Chapter One:A Familiar Sound

It was six in the morning of August the thirty-first and my mother was telling me to wake up. The thing is, I was too tired to wake up, so I decided to sleep for another couple of minutes. When I glanced at the clock, it was half past six and my mother said: "Susy, wake up already! You don't want to be late for school!" but I had not enough energy to hear, or perhaps I didn't want to hear, so I continued to sleep recklessly. At five to seven, after another few shouts by my mother that again I did not hear, it was the time I had apparently crossed the line, and it was when my mother had to shout: "Susanna Cecillia! Get up this instant or those Harry Potter books of yours are going to pay the price!" At that moment, my legs gathered strength from nowhere and stood me up in front of the mirror to reveal a skinny, brown-haired girl. I dressed up, combed my hair and had breakfast. Minutes later I was on my way to school — by car, of course — Henry Ford's bright idea of the 19th century — driven by my mother who understood me a lot better than anyone else (besides my friends and my cousin).

We had almost reached school, when a loud noise entered my ears; it was a noise that a car without a muffler would make. This reminded me of the second Harry Potter film in which Ron and Harry get on an old car which made a sound very much like the one I was hearing. Harry Potter was my obsession. I had posters, movies, books, soundtracks, and therefore, all about him. . . Well, almost. At least more Harry Potter things than normal people would own. As the sound was nothing of my concern, I slipped it out of my mind and began to prepare myself – mentally – for today's lessons.

My mother kissed me good-bye on the cheek, I grabbed my bag, entered my school and went to the library (one of the best places of the school) and studied until the bell had rung. When it did, I closed the book I was reading, seized my bag and walked towards the line already formed by some youngsters about my age. We went up some stairs and stepped into the classroom, where about two dozens of kids filled each and every one of the desks in it. Mrs. Alvarez, my homeroom and Spanish teacher, had shown up dressed, as always, with very fancy clothes and jewellery (today's fashion comprised of orange heels, a silver necklace with three eye-catching gems, fist-sized earrings, and a colourful striped skirt) . She was announcing the day of our next test. "Oh, great," I thought, because the day she chose was shortly after the day I was planning to go to the movies to see the new Harry Potter film with my friends. I looked at Stephanie and she had a face similar to mine. So, I thought it would be better if I studied for the test starting today.

Ten o'clock passed and I was in recess, one of my favourite periods at school (besides Algebra, English, History, Spanish, Religion and Science), just because I could chitchat with my friends without getting scolded. Jennifer, Stephanie and I were having a quite interesting conversation about Harry Potter, but Tatianna wasn't much into that kind of stuff. She was sort of the old-fashioned, 17th-century traditional girl. However, I liked her because she shared many of my interests, including reading. She was my best friend.

Our conversation broke off suddenly: the guidance counsellor was calling my name; I walked toward her and she leaded me into the office. Many of the kids standing by were saying things like "It's probably an F, Susanna," "The headmaster must want to talk to you about your dreadful grades," "Behaviour issues?" and "Why do you keep getting into problems?", but I ignored them all, because I knew they were just pulling my leg. When I got to the office, she handed me the phone. I apparently had a call from my mother — I answered quickly:

"Susanna, today I am going to be a bit late to pick you up because – er – the chorus is going to rehearse at 1:30 for tomorrow's wedding, so you stay in school until the time I come, ok?"

"Yes, mother, I will."

"It won't last more than an hour, I think. . ."

"Don't worry! I'll wait. I assure you I won't get bored, I have a lot of homework to do already!"

"Alright. Then bye, dear. Take care!"

"Good-bye, mom."

When I got back with my friends, they asked me what was all about; I told them it was nothing to worry about . . .

At long last it was half past one, time to end up school for today, and wait, as told, for my mother to pick me up. I loved school but the teachers had overwhelmed us with so many work today that I was eager to get home and rest a bit. Two and three o'clock passed so that there were no students left in my school, at least as far as my eyes could reach. I kept looking out, to see no cars passing by, so I decided that I would grab a pencil and start my homework early to make the most of time. A snowy-white pigeon appeared in the tree by which I was working.

