Disclaimer: I do not own any of J.K. Rowling's characters. I own the rights to my original character Kareena and any other original characters that pop up in this fic.

Authors Note: Updated to clear up some confusion.

Special Thanks to Ice: Thank you for pointing out that I wrote wizard instead of witch! Originally I was going to write Kareena as a boy named Kieran. It didn't work because I thought a girl's point of view was stronger for this story. Again, thanks for pointing that out that I put wizard instead of witch. And the reason that Kareena does live in a muggle town will be cleared up in Chapter Three, so stay tuned:-)

Chapter 1-The Acceptance (Kareena)

Journal Entry #1

Life is a drag.

I do not know what else to say. My life is not what I want it to be. But, I fear that I am being forced into exaltation. I do not want to be praised and admired. I just want to lead a traditional life. Traditional? The Addams Household scoffs at that word! We are anything but traditional.

We walk around town in billowing cloaks. My father's cloak is in hunter green. Do not ask me why, but, my mother's cloak is in paisley. I believe that she is a bit nostalgic for her days when she used to be a flower child. It was sometime in the seventies when she was a teenager. I wear a red cloak.

I am ashamed to say, however, that the muggles are not used to us. They think of my family as the "freaks." Sometimes, they even refer to us as The Addams Family.

Today, I was sitting in my backyard just writing some poetry and playing my guitar. When my muggle next door neighbor and her two partners in foolishness, Esther and Miranda, started to hum the theme song to The Addams Family. I felt as though I were being condemned for being what they thought of as a freak. I just ignored them as I went on writing my poetry.

Today, Mary, Esther, and Miranda were wearing color coordinating outfits and large platform sandals. I am beginning to feel that they are the town's own Spice Girls.

Mary entered my backyard as though she owned the lot. "My father tells me that you aren't even our kind."

I ignored her as I continued my writing.

"Doesn't she even speak?" Miranda inquired in her shrill voice.

"I do." I thought, "But only to those of and above my intelligence."

"Hey!" Esther cried out loud in anticipation. "Look at her guitar. Isn't it gear?"

Gear? What era did they belong in? This was London but this was not the swinging sixties. I tried to control my temper as I wrote my verses down. "Oh," Miranda exclaimed. "How fab!"

Fab?

Mary picked up my guitar from my lap and began to strum. She made a face as she replied, "A bit off key, isn't it?"

I rolled my eyes as I tried to focus on my music. This was my time to be free. They had never come into my backyard before. What made them think that they could come into my backyard now? What did they have up their sleeves?

Miranda smirked and nodded. "Very off key."

Mary returned the smirk as she began to tune my guitar. My guitar was not to be fiddled around with as if it were a toy. It was not a cheap trinket. I had saved up for that guitar for weeks. I would never let anyone touch it. Now, it was out of tune.

"There." Mary strummed it and laughed. "Now it sounds better."

I stood up from my chair on the back porch as I snatched my guitar from Mary's hands. I dryly replied, "If you had any musical talent, you would know that one should not tune a guitar by ear unless they know the chords." I glared at the three of them and sharply added in, "But I suppose you all knew that. Am I correct?"

"No wonder you don't have any friends," Mary sneered.

"I do not think I would want to be friends with people that hurt innocents just because they want to make their colossal egos feel greater."

That is what I have to say. That is what happened this morning before breakfast and before those three girls left for their normal public school.

Thank you for listening to me whine my dear diary but I must sign off now. Signing off: Kareena Addams

I look over at mum and dad as they suprisingly smile back at me. We all sit at the table as we eat our breakfast. Mum knows that I am fond of plain scones and honey. She has made them today. I do not want to leave her. Who wants to leave their mother? For, a mother is the only comfort and joy in this world.

I sigh as I spread the golden honey across my piping hot scone. How can I eat when I fear that I shall be homesick? How can I eat when I know that I shall be away from my mother? I know that I can get by but I shall miss mum and dad.

