Ok side note: I quite obviously do not in anyway own Harry Potter or Hogwarts that's J. K. Rowlings job

The only thing that is mine is the storyline and my little Channing.

Also I'm aware that the years in which Channing would go to Hogwarts her first year wouldn't really match up with Albus or Rose's. Lets just pretend shall we? =D

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A tiny white speck glided past the windows of Bryony Avenue. The lights were glowing out of the windows of the small English neighborhood. The small spot in the sky stopped now at house number 171. Inside sat a family of two, a girl who could not be a day over eleven years old and a woman about three times her age. They sat at a table across from each other smiling over two TVs dinners. There was a tap at the window and two heads spun to look at where it had come from. A pale white owl stuck its head into the room, giving off a small hoot. The girl jumped from her seat. "Oh mum can we keep it?" asked the daughter a smile forming cross her freckled face, the mother stared with an opened mouth. "Channing dear move away from the bird," she whispered under her breath. Channing looked at her mother; she seemed frightened by the creature Channing thought no harm of. Her mother stepped toward the owl her hand held out. She eyed a piece of formal looking paper in its claw and snatched it up quickly. Channing stared at her mother now full of fear herself. "Mum what is it? What's it say?" she asked nervously. "It's none of your concern now dear, go up to bed," she answered a tear jetting down her face. "But mum its not even-," "Up to bed!" her mother cut her off.

Channing walked upstairs half scared to death and filled half with a shallow anger toward her mother. Her ancient stairs creaked under her feet as she went up them two steeps at a time. Her whole house was very old, as were most of houses on Bryony Avenue, sadly for Channing as were many of its residents. The family she had grown in was indeed a small one. Living with only her mother all these years she had grown rather independent of others and far too dependent on her mother. Even without a man in her life she had never become very girly, princesses and flowers were never her thing.

Channing slammed the door to her room behind her. She glanced at the room displayed before her. Her room was much possibly more plain then any other eleven year old girl on the English isle. It had pale brown walls a tan carpet and a lonely brown covered bed in the corner. It was a tiny room with only a bed, desk and tiny dresser squished inside. She collapsed onto the bed spread mumbling incoherent sentences to herself. She looked over to the mirror that sat atop her dresser. Two hazel eyes stared back at her, they were surrounded by a pale heart shaped face with dramatic cheek bones. Surrounding her face was hair of a deep brown that could be argued as black. She stared into the emptiness behind her for a moment, and she thought she noticed another white speck through the air, but perhaps it was only in her mind because it had disappeared just as quickly as she had sighted it.

The next morning she awoke to the same situation as every morning. There was always an eerie silence in her house during the mornings since her mom had to be at work, Channing was often left alone in the house. She stared at the ceiling for a moment before she realized the irritating pitter-pattering at the window. Her head quickly turned to the widow to the side of her bed. She spotted there the same owl from the night before. "Oh hello there, have you got something there for me?" she spoke quietly to the creature who was making a quiet and comforting sound. "Well, what is it then?" she questioned opening the window. The owl jumped onto her bed a letter in it's beak. Channing took the letter and started to read.

Dear Miss Riddle,

I assume that dear Mercedes here has successfully given you my letter. Before I go on I should give you insight as to whom I am. My name is Professor Minerva McGonagall head mistress of Hogwarts School of wizardry and witchcraft. I am pleased to be informing you that you are indeed a witch. Like your mother and father before you, you belong to a world of magic. I have written a letter to your mother already which was not very well received, however, and I' am sure she would agree, I believe it is your right to choose a life style with or without magic. As most children of the wizarding world you have displayed magical tendencies throughout your growing up. Yours how ever were always very powerful and complex in manner. As a symbol of my offer, you may keep my dear owl Mercedes he has served me well over the years and will be your first real link to our world. If you have any questions, please feel free to send him back with a letter to me.

Respect fully yours,

Professor Minerva Mcgonagall