A/N: Hi there people! Here's a new story for ya to read! Just for you information, I've set this story's timeline to present day. I know this should have happened in the '90s, but frankly, I don't remember the 90's all too well. Besides, my only expirience as a teenager has been in the 21st centuary. So in order for me to really capture the teenage expirience, I've decided to make it in present day terms.

This is my baby. I'm sick of reading stories where Harry never knows he's a wizard until he's older, but when he finds out, it's like "Oh. Man, am I powerful! This is so cool! I'm am totally fine with this! I am sooo accepting! I knew there was always something that made me different from everybody else!" I just don't think that's too realistic. I think he'd honestly be just another normal, sometimes stupid guy with the doubts and uncertainties that make us all human. So, this is my way of fighting back against those kind of fics. Hopefully, I'll end up spinning a nice little story - realistic, fun to read, and see some character progression and all that literary jazz. I'm seeing a trilogy in my future.

Disclaim Her: I don't own it. I don't own nothin. Not even the clothes on my back or the hair on my head. At least, that's what my philosophy text book is implying. But, yeah, if you recognize it, then I don't own it!

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Chapter One

"HARRY! Are you upstairs?"

The sudden noise startled him. Shit! His mom was coming up the stairs! He desperately looked around his parents bedroom. There were no hiding places! He ran into the bathroom, looking for something he could use to make up a good excuse as to why he was snooping around in his parent's bedroom. His eyes widened as they fell on his father's electric shaver. Perfect!

"Harry?"

He heard her knocking on his bedroom door across the hall.

"I'm in here Mom!"

He nervously waited for her to find him, while trying to act completely normal. Harry heard her bedroom door open.

His mother stopped abruptly in the doorway to her bathroom and stared at the sight before her. Raising an eyebrow, she casually leaned against the doorway, folding her arms.

"And just what do you think you are doing?"

Harry glanced over at her. "Well, don't you think that's obvious? I'm shaving."

His mother now had both eyebrows raised. "Shaving what? Built up skin particles? You might want to shave your feet then. I've noticed your getting calluses there."

Harry harrumphed, but turned off the shaver all the same. "I noticed I was starting to get a few whiskers, so I just borrowed Dad's shaver. I gotta stay fresh for the ladies, Mom."

"Hmm. Well, why don't you take your little fresh self out to the grocery for me. We've run out of milk, and I need eggs to bake your sister's birthday cake this afternoon."

Harry groaned. "Ever since I got a car, all you've done is demand I do things for you!"

He raised his voice an octave higher, imitating his mother. "Harry! Pick your sister up from soccer practice! Harry! Run this to the dry cleaners for me! Harry! Be a sweet and get me a sugar free, non fat vanilla latte from Starbucks! Geez Mom! I'm not your errand boy!"

His mother pursed her lips. "I seem to remember a young man begging his father for a brand new mustang convertible. I seem to remember that same young man telling his mother and father they'd never have to worry about running errands ever again because if said young man had a brand new mustang convertible, he'd run all the errands his parents could ever want."

Harry scowled. "Yeah, well that was before that alleged young man became disillusioned of the joy of driving. That young man found out convertibles get old after a while, and he hates people thinking he's bisexual whenever he orders such a girlie drink from a coffee shop."

"Oh honey! You're not bisexual! You were just influenced a little too much by your sister when you were little! We couldn't very well spank you for playing with her Barbie dolls, now could we?"

"Mom!"

His mother laughed, her blue eyes sparkling with joy at his indignant expression. She ruffled his hair, making it that much more messy. His mother had a peculiar sense of humor sometimes. Harry gave up acting affronted and smiled.

"So, eggs and milk, eh?"

His mother's smile grew. His smile dropped from his face.

"Well, I do have a list . . ."

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Harry slammed the door to his red mustang convertible. A list! And not just any old list, but a monstrous list, spanning over three sticky notes! He sighed, and reaching into his jeans pocket, he pulled out a cigarette. He smirked to himself.

This was the real reason he had been in his parent's room. His father had a secret stash of cigarettes under the mattress. He had supposedly quit a few months ago. Only Harry knew his father's dirty secret, and that was great for him. Even if his father did figure out why he kept coming up short on smokes, he wouldn't tell Harry's mother. No need for her to know he really hadn't gone cold turkey.

His cell phone beeped. Someone had text him. He pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open.

U goin out 2nite

It was from his best friend Richard, or as he liked to call him, Dick. Richard preferred you called him Rich, but Harry always tried to persuade others to call him Dick. Probably because when someone called to them, they'd say, "Hey Harry! Dick!" This was very amusing to Harry.

