A/N: Hi there! I decided to work on a new fic. I always wondered what it would be like going to Hogwarts and being one of Harry's friends, so I decided to do a self-insert. This is really a self-insert. Jonathan Alderton is me (that's not my real name, of course; Jonathan is the English version of my name, which is in Hebrew, and Alderton is an Anglicization (that's what you call it when you make something English) of my last name, which is also in Hebrew), and Mary and Taylor are my sisters (those were much harder to Anglicize, because my sisters' names have no English equivalent. Neither does my baby sister's name, but I don't have to worry about that until Year 3). The only differences between us are the names and the birth dates/places; we weren't born in Britain, 1980, 1984, and 1987, but in Israel, 1998, 2002, and 2005. The baby was born in 2011, which would be 1993 in this timeline, so I don't have to worry about putting her in the story until just before Year 3 starts. Oh, and the Fourth of July really is my birthday. Siriusly, I'm not kidding.

So this is going to be told in the first person, through my POV. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters, except my self-insert and his family.

Hi there. My name is Jonathan Alderton. I'm eleven years old and... well, if you want to find out more about me, just keep reading.

It all started on the morning of July 4, 1991 – my eleventh birthday. I had finished year six at King's Hedges Primary School in Cambridge, England, four days previously. I had been planning to sleep in, as I usually do on summer mornings, but I was woken up by my sisters bursting into my room and yelling, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

"It's my birthday?" I asked groggily.

"Of course it is, silly!" said six-year-old Mary.

I rubbed my eyes and looked at my watch. 8:15. "Why'd you have to wake me up so bloody early on my bloody birthday?" I asked them.

"Mummy told us to!" said three-year-old Taylor. "She told us to wake you up and get you into the sitting room to see the –"

"Taylor!" Mary yelled. "Don't tell him about it!"

I sat up on my bed. My room might have looked big, if there weren't so many things scattered all over the place. There were many posters from all the different places my mum went to hanging on the walls. There was a desk next to the bed with a computer on it, and a bookshelf above it. I had so many books on the shelves that I started putting new books on my desk. I read a lot. Across the room from the desk, there was a brown cupboard with silver handles.

"Tell me about what?" I asked.

"Nothing," Mary said quickly. She was obviously hiding something. A surprise party, maybe?

"Well," I said, "can you two please get out so I can get dressed and go see the nothing?"

"Yes, birthday brother!" said Taylor. And they left.

I opened the cupboard. There was a mirror on the inner side of the door. I looked at myself, taking in that I was eleven now. I didn't look like it. If I had to guess how old the boy in the mirror was, I would say he was nine or just barely ten. I was very short for eleven, and very thin. I had light brown hair, which was currently suffering from a bad case of pillow hair, and brown eyes.

I put on a T-shirt and some shorts, got out of my room, and went downstairs, almost tripping down the stairs twice. I was very clumsy.

When I got into the sitting room, I was greeted by the entire sixth year at King's Hedges Primary School singing "Happy Birthday To You". I was ushered to a large chair by my best friends Hermione Granger and Dean Thomas.

"How the bloody hell did you manage to wake everyone up?" I asked once I sat down on the chair.

"Wasn't easy," said Dean. "We all agreed to be here at 7:30 –"

"Oh, please," I said. "Don't tell me it took forty-five bloody minutes to set everything up."

"Would you let me finish? We agreed to be here at 7:30 and wake you up at 7:45, but Steve forgot to make the wake-up calls, so I had to make them instead, and we were only all here at 8:00."

"Dean," I said, shaking my head, "you seriously trusted Steve Warren to remember something? His memory is even worse than mine, and I only remember things because Hermione knows to remind me at the very last moment! Please don't tell me Hermione agreed to this."

"I didn't," Hermione said. "I told Dean to tell someone more reliable to do it, but he wouldn't hear a word of it."

At that moment, my parents and sisters came in with a large chocolate cake with whipped cream and a picture of me for frosting, with twelve candles stuck in it.

"Make a wish," said my mum.

"Er… good school next year?" I said, and blew out the candles. Everyone cheered and lifted my chair up eleven times. We had a game of pass-the-parcel – the prize was a Spring-o, and the winner was Steve Warrens.

"Nice!" I said. "Just make sure you don't lose it."

"That's rich, coming from you," said Steve.

"At least I have Hermione to remind me of things, and I do remember stuff on my own occasionally," I said.

We moved on to the food. I had a large slice of the cake, which was exquisitely delicious. When we all finished our pancakes, we played musical chairs, and I won – not because I'm fast or coordinated, but because I have very good reflexes. My system is compensative in many ways; I'm not very coordinated – I can't aim a ball or walk on a flat surface without tripping to save a life, but I've got very good reflexes – at dodge ball, I'm always the last one standing in my team. My memory is notoriously poor when it comes to tasks I need to do, but when it comes to facts, my memory is excellent and I'm usually the top of the class, and when I'm not, I'm second behind Hermione. I'm horrible at crude motors, like running or sports in general, but I'm very good at drawing and the only one in the class who has better handwriting than mine is Dean.

When the party was over, Dean and Hermione stayed to help with the cleanup. When we were throwing out the disposables, I was hit in the back of the head by something. I turned around to see an owl – a real, live owl – staring at me with a letter in its beak. Judging by Hermione's and Dean's "OW!" they were also hit by owls.

"Mummy, look!" Taylor cried. "Birdies in the sitting room!"

"Who let the owls in?" Mary asked.

"Don't owls sleep during the day anyways?" Dean said.

"They do," I said.

"Then what are three of them doing in your sitting room at 3:26 PM? In broad daylight?" asked Hermione.

As if in response, the owls dropped the letters into our hands.

The envelope was made out of parchment, was addressed to Mr. J. Alderton (that was me), and was sealed with a crest: A lion on a red background at the top right, a badger on a yellow background at the bottom right, an eagle on a blue background at the bottom left, a snake on green background at the top left, and a big H in the middle. I opened it.

Dear Mr. Alderton, it read,

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

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

I looked up. I saw Dean and Hermione had finished their letters too. Judging by their expressions, they had also been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

A/N: You know why I'm ending it here? BECAUSE I CAN. Also, it's a dramatic way to end a chapter, and I like chapters that end dramatically. And I actually did the research on education in the UK and primary schools in Cambridge.

Review or you will be hit in the back of the head by an owl.