Unusual

ONE

I sat, starring out the window at the slightly changing scenery outside my parent's small suburban cottage home thinking about the coming day. Another fall, and another school year coming too soon. For me the impending school year always brought new anxieties.

In most ways, I am like any other teenage girl –moody, dramatic, hormonal, and obsessed with clothes and music. In one very important way however, I am very different than your typical fifteen year old girl.

My name is Cassandra McKenzie and I am a witch (in training).

I had no choice in the decision of my fate. My entire family were, and are wizards or witches, the entire family tree. So, whether I liked it or not I was born with certain powers that I couldn't control or even begin to understand. I my mind, I would not have made this choice for myself. All I've ever wanted to be is normal, but, as I've proven time and time again, even in the unusual world of witchcraft, I still don't fit in.

Both my mom and dad were standouts in their class at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, both highly respected in our community. I, on the other hand, can barely make it through my classes. Aside from being academic overachievers, my parents met each other in their first year and were inseparable from that day on. I am currently in my fifth year, and still have not found my significant other, or even had a relationship at all. This worries my parents, but being the good parents that they are, they would never let me suspect it, but I can tell by the things they say.

"Maybe this year some lucky boy will catch your eye!" my mother said, like clockwork, as she did every year.

"Right mum, keep the dream alive." Was my standard, go to answer.

I my mind there were more important things than boys. The main thing being my vintage 1985 hot pink Fender Stratocaster. I am, and always have been a rock and roll girl, a fact that somewhat less than pleases my parents. In the normal tradition of parental thoughts, it comes up frequently that music isn't an essential skill in the world that we belong to.

Aside from the fact that I had no desire to live the life my parents planned out for me, and that as wizarding children go I was far less than perfect, my parents are pretty cool, unlike most. I can talk to my parents one on one about anything I care about, or any problem I may have. They are two of the best allies and friends that any girl could ever wish for. This is one of that many reasons why I dread going to school every year.

I do have a few great friends at school, but mostly I desire to hang around home and learn from my parents, which has been labeled as blasphemous in my household.

So, for the fifth year in a row, I sit here yet again, starring out my bedroom window wishing that tomorrow would take as long as it possibly can to get here. This is my usual routine on this day every year.

Sitting curled in a ball on my bed, I turned from my window for a moment, music still faintly drifting out the headphones tucked under my sweatshirt's hood. My attention was captured by the door being nudged open, while a little brown and white ball of hair crept into my room and jumped up onto the bed. The fuzz ball, my English Bulldog, Stella, coming to curl up next to me with her sad little eyes. She is always the only one who can comfort me when I'm in a mood like this.

I knew she could sense that I was upset, so I stroked her gently on the head until she fell asleep.

As I glanced around my room, I closed my eyes every so often, trying to memorize each sight with excruciating detail. This is the last time I'd see it for a long while, so I was going to take my time and savor the moment. I scanned over my walls filled with posters, my pictures of family and friends, my desk filled with all my hand written music, and finally my guitar perched in its corner. Lastly my eyes fell upon the one thing I wished was not a part of my room's décor…my trunk, decorated with every sticker I could fit on it, and filled to the brim with all my clothes and supplies for the coming year.

Just wonderful.

By this time, the afternoon had faded into evening and it was almost time for dinner. Every year my mother made my favorite dinner for me the night before school was back in session. It usually varied year to year on what the meal was, this year being homemade pizza and chips.

I got up from my bed and propelled myself forward down the steps, with Stella following at my rear.

"Nice to see you could join us!" were the first words I'd heard from my father all day, "You done sulking?"

"Hardly" was all I managed to get out before my nose led me to the sight of my mum pulling out the most delicious smelling pizza out of the oven. I was comforted by the fact that she could have very easily used magic to make it and would've been done much faster, but she knew that I preferred it the old fashioned way.

Dinner went fast, as it usually did on days like this, mostly due to the lack of conversation on my part. After we ate and the dishes and mess were cleaned up I said my goodnights and retired to my room.

My only thought upon entering my dank cave of a room, is hoping that the night would never end. I slipped into a pair of shorts and a tee and crawled into bed, my fat little Stella following behind. As she snuggled up closer to me in her usual spot at the end of the bed, I glanced up at my pictures again sighing, but this time one in particular caught my eye.

It was a picture that I'd seen a thousand times over the summer, one of my two best friends and me.

This one was one of my favorites; it was from the end of last semester. There in the middle of the frame were Katie, Angelina and I laughing hysterically while Fred and George Weasley transfigured bunny ears onto the tops of our heads. For some reason it was different, and I couldn't figure out what it was.

That's when I noticed a tall brown haired boy with piercing brown eyes starring at me with an intense look on his face.

"That can't be right; my mind is playing tricks on me." I muttered to myself, trying to rationalize what I was seeing. "Oliver Wood, starring at me? No, of course not."

I settled back into bed, with a blush creeping over the whole of my face. Had I never noticed it before? Was it really always there?

Then as I drifted off to sleep all I could think about was how pretty his eyes were, and how stupid of me for never noticing them before.

And then, for the first time in five years, although I'm not really sure how it happened, I was actually feeling excited about going back to school.