PROLOGUE - Humble Beginnings

I have always loved books.

From the first time I can recall being read to and my clumsy words as I first puzzled out the markings on each page, I loved them. And when I found that these wads of parchment could not only hold stories, but infinite knowledge as well, my mum couldn't tear me away from some volume or another - it was different each time she entered my room of recluse - for nearly a month afterwards.

I was not what they call smart, and yet I was a bookworm. I could not always remember exactly what I had read a week ago, but what else were books for if I could not go back and check the particular tidbit of information?

I was not a fast reader, but I spent so much time reading that many mistook me for a person who could devour a novel in a few hours.

I was not like the intelligent authors who wrote these masterpieces, but I would claim quite humbly that I was the best, most devoted reader.

I often wondered what it would be like, to be so glorious as to have a book written about myself. Or to have such an imagination that I could weave a tale from my own mind. I admit, neither of these things have or ever will come to occur, but I did find in my life enough second-hand adventure, mystery and intrigue to write my own little story. And though I cannot claim anything like what the heroes of my generation have done, I am quite sure that I can give you a very different and hopefully rather entertaining perspective of the great events which concluded the last century.

I was born Delia Lucy Bones to my pureblood mother Celeste and halfblood father Findley. My dad had gingery hair, brown eyes and gangly limbs, whereas my mum had light brown hair, twinkling green eyes and a fuller figure.

My sister, Susan, was eighteen months older than me and my idol from the ages of three through to eleven. She had long red hair which she frequently wore in a long plait down her back and freckles around her nose.

My hair was a darker red than hers, which my dad liked to compare to a carrot to tease her, but so thick and with the most annoying slight wave which meant it looked ridiculous just about any way except for in a simple ponytail. I didn't have freckles like my dad either, but I was much shorter than Susan and didn't look like growing very much at all.

We grew up together in a cosy house near Surrey, playing games together and Susan dressing her dolls whilst I read. My dad owned the broom shop in Diagon Alley and each morning he would step into our fireplace as it glowed green and vanish in a whoosh of flames to his beloved stall. He was a fair flier, but no one could match his knowledge and understanding of brooms. He was even working as a consultant to one of the biggest crafting companies and was back then helping make a new Nimbus broom.

Neither of us could fly, as the highly dense muggle neighbourhood didn't allow for practice and Susan was afraid of heights, but my dad had promised me a broom for my twelfth birthday to use in my second year at Hogwarts if I didn't get into too much trouble as a first-year.

When we were little, our mum stayed home to look after us, but once we could be enrolled at the local muggle primary school she went back to her job as a scribe for the Wizengamot. In the playground at school I would often wave shyly to my sister and she would grin back or even come over and give me a hug. She was - and still is - the nicest person I know and so no one was surprised when after receiving her letter and boarding the train to Hogwarts, she was Sorted into Hufflepuff, where both of my parents had been when they were at school.

My last year at primary school was very different without Susan. I was forced to become less dependent on my big sister and I found my voice a little, where before I had been too shy and nervous to speak. I still avoided confrontations and felt exceedingly awkward in some social situations, but by the time it was my turn to get aboard the Hogwarts Express my sister was no longer the perfect person I'd thought her to be and I didn't need her so much.

I was so nervous when Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on my head that I nearly sat on my hands to stop them from shaking. The Hat was kind and helpful in its own way, however.

'Bones, yes ... Your sister made a lovely Hufflepuff, going very well there ...' Its voice trailed off and I could hear thoughtful noises as it mulled me over.

'Are - are you going to put me in Hufflepuff?' I whispered. Hufflepuff was safe - I knew I'd be welcome and Susan has said everyone was so nice and if it was good enough for my parents then it was good enough for me, right?

'I see kindness, and loyalty, yes - but not a Gryffindor, no.' I shivered at the thought of being Sorted into the house of red and gold. Bravery and chivalry? It terrified me to bits. I was an introvert and, well, not so proud but who cared?

'I do see a love of learning, discovery,' the Hat continued. 'How do you feel about Ravenclaw?' I mulled it over in my head.

'Do they have books?' I asked timidly. A strange sensation tingles through me - the Hat was laughing.

'I suppose they do, although I have never been into the Ravenclaw Common Room,' it chuckled. 'So, are we decided?' I had to admit, yellow had never been my favourite colour. And the blue and bronze eagle seemed so much more, well, dignified than the badger.

'Yes, thank you,' I replied softly to the Hat, which took in a deep breath and crowed to the Hall so loudly that I jumped so high the Hat nearly flew off my head.

'RAVENCLAW!' I passed the Hat with shaking hands back to Professor McGonagall and blushed furiously as the blue table clapped pleasantly while I made my way over to the blue-tied students. Before I say down next to an absolutely perfect fifth-year prefect named Laura Cummings, I managed to catch my sister's eye and sighed in relief when she smiled genuinely at me.

