Author's note: I dont own harry potter and big thanks to my beta cls2256 for betaing and making this chapter better
"Wake up!—Wake up! There are chores to be done!"
It was a normal day on Privet Drive, especially in number 4— the Dursley household. Mrs. Dursley, a
horse-faced blonde waif was doing what she always does in the morning— shrieking at her niece and
nephew in a shrill, high pitched voice.
The Potter children groaned in annoyance from the broom cupboard under the stairs, where the two of
them slept. The oldest, Rose, was first to file out of the cramped, dusty cupboard. She emerged while
wiping the lenses of her square rimmed glasses on her tee shirt, shaking out her long auburn hair that
hit just above her waist. She was rather short for a girl of eleven; her thin arms and jutting collarbones
also gave the impression she hadn't seen a decent meal in quite some time.
Her younger brother, Harry, shuffled out behind her. His messy, black hair stuck up in the back; no
matter how much Rose tried to smooth down his hair to keep Mrs. Dursley from having a fit, it would
never lay flat.
Harry was just as thin as Rose; his knees were knobby and he was severely underweight for his age of
nearly nine— despite his sister giving him most of her food. His round glasses were poorly repaired in
the middle with scotch tape, causing them to sit crooked on his face.
Mr. Dursley walked down the stairs into the hallway as the Potter's were making their way into the
kitchen. He spotted Rose lurking by the front door and shouted at her so loudly the windows shook.
"What do you think you are doing, girl?!"
"Absolutely nothing you need to worry about Uncle Vernon" Rose replied calmly.
"Nonsense! You're always up to something, you troublesome girl!" Mr. Dursley yelled, grabbing the back
of her shirt and shoving her towards the kitchen. "Now get into the kitchen— where you belong!"
Mr. Dursley was the complete opposite of his wife. He was a large, beefy man with almost no neck,
which earned him the nickname Uncle Walrus— that Rose only used behind his back, of course.
Grumbling, Rose got to work making breakfast for the Dursley's, which consisted of eggs, toast, bacon,
and pancakes. Harry served coffee and juice to their aunt and uncle, and their dreadful cousin, Dudley.
Just as Rose was finishing serving breakfast, the mail slot creaked open, and the sound of envelopes
rustling caught the attention of the entire family.
"Get the mail, you ungrateful she-Devil!" Mrs. Dursley shrieked.
Rose set the kettle in her right hand down on the table and bit back a retort. "Yes, Aunt Petunia."she
replied quietly.
The mail was lying on the mat in front of the door. She picked up the pile, scanning through the
envelopes quickly. Bill, bill, bill, a letter for me, bill, bi-wait! A letter… for me? She thought, flipping back
to the cream envelope, words scrawled in shimmering emerald ink.
Miss R. Potter
4 Privet Drive
Cupboard under the stairs
Little Whinging, Surrey
How do they know my name? And where I live? She was immensely confused.But I never get any mail.
She tucked the rest of the mail under her arm and opened her letter, reading it quickly.
Dear Miss Potter,
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 beings on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Rose stuffed the letter in her pocket, wondering how she was going to get her school supplies, let alone
if she were being pranked. A witch? Me?
"Girl! We're done with breakfast! You go to your cupboard!" Mr. Dursley's bellowing voice broke
through Rose"s reverie.
She rolled her eyes, and then delivered the stack of bills to her uncle before retreating back into her
cupboard. While she was still alone, she pulled the letter out of her pocket, rereading the words
scrawled in emerald ink. She wondered again if this was a cruel joke, but despite her doubts, something
in the back of her mind told her she should accept.
She had no spare paper, but the back of the letter hopefully would be acceptable. She struggled to write
with a half-dried ink pen she found on the shelf above her pillow, pressing hard in order to form legible
words.
Yes, I would like to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
She frowned as she tossed the letter to the side; how on earth was she going to send out a letter
without her aunt or uncle noticing? If this wizarding school was indeed real, it at least had to be better
than life at the Dursley's.
She was so busy staring at the wall, contemplating how to get the in the mail that she didn't even notice
her reply disappearing into the paper, and a time reappearing in its place; a time that someone would
come to get her and take her away from this dreadful place she unfortunately had to call home.