a/n: For old readers, same story, but I will be posting longer chapters from now on (kind of like a novel), so I thought I would compile some of the chapters into one big one. Thanks for reading, even with the bumpy start. Please leave reviews with your thoughts!

For new readers, welcome to Please, Continue! Hope you enjoy the ride

CHAPTER ONE

Life was changing rapidly for me. School had just ended (for the year) but I wasn't coming back at all. Which was terrifying, as I was moving to England for the rest of my teenage life. The scariest part was that I didn't know where I was going. My family had sent out all the applications and I had taken all the tests, but nothing had come in return, not even a rejection letter. Some part of me was hoping I hadn't gotten into any schools, and could leave England and come back to New York, where I lived currently. It wasn't totally impossible, after all, England had the top boarding schools. In addition, I had ADHD when it came to school.

I checked the mail box in front of the house for any letter from a school at 9:00, after I had stopped crying about my situation, but there was nothing except for a couple vouchers for a cruise in Jamaica.

10:30 I watched 4 episodes of The Office. One more season left

11:50 I crawled into bed

12:00 An owl flew by my open window. This was normal, of course, as there were a lot of owls in Upstate. I rolled over and pulled the covers up over my shoulders with a few tentative fingers. My fear of ghosts and spirits had lasted since my early childhood, and the owl hadn't helped. I screamed, then, when something limp-sounding landed with a wet slap on to my floorboards. I twisted in my bed, careful to keep all my limbs from crossing over the edge of the mattress, and stared at the are of the floor where the noise had come from, helpfully illuminated by the full moon. There was a wet letter lying on the wood, near my bed, grey and speckled with brown in places, like an eggshell. I darted from my bed and grabbed it, feeling it squish in my hand, then leaped back into the sheets. I pulled the switch to the small red crane-style lamp next to my bed, uncrumpled it, and flattened it out over my bare knee. In green ink, slightly blurred by water stains, was written:

Caroline Madson, the bedroom looking out onto West Cempton Street.

I froze and stared at the scripted words, then sighed. It was probably a prank from a neighbor. I glared at the wall, hoping my annoyance would ooze through the plaster and into the next house. Still, I opened the letter, tearing the damp paper with ease, but the letters were too blurred to make out anything. Sighing, I threw the letter into the garbage of my room and didn't think any more of it.

Summer passed by uneventfully. I finished The Office, of course, along with The Mindy Project and 30 Rock, and felt disgusting and disappointed in myself after I was done. And then moving day came, finally. And that's when everything started.

The plane smelled like sick and dentists offices, and there was a faint scent of fast food lingering on the seats. It had a nauseating effect overall. I had a window seat, near the back, which of course is where all the children sit. There was a baby screaming at the top of its lungs behind me, it's face scrunched up so tightly that he looked like a squeezed tomato. I pressed the cranked the volume of my headphones until it was dangerous then looked out the dirty glass of the window. There were a couple of men below, in fluorescent orange vests, loading our luggage onto the plane. I sat up to look for my duffle, but it was already stowed away. The safety message came on, then, and the baby started to howl from the noise, spittle trickling down it's front and clinging there. I groaned and pressed my cheek against the glass.

We had been in the air for about twenty minutes when the strange things started happening. There was a loud thunk on my window, right next to my cheek, and I started, one of my ear buds falling out. There was an owl, impossibly fast, bouncing into the window, it's dirty feathers streaking brown across the pane. I screamed so loudly that the baby, who had been napping for ten minutes, started over again at the top of it's lungs, causing the entire plane to turn and glare at me. I pressed my head into the back of the scratchy upholstery, staring at the large owl. It was tiring from flight, I could tell, but it had been noticed by the people around me. The old man to my left, who hadn't taken his eyes off of his cheeseburger since landing, was nudging me hard with his elbows and saying, "Would ya look at that. A great grey, that is," and chuckling breathily.

The owl was carrying something, I realized, in it's claws, a letter, but the subject of it was out of my vision. Suddenly, as if reading my thoughts, the owl flung the letter onto the window and fell back, disappearing into the clouds. The letter only stayed for a moment on the glass, being held there by the wind, but it was enough for me to read:

Caroline Madson, window seat 24 F.

I shrieked again, then quickly uncrumpled the ticket in my jeans pocket and checked my seat. 24F. I pressed my fingers to the glass, shoving my forehead against the window and looking out behind the plane, but there was nothing there. The clouds had swallowed the letter already. I looked for my parents, but they were near the front of the plane in separate seats, and I didn't want to climb over the man (who had resumed eating) next to me. The longer I sat, the more I realized that I hadn't had enough sleep the previous night and was probably imagining the whole letter. The script had been identical, though to the one on the letter that had been thrown into my room so many weeks before. But I could have been dreaming then, also. I rubbed my face, smelling the airplane on my fingers, then closed my eyes, letting the plane rock me to sleep.

The baby screamed so loudly that I woke up with a start, making me gag as my seatbelt stretched uncomfortably over my stomach. My mouth tasted like an animal had just died in it, and my ears were screaming in pain, so much so that tears were springing to my eyes. I yawned, loud and forced, to pop my ears, then checked the time on the screen in front of me. I had slept for five hours, leaving two hours left on the plane. I looked across the aisle for my parents, but a stewardess blocked my vision, her overly done-up face smiling painfully.

