. The orphanage I had lived in until then had been shut down and they couldn't fit me in anywhere else. Not for very long. Just long enough for something bad to happen.

A week with them was a week in hell at Satan's right hand.

I'd been beaten and late at night Mr. Cooper had come into my room. He told me to be quiet or he'd tell his wife I was a very bad girl. She was the one who hit me so I stayed quiet. He touched me. I told him to stop and he wouldn't listen. He put a pillow over my face.

The next morning I refused to get out of bed. Mrs. Cooper hit me until I cried at the unfairness of it all. Mr. Cooper didn't like me as well all black and blue but he liked me well enough. The agency came to check up on me at the end of the week. The bruises still hadn't faded completely and he didn't buy the story of me falling down the stairs.

The night I was taken away from them a twister hit their home and destroyed it. Destroyed them. The authorities never found all of their bodies.

I didn't want to talk about that with anyone, never mind a very rude stranger. So I folded my arms across my chest and glared at him. Usually, my glare is so intimidating that whoever it's aimed at quickly leaves the room. A good defense mechanism I had acquired early in my years at the orphanage.

This, Albus Dumbledore, didn't even flinch.

"You lived with a couple for a very short time before you came to this orphanage, didn't you? It's in your records." I didn't say anything. "Did you know they died the day after you were removed from their care? A twister tore apart their home. It's funny though, twisters usually take out more than just one house."

He looked at me like he knew that's what I'd wished on them. I had just read The Wizard of Oz when I got placed with them. The worst thing I could think of was for a twister to come and carry them away. That's the only thing I wanted. I wanted them to be gone.

"I didn't want to kill them. I just wanted them gone."

I bit my lip. I cannot believe I just said that. What happened to being silent?

"Is there any particular reason for that?" "Mr. Cooper," I couldn't tell this stranger what had happened to me. I had never told anyone what had happened. I was never going to.

"Mr. Cooper was not a good man, was he?" "No."

I fought the tears back down and threatened them with burning pokers if they dared show their drippy little faces again.

Dumbledore looked at me with complete understanding and I blanched. How could he know when I had never told anyone? But he did.

"I am very sorry that happened to you. I would like to teach you to protect yourself. That is something you can learn at my school." "I thought you said I had to prove I belonged there?" "You already have. You can control the weather." "I can what?"

Was this man crazy or what?

"My name is Albus Dumbledore and I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You are a witch. A very powerful one, I imagine. You need to be trained of course."

That was a couple weeks ago. I didn't know what to do. I mean, yeah okay, weird things happen around me. So what? That doesn't mean witches are real or that I am one.

I mean, how can I have power and have that still happen to me? Why couldn't I protect myself if I have all this magical power?

But the longer I thought about it, the more I wanted it all to be true.

It's time for bed now. I'll try and write more tomorrow but it promises to be a very full day. I hate to admit it, but I'm excited to see what happens.