The main reason that I have been kicked out of all those wizardry schools was not because of poor grades. It was nothing academic. The reason was because I hate being away from home for long periods of time. I had to go to drastic measures because I missed mum and dad.

"Dear," my mother replies soothingly. "What is wrong?"

"Another wizardry school," I mumble softly as I pick up my cup of tea and absent-mindedly blow away the steam. "I won't fit in. I just know how-

"Oh no," my father's thick Irish brogue unintentionally interrupts. "That is where you are wrong." My father whips out the brochure that he had received in the mail last week. "See all these happy smiling faces at Hogwarts."

I notice a girl with bushy brown hair that is a little too unruly. She is conversing with two boys, one with red hair and a pale complexion and another one with very messy dark hair and mysterious eyes shrouded by round-rimmed glasses. The picture is of course moving, as most enchanted photos often do. All of a sudden, the three children freeze in fear as a man with a slightly hooked nose and greasy black hair approaches them. He looks straight at the dark haired boy and mouths something which I believe to be some sort of command. The boy glares at him and walks away as his friends trail behind him.

I groan as I sip my tea. "They're only smiling because they get paid to do that."

"It wouldn't hurt you to smile," my father jokes.

I laugh because my parents know just how to cheer me up. But, I fear that I shall be miserable there. For, I have been miserable at every single one of those wizardry schools.

It has been a miserable year for us. I have been miserable and I fear that I have made it miserable for them. But, mum and dad, they are always happy and I want to be with them. Their warm smiles just about melt the block of ice that I feel has enveloped my heart.

I just wish that I were a muggle like my next door neighbor, Mary. She gets to go to that nice public school that is conveniently across the street from my home. We have a nice view of that school from our kitchen window. I sometimes find it very strange how muggles conduct themselves.

I shrug as I turn my back towards the window. I look back at the Hogwarts brochure. This time, the picture has changed. It shows a deep red steam engine with excited children in sweeping cloaks waiting to get on. The steam engine sign reads: HOGWARTS EXPRESS.

I decide to flip through the brochure and suddenly I find that I am face to face with a talking hologram of Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster.

"Ah, hello Ms. Kareena Addams." He gently replies, "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Professor Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I hate to admit that I cannot stay long but I would like to introduce my faculty to you."

"Can they stay long?" I ask as my eyes flicker in anticipation.

"What was that," Professor Dumbledore queries. "Oh, can they stay long? No, I fear that they cannot, for, we all have our work to do."

"What a kind man that Professor Dumbledore is," my mother smiles.

I nod in agreement with my mother's statement as I meet the hologram of Professor Minerva McGonagall. "The head of the Gryffindor house and deputy headmistress."

"Professor Froderick Finnicky." A man with a gaunt face, long, thin nose and abnormally large brown eyes lisps. "Defense Against the Dark Arts." I raise an eyebrow up at Professor Finnicky's rather fast yet squeamish manner.

The hologram of Professor Finnicky vanishes and with it comes the man with the hooked nose and the greasy black hair. "Professor Snape," he dryly replies. "The head of the Slytherin house and Potions master."

I freeze and gaze into the man's vacant black eyes. There was nothing in him. I felt as though he was the mystery at Hogwarts. The type that kept to himself. I knew that type because I tended to keep to myself at certain times. The man, however, seemed to possess a greater evil in him than just merely being rebellious. "Well, what are you staring in a stupor for?" The hologram sneers back at me. I flinch and quickly close the brochure on Professor Snape's face. I forget about the rest of the faculty that is waiting to be introduced to their newest student.

This has been my second time getting kicked out of a magick and wizardry school. I respect them, the teachers, but I hate being told what to do. I like being taught.

The two attempts at getting kicked out proved beneficial. They worked.

Attempt Number 1: This involved the girl's dormitory, a cat, and a candle. Many burnt and blackened sheets. The fire burnt a massive hole into the floorboards. The cat survived. My innocent quote, "I just wanted to see if cats really do have nine lives." I got expelled from that school.