Harry text him back, saying he probably was, and that they should see if there were any good horror flicks playing. After all, his sister's family birthday party was tonight, and he could go out after dinner.

He got another message from Rich, who was going to Google up some movie times. Harry smiled, and turned his stereo up.

Maybe someone would be having a party later on. He'd tell his parents he'd be spending the night at Rich's house, and Rich would say he's spending the night at probably Deek's house, and then they'd stay out all night partying. Yeah, life was pretty good when your name was Harry Conner.

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"Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday dear Samantha! Happy Birthday to you!"

"And many more! You smell like a who-"

"HARRY!"

"Sorry Mom!"

Harry watched as his little sister blew out her candles. She turned 11 today. Harry pretended to wipe away a fake tear at the thought. It was getting harder and harder each year for Harry to bully her. She'd just bully right back nowadays, and sometimes she'd actually make Harry feel sorry for messing with her.

"Hey! I want the corner piece with lots of icing!"

His mother slapped Harry's hand away when he tried to finger the icing. "Stop it mister!"

Harry rolled his eyes and went to stand next to his dad. His father smirked at Harry, and when his mom was serving a piece of cake to Harry's older sister, Cecilia, his father swiped a finger-full of icing and stuck it in his mouth. Harry glared.

"Show off . . . " Harry muttered under his breath. His father grinned like a Cheshire cat.

"Jack?"

Harry's dad looked apprehensively at Harry's mother.

"Yes dear?"

"I saw that."

Jack just stood there, trying to find the right words. He couldn't find them. "Oh."

"You're setting a bad example."

He still couldn't find them. "Oh. Sorry."

She glared at him and handed her husband a piece of cake.

Harry smirked as he gladly took the offered corner piece from his mom. There was some sweet satisfaction in seeing that his piece was a bit bigger than his dad's.

"So Mary, how goes the new painting? Making any headway?" asked Jack, trying to steer attention away from himself.

Harry's mother turned to him, a fork full of cake half way up to her mouth. She popped it in and nodded.

"I was working on it earlier this morning. I think I might have it finished by next week at the earliest."

Jack nodded, passing the pitcher of milk around the table to Samantha. Samantha took the pitcher and poured some milk into her glass. She slopped a little out onto the table, but the only one to notice was Harry. She blinked, looked around to see if anyone was watching her, and then wiped it down with the sleeve of her shirt. Harry snorted. That was an eleven year old for you. Never mind it was him who Samantha had first seen do that sort of thing, and not even a couple of months ago either.

"Did you sell any cars today?" asked Mary.

Harry's father nodded. "Yep, got eight out the door. Dan's going to be seeing a nice commission check this month. I remember when he started selling cars for me a month ago. He was worried he wouldn't make two grand this month. Hell, he's probably going to get a check for close near eight."

Harry smiled at the mention of Dan's name, and quietly sang to himself, "Dan Dan the Waffle Man!"

His mother frowned. "Oh Harry! If you can't say anything nice, then don't say anything at all!"

Harry chuckled, but acquiesced all the same. He stopped talking.

Dan Pleghm had started working at his father's car dealership four months ago. When he discovered he was working just for commission, he had quit and taken a job as the night manager of Waffle House, making much more money than he had been trying to sell a car. But after being held at gun point buy a man wearing a Richard Nixon mask around four in the morning, Dan had decided that selling cars again probably wouldn't be such a bad idea.

After begging for his job back, Harry's dad gave it to him, and Dan's been selling the hell out of those cars ever since. That still didn't stop Harry from singing Dan Dan the Waffle Man to the tune of Bill Nye the Science Guy, much to the amusement of himself and his father. His mom didn't think it nearly so funny.

His mom, on the other hand, was an artist. She'd be contracted by different people to paint murals on walls, and other things like that. She also had some of her work hanging in a restaurant down town. It was quite popular. Since her husband made enough money owning his own car dealership, Mary didn't have to work. She had been an accountant before she had met Jack Connor, but with Jack making enough for the both of them, it gave her the time to pursue what she loved instead of crunching numbers.

"How are classes going?" Mary asked Cecilia.

"I'm kinda freaked out about summer school. I thought I could handle taking a math course this summer, but I can't seem to make myself concentrate in class," said Cecilia around a mouthful of cake.

Jack frowned. "Well, you better learn how to concentrate! If there was one thing my father always said, it was -"

"Education is the key to success in both your personal life and your professional life," echoed the Connor children.

Jack nodded appreciatively. "That's right! And don't you forget it!"