When I had almost finished with my Algebra homework, I hear a sound, a deep, noisy sound that resembled the one I had heard on my way to school . . . It was the sound of a car! I approached the school gates, looked out in every possible direction, hoping that my mother had arrived, but I was wrong, the street was completely deserted. I returned to the bench where I was doing my homework and continued to study. A taller snowy-white pigeon arrived and sat down beside the other one. Their behaviour was quite strange; it seemed almost as though they were discussing something important in birdish.

After a while the sound had gone, and I wasn't worried anymore, except by the fact that my mother had not yet arrived. Suddenly, another sound woke up my ears. But this time, it sounded like a large bird flapping its wings. I looked up, frowned and muttered "This must be a joke," when I saw that it was a screech owl carrying a paper on its feet, heading toward the bench I was sitting on, which was weird, because owls were not common in my country, much less common if they were carrying what seemed to be a letter. The owl landed on top of my books and, after I had recovered from the shock that followed the scene, I seized the letter attached to its legs. After I had the letter on my hands, the owl flew away; I was so stunned by the scene that I had not time to thank the owl or even say good-bye to it. The letter's envelope read:

Ms. S. Cecillia

The Bench Under the Tree

Saint George's School

Puerto Rico

"How strange," I thought to myself. I turned the letter over and saw an odd but familiar seal: It was a coat of arms divided in four: an animal in each of the spaces. In the first one there was a lion, in the second one, a snake; in the third, a badger; in the fourth, a raven; and in the very centre, the letter H. I completely knew where this letter had come from, but the mere fact that it had come to me was so weird that I almost couldn't believe it. This letter had come all the way from Hogwarts onto my hands. I opened the envelope and read to myself: "Dear Ms. Galicia: We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry . . . "

Then, another shock came, while I thought: I have been accepted at a magic school! But, isn't magic a made-up thing? Isn't magic based on scientific fundamentals and visual effects? Hold on. . . This must be a joke. . . Magic? Hogwarts? Impossible!

But. . . What if this is serious and magic doesexist? What if Dumbledore do wants me in Hogwarts? What would happen to my family? Mom, Dad, my friends — I can't just go and leave without saying good-bye to them! And — what about school? I want to be a professional when I grow up! And — oh! Tomorrow I have three tests! I can't leave and fail all three! And what about my most treasured possessions? My books, my CD's, my clothes, my laptop! I can't possibly leave all this behind! And — oh no! What about sundays? I have to go to mass and thank God for everything! And — the orchestra! And — Oh, this is just awful. . .

But Hogwarts is for people with magical talent — not muggle-born muggles with no magical talent at all like me. I have never ever done something I could call magic. Not unless you call being able to stay silent during minutes at school as a magical ability. Anyway, if I got this letter, it means there's a light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe I have not fully developed my magical abilities, and Hogwarts is just what I need to educate them.

Even so, how am I to get there? Hogwarts is thousands of miles from here! And — Oh, now that I remember, term starts tomorrow, September the first! There's no hope for me to find a plane that leaves for England before long! But if magic does exist, then I can get there in no time by using some special gadget, I'm sure. . .

What am I thinking? I'm not even sure if all this is true! It's probably someone playing a joke on me. . . Someone who knows I'm a big Harry Potter fan. . . This is exactly the sort of joke that my friends would play on me. . .Yes, that's probably what's going on — someone who wants to have a little of fun by making me believe that magic exists and that —

My thoughts broke off, for the sound of a car had appeared again. I dashed toward the gates of the school. Again, there was nothing there, but as I headed onto my workspace, I saw that the source of the sound was right on top of me, and a third shock struck me (I wondered why I had not received a heart attack yet): A light-blue car was flying over the school grounds, looking for a place to set down and, spotting the courtyard, lowered itself landing safely on it. "God, help me! This has to be a dream!"The two snowy pigeons flew away to the north. I didn't know why, but their departure made me feel vulnerable, lonely and sad. I could now clearly see the car labelled Ford Anglia and its plaque — located on the back side — labelled 7990 TD. Three red dots and a brown one were visible through the car's windows, and I realized they were Ron, Fred, George, and another boy, perhaps Percy. They were getting out of the car by now. "Oh, this has simply got to be a dream!"

"Hello!" said the youngest brother looking self-respectful. "I'm Ron."

