Chapter 1: Wonderland (Alice's Story)
It was 10:47 am at the Kings Cross Train Station in London, England.
Today was the first day of the new school year, and Mum had us all ready for it. Our backpacks were packed, our lunches were made, and pictures were taken.
She even dressed us up in similar outfits, even though we were supposed to go to different schools. I wore a green, collared tee shirt with a black jumper and navy knee-socks, while my sister Joanna wore a blue version of my outfit with black stockings. While my sister had some of her hair pulled back into a small ponytail with a hair bow, I had my hair parted down the middle and held back by a dark brown clip on each side; it blended well together with my equally brown hair and eyes.
"But muuuuuuum, why do I still have to go to our old school, while Alice gets to go off to some fancy boarding school?" whined Joanna, my nine year old- excuse me -nine-and-a-half year old sister. Her hazel eyes watered in crocodile tears.
"Because you're not old enough to go to boarding school, Miss Mouse," replied my mother, Faye Witchburn, as she wearily tucked a strand of her own brown and blonde-highlighted hair behind her ear. Her short hair often fell over her face, despite it only coming halfway down her neck.
"Don't call me 'Miss Mouse,'" Jo huffed, folding her arms with a cross expression. Her black hair bow fell over a bit before Mother laughed and straightened it.
"I'll call you 'Miss Mouse' if I want to, Miss Mouse." Mum smiled, examining her work. Even though we were children, she stood dauntingly over us at six feet. "Now make sure to be safe. Play nice. And-"
"Don't talk to strangers, I know, I know..." I groaned as I rolled back my head, hearing this speech rehearsed a gazillion times before. While she and my sister were going to take the train south for Joanna's school, I was going to take a different train for my own school.
"And be sure to change your underwear every day-"
"Muuum! I'm not FIVE!" Embarassment now flushed over my face.
"I know, but you have to be told. After that one time of wearing the same underwear for almost a w-"
"Mum! I've explained this! I. Didn't. Have. Any. Clean. Ones." We bantered like this back and forth before we were at Platforms Nine and Ten.
"Ah, looks like this is your stop."
"Explain to me again how I'm going to get on Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters?" I looked at the ticket in my hand that read a non-existing train station.
"You have to walk straight in-between the stations nine and ten. Then you can board the Hogwarts Express."
"You're not going to send me off?"
"I can't, honey. I've got to drop Joanna off at school soon."
"Oh, then dad will do it? Speaking of which, where is he? Will he be here soon?" I asked hopefully, looking around for a bald middle-aged man.
"I'm sorry, sweetie... He couldn't make it. He's caught up at work again."
"Oh..." I mumbled, slowly falling from happiness to disappointment. That was the third time in two weeks my dad had bailed on us. I knew he was busy pushing papers at his company as the office supervisor, but we hardly ever got to see him anymore. And this was going to be the last time I was going to see him until Christmas break!
"You'll get to see him again around Christmas time, I promise." My mother reassured, but it didn't lift my spirits much. I was being sent to a boarding school for almost a year. But not just any boarding school. A wizarding boarding school!
I still couldn't believe that I was a witch. I was always treated differently in elementary school, but I thought that was because I was one of the "special kids." Then again, I should have seen the signs.
During third and fourth grade, whenever I got bullied, things randomly broke or hurled themselves at my enemies. Girls I quarreled with often found themselves tangled up in the swing-sets, while boys who pushed me down had been magically pushed over themselves. It wasn't until I was sent home after a particular incident of paste and hair-pulling that my mother told me that I was a witch, and that my whole family, at least on her side, were witches and wizards too. At first, I thought she was joking when she handed me a letter from Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Then she decided to charm the tea kettle and make it sing and whistle "I'm a Little Teapot."
You could say I was surprised. I had been terrified of witches ever since I was six after watching Disney's Hocus Pocus and a particularly bad incident involving Roald Dahl's The Witches. Now, I was just a bit neutral about them. But never in my wildest dreams would I ever have thought I was one!
I could still remember the day my mom took me to Ollivander's to get my wand.
