Chapter 1 – Many, Many Letters
A sweltering haze lay on the houses of a street. The air shimmered not two feet away from everyone, if they were stupid enough to come outside and look. Inside one of the houses, basking in the glory of an air conditioner, sat a tiny girl with blonde hair and blue eyes called Elizabeth Potter.
People said she looked like her mother, but Liz didn't know for sure. Her mother was dead, or so people thought. Elizabeth, or Liz as she was more commonly called, had received letters from her and believed she was alive. How could a dead person send mail? Her father was dead, too, so she lived with her adoptive family, a nice normal family, the Smiths.
A year ago, the earth as Liz knew it shattered around her when she got a letter carried by an owl. An owl, no less. It had said she had been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The she had learned all the true facts about her life, about her parents' deaths (her father had come home one evening to find her mother dead, and then he disappeared), her powers, and her school. The school year had been chaotic, to say the least, but in the end it was Liz who saved the day.
Right now, Liz was writing a letter to one of her best friends, Rachel Yates. Rachel was half-blood (her mother was a witch and her father was a Muggle) and had two little sisters, Carla and Theresa. They were ten.
Dear Rachel,
How is your summer going? Mine is going fine. The only problem is Emma. Urgh. I've already completed all my summer assignments. How about you? I hope you're doing great. Please owl me back.
Liz
"Come here, Luna," she called softly to her owl. It hooted, fluttered over to her, and alighted on a bedpost. Liz rolled up the scrap piece of parchment and attached it to Luna's leg. Luna hooted again and soared away through the window. Liz sighed and reached for her wand. She didn't want to do magic; on the contrary, it was strictly forbidden of underage witches and wizards to perform magic over the summer.
But her wand wasn't in her upper left-hand desk drawer where she kept it. Liz rummaged through it, and then she proceeded to do the same to the rest of her drawers. After that, she sat and thought, and one particular thought struck her. "No," she told herself. But a sound came from the next room, a sound like a long wooden stick being smashed on something, and a small yelp followed.
Liz raced out of her room and to Emma's. Her adoptive sister had her wand and was beating it against her knee. Each time she tried, it sparked and caused Emma's hand and knee to blister. Still, she kept on trying to snap it in two, but the wand was putting up a remarkable fight.
"Give that back! It's mine!" Liz shrieked, grabbing her wand.
"No, you freak!" Emma cried out, tugging on the other end.
The struggle continued until Mrs. Smith entered the room and broke them up. "She was deliberately trying to snap my wand!"
"Freak," Emma muttered under her breath.
"Emma, dear, I've told you about this."
Liz turned away. Emma would just get a stern talking-to, nothing more. The Smiths couldn't bear to really punish either of their daughters, adopted or no. Liz wished they would have the guts to punish Emma. She had made Liz's life miserable ever since Liz had gotten her letter from Hogwarts. Before that, the two had been best friends. Now Emma was at Liz's throat.
Liz took the wand back to her room and checked it over for any damage. There was none. Amazing, really. It must have been especially sturdy. She polished it with a wand-care kit she had bought at Diagon Alley the previous year.
Diagon Alley. She needed to go after she got her supply list. And the then the school year would begin again. She couldn't wait to go back.
A large, resonating hoot echoed from far away. Liz's head automatically snapped toward the window. A large tawny owl shot through the window, bearing a letter with the Hogwarts coat of arms. Liz took it and opened it up.
Dear Miss Potter,
We are pleased to notify you that you second year is approaching. Term begins on September 1st. Your supply list and your train ticket are enclosed.
Minerva McGonagall
Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Liz grinned. It was here. She should owl Michael and ask if he and his parents could take her to Diagon Alley. If only she hadn't sent Luna to Rachel...
But here was Luna, flying back to her. She was still a distance off. Was something wrong? As the owl came closer, Liz could see that it was not her owl, but she recognized it. It was the owl, a large version of her tiny snow owl, that brought letters from Liz's mother, Luna. The one Liz still believed to be alive.
The owl dropped the letter and took off. Fingers trembling, Liz picked it up and ripped it open. A piece of parchment fell out, and sure enough, it was in her mother's handwriting.
Dear Elizabeth,
You're starting your second year! How exciting. I remember my second year. The summer before, a notorious criminal named Sirius Black broke out of Azkaban. It turned out that he was your father's godfather. I met him...well, not really. I saw him once. It was right before he died. But that was in my fourth year, two...no, it was in the summer after, so it was about three years after. Anyway, have a nice year, dear.
Love, your mother,
Luna
Even though Liz had read all about Sirius Black and even that, when her father was about sixteen, it had been revealed that he was his godfather, it felt a lot more important hearing it from her mother. She hadn't had a letter from Luna since her birthday in March.
Thinking about her mother forced her to think about the lies she had told Rachel and Michael. They wouldn't believe her unless there was proof. And the letters could be denied as proof.