"And we're Fred —"

" — And George," said the twins as one. "And we are the family pride."

"Right . . . " said Ron with a sarcastic look on his face. In that moment, the fact that all the Weasleys were red-haired came to me, and then I knew that the one in the car couldn't be Percy. But before the name of the person that I thought was in the car reached my brain's central station, another person had said it. "Anyway, this is Harry. . . .", he said dashing toward the car, snatching a boy's arm and pulling him out of his seat.

I was dumbstruck in amazement. Harry was more handsome in real life than he was in posters or movies. I didn't move or say anything. I was just there standing petrified face to face with the boy that haunted my dreams. His eyes were as blue as the sky in a sunny day, and his hair as dark as a cloudless, moonless night.

"Hello," said the boy, and his words drowned me even more into the shock; I loved his English accent.

"Hi," I said, not looking at Harry, because if I did it I wouldn't have been able to talk to him. Also, I was trying not to sound delirious or nervous, because that was precisely the way I was feeling at the moment.

"Thou must certainly be Thy Royal Highness Queen Susan of Richport, Pearl of the Caribbean, island of outstanding beauty, the daughter of the Sun and the Sea. It pleases me greatly to be at thy presence, Your Majesty," said George, kneeling and kissing my hand. Then he stood up and received a nudge from Ron. "Er — I mean — Are you Susanna? "

"Yes," I said, giggling but still avoiding Harry's gaze.

"And is Your Oh So Majestic Highness prepared for a long and exciting journey full of adventure, beasts and warriors of supreme calibre?" said Fred, doing just as George had done.

"Just tell her where we're going to take her!" said Ron furiously.

"Oh, sorry, we were just trying to be decent to her!" said Fred, standing up and cleaning his knees from dirt.

"Decent? By making her believe that we're from the tenth century? She's going to think she's mental or something — or, more likely, that you're mental!" Ron said.

"I think he's been spending too much time with Hermione, don't you think, Fred?" said George. Fred nodded.

"N-No, not really," said Ron, blushing while his ears turned red.

"Well, then go on! Tell her yourself."

"No, I'm not telling her. . ."

"Ron, I don't think you've realized she's hearing every word we speak."

"Yeah, I've noticed!" he snapped. "I don't mind her thinking I'm a stupid maniac."

"Please, Ron, I really want to hear whatever you have to say," I said suddenly. Ron hesitated for a moment.

"Well, if you put it that way, I guess I'll have to tell you,"— he cleared his throat — "Dad told us that he received an owl from Dumbledore telling him that he wants us to pick you up and take you to Hogwarts with us this year."

There was a five-second pause and then I said, "Really?" I tried not to sound overexcited now. "Why?"

"Wait! Waity, waity! Hold it, hold it! She doesn't have a clue of what you're talking about, Ron. Hullo! Did you forget she's a muggle?" said George, slightly worried. "Muggle. . . You know. . . 'Non-magic folk', according to Hagrid's encyclopaedia . . ." The know-it-all Susanna was saying, Yes, yes, I am a muggle, but that doesn't mean I'm brainless. I do know what he's talking about! I'm smart enough to know that!

"No, I haven't forgotten. But, then, what do you want me to say?" asked Ron, angrily.

"Obviously all about you-know-what!" said Fred, angrier than Ron.

"What about what?" asked Ron, his mind apparently in blank. Even I was guessing what the twins wanted Ron to tell me about: magic.

"Obviously all about magic!" said George matter-of-factly.

"Oh — yeah! Don't worry, I'm a pro at that!," Ron said, excitedly. Fred and his twin brother exchanged looks of disbelief. He sighed deeply and then asked me: "Do you know anything about magic?"

"Of course — " I began, preparing to say that I did know, but Fred interrupted me.

"Of course she doesn't! She's a muggle! Hello! Do you want me to repeat it again? Muggle — non-magic person! She probably hasn't even heard the term before!" The know-it-all Susanna rapidly bursted inside me once again: Tsk, of course I do! Do you think I'm a stupid person?

"So that means that I have to explain her every nook and cranny about magic?" asked Ron, looking frightened.

"No, no, just tell her the basics," said George.

"And what exactly are the basics of magic?" asked Ron; I couldn't believe my ears.

