Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood. It was something I was born as. If I had a choice, I would've lived a normal life without magical powers or a unique heritage.

Okay, that would mean an early death, so I take that back. But still, I would've saved myself a lot of trouble. But I'm here, and you're here, so I might as well tell you guys what the Hades I'm talking about. But if some of this seems familiar to you, as if you can relate in some odd way, take my advice.

Run.

Because you're one of us, and trust me, you don't want to be. So if anything stirs up, run screaming from the pages. Because trust me.

It's real.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

My name is Esmeralda I-don't-know-or-care-about-my-last-name. I'm eleven years old. Until a few days ago, I was a foster kid at Mercy's home for Troubled kids in London, England.

Am I a troubled kid?

Yes. I am.

I'll start with my birthday, well, what was celebrated as the day I was born anyway. No one really knew when it was.

I should explain, shouldn't I? I was dropped off at the hospital when I was a baby. The doctors found nothing wrong- well I did have Dyslexia and ADHD but we'll get to that later- no physical problems, no scars, I was perfectly healthy, but I was still abandoned. Whatever right? The doctors assumed it had been a teen pregnancy and the mom couldn't take care of me, she just took enough time to say 'Her name is Esmeralda, by the way' then disappear. They did the check-up and found I was approximately a year old, so a nurse looked at the calendar that was decorated with puppies and said "Hey! Let's make her birthday August 2nd!"

So yeah, let's throw a pity party, hold hands and move on. I stopped caring a long time ago.

The day was the same as any other, no cake, no balloons, if someone remembered, then they sure fooled me. I wasn't really surprised though, I hadn't exactly made a great impression on Miss. P.

Miss. P was this wrinkled old lady who had yellow skin, narrowed eyes and a expression of someone who had woken up to the sounds of kids screaming each morning for 30 years. Which she basically had. Miss. P worked at a orphanage for troubled kids, so I lived at an orphanage for troubled kids. I didn't wake up to sun-shine and rainbows, no, I woke up to kids screaming in my face and whipped cream in my hand. Kelli presumingly placing it there. Kelli was pretty much a kid's worst nightmare. She was sixteen, had the complexion of a cheerleader, and was about as nice as python. She hadn't liked me since the day I arrived at the orphanage, which was unfortunate since we were bunkmates. I literally slept right below her.

So yeah, I started the day off with whipped cream to the face. The normal ordeal. "Aw, I'm sorry Esmalamea. Was that dark meat-paw your hand? Don't worry, love, whipped cream is a great moisturizer." I roll my eyes and wipe my face off, then smear the whipped cream in her face. "You little brat!"

I smile fakely. "Don't worry, Kelli. Whipped cream is a great moisturizer." She grabs my shirt with one hand and lifts me off the ground- I was pretty tiny. Plus, for a cheerleader, she had great strength, great for those last minute take-your-anger-out-on-Ezzie moments.

"Just because you're the birthday brat, doesn't mean I won't punch you." Kelli hissed, her eyes like fire.

I smirk. "Gotta catch me first." I say and kick her leg. She drops me with a groan and I dash out of the room, after jumping over a pillow, sleeping kid, and ducking a out swinging arm. Usual routine. I snatch breakfast- a plain piece of toast, no jam- and run out the door in my PJ's at top speed. Miss. P yelling, "get back here Ezzie!(That's what everyone called me) And brush your hair!" I smirk and keep running, I don't stop until I hit the edge of the park, near the cemetery. Knowing Kelli wouldn't find me. It was the only place I could think, most people found cemeteries disturbing, but I found them peaceful, it was a final resting place after all. Plus, this one had a nice view of a lake and the river that lead into the city. I set my toast down on a bench beside me and I start cleaning the whipped cream out of my brown hair, humming happy birthday under my breath. It took a while, my hair was really curly and running around in the wind hadn't helped. When I got that over with, I grabbed my toast and took a bite, looking at the view and bouncing my knee as I ate. Too bad Miss. P hadn't buttered them at least.

"Would you like some jam for that?" Someone next to me asked. I looked and saw a man whose age rivaled P's. He had silvery gray hair, a wispy beard, a crooked nose, and half-moon spectacles that hid bright blue eyes.

I tilted my head and looked at him curiously. I could usually hear people when they came near me, well, except the ghosts, but they didn't crunch the leaves on the ground and weren't even solid, so you couldn't hear them. "Are you a ghost?" I asked him. Fun fact- ADHD meant no filter between my eleven year-old brain and my mouth.

The man chuckled. "No, I am not a ghost."

I look down at my feet, embarrassed, my right knee still bouncing. "Oh. Sorry."

The man's eyes twinkled thoughtfully. "Why are you sorry?"

I looked up and shrugged. "People- the one's who aren't ghosts- they don't like it when I ask that question."

"Do you talk to ghosts often?" He asked.

"Sometimes, they don't come out during the day very much. But they're always surprised when I can see them." I look at the man again, he doesn't seem to think I'm off my rocker, so I try to get the conversation back on 'normal' terms. How do I do this? I say the first typical question that comes into my mind. "I'm Ezzie, what's your name?"

"My name is Professor Dumbledore." He held out his hand for me to shake, which I did, "nice to meet you Ezzie."

I look at him sideways. "So you're not Santa?" The man gave another small chuckle and looked at my toast. "What's your favorite type of jam?" He asked. I shake my head.

"I've never had any flavor jam. So I can't pick a flavour can I?"