Harry rolled his eyes. His older sister was going to be a sophmore in college next year. She didn't know what she wanted to do yet, but she did want to go ahead and get her math requirements out of the way. She was attending the community college in town during the summer and then going to the state school in the fall. She was planning on staying with her boyfriend during the summer, but when their mom had found out about his "past criminal activity," as she called it, she refused that Cecilia could see him or else she'd stop sending money every week during college. Cecilia was pissed. She didn't think it was such a big deal that her boyfriend, Spunk, had stolen a car before. That was before he got rid of his nose rings, grown his hair out of a mohawk, and gone to college. However, he still had his tongue ring, but Cecilia wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. Her parents would never know, and next year she'd introduce him by his given name, Clarence. They wouldn't know he was the same guy.

Harry, on the other hand, had just finished his junior year of high school and was an up and coming senior. The only thing Harry really liked about school was his friends, the girls, and football. Grades took backseat next to them, but he never really had any trouble with school work. Football was his love though. Sure, he wasn't all that tall, and he wasn't all that strong looking, but he could out run anyone on any of the closest five counties' football teams.

"Hey! Ain't I gonna get some presents here?" squeaked Samantha. Her mother winced as if she'd been physically slapped. Mary's mother had been an English teacher, as had Mary's grandmother. Bad grammar sounded like nails on chalk board to her.

"It's 'aren't' Samantha! And if you keep saying that infernal word, you won't be seeing any tonight!" screeched their mother.

Samantha gave a long suffering sigh. "Aren't I going to get my presents soon?"

"Sure sweetcake! Let's go see what Daddy's got in the trunk of his car, hmm?" said Jack, standing up and leading his youngest outside.

Cecilia suddenly jumped up out of her chair. "Oh! I just remembered! I have a paper due tomorrow! Excuse me!"

She ran up the stairs to her room.

Harry growled and shouted after her, "YOU DON'T WRITE PAPERS AFTER YOUR FIRST DAY OF CLASS!"

"HOW WOULD YOU KNOW?" shouted Cecilia down the stairs. Harry heard her door slam.

He knew what just happened. His mother turned to him.

"Well Harry! Looks like your helping me clean the kitchen!"

A parody of a smile, resembling a grimace if anything, ghosted his face. "Oh joy."

There was a sudden tapping at the window that made both Harry and his mother jump. Thinking it was Samantha and her father throwing pebbles at the window, they had been known to do that, Mary pulled up the blinds, ready to tell them off, only to startle back with a screech.

Harry jumped to his mother's aid, but was shocked to see an owl hovering outside the kitchen window.

He blinked. "Uh, Mom? Why is there an owl outside our window?"

"I don't have a damn clue."

Harry studied the owl. It was brown in color, with a speckled plumage. And yes, it was definitely an owl. There was no mistaking that. It pecked at the window again.

"Do you think we should open the window?" Harry asked.

"Are you crazy?! Letting an owl of all things into my kitchen!?"

The owl pecked again, this time it sounded a bit more impatient. Harry shook his head in wonder. Do owls get impatient?

"Maybe we should call, I don't know, animal control? The zoo? Should we Google owl rescue groups or something?" asked Harry.

His mother didn't answer.

The owl continued pecking, but this time it started scratching on the window with it's talons. A flash of yellow caught Mary's eye.

"Oh my God! It has a letter tied onto it's foot!"

Harry noticed it to. "Maybe it's like a carrier pigeon, err, only an owl?"

His mother nodded absently. "I don't know who would be trying to send us a letter with an owl though. Surely any normal person would just mail it. Even emailing it would be a bit more sane."

They stood there for another moment.

"So, should we let it in?"

His mother shrugged. "Oh, what the hell! Worst comes to worst, I got your father's shotgun under our bed."

Harry looked sideways at his mother. "Real animal friendly Mom. I'm sure the WWF would love to have you as their spokesperson."

"Oh shut up Harry."

His mother crept towards the window, and then quickly undid the latch and pushed it open. She immediately stepped back. The owl flew into the kitchen, landing on the back of a kitchen chair. It hooted imperiously at the two of them, ruffling its feathers in agitation. Apparently, they had taken too long for his liking. It held out its leg, where a letter had been tied.

Harry and his mother both looked at each other.

"I'm your mother. You go get it," she said.

"Mom!"

"You're the one always singing to yourself that you're a 'go getta'! So go get it already!"

"But what if that thing bites?! I could get rabies or something!"

His mother raised an eyebrow. "I got band aids, now go!"

Harry groaned, but obligingly turned towards the owl. He cautiously held out his hand to take the letter. He tried to untie it, but it was tied rather tightly. He jerked a little bit on the knot. The owl screeched at him, and Harry jumped back with a startled yelp.