"I thought you were a pro at that, Ronnie," said Fred.

"Yeah, you tell her, you're the one who got interested in inviting her to Hogwarts."

"No, I wasn't, it was you two who wanted to come and get her — "

"Liar! Actually we're forgetting that Dad is the one who started all this."

"Actually, it was Dumbledore," said Harry suddenly, looking at the watch on his wrist. "And if you guys didn't notice, it's getting late — "

"Yeah okay!" said Ron, followed by a deep sigh that made me think that Ron didn't like explaining very much. "Here it goes: Susanna, I am cheerful to tell you that you can lift yourself up and float in midair, transform a thing into another, disappear and appear in another place, to defend yourself from enemies, or whatever that may have appeared in a dream of yours. In other words — magic exists." He looked at the twins and whispered, "Is that okay?"

"Fair," they whispered in unison.

"I'm impressed," I said, and if I had been a cartoon, my jaw would probably be falling gradually towards the ground by now. Although Ron's words were something I was expecting him to say since they had all arrived, they took me aback as if it were the first time I was hearing them — well, yes, it was the first time. . .

"And so, you are welcomed to join us in our journey to Hogwarts — a school of magic — and stay in the school as well," said George.

"Surely? That's fantastic! But — what about the things I need — "

"Good, good! Glad you asked!" said Fred happily. "George, if you please . . . Do the honours. . ."

" 'Course, mate," said George, opening the back of the car and showing us all a yellowish trunk with a golden S and a C.

"Is that supposed to be my trunk?" I asked rhetorically, amazed.

"Why, no. . . Unfortunately that's for another student. . . The letters stand for Slow-witted Creature, see. . ." said George ironically, pointing at the letters with his index finger.

"But George," said Fred, frowning. "I thought it was for a muggle girl called Susanna Cecillia which was coming to Hogwarts this year with us. . ."

"But. . . Isn't Susanna Cecillia the girl we're talking to? The one we have in front of our fair noses?"

"Precisely!" said Fred.

"Do you mean to say that this trunk over here is Susanna's?" asked George. Fred nodded. "Ooh . . . ! Sorry Susanna, my bad . . . It is yours after all . . ."

"Thank you so much! And is everything I need in the trunk?" I asked.

"No," said Fred. "Almost everything is in that big baby, but not everything. . . Ron can tell you exactly what's in there and what's left, can't you Ron?"

"Why do I have to do everything you say?!" Ron asked, angrily.

"Whoa, don't go baddy-baddy with us Ron, we know you're a good boy. Now read the list you have there," George said.

"Okay! In a minute!" he said, furiously, then muttered under his breath so that only Harry and I could hear, "I'm sick of this." He searched his trouser's pockets for some seconds and then retrieved a paper in a condition that suggested that it had been passed through a very complicated process, which I reckoned involved — at least — one of the following: lying in the floor for some time, meanwhile, being stepped on by dirty shoes, being used as a bludger for quidditch or being chewed by a troll or else being smashed by its club more than two times. "Okay, all the course books you need are in here, according to the list. . .

The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4

Four Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi

Magical Defence for the Fourth-Year student

Do I have to read them all?" Ron asked, uttering a yawn.

"May I see the paper to take a look at the books' titles so you won't have to read them all aloud and then become bored and weary and so be unable to go to school tomorrow in a decent mood and then blame me because all of your energies had worn off because of my wanting you to read all of the titles for me?" I asked, at 150 words per minute, which meant that I had said all this in about ten seconds. "Please?" I added gently.

"Whawazzat?" said Ron, confused. Everyone laughed except me. I still hadn't realized the speed at which I had stated the previous question.

"Honestly, Susanna, could you have gone anyfaster?" said Fred. "Zoom!!"

"Yeah! Can you repeat that again? More slowly?" asked Ron.

"She said that the book titles are boring — " said Fred, dramatizing a yawn.

"And that you better go to school tomorrow in a decent mood or else she's going to make you read all those titles aloud again," George said, shaking his finger, pointed toward Ron. "And that — Did you also hear what I heard, Fred?"

"What did you hear, George?" George whispered into Fred's right ear. When he had finished he snapped his fingers and exclaimed, "Just what I heard too! And she also said that — " both said — "She likes you." Harry snorted while Ron blushed.

