Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter in any way, shape, or fashion. If I did I would be much richer. Don't sue me. Additionally, this story revolves around an entirely fictional character of my own devising, she will be showing interest in Ginny Weasley. Therefore, Harry/Ginny will not happen. Nothing against this fandom, as I myself belong to it, but it just won't. Finally, a good portion of this story has been already posted to Quizilla (yeah, remember that?) years ago, under the name ginnyrocks6. That's me and this is not plagiarized. I just decided to dust this off, revamp it, and honestly make it much better as I initially started it when I was 15. Thank you for your patience.
Sam's POV
I got the letter late. Dear old Mum and Dad decided, two weeks into my summer holiday no less, that they wanted to go on vacation to France. Never mind that their only daughter was about to start secondary school and might want to enjoy the last bit of her freedom before dealing with bitchy daddy's girls and prep boy wannabes. Never mind that the money they were using would come out of said only daughter's university account. They wanted to see Paris. And to make it that much more "fun," how about we backpack it. Kill me now.
Long story short, we never stayed in one place long enough to get any post. As Dad so lovingly put it, who would need to write me so badly it couldn't wait until September anyway. Because I have no friends. Anyway, we finally made it back to Reading in the last week of August only to find, lo and behold, a mountain of mail. Too annoyed to even begin sorting through bills, magazine subscriptions, and other such bollocks, I went to my room and put in my earbuds, cranking my iPod up as loud as it would go.
Twenty minutes later, as I was in the middle of air guitaring to Bohemian Rhapsody, my father came storming into my room looking furious. I knew that look; that was the same look of rage he had when I blew up the shed with a bottle rocket, the same fury as when I got sent home from school because I broke Patrick Flynn's nose in the corridor, and most recently the same unbridled wrath which he brought upon me when he found me kissing Amanda Gladstone behind the recently rebuilt shed. Sighing, I removed my earbuds, resigning myself to whatever fate was about to befall my poor seditious soul. Immediately, I could hear Mum crying downstairs and the sound of a man talking quietly. Weird. "What in the bloody hell is this?" my father asked me throwing a letter and opened envelope down on my bed. Glancing at it quickly, I noticed that it appeared to be written on heavy paper, parchment or cardstock maybe. The second thing I noticed was some kind of crest on the top, but I couldn't read it upside down. "I dunno, my school supply list?" I guessed; it's not like he wasn't going to tell me anyway. "Don't get lippy with me. It's a letter from some school claiming to be teaching sorcery. There's a man downstairs saying he's some kind of warlock ready to take you away. So you'd better start explaining right now. Have you been mixing with these people, these… these… heretics?" Oh great, here comes the religious babble. I'm not getting out of this easily. "Dad, I-." "Save it. You're coming downstairs with me right now and we're sorting this wacko out." With that, he turned on his heel and marched out of my room. I quickly snatched the envelope off the bed, finally getting a chance to notice the crest on the front which just had a big letter H and some Latin mumbo-jumbo.
As I made it to the sitting room, I saw the smallest man I had ever met; I wouldn't have even seen him at all if he wasn't standing next to the sofa, patting my mother on the knee in an attempt to comfort her. He had a shock of white hair and appeared to be wearing some kind of weird dress. As I arrived, he turned to look at me and I realized that what I first perceived to be a dress was actually a tiny robe. This was getting weirder by the second. "Ah, you must be Samantha. My name is Professor Filius Flitwick and I am an instructor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." At this point, between the name, the "school", and this man's squeaky voice, I couldn't take it anymore and I just burst out laughing. "Samantha, this is no laughing matter" my father sternly interjected. "Indeed it is not," said the tiny man "You are already late in accepting your position, all of the other students were notified in late July, but given the difficulty in locating your family during this past month…" "Wait, so you're serious? You are honestly offering me a place at a school for witches?" "And wizards, correct." I started laughing again and my father shouted "Enough! I won't put up with this blasphemous nonsense in my house!" My mother wailed a little louder and suddenly I found myself getting angry. I was tired of him stifling everything I wanted and hiding behind religious bullshit. So what if this man was clearly deranged, that didn't give him a right to yell at me.
"Well, what if I want to go?" I asked him, too angry at this point to care about how crazy I must sound. "What if I want to go learn to be a witch so I can come back here and turn you into a frog?" "Well actually, you cant-" Flitwick started before my father interrupted. "If you want to go live in sacrilege then go! But don't you dare set foot back in this house again. I will not have you bringing that into my home. It was bad enough when you started deviating with those girls at school, but now this! You are no longer welcome here." I stared at him, completely stunned. Sure, I had said those things to get a rise out of him but I didn't honestly expect him to kick me out on the streets. "Now, I think that's a little overdramatic, why don't we all just-" "You get out too! I do not want either of you in this house for a moment longer, leave and take her with you before I call the police!" Abruptly, I saw a steely look enter the little man's eyes and he coldly stated "That will not be necessary, we will be leaving shortly." With that he turned sharply and walked upstairs toward my room. "Wait, what? Where are you going?" I shouted, running after him up the steps.
I caught up to him at my bedroom and he quietly stated "They will never understand" as he pulled out a long smooth stick and pointed it like a wand. I didn't know whether to laugh at the absurdity of it, or cry that I was actually going to have to leave with this lunatic. Suddenly my trunk flew out from under my bed and started filling itself with all of my books and photos. "I will escort you to Diagon Alley, so you can get some appropriate clothing, you won't need anything but this. The train will not depart until Tuesday so the school will provide you with lodging for the next few days." For the second time in the last half hour I found myself completely shocked and confused. I was snapped out of my stupor, however, when the little man kindly asked me if I could carry the trunk. "I cannot levitate it out into the street or others might see, and I couldn't possibly lift it." With that we silently returned downstairs, me carrying the half-filled trunk. At the bottom, I glanced back into the sitting room, but my parents were purposefully avoiding my gaze, so with a softly whispered "Goodbye" I set off with this strange little man who had just changed my life.