~Two boys. Two amazing boys. Putting morals against attraction. Family and past against what should be right. What do you expect from a teenager? The answer should be obvious , yes, but never-the-less it is so far from it I can't sleep .Why can't this just be easy?"

For the first 15 years of my life, I was home schooled. You might be confused, wondering how I was 'home schooled' as soon as I was born. But when you live in a family like mine, you learn what they think is right pretty much the second you start understanding words. Now that I'm 15, and the world is changing drastically, my parents got the great idea that I should be sent to Hogwarts. This is apparently for 'safety reasons'. I got my acceptance letter when I was 11, but my family ignored it until recently and my mother taught me.

Yay, I'll be the fifth year freak!

I guess I should tell you what I look like, and about myself. All that crap. My deep black hair brushes my shoulder blades. I'm thin (genetics) and sarcastic (choice). And I have no idea why those two go together in that sentence. My skin is pale, though it's not my fault. It's not physically possible for me to tan. Though, don't worry, it's not like I look like someone out of Twilight, I'm just a lighter skin tan than most.

Oh, also my family is Pureblood, and my bloodline can be traced back through centuries. Enough said… we have our difficulties with the dark arts and the like. I also have a bit of a temper. *get's poked by future boyfriend* Ok, I have a lot of a temper. Now shut up. As you can tell about my previous wording, I'm about as blunt as they come. I don't shroud my personality in confusing words for the sake of being confusing and meaningless 'personification' and such. (Author note: Not that I agree with her, she was just raised to think like this.)

My most …interesting… trait is my eyes. They are usually a bright, icy blue, but when I grow angry, they flash a startling red. I find most people stutter or falter when they make me mad for the first time and see my eyes. The red seems to glow in an eerie sort of way. I play like I hate them because of the attention they attract… but deep down I like the way they look. I suppose.

But enough about myself. Tomorrow is September 1st, the first day of term. My bundle of nerves feel like (–insert overused comment about butterflies here-). I am excited to see Hogwarts for the first time, because of some of my mother's elaborate stories. It seems like an interesting place to go to school. The biggest problem is; I have no idea what it will be like starting a new school when I am fifteen. As far as I know, no one has started Hogwarts late except me.

I woke up to my alarm clock ringing obnoxiously loud. During summer I forgot how much a hate that thing… I have to ask my mum to get me one that doesn't feel the need to induce a heart attack to wake me up every morning.

A groan bubbles in my throat, and I drag myself out of bed into the warm shower. I spritz on my favorite cucumber melon scent. (I wear it all the time; you could call it my signature) It sort of works as aromatherapy, calming me a little with familiarity.

With my heart fluttering (the aromatherapy only works to an extent), I pick out something from my muggle clothes drawer. Dark wash skinny jeans and a silver and green shirt with Hollister on the front seem to be a good choice. Oh, the irony. You don't get it? Well….

It's surprisingly chilly today for a time so near to summer, as you may have noticed by my clothing choice. England's weather can suck sometimes, warm one day and then cold the next.

I would tell you about my makeup process, but that would be tedious, so I won't. Let's just say I don't have enough on so that I seem a hooker, but I'm not exactly Amish looking either.

By now my heart feels like it's in my throat, the clock ticking closer and closer to 10 o' clock. My mom states that we have to get going, which doesn't help my bundled nerves. Instead of going through the hassle of muggle transportation, we use floo powder to head over to a friend's house. They live near King Cross Station, so it's easy to get to the train from their house.

This is what my brain pieces together: my hand shaking slightly as I hold the shimmery powder, and then it seems like no time before my feet are pushing me across the busy King's Cross Station. My trolley is filled with previously purchased school necessities, all in trunks with my family crest on them. Not my first luggage choice, but I suppose beggars can't be choosers…

The Barrier is easy to go through, causing barely a flinch, and I soon make it to the real train station. Platform 9 and ¾ looks astounding, the steam everywhere only adding to the surreal affect that the colors and magic all around had. With a hurried goodbye to my mum (my family was never a touchy-feely, overly emotional one) I make it to the tall and looming train.

People all around are recognizable, including my best friend Ella, whose manner is near mine. I would wave her over here, but it feels like I need to be alone right now. I don't want anyone, even Ella whom I've known for what seems like an immeasurable amount of time, to know how insane I'm feeling right now. Here goes what can either be hell or some of the best fun of my life.