"Would you like some complimentary lunch?" She asked, stressing complimentary. I looked at the man next to me, but he was fast asleep, his head lolling slightly. I sighed.

"What do you have?"

"Excuse me?" she smiled, her lips stretched uncomfortably, as the baby let out a piercing wail that made the old man shake his head.

"What do you have," I repeated, careful not to breath too much in her face.

"Mushroom cream sauce with egg noodles or a bell pepper chicken sandwich! They're both very delicious," she said, holding the two meals far out in front of her body. "Jokes" I thought. The two containers looked even more unappetizing under the yellow light.

"Mushroom pasta, please," I muttered, clamping my lips shut as soon as I stopped speaking. I didn't have any gum, and my breath was bad enough to kill the entire plane. She handed me the meal then kept going down the aisle, her tight smile still pasted on her face. I opened the plastic lid of the meal, choking at the smell, and pulled took out the napkin that was covering the food. I stopped, as soon as it lifted, shocked. Underneath the napkin, on top of the utensils, was a letter identical to the one that I had seen on the window. I quickly pulled it out, using my fingertips in case in had food on it, and tore it open. On creamy, thick paper, was written:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Dear Miss Madson,

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We understand that you are a special circumstance; all complications will be taken care of by your guardian for the magical world, George Weasley.

Yours Sincerely,

Cho Chang

Deputy Headmistress

I stared, dumbfounded, at the letter, then quickly skimmed over the list of books and equipment. I laughed at the script: Wand, robes, cauldrons. The stewardess was coming back down the aisle, and I waved my hand at her, my mouth open in preparation for all the questions I had. She smiled at me, then pulled out a slender wooden stick and muttered something. My uneaten lunch lifted off my tray table, scattering the torn-up letter all over my lap, and then zoomed towards her, unattached to anything else. As she caught it, she winked, and then walked away, leaving me staring open-mouthed after her.

We had just touched down, and already the windows had grown clammy and misted from the dreary English weather. I, meanwhile, had been checking the seats and aisle for hidden strings and magnets, and trying in vain to get the stewardess' attention as she walked past. My parents were waiting for me as I walked out of the airplane, watching me as I nodded shyly at the pilot as he bid me farewell. I ran towards them as soon as I got close and shoved the letter into their outstretched arms.

"Guys there was this owl that was flying next to my window and it threw this letter at the window but not this letter, another letter but it fell into the clouds and I couldn't see it but the owl was ACTUALLY FLYING WITH THE PLANE and then I got lunch and this letter was under my napkin and it has my seat number and everything and it knows my name and it looks just like a letter I got on last day but that one said where we lived and then," I paused, out of breath, then continued, "the stewardess that gave me lunch gave me this huge wink and took like a magic wand out and said something but I couldn't hear it and then my lunch started FLOATING."

"...what?" said my dad, rubbing his eyes.

"You just need some rest," my mother said, laying her hand on my rats nest of hair. "Luke, have you called the car? Our bags are waiting in the baggage claim area. Go outside and wait for the taxi, Caro and I will go get the luggage." She handed the letter back to me, not even looking at it. "It was probably a prank, honey. You're probably just so excited to start our new life here!" she laughed, already walking ahead. I turned to my dad.

"Do you believe me?"

"Come on, Care-Bear, floating airplane food and owls? You're a funny kid, but sometimes your jokes don't make sense. Is this one of these new pop-culture things?" I groaned and pulled at the sleeve of his button-down, forcing him to a stop.

"I swear it happened! Look at this letter!" I pushed it up to his face, and his nose wrinkled. He pushed it back down towards me with a firm hand and looked around with an expression stating: can you believe this kid?

"Let's go get our stuff, and after maybe we can explore London. Sound good?" he asked, hitching his backpack over his shoulders and starting up the ramp.

"It happened," I muttered, shoving the letter into my back pocket and racing to catch up with them.

I stayed silent for the entire trip home until we got to the apartment. It was nice, with two floors and a loft (which I immediately claimed as my own). The loft had a wooden ladder leading up to it. The roof of the townhouse made up my room's ceiling, leaving a slanted, dusty look to the room. A singular, floor to roof window faced out onto the street, displaying the rainy and dismal streets of Britain below. The actual room was bare besides my mattress, as we hadn't brought any of our old furniture along with us. I immediately fell onto the makeshift bed, the dust swirling up around me like a sandstorm, and began to examine the letter.

Who was George Weasley?

I rolled over, releasing another cloud of dust. The green ink was shining impossibly bright, illuminating the words WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY. I had just started to mouth them when the doorbell rang, a harsh, sharp sound that resounded throughout the entire house. I crept down the ladder, keeping the letter in one hand, and then padded down the varnished stairs to the hallway. My mother was already there, looking confused.