I knew she wasn't the sort of person to hold a grudge but it felt better knowing that she didn't resent me for breaking a sort of family tradition by joining Ravenclaw.

Laura asked me kindly about what I was looking forward to and I stammered out a few replies, but she was so pretty and nice that I felt intimidated even though she was trying to make me feel better. I was just too shy and nervous for my own good.

Four more girls and five boys were Sorted into Ravenclaw after me, and I ended up sitting in between Laura and one of the other first-years, May Sunnerling, and across from another boy my age called Luke Clearwater.

Laura had told us that Luke's older sister was the Head Girl (Head Boy was a Gryffindor called Percy Weasley) but Luke didn't seem to think this was very important and preferred chatting about what their classes would be like, Quidditch, and brooms.

Once I'd managed to blurt out that my dad owned a broom shop, he forced me to talk about it so by the time Professor Dumbledore stood up to give his notices I thought I might just have found an unlikely friend in Luke - unlikely because he was one of the most outgoing people I'd ever met.

Further up the table a girl called Luna Lovegood was telling a fourth-year about something called Nargles and three of the other first-years - Callum, Oscar and Titus - were throwing an apple around. Next to me, May was chatting with Margaret and Georgie, the other girls who I would be sharing a dorm with, and the last addition to Ravenclaw, Ben Humphrey had joined in my conversation about racing brooms with Luke.

After Quidditch tryout announcements (and a sharp reminder that first-years were neither allowed to try out or bring any form of broom to Hogwarts), Laura and Penelope (Luke's sister) lead us up the swinging staircases to the Ravenclaw Tower. Luke was still grumbling about Harry Potter had started as Seeker for Gryffindor in his first year when we stopped at an elegant oak door with an intricate bronze eagle knocker. Both doorknob and keyhole where absent.

'This is the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room,' Penelope explained. 'When you wish to enter, the door will ask you a question and you must answer it correctly before it will open.' Luke rolled his eyes at his sister beside me.

'What if we don't know the answer?' Margaret asked as Penelope cast a stern look at her brother.

'Then you'll have to wait until someone who does know the answer comes along.' Half of the group moaned; the rest of us stopped ourselves. 'And then you will have learned something, won't you?' I shrugged - it made sense, as Ravenclaw was all about gaining knowledge. Still, I resolved to reread each of my textbooks and visit the library (even though I had already planned to) as soon as possible so I wouldn't find myself stuck outside the common room.

'Here we go,' Laura stepped forward to the door and waited patiently for it to ask its question.

'What is a Patronus made of?' I had to clap my hand over my mouth to stop the involuntary gasp as the bronze eagle opened its beak and the words flowed from what had appeared to be inanimate metal. The question completely stumped me, and evidently my fellow first-years as well, going by the frowns and clueless looks on their faces.

'In its purest form, a Patronus is a magical manifestation of joy and hope,' Laura replied after a moment's thought and I gaped at her. I obviously had a lot to learn at Hogwarts.

'Very poetic.' The bird resumed its previous frozen pose and the wooden door swung open to reveal a huge circular room with dark blue carpet and a domed ceiling covered in meticulously painted stars. Wooden supports arched down from the ceiling and between each was a tall rectangular window which curved inwards at its sides to taper to a point.

Every inch of the walls were covered with Ravenclaw hangings, window seats and towering, grand bookshelves. Armchairs, huge cushions and small tables were arranged neatly throughout the room, and on the far wall there was an alcove with a regal white marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw herself.

Penelope and Laura told us that we could study or just relax in the common room at any time, and then led us over the the alcove. Thomas Jarvey, the other fifth-year prefect, loped towards the girls and after saying hello to Laura he opened a subtly disguised door on the right of Ravenclaw's statue and ushered the boys up into their dormitory. The rest of us followed Laura through the other door and up another staircase to the girls' dorms while Penelope left for the Head Boy and Girl's private rooms.

We passed six other identical doors before coming to our own. Laura left us to unpack our trunks - which had been sent up for us already - and went into her own dormitory. As we sorted our clothes, the other girls chatted and I joined in occasionally, still shy as I didn't know them very well.

They all seemed very nice but extremely different - Margaret had evidently memorised the entirety of our textbooks already; Georgie admitted that she'd never been able to sit still long enough to read very much and hoped that if she listened in class it would be enough; May apparently hadn't done any study whatsoever but I had an inkling that she didn't need to; and Luna knew a lot about many mythical creatures that Margaret - or Maggie as she preferred to be called - claimed rather worriedly didn't exist.

All in all, we were a pretty average bunch; not entirely what the other houses would expect of us, but true Ravenclaws none the less.

I had just about convinced myself that this year was going to be much less eventful that my sister's first year (and thank goodness for that!) when a giggling third year with reddish-blonde hair burst into our dorm and announced that two utterly stupid Gryffindor second years, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, had flown an enchanted car to school.

All I could think was, not them again.