"Seriously, what did you say, Susandna?" said Ron, still as red as a tomato.

"Ok, ok Ron, you caught us. . . What she really said was that she wants you," said Fred. "But that's, like — the same. . ."

"I don't remember exactly, but the point was if you could let me see the paper so you wouldn't — if I could see the paper," I said finally, so we wouldn't have to go through the same problem of not being able to understand my words. A voice in my ear said, why didn't you think of that earlier, huh? Much more reasonable considering all the circumstances. . .

"No!" Ron roared. "I mean. . .no," he repeated, more softly. "Er, I will finish — reading — now:

A History of Magic: How It Arose and How It has Evolved Across Time

Magical, Healing and Poisonous Properties of Potions and How to Produce Them

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

Quidditch Through the Ages

Principles and Explorations of Divination

Plus, there are plenty of quills, ink bottles, rolls of parchment and Potion ingredients that will be necessary, especially in Snape's class."

"So, why am I coming to Hogwarts with you?" I asked.

"Er. . . Say! I've not thought about that. I think Dad didn't even mention. . . Or has he?"

"Good question, mate," said George.

"Don't look at me. I've no idea!" said Fred.

"Hm, guess you'll have to ask him when we get home."

"To your house?" I asked.

"Of course! What does home mean to you?"

"Today?"

"Obviously, we don't want to be late for school tomorrow."

"But — what about — "

"Your stuff? Your family? Your things don't have legs, do they? Your family doesn't leave Puerto Rico often, do they?"

"I guess not."

"Then you've got nothing to worry about. Everything that's here will stay here, won't it? It's likethatVegasbloke. . . You know. . . 'What happens here, stays here'," then he snorted between laughs (I was reminded of Betty the Ugly and Miss Congeniality). How did George know about muggle commercials? "It's not as if you'll stay in Hogwarts your whole life, is it? When you come back you — "

"Yeah, yeah, she got the point perfectly, haven't you, Your Majesty?" Fred asked me. I remained silent. "Oh, don't tell me you're still thinking about what will happen when you leave?" I nodded timidly.

"Look," said George, "Let me put it this way: You're a miserable girl that lives in the Muggle world — "

"Just like us," interrupted Fred.

"Exactly — just like us. Then we come all the way from Europe — just as knights — to rescue you from this horrible world — just like a story from the Medieval Age," explained George. Fred repeated the last statement: "Just like a story from the Medieval Age." I still had my mouth closed; I was still not sure of leaving Puerto Rico.

"But — if term starts tomorrow, then we only have a few hours left to get all the things I need for Hogwarts! And if you subtract the time it takes to get there, the time we'll need to rest, and the four hours from here to England, then we'll have hardly three hours to get everything!"

"Such a smart girl — " I blushed. "But so stupid at the same time," I blushed once again. "First of all, we already have one of those covered: we might not get to England in time by the flying car, but — by using the Apparition spell, then England is just a jiffy away. Lee Jordan lent me a book for learning Apparition; I've been practising and, well, I think I do it pretty well."

"Of course you do!" said Ron critically.

"Ron, could you please shut your mouth?!" George pretended zipping his own mouth.

"What about that ugly old bloke who tried to Apparate into the Leaky Cauldron? The only thing he managed to do was to leave his legs on the train station and the rest of his body in the pub!" Ron said, crossing his arms.

"Told you — Hermione's been acting upon him." Ron instantly loosened his arms.

"Old bloke, Ron. He was ancient, he was. Precambrian!"

"Don't you care?" said Ron, ignoring both Fred's and George's comments.

"Ron's right, George. We could be all risking ourselves," said Harry. George seemed to be ruminating about this remark.

"Yeah but — "

"Mark my words —" said Ron, "We'll be Splinched if you try to Apparate — And then you'll be regretting you didn't do what I — "

"Stop it, you two! Please?" I said abruptly; I even got a bit afraid of myself. I coughed slightly and dragged my hair back. About a second or two later, they had stopped quarrelling. George sighed.

"Let's head on to the Burrow, shall we?" he said.