"That's very true, my mistake. Try this flavour." I expect him to pull a jar or something out of his cloak, but no. He waves his hand and there's suddenly red jam on my toast.

"Woah! Are you a magician?" I ask him, my gray-blue eyes sparkling.

"No. I am a wizard." He says a matter-of factly. He pulled out an envelope from his cloak. "This is for you, Esmerelda." I didn't ask how he knew my name, or say he was crazy. I just take a bite of my toast, now jammed, and look at the the letter. It was written in small cursive and green ink. I didn't even attempt it. I just stare at it with red cheeks.

"I- I can't um-" I stare flusteredly at the letter.

"Oh, my mistake." He says looking at the letter and then at me, his eyes twinkling even more so now, as if excited I couldn't read. He takes back the letter and hands me a different one. "Here. Sorry about that, I'm getting old. Minds not as sharp as it use to be." I take the second letter and I can read it without fault. Which surprised me, since I usually had some problem reading words at one degree or another. I feel a little more confident in the letter and I take a second to look at the wax seal on the yellow parchment paper. It was a lion, a snake, a badger, and a raven. All surrounding a letter H. I carefully tear open the letter. Surprisingly I could read the inside lettering as well.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Miss. Asra,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1.

Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress

I stare at the writing for a while. Not saying anything. My mind was swimming with questions. Finally I ask one. "My last name is… Asra?" Yeah, I know. Of all the questions I could ask, of all the things I should find crazy about this, I find my last name to be the craziest. The man chuckled. "Yes, it means 'travel by night'."

"I like the night. So I'm accepted into your school? I didn't apply." I say.

"It's not a school you apply to." Dumbledore said patiently.

"Is it far away? I don't know if I can pay for bus fare everyday."

"It's a boarding school." He assures me. I enjoy the idea of not living under Kelli- who snores like a donkey- for seven months.

"I cannot afford books or anything." I continue.

"I'm sure there's something that can be managed. A school fund is provided to students who cannot afford books, but your mother may have set aside some money for you." He stood up slowly.

"Wait. You knew my mother?" I ask quickly.

Dumbledore looked at me sadly, the same way everyone else did when they found out I was an orphan. "That- is a topic for another time. Shall we go back to the foster home so I can talk to Miss. P?" I shrug and place the letter in the pocket of my pjs. Following Dumbledore to the orphanage while eating my toast, the jam was raspberry as I found out later. "And Ezzie." I look up at the professor. "Let's not mention it's a wizarding school to anyone. Wouldn't want to make the other children jealous." I nod. Knowing that was grown-up code word for 'no normal person can know about witches or wizards. But it did explain a lot of the weird things that happened in my life.

For example, last Tuesday, I had been sitting in summer school, looking at the rain outside the window and thinking about the park and how nice it would be to just find a cave and watch the rain fall from the sky, when suddenly BAM! I was in a cave about a quarter of a mile from the park, facing the graveyard and watching the rain as it cleaned away the grime of the headstones. I got expelled for that though, but it was worth it. Or when I had gone on a third grade field trip with the foster home to the zoo. We walked into the reptile room, and I started having a conversation with a snake! It was a corn snake we got to take turns petting. I had told him how Kelli had taken my lunch earlier and the snake snapped at her. I was blamed of course, Miss. P reacting to the scene as I was a demon child and saying I had used 'strange hissings' to egg the snake on. I wasn't allowed on anymore trips after that, Miss. P still calling me demon child whenever something as small as the power going out occurred. I thought about how she would react to being told that

"Are we going to tell Miss. P?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I do not believe she needs to know."

"Okey dokey."

Dumbledore talked to Miss. P for about an hour, there was a lot of shouting from Miss. P. Words like 'devil child' and 'freak' came up, so I assumed the conversation was going fabulously. The other kids had stopped playing to listen in on the conversation, never missing an opportunity to listen to Miss. P rant and rave about 'that dark skinned witch!' Looking at it, I couldn't help but smile at how right she was. Personally I didn't care what Dumbledore said to Miss. P, all I knew I was going to leave the orphanage, I was going to a boarding school! I wondered if it was far away, I had never left London. It would be exciting to experience a change of scenery. I sat on my bottom bunk, leaning against my pillow and rereading the letter, savoring my new-found ability to read just as well as everyone else. Finally, Professor Dumbledore came into the dorm room. "My my, your little friends are quite noisy, they were leaning against the door, trying to hear the conversation between me and Miss. P."

"Their not my friends. And I don't know why they were leaning against the door, people in Winchester could probably hear her yelling."

Dumbledore smiled. "Yes, she does seem to enjoy the attention. Nevertheless, she's allowing you to go. She seemed happy it was a boarding school."

I huffed. "Yeah. She would."

Professor Dumbledore looked at a pocket watch and frowned slightly. "I need to be somewhere. Would you do me a favor, Ezzie? It's very important." I nod vigorously.

He takes an envelope out of his cloak and kneels down so he's eye-level with me. "Someone will stop by to take you shopping for your school supplies in about a week. His name is Hagrid, would you please give this to him for me? Make sure he reads it first thing when he picks you up, alright?" I nod and take the envelope. Feeling as if I was given the most important task in the world. This man was trusting me, and I felt that was a very high honor.

"I'll make sure he reads it. First thing." I assure him.

Dumbledore smiles. "Thank-you Ezzie. I must be off. It was nice meeting you." And with that, he walks out of the room, and I could feel the eyes of the other kids in the orphanage follow him as he leaves.