Attempt Number 2: Boiling a live toad in the middle of the hallway. That created a nasty stench for a solid week. The caretaker was a bit put off and I did not blame him. But, I was glad to be out of that school. The faculty was not at all that caring. They were working merely for the benefit of themselves.

I sigh and stand in front of the bathroom mirror after I have finished eating my breakfast. "Why don't mum and dad realize that I don't want to be a witch," I ask my reflection.

I begin to study my reflection as I wonder, do mirrors truly lie? The bathroom mirror, I felt, was a pathological liar. For, I looked different today. I felt beautiful. My long brown waves were in place and my auburn eyes had a certain sparkle in them. My lips were naturally ruby red. I liked my lips, for, they were my favorite color. But, for once, my olive skin was spotless.

"No zits!" I winked at my reflection.

My mind reels back to last week...

I was sitting outside on my porch when all of a sudden, an owl appeared out of nowhere.

"Aren't you supposed to be nocturnal," I joked as the owl playfully nipped my finger. I shook my head, "Weird."

The owl dropped a letter in my hand. "Hogwarts," I muttered as I watch the owl fly away. Oh, I had heard about this place. It was famous yet infamous.

Infamous because of The-Name-That-The-Addams-Household-Dare-Not-Say went there. Famous because of their vast knowledge and intelligent and caring staff with the exception of the caretaker.

"Mum?" I walked into our country cottage. "Mum?"

"Yes, what is it?"

"An owl."

Mum raised an eyebrow up and smiled, "You don't say?"

"It's from Hogwarts."

"You know what that means," my mother nudged my father.

"Well," my father looked up from the newspaper that he was reading as he earnestly looked at me. "Go on. Open it."

"She got a letter from an owl." The smiling gossip columnist in my father's newspaper whispered.

Her name was Bumpadora Mumplesdurn and she was the most lethal columnist in the world of wizardry. She was worse than Rita Skeeter, believe it or not. Every newspaper or tabloid that she had an article in would always have a spellbound photograph in it. Enchanted photos were moving pictures taken in the past but a spellbound photo was a picture that let the subject hear every conversation. In Bumpadora's case, she used the picture in her column as a spy-cam.

"Oh! Dare I say it?" Bumpadora's smile twinkled in the sunlight.

"Oh shut up! Or I'll tear your picture to pieces." My father ordered the newspaper to quiet down as he wagged a scolding finger at the now frowning picture of the gossip columnist.

Reluctantly, I opened the letter. Slowly at first because I was actually a bit afraid and because I did not want to tear the fine stationary on which it was written on. But, suddenly, I felt a surge of anticipation, none like I had ever felt before. I tore the letter open so quickly that it got torn in half.

"Oh dear," my mother sighed.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled in my embarrassment.

"No," my mother happily said, "We can put it back together. Just lay the two pieces on the table."

I laid the two pieces on the table and by some miracle, the paper joined together by itself. "I knew it," my father happily replied. "Unrippable paper."

"There's only one place to get that," my mother nodded.

"Diagon Alley,"my father proudly replied.

Diagon Alley. The only place to get the best in witchcraft and wizardy. Dried toadstool, you got it by the handful. Eye of newt, by the jarful. You have stomach pains, fish oil by the bottle.

I picked up the letter back from the table and read on about how despite my drawbacks, Hogwarts would accept me at the grade that I was at now. "I've been accepted," I shrugged and threw the letter back on the kitchen table. My parents grinned from ear to ear. For, Hogwart's was the wizardry school.

I look at my reflection again. Then I hear my mother reply, "Darling, hurry. You don't want to be late."

I remember my parents beaming with pride through the entire car ride. I remember them beaming as I ran through the barrier between Platform Nine and Platform Ten. "Platform 9 and three quarters," I whisper to myself.

I beam as soon as I see the deep red steam engine. It is an actual steam engine. HOGWARTS EXPRESS! I shake my head and roll my eyes as I think, "Now, I am beaming in pride."

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