"We've better let her choose," said Fred, and then added in a whisper, "I'm sure she will accept Apparition." George nodded excitedly.

"I'm — I'm sorry, George, I can't let you," I said, before anyone could do anything. I was making calculations during Ron and George's wrangle about the age George had. If they were correct, George was 16, and therefore could not have a license for Apparating. "You're not old enough to Apparate."

"Um. . . Er. . . Hmm. . ." said George, looking for words to throw back at me. After some moments, he muttered, "How does she know?!" covered his face in his hands and hugged Fred, trying to sound as though he was crying.

"Hey!" said Ron, frowning and constantly shaking his finger towards George, "She's right! You're not old enough to have a licence! How could I have forgotten. . . ?" and he brought his hand up to his chin in a thoughtful way.

"Don't worry, George," said Fred consolingly, in a brother-to-brother tone, "You did the best you could. Besides, we'll have plenty of time to practise when we're older. . ." and he put a hand over his shoulder.

"Yes, I reckon we'll have," said George, drying his 'tears' with the back of his hand, in a tone that indicated he was feeling better. "And now that I come to think of it, I wouldn't enjoy a romantic evening with the dementors at Azkaban."

"No, no one would!" said Ron, looking relieved.

"But I'm sure George would have them crazy before they could even start driving him crazy," said Fred.

"Hey! I know I'm handsome, but not that much," said George, untangling his ginger hair with his fingers.

"But why would he be taken to the wizard prison by simply Splinching accidentally? It's not as if he chose to Splinch himself!" I said convincingly.

Ron grinned and said, "You take in words too seriously, Susanna. It's a matter of speech!"

"Yeah, we were just joking, you know — but how do you know about Azkaban?" George asked suspiciously.

"And who taught you about Wizard law? Margaret Thatcher?" asked Fred.

"That's not exactly crucial right now, is it? Why don't we go to your place? Harry's right, it's getting late."

"Well, the thing is, Susanna, we don't really have the kind of transportation that can take us to England in a jiffy. . . Discarding underage Apparition, that is," said Fred, kicking a stone with his right foot. It hit Harry's hand and he said, "Ouch!"

"Sorry, Harry!" Fred apologized. There were a few more stones on the floor but he did not dare kick another one, in case it happened again.

"We can't take the car — it took us 8 hours to get here — we'll arrive when it's time to board on the Hogwarts Express —"

"Eight hours?" I asked, shocked. That was what it took for a plane to travel from here to Spain. "How did you surv — What did you do in 8 hours?"

"Well, the car drove itself, so we slept."

"You slept in the car?" I asked, astonished (it's not that I considered that uncivilized or that I have never done it or had never heard of someone doing it, but the fact that all of these boys had crossed the Atlantic Ocean in a flying car was admirable). I was thinking whether to burst out 'That is so gallant of you,' 'How cool!' or 'Were you out of your proper mind? You could have frozen to death!', but at last, I realized that none of these would come out of my mouth.

No one spoke for several seconds, until —

"Hold on; I have a Portkey around here somewhere. . . ." said George, searching inside his trousers, "Ha! Here it is. . ." and he showed us a filthy, damaged battery, covered in a thick cloth. "A muggle left it in the bin while we were leaving King's Cross last summer. Dad says it is called a buttery, but I just can't see how it's got to do with my favourite food — butter toasts, by the way . . .It smells like toast, but it doesn't taste so good." I was about to correct him when —

"Battery, George," Ron corrected. "I've heard Hermione say that when she talks about Muggles. She says that it powers some gadgets that we power with magic, but that eventually they run out of power."

"Interesting. . . It seems it gave all it could, I mean, why else could this be on the trash pile if it is so important for the Muggles? Anyway, Dad took it to the Ministry and they made it a Portkey. Very useful it has turned out to be, hasn't it, Fred?" Fred was kneeling besides my bag, looking eagerly at my pencil case. "Fred?!" George repeated. Fred started and instantly got to his feet, as if nothing had happened.

"Oh, yeah, very useful. . ."

"We'd used it so many times Dad was getting tired of taking it to the Ministry, so the last time he went, he asked them to make it Portpetual, so it can be used over, and over, and over, and over — "

"Okay, George we get it. Well, I think we can all now go to the Burrow without worries, Susanna," said Ron settling the previously discussed topic.