Liz's kitten, Sunny, purred and curled around her legs. Liz picked her up, placed her in her lap, and stroked her, thinking. Mostly about her mother, but some about her best friends. Rachel was at her home with her parents and her sisters. Michael was wherever he lived with his mother, Hermione Weasley, a teacher of Transfiguration at Hogwarts; his father, Ron Weasley; and his older sister, Jessica, an almost perfect replica, though smaller, of her mother. Michael was the same way with his dad.
But then she thought about Chris and how his summer was probably going. Chris Scott was a Squib, a person who was born to magic people but couldn't do magic. Ashamed, his parents had disowned him and sent him to live with and help Hagrid, Hogwarts's elderly gamekeeper. He hadn't seen his parents since he was eight or nine. Liz couldn't imagine having parents who hated her because she was different; then again, she supposed many people couldn't imagine having parents who were at least presumed dead. Chris didn't spend his summer studying and writing to his friends. He probably spent it chasing after some of Hagrid's illegal breeding experiments.
Frustrated with the way thinking distraught her, Liz picked up a book from her bookshelf, flipped to a random page, and began to read.
Harry Potter was born on July 31, 1980. On October 31, 1981, Voldemort attacked his house and killed his parents, James and Lily Potter. In 1991, Harry Potter began his term at Hogwarts. During the summer of 1995, Voldemort, Harry Potter's arch nemesis, returned from hiding. Through media and political misunderstanding, this information did not reach the public until a year later. In the summer of 1998, Harry Potter defeated Voldemort once and for all.
Liz frowned and looked at the heading of the article. "HARRY POTTER- SYNOPSIS-1980-1998." Of course. Almost every book she owned at least mentioned her father. Her mother had been mentioned briefly. That bothered Liz. Her mother had been just as important as her father, if not more. She had kept up his spirits, probably. She imagined that he had been pretty stressed when he met her. Maybe she could ask the Weasley adults when she saw them. Where was that Luna owl when she needed her? Taking a letter to her other best friend. Maybe she would get two owls.
As if on cue, Michael's owl, George, perched on the windowsill. It waved its leg upon which a letter was attached. Liz hurriedly unattached it and read.
Dear Liz,
We've going to Diagon Alley on Friday. Send George back ASAP if you want to come. If so, we'll pick you up at eleven on Friday. Why are you still reading? WRITE!
Michael
Liz tore a piece of parchment off the bottom, hastily scribbled, "YES, I'M COMING. SEE YOU THEN, LIZ," and attached it to George. "Go! Go take it to Michael!" she urged. "It's Thursday today!"
The owl hooted, looking disgruntled, and took off. Liz watched it go with no small satisfaction.
A sweltering haze lay on the houses of a street. The air shimmered not two feet away from everyone, if they were stupid enough to come outside and look. Inside one of the houses, basking in the glory of an air conditioner, sat a tiny girl with blonde hair and blue eyes called Elizabeth Potter.
People said she looked like her mother, but Liz didn't know for sure. Her mother was dead, or so people thought. Elizabeth, or Liz as she was more commonly called, had received letters from her and believed she was alive. How could a dead person send mail? Her father was dead, too, so she lived with her adoptive family, a nice normal family, the Smiths.
A year ago, the earth as Liz knew it shattered around her when she got a letter carried by an owl. An owl, no less. It had said she had been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The she had learned all the true facts about her life, about her parents' deaths (her father had come home one evening to find her mother dead, and then he disappeared), her powers, and her school. The school year had been chaotic, to say the least, but in the end it was Liz who saved the day.
Right now, Liz was writing a letter to one of her best friends, Rachel Yates. Rachel was half-blood (her mother was a witch and her father was a Muggle) and had two little sisters, Carla and Theresa. They were ten.
Dear Rachel,
How is your summer going? Mine is going fine. The only problem is Emma. Urgh. I've already completed all my summer assignments. How about you? I hope you're doing great. Please owl me back.
Liz
"Come here, Luna," she called softly to her owl. It hooted, fluttered over to her, and alighted on a bedpost. Liz rolled up the scrap piece of parchment and attached it to Luna's leg. Luna hooted again and soared away through the window. Liz sighed and reached for her wand. She didn't want to do magic; on the contrary, it was strictly forbidden of underage witches and wizards to perform magic over the summer.
But her wand wasn't in her upper left-hand desk drawer where she kept it. Liz rummaged through it, and then she proceeded to do the same to the rest of her drawers. After that, she sat and thought, and one particular thought struck her. "No," she told herself. But a sound came from the next room, a sound like a long wooden stick being smashed on something, and a small yelp followed.
Liz raced out of her room and to Emma's. Her adoptive sister had her wand and was beating it against her knee. Each time she tried, it sparked and caused Emma's hand and knee to blister. Still, she kept on trying to snap it in two, but the wand was putting up a remarkable fight.
"Give that back! It's mine!" Liz shrieked, grabbing her wand.
"No, you freak!" Emma cried out, tugging on the other end.
The struggle continued until Mrs. Smith entered the room and broke them up. "She was deliberately trying to snap my wand!"
"Freak," Emma muttered under her breath.