"Your father didn't call the movers yet, did he?" she asked, her hand hovering over the doorknob. I shrugged. The doorbell rang again, and my mother jumped, and then opened the door. On the doorstep was a man, late into his thirties or early forties, wearing a large green pea coat over a silk pinstriped purple suit and black dress shoes. He had a cocky, face-crossing grin, and a shock of red hair only further illuminated by the bleak outside. The freckles crossing his face were uncountable, and the brown eyes that were so crinkled at the edges from laughter held a sort of sadness to them. He surveyed the threshold with these same eyes, until his gaze fell upon me. He grinned toothily, then stuck out a freckled hand.

"George Weasley, pleased to meet you."

I stared, mouth agape, at him. His outfit was so bizarre and clashing so horribly with his hair. My mother was staring at him too, her eyes and mouth three large holes in her head.

"Well," he said, putting his hand in a silk pocket, "won't you let me in, then?" He had a British accent, which made me immediately jealous. My mother stared at him for one more second, then closed her mouth and spoke.

"I'm sorry, but do we know you?"

"I dare say your daughter does," he said, gesturing with a hand to the letter I was clutching. My mother turned to me, a questioning look in her eyes.

"I don't know him, Mom, his name is just on the letter I tried to show you before." I muttered, smoothing the letter out onto my palm.

"But that was a joke letter!" She cried, looking back at the man, or George. "How do you know my daughter?"

"I see we have much explaining to do. Ah well, best get on with it. Call your father," he grinned, addressing me with a wink and stepping into our new house. I called my dad and we all went into the new living room, which had no sofa but a couple ornamental pillows strewn about. George immediately pulled one out to sit on and began eating a purple toffee I had never seen before. I stared at him.

"Want one?" he asked, holding out a gold-velvet bag to me, bulging with other toffees. I shook my head. He sighed and put the bag back in his vest pocket. "Well, I trust you have seen the letter Caroline received on the plane?" how did he know my name? I looked at my dad. It was clear he was thinking the same thing. He cleared his throat.

"Look, sir, I don't know who you are but if this is a scam, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave," my Dad said, his adams apple bobbing. George turned pale for a second, but then his easy grin returned.

"No sir, not a scam," he chuckled, pulling out a stick similar to the one that the stewardess on the plane was carrying. "Perhaps I'll show you." He muttered something and the pillows in the room (besides the one he was sitting on) flipped up on their ends and started to jump around in the most peculiar fashion. We all shrieked and cowered away from the pillows.

"What are you doing?" cried my dad, tentatively pushing a fringed red cushion out of his face.

"Magic!" exclaimed George, then seeing the look on our faces, stopped doing jazz hands. "You see, magic had been in the world for as long as you muggles, or ordinary humans have been in the world. Mine and Caro's kind," I jumped, and so did my parents "have been in hiding due to the great witch hunts back in the day. It has been all around you your entire life, I promise. Caro, here, has been able to do magic her whole life, but has never had the right tools to accomplish it." He waved his wand, sending a shower of sparks that caused my mom to shriek. "Now that she is in England, she had been invited to go to the best magical school in all of Britain, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! That is, of course, what the letter meant. I am to be her guardian for the magical world, she will stay with me and my family until term starts, which is in three weeks." He winked at me with this. I was so shocked by what he had just said I couldn't even react. Magic? What on earth? My dad was repeatedly opening his mouth, and then closing it, like a fish. Suddenly he jerked his head up and looked sharply at George. George flinched.

"My daughter is like you? She can do... do this?" he asked, gesturing at the twirling pillows.

"Quite right!" George grinned, adjusting his suit lapels. My dad suddenly stood up, his eyes bright like fire.

"I knew it! I knew magic existed! Ever since I was a little boy... I would see it everywhere! Caro will definitely go," Slowly he paused, looking at me. I grinned at him, confused. "Isn't a little late to go to magical school? She's fourteen," he asked George. My mom had stood up too. She looked excited, but wary.

"Hogwarts will take her. She will just be transferring in. She's only missed two years, anyway." My stomach twisted into a knot. I hated meeting new people. A small cough sounded from my mom. We all turned to look at her. She blushed.

"Could you... could you show us some more magic?" she blushed again, her entire face a bright tomato red. George grinned.

"Of course, anything you like." He waved his wand. The walls, which had been painted a dull, horrid brown, suddenly turned white and small, blue, Chinese-like painted flowers started blooming across the surface. The floors shined like they had just been waxed, and the pillows stopped dancing. They arranged themselves into a brightly colored carpet covered in beautiful mirror shards and fringe, then flattened themselves and sank into the floor. We stared, awestruck, as the last flower unfolded itself on the wall.

"Will...will Caro be able to do that?" My father asked, after the silence had stretched out for too long.

"You bet!" grinned George, twirling his wand. "Do you like the living room? Thought it would add a drop more color." My mother nodded, reaching out to touch the newly patterned walls with a tentative hand.

"Well, I must be off. It makes me so happy to hear that Caro will be joining the students at Hogwarts. I shall be here at noon tomorrow to take Caro out and show her around the Wizarding World! Best of luck to you all!" He flashed me a smile, and then with a spin of his heel, he was gone. My parents and I stared at the spot where he had last been standing.

It was hard to fall asleep that night.