"Okay, so we've got your robes and your cauldron, a telescope, phials..." Mum read over the school supply list as I sighed. I was starting to feel particularly cross at the fact that I had to shop for and try on new clothes. "And since we already have Grace, you won't be needing a pet."
"Awww come on, Mum, why not? I promised I'll take care of it."
"Because I said so," she interjected forcefully. "There's no reason to get another pet, and it's expensive enough as it is feeding and caring for that cat. Besides, the only pet that would be useful in the shop is an owl, and I told you that you could borrow my owl Digger."
"Here we are," my mum announced, stopping in front of a shop named Ollivander's Wand Shop. "Now here's seven galleons and meet me at Flourish and Blotts when you're done picking out your wand. I'll be there picking up the rest of your books."
She then dropped seven gold coins into my hand and grabbed ahold of my sister's arm and drug her down the north side of Diagon Alley. I pushed open the door, hearing the tinkling of the bell. It was a rather small, dusty little cluttered shop. Anyone who was claustrophobic would've had a nervous breakdown trying to get around all the stacks and mounds of rectangular boxes.
"Excuse me? I'd like to purchase a wand," I called out, not seeing a store clerk in sight. Suddenly, an old man with wild greyish-white hair peaked out behind a stack of wands in the back of the store. He reminded me a bit of Albert Einstein.
"Oh hello. And what is your name?"
"Alice, sir. Alice Witchburn."
"...Witchburn?" he blinked.
"Yes...What's wrong with my name?"
"Oh!" he stumbled as his gaze retracted back into focus. "Nothing! It's just a very unusual name."
"So is Ollivander," I retorted, frowning slightly that even people in the wizarding world were going to make fun of my name.
"I just meant that for a witch to be called 'witchburn'... it's just very unusual." With that said, he didn't push the matter further. "Anyways, Alice, let's see if I've got the wand for you."
He climbed and brought down a small black box, no bigger than ten inches long.
"Try this. Hawthorn, dragon-heart string." I took the stick from him and waved, but nothing happened. I handed him it back to him right as he pulled out another box, only slightly longer.
"How about this one? Elm with a phoenix feather." I waved. Still nothing. He tried this with five more wands before he smiled a most curious smile.
"Hmmm... yes. I think I know the right wand for you." I reached out and grasped the wand, expecting another dud, before I suddenly felt a warm and abrupt energy going up my hand and all throughout my body.
"It's like its alive!" I gasped, almost dropping the wand in surprise.
"Wands are alive, in a way."
"What's the one I'm holding?"
"Hazel and an unicorn hair, thirteen-and-one-quarter inches, hard." Ollivander stated with a certain twinkle in his eye. "This is a very special wand, Alice. Be sure to take good care of it and yourself. Wands can sense when their wielders are in distress, and that sometimes can have negative repercussions for the user and the wand."
That's what he told me. So strange, it was like he knew my situation just by letting me try out wands. My family had been going through a bit of a rough patch ever since my parents told me they were getting a divorce. Dad had moved out to go live with his girlfriend Sabrina in some shady apartment, while my mother, sister, and I had to leave behind our old country house to move into a small condominium in the city.
She told me that my being a witch had nothing to do with the divorce or my father leaving, but I think she wasn't sure. At this point, I didn't care. I just wanted to get out of that house. If becoming a witch did it, so be it!
"Love you," she said, hugging me close. Reluctantly, I hugged her back.
"Love you too..." I think, deep down inside, I knew I was going to miss her. And my sister also. She was the only other person who could stand all my zaniness.
"I'll try to write often." I glanced at Joanna, who just gave me a quick hug and shuffled back behind our mother.
"Nervous?" my mum asked. I was ten years old and I was venturing off to my first "sleep-away camp," alone, knowing virtually nothing about magic, by running into a brick wall. Nervous was the first and foremost thing on my mind!
"Just get a running start in between those two signs. You'll be there before you know it. Okay, sweetie, good luck!"
My mother ushered my cart towards the column, and with great reluctance, I barreled with all my might towards that daunting brickwall.