"Emma, dear, I've told you about this."
Liz turned away. Emma would just get a stern talking-to, nothing more. The Smiths couldn't bear to really punish either of their daughters, adopted or no. Liz wished they would have the guts to punish Emma. She had made Liz's life miserable ever since Liz had gotten her letter from Hogwarts. Before that, the two had been best friends. Now Emma was at Liz's throat.
Liz took the wand back to her room and checked it over for any damage. There was none. Amazing, really. It must have been especially sturdy. She polished it with a wand-care kit she had bought at Diagon Alley the previous year.
Diagon Alley. She needed to go after she got her supply list. And the then the school year would begin again. She couldn't wait to go back.
A large, resonating hoot echoed from far away. Liz's head automatically snapped toward the window. A large tawny owl shot through the window, bearing a letter with the Hogwarts coat of arms. Liz took it and opened it up.
Dear Miss Potter,
We are pleased to notify you that you second year is approaching. Term begins on September 1st. Your supply list and your train ticket are enclosed.
Minerva McGonagall
Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Liz grinned. It was here. She should owl Michael and ask if he and his parents could take her to Diagon Alley. If only she hadn't sent Luna to Rachel...
But here was Luna, flying back to her. She was still a distance off. Was something wrong? As the owl came closer, Liz could see that it was not her owl, but she recognized it. It was the owl, a large version of her tiny snow owl, that brought letters from Liz's mother, Luna. The one Liz still believed to be alive.
The owl dropped the letter and took off. Fingers trembling, Liz picked it up and ripped it open. A piece of parchment fell out, and sure enough, it was in her mother's handwriting.
Dear Elizabeth,
You're starting your second year! How exciting. I remember my second year. The summer before, a notorious criminal named Sirius Black broke out of Azkaban. It turned out that he was your father's godfather. I met him...well, not really. I saw him once. It was right before he died. But that was in my fourth year, two...no, it was in the summer after, so it was about three years after. Anyway, have a nice year, dear.
Love, your mother,
Luna
Even though Liz had read all about Sirius Black and even that, when her father was about sixteen, it had been revealed that he was his godfather, it felt a lot more important hearing it from her mother. She hadn't had a letter from Luna since her birthday in March.
Thinking about her mother forced her to think about the lies she had told Rachel and Michael. They wouldn't believe her unless there was proof. And the letters could be denied as proof.
Liz's kitten, Sunny, purred and curled around her legs. Liz picked her up, placed her in her lap, and stroked her, thinking. Mostly about her mother, but some about her best friends. Rachel was at her home with her parents and her sisters. Michael was wherever he lived with his mother, Hermione Weasley, a teacher of Transfiguration at Hogwarts; his father, Ron Weasley; and his older sister, Jessica, an almost perfect replica, though smaller, of her mother. Michael was the same way with his dad.
But then she thought about Chris and how his summer was probably going. Chris Scott was a Squib, a person who was born to magic people but couldn't do magic. Ashamed, his parents had disowned him and sent him to live with and help Hagrid, Hogwarts's elderly gamekeeper. He hadn't seen his parents since he was eight or nine. Liz couldn't imagine having parents who hated her because she was different; then again, she supposed many people couldn't imagine having parents who were at least presumed dead. Chris didn't spend his summer studying and writing to his friends. He probably spent it chasing after some of Hagrid's illegal breeding experiments.
Frustrated with the way thinking distraught her, Liz picked up a book from her bookshelf, flipped to a random page, and began to read.
Harry Potter was born on July 31, 1980. On October 31, 1981, Voldemort attacked his house and killed his parents, James and Lily Potter. In 1991, Harry Potter began his term at Hogwarts. During the summer of 1995, Voldemort, Harry Potter's arch nemesis, returned from hiding. Through media and political misunderstanding, this information did not reach the public until a year later. In the summer of 1998, Harry Potter defeated Voldemort once and for all.
Liz frowned and looked at the heading of the article. "HARRY POTTER- SYNOPSIS-1980-1998." Of course. Almost every book she owned at least mentioned her father. Her mother had been mentioned briefly. That bothered Liz. Her mother had been just as important as her father, if not more. She had kept up his spirits, probably. She imagined that he had been pretty stressed when he met her. Maybe she could ask the Weasley adults when she saw them. Where was that Luna owl when she needed her? Taking a letter to her other best friend. Maybe she would get two owls.
As if on cue, Michael's owl, George, perched on the windowsill. It waved its leg upon which a letter was attached. Liz hurriedly unattached it and read.
Dear Liz,
We've going to Diagon Alley on Friday. Send George back ASAP if you want to come. If so, we'll pick you up at eleven on Friday. Why are you still reading? WRITE!
Michael
Liz tore a piece of parchment off the bottom, hastily scribbled, "YES, I'M COMING. SEE YOU THEN, LIZ," and attached it to George. "Go! Go take it to Michael!" she urged. "It's Thursday today!"
The owl hooted, looking disgruntled, and took off. Liz watched it go with no small satisfaction.