A/N: So this is my first story on here, and I just hope someone enjoys reading it

-Quirkers

Aurora Hestia Carrow. That's my name. And I despise it.

In my defence, I had always hated it, but now I just have further reason to hate it. While growing up in the children's home the reason I hated it was because it sounded funny and gave other kids a reason to pick on me. It was why I always introduced myself as 'Rory'. Rory was plain, Rory was simple, and while it was a little odd for a girl to be called, it was a normal name.

But here, it's not my first name that causes me trouble. For Christ's sake there is a boy in my year called May Second Price (his parents thought they were being all 'philosophical' and 'deep'. Idiots) and I get bullied more than him! Frightened glances, menacing glares, derogatory slurs and spiteful rumours are thrown at me, and there isn't anything I can do.

And it's all for that six letter word that leeches itself onto the end of my name.

Carrow.

~•~

For the first eleven years of my life, my surname never caused me any problems, and the teasing about my first name eventually stopped because I became known as Rory. It didn't mean I was included with the other children though.

But, to be fair, the other children had their reasons. And I understand their logic now. If I had been them, I imagine I would have done the same. But I wasn't them. I was the girl that strange, and inexplicable things happened to. Not them. No one else's toast floated towards them when they couldn't reach it at the table. No one else could jump off the swings and land at the foot of the slide's ladder. It was a good 25ft jump, and I was small for a seven year old.

So they left me alone. I got the occasional 'freak' and once in a while, the other children felt obliged to point out that my parents obviously left me at the Home because they knew I wasn't going to be normal.

Being left on my own meant I had to find something to occupy me, so I did what I thought was my only valid option. I read. And read. And read. I became hungry for knowledge and read anything I could get my hands on. Histories. Classic Literature. Poetry. Art and music compilations. Sci-Fi novels. Fiction. Non-fiction. Biographies and Autobiographies. Romance novels. I found things that fascinated me, bored me beyond belief and things that made me feel completely indifferent. But they stuck, and I still remember them. It might take a while, but I remember.

I was still alone though. I might have been fluent in French by eight years old, but I was alone.

But when I was nine, a miracle happened. A miracle named Violet Carr. She arrived, and was too shunned by the other children. She had a stutter and had half of her dirty blonde hair shaved off, which made the fact she had a long, twisted, freshly stitched scar blindingly obvious. We quickly became allies, then friends. I didn't ask about the scar. She didn't comment on the strange occurrences that happened when I was around. We would speak about it when we were ready.

Violet and I became close. Very close. It wasn't far off ridiculous. We used to pretend we were related, because our surnames had only two letters in the difference. Deep down we knew that wasn't how it worked, but we were both desperate for a family, so we carried on regardless. We were joined at the hip. The only time we were separated was at school because firstly she was a year younger than me, and secondly the school had to provide me with a tutor because I was too far ahead of the others in my year, and much too young to be where I should have.

I suppose that's why Ms Jones (the Home's Head Supervisor/Councillor) wasn't surprised when the man with the funny name knocked on the door one day offering a scholarship to a private boarding school she had never even heard of, and had no problem with him meeting me in private.

What she would be surprised to hear, it that moment was the reason my life changed forever, and became the Giant Abnormality (as I like to call it) it is now.

I wonder sometimes, what would have happened if she had said 'What the bleedin' hell you on about...sir.' as she normally does.

~•~

Vi and I were in my room. Well, our room, I suppose, and we usually slept top-to-toes in my single bed, because Vi's room was next Monica West, and Monica had a habit of screaming at anyone near her if she caught them looking at her and Monica was hard not to see, due to the multitude of colours in her hair and piercings on her face, but I digress.

Vi was sitting on the bed while I sat on the chest of drawers (I have a thing for sitting on high things or else the floor. Everything feels weird) when Ricky burst in and announced that Ms Jones wanted to see me. I exchanged a look of horrified curiosity with Vi. Ms Jones usually only ever wanted to see me if a strange occurrence ( as we dubbed them) was particularly bad or had happened at school. These meetings usually ended with me doing the washing up for a week, which Vi would sneak down and help me with. But I couldn't remember doing anything recently, so I was curious. I bounced ( it was more fun) down the old stair case (everything was old here) and knocked softly on Ms Jones' door. Ms Jones' strong voice told me to come in, and I opened the door with a creak (I told you everything was old here).

Ms Jones was sitting behind her desk, but to my surprise there was a man sitting in one of the chair in front of her desk.

He was old. Well old by my standards. He looked like he was in his late thirties, with dark hair and nice clothes. He was wearing a dark suit with a crisp white shirt. The only remotely odd thing about him was his tie. It depicted the most peculiar plant I had ever seen. For all the world, it looked like a grey cactus, with boils instead of spines.

"Rory, this is Professor Longbottom. He is from a private school who are interested in you attending there this September. He has asked to have a word with you in private. An interview if you will."

I just stared at the man and nodded before training my eyes on my feet. I heard Ms Jones' chair scrape as she got up and walked towards the door. "Don't mess this up." she quietly grumbled as she made her way past, shutting the door sharply behind her.

I continued to stare at my feet as the Professor from the probably fancy school that was filled with posh snobs and brainiac-cyborg-children awkwardly coughed before he started speaking.

"As Ms Jones mentioned, I am from a private boarding school in Scotland, Miss Carrow," I heard Professor Longbottom's voice change slightly as he said my name, but quickly disregarded it. He was probably just unfamiliar with saying my name, as I was with his, "And I am here to offer you a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

My head snapped up, "Witchcraft and wizardry?"

Professor Longbottom nodded, "Yes. You see, Aurora, yo-,"

"Rory." I corrected out of habit. Professor Longbottom smiled slightly, before realising what he was doing. A serious expression soon returned.

"Yes, of course. Rory then," Professor Longbottom started quickly, "You are a witch, and as such eligible to attend."

"...Don't joke, sir. Just because I am the most normal eleven year old doesn't mean you can mess with my feelings. You're a grown man for God's sake. Act it."

Professor Longbottom looked a mix of taken aback and oddly amused.

"You don't speak like an eleven year old, and you're quite blunt, aren't you? I have a letter if you don't believe me." The Professor pulled out a thick envelope and handed it to me.

Miss A Carrow,

The Last Bedroom on the 3rd Floor,

Cardiff Children's Home,

Cardiff,

Wales.

"How did you know my room?" I questioned him raising my eyebrow as I began to read. It contained a letter of acceptance, a book list, a uniform list and a list of school supplies.

I read it three times, before I spoke again.

"This is real, isn't it? I am a witch, aren't I?" It wasn't a question to me anymore though. I knew it was true.

"It is. You are. The question now is, do you accept your place?"

I stared at him. I started at the letter. I even stared at Ms Jones' desk. I thought about Vi, my life here and the plans I had to do my GCSE's and A-Levels before going to university and DO something major with my life.

But then again, maybe this was it.

"I accept."