It was nearing the end of another extremely hot summer.

Humidity hung in the air, pressing down on the houses and people on Wellington Way. Each house drooped in the heat, contrasting with the wild sprawl of plant life that had embraced the sun's presence. The street stretched from the main city out to the base of the mountains and lacked much shade for cooler temperatures. A cat slinked its way out from under one porch over to another, hugging the walls of the house to stay in the little shade as much as possible.

A girl sitting on her porch watched the cat make its way across the lawn. She was laying on the porch's swinging bench, her legs draped across the armrest on one end and her head resting on the other. She had long, wavy dark brown hair that at the moment was thrown back into a messy bun on top of her head. Her face was scattered with freckles, which had seemingly doubled over the summer much to her frustration. She had crossed her arms over her chest and then uncrossed them, leaning them onto the floor and on the back of the bench. She repeated this pattern for a while. Finally she settled with crossing her arms and it was at this point that she watched the neighbor's cat attempt to stay in the shade while going to the next porch to hide under. No doubt looking for new mice to hunt as well.

Not entirely paying attention, she lazily looked out onto the street.

Every summer, for as long as she could remember, her family had come to Wellington Way for the holiday. The house was small and yellow with black shutters. The wrap-around-porch's paint was beginning to peel. For years she had run up and down the staircase just inside the front hallway, so much that the middle steps were worn in the middle. At the moment, every window was thrown open in an attempt to get as much air as possible into the house.

"ALY COME IN HERE," came a cry from inside.

Aly threw her hands over her head and groaned. Her mother was calling her back into the house. She hadn't been doing anything but it suddenly felt as if she had been in the middle of something incredibly important. She reached down and stuffed her wand in her back pocket and swung her legs down to the wooden porch. Padding barefoot back into the house, she made her way into the kitchen.

The hallway connecting the front door to the kitchen was narrow, almost leaning sideways. Smoke was edging its way out from underneath the closed kitchen door. With a quick twist of her wrist, Aly swung the door open. She began to cough and waved the smoke out of her face. The aroma was of caraway, cumin, and some kind of spice that she couldn't put her finger on. The other distinct smell was that of something burning.

Aly made her way over to the source of the smoke where her mother was standing above the family's large iron cauldron. The two looked at each other. Both were tall women and Aly had inherited her unruly brown curls from her mother, though now the elder female's hair was streaked with gray. A dirty red cloth was holding back the stray hairs that had escaped the thick braid going down her mother's back. Her cheeks were blackened from what was obviously the potion in front of her. Aly's mother, an accomplished witch herself, had given up her quest for becoming a marine botanist to become a stay at home mom for her children. First had been Aly's older brother, Oliver, who was currently wrapping up his study in the Amazonian jungle studying rare insects and their effects on potions. After Oliver was Aly, four years his junior. Oliver had been a wonderful, if incredibly easy, child to raise. Aly on the other hand had been more of handful and it was often that Aly got the repetitive lecture, "If only you could be more like your brother," when she had caused trouble. Not that Aly was actually any trouble. She was just a little more feisty than most. It wasn't until the death of Aly's father when she was ten that Aly finally attempted to rein in her wildness. She improved but she and her mother continued to butt heads as she grew up. It was often times like these when her mother needed her help, did Aly give a biting response back. Her patience for doing chores or helping out around the house was lacking.

"I need your help," her mother said as if the smoking cauldron wasn't enough of a hint.

"Obviously," deadpanned Aly.

Past the sarcasm of her response, Aly willingly helped her mother, knowing also that she would never get away with not assisting. "Evanesco," she muttered, waving her wand through the smoke. After a long summer, her spell casting had become rusty but her enunciation was close enough for the spell to work. On the other side of the kitchen, Aly's mother mirrored her daughter's movements. Soon the smoke had dispersed and the kitchen was left with clean air, though still tinged with the smell of a burnt potion. Aly's mother smiled thankfully and bent down to lift up the cauldron.

"Thank you sweetheart, now go finish packing," she instructed, accenting her words with the thunk of the cauldron into the large sink. She dumped the contents out with a splash followed by chunks of things Aly was afraid to know.

Aly cast a look back over to the window, eyeing the swinging bench. She would much rather return to the sleepy outdoors than finish packing. Packing meant returning to school and returning to work. Also it was going to be her 7th year, which meant it was her last year of schooling before leaving for five years to complete her study, a tradition that her family had started in order to push their children to succeed. Rather than find a job right away, her family had picked up the idea of internships when visiting with American wizarding families and thought that it was a good idea to put to the test. The idea of adulthood being so close was only going to be solidified into her brain if she took the first step and finished packing.

Her mother turned around from scrubbing the cauldron.

"Alexandria. Pack. Now."

With a grimace, Aly turned and made her way back into the hallway. She ran up the stairs on her tiptoes, before turning and repeating it up to the third floor of the house. The upstairs had only one room, spanning most of the size of the house. The bedroom had originally been just the attic but as she had grown up, she had desired a place to come and be alone for a while. Thus the attic had been transformed into her small room for the summer. At the moment, items were strewn across the floor – books, her uniform, potion ingredients, shoes, and scrolls of paper. She sighed. It was going to be a long rest of the day.

Aly flung open the lid to her worn, brown leather trunk. The brass hinges squeaked and the lid thudded against her wall. She began to stack the books one by one into the bottom of the trunk. Her Latin book went on the bottom, followed by her botany, astronomy, and potions books. Her tiny book of spell theory got thrown in casually. She attempted to neatly fold her uniform but eventually gave up when it came to the socks. A case of dried frogs was thrown in followed by neatly placing the container filled with all the powders she would need for potions. Her amulet was wrapped up in a spare sweater vest and carefully placed on top of the pile of clothes.

By dinnertime she had accomplished the task of packing her trunk and had also filled her backpack with all the necessary items for the train ride back to school. The train from the town of Wellington to Hogsmeade Station was approximately seven hours and as much as she loved her mother, the older woman was not great at conversation for that long. Aly plopped herself down on her bed. In two days she would be back at school. She'd finally be with her friends again and could continue to try and figure out what she wanted to do with her life. Or at least what she wanted to do for her study. Staring at her trunk, she felt herself drift back into the mindless haze she had been in on the porch. Her eyes drooped shut and she fell asleep on her bed while downstairs her mother hummed and continued to attempt the previously disastrous potion.