"I — " I began.

"SUSANNA! Everything will be fine! Don't you trust us?"

"Yes, I do," I said, not very sure of what I was saying.

"Then come on! Hogwarts awaits!" Wow, that is sooo dramatic, I thought.

"Wouldn't I be needing money?"

"Er. . . Let's say that money is not your business, all right? We will treat," said George.

"Oh, how can I ever thank you all?" I said, and I couldn't be any happier.

"Promise us you will not complain about anything from now on, that you will always trust us, no matter what," said Fred.

Although I knew I had to be careful when trusting Fred and George, because of theirsometimes-amusing-but-often-dangerous ideas, and because I knew we would be wasting time if I began discussing this, I sighed and said, "I promise." Then one of the Susannas inside me yelled. It was speaking with a pronounced English accent: Aah! Why did you do that! Are you out of your mind! Did you know what you just did! You have just risked your reputation! And that's not all, Susanna, you can get in trouble with that pair of clowns. If I were you — oops, I am you, haha! — I had said NO, I CAN'T PROMISE THAT. You've just shown me how naive you are, Susanna. I am very, VERY disappointed. . .

"Okay, everybody listen: We should all be able to touch at least a bit of this thingamajig: even that works. Just make sure that we all touch it at the same time — "

"George, what about the car?" I asked. "Wouldn't it be better to hide it somewhere?"

"Susanna, Susanna, Susanna. . . What did I tell you about trusting us? That car there possesses highly magical qualities! He can find the way home on his own! Look," — he whistled — "hey Angelie! You can go home, now, but be sure to use the Invisibility Booster!"

"Angelie?" Harry asked.

"That's what Dad calls him." The car made a strange sound, began ascending and when it was about six metres above ground, it became invisible.

"Anything else you're worried about?" asked George.

"Oh, yes, I almost forgot!" I put all the books inside my bag, and swung it over my back. "Ready."

"What's that for? You might just as well leave it here!" said Fred. "You won't be needing it!"

"I probably won't. Still, I want to take it with me."

"Fine! It's your bag! Okay, as we are five, we will divide in three at one side of the battery; two at the other. Weasleys — this side; you two — the other." When he said this, I became nervous; that meant I was going to be next to Harry; I tried not to think about it. "Now, when I say three, we touch the battery at the same time, all right?" Everyone nodded except me. I raised my hand and instantly lowered it, reminding myself there was no need to, as no one around me was a teacher — that battery was leaking — if everyone touched it, all of our hands would burn due to the battery's acid's contact with the skin. "George," I said. "Is there something you can do to — to clean that battery?"

"That's not exactly crucial right now, is it?" George mimicked, in a high-pitched voice. I blushed once again. "Susy, you can absolutely wash your hands when we get there."

"But, the battery's leaking a liquid that can be harmful to our hands — I'm not really worried about staining my hands, if that's why you're being so unfavourable toward my suggestion."

"Oh, okay," George said. "Phew! I thought you were like my brother's girlfriend. She's frightful, y'know — 'George, could you pleez clean ze chair where I am going to seat? It eez very dusty and 'orrible — Fred, pleez clean zis for me — Bill, zis; Bill zat.' She'll drive us mad. I don't know what Bill saw in her, but if he marries her, he'll be the one cleaning ze dishes."

"Perhaps Bill loves 'ze little french voice she 'as?" Fred proposed.

Everyone except Ron laughed, in fact, he looked somewhat offended. "At least she says pleez! She's got manners, can't you appreciate that?"

"Oh, Ronnie, everyone knows you fancy her, that's why you support her all the time!" Ron remained quiet. "Now, let's not delay our departure more, it's past seven back in England," he said, looking at his watch. "Tergeo!" he said, pointing the battery with his wand. The battery was cleansed from the acid, so that it looked new. "Everyone, get ready. . .One. . . Two. . . Three!"

We touched the Portkey at the time George indicated and, instantly, our feet left the floor, and we began to swirl uncontrollably. A desire to throw up possessed me. I was starting to feel headache, but the fact that I was going to a place I was completely sure didn't exist, with a group of people that I knew were fictitious, melted that pain far, far away.