"Holy shit!"

"HARRY! Watch your mouth!"

"Well! I thought the occasion called for it!"

The front door burst open, and Samantha ran to the kitchen.

"Look what Daddy gave - WHOA! What's that?!?"

Jack walked into the kitchen and beamed, expecting his wife on congratulating him for picking out such a nice present for their daughter without her help. However, no one was paying the least bit of attention to him.

He huffed. "What's everybody staring at?"

They all pointed as one towards the kitchen table. Jack did a double take.

"Holy shit! That's an owl!"

"JACK! Not in front of the children!"

"Sorry!"

"See Mom! I told you the situation called for it!" exclaimed Harry.

"Hey look! It's got a letter tied onto it's foot!" said Samantha, pointing at the owl, who gazed impatiently back, it's foot still in the air.

"I think it wants someone to take the letter," said Jack.

"No shit Sherlock," muttered Harry.

"What did you just say young man?" asked his mother.

"Nothing Mom!"

"So why doesn't someone just go and get it already?" asked Samantha.

"I'm not touching that thing! It already tried to attack me!" said Harry.

"That's a lie and you know it! You were the one trying to jerk its leg off!" said Mary.

"Oh for Pete's sake!" said Samantha. She marched right over to the owl and gently undid the knot. The owl hooted it's thanks, and then took off through the window, but not before grabbing a piece of cut up apple that was lying on the counter beneath the window.

"Well, that makes my manliness meter drop pretty low," observed Jack.

Harry nodded sagely. "Yep, mine's probably brushing up next to some negatives by now."

"Hey! This letter is addressed to me!" said Samantha. She waved it in front of there faces.

"Let me see that!"

Harry snatched the letter from his sister. She squealed.

"Hey! That's mine!"

Harry, Samantha, and their parents crowded around Harry, looking down at the letter.

Ms. Samantha Lee Connor

183 Summerset Dr.

San Mont Bay, CA 76523

Third bedroom on the right

"Whoa. That's creepy. Who ever sent this letter even knows where I sleep. And, oh eww, they used my middle name!" said Samantha.

"Maybe you shouldn't open -" her mother started. Samantha grabbed the letter from Harry and ripped it open. Two sheets of paper fell out onto the floor. She picked them up and turned them over.

Dear Ms Connor,

Congratulations. We are pleased to inform you that you have been admitted to Salem Academy. It is one of the most prestigious schools of magic for young witches and wizards in North America. Our records indicate that you are muggleborn, a witch or wizard who is born to non magical parents. A representative will be by tomorrow to better explain this acceptance letter. Enclosed is a list of things needed for the upcoming school year.

Sincerely,

Maddox Minglehump

Deputy Headmaster

"Uh . . ." said Jack.

Harry threw an arm around the shoulders of his little sister. "Yeah, that's pretty much explains it all. I always knew there was something funny about you Sammy! You had a toad for a pet when you were six and you actually like seafood! Yep, it was obvious all along. Maybe we should burn you at the stake or something. You know, exorcise the evil and what not."

"Hardy Harr harr. That's not funny," she said.

"Well, it must be some sort of a joke," said her mother as she examined the letter.

Jack looked at the supply list, Harry looking over his shoulder.

"Hey! It says that you can bring and owl, cat, or toad to school with you! Maybe you could use your magical powers to bring you toad back to life! Then you could take him to school with you! Raising the dead . . . yeah, that's be your kinda thing," said Harry.

"Oh shut up Harry!" exclaimed Samantha. She looked at her mother.

"So what if someone does show up tomorrow? What are we going to do?"

Mary looked lost. "I guess we'll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it."

"I wonder where you'd find a pewter cauldron? Maybe Wal-Mart?" their father mumbled to himself.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'd bet just about anything this was just some sort of elaborate birthday prank."

"But how would they know where I sleep for God's sakes?" asked Samantha.

Harry shrugged. "Probably one of your friends. You have those heathens over enough. I'm sure after a couple of years they've figured it out by now."

Samantha persisted. "But how did they get an owl to deliver the letter?"

"Maybe one of your friends has a family member who trains owls?" suggested Jack.

Samantha shook her head. "I think someone would have told me that. It's pretty cool."

"And maybe not," said Mary.

They all looked at each other, no one willing to break the silence. Well, almost no one.

"Okay, so this might be an awkward moment, but can I spend the night at Rich's?" asked Harry.

Everyone turned to look at him. His eyes widened and he threw up his hands.

"What?"

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Review! I love feedback!