Chapter One

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Harry Potter is of J.K. Rowling's creation.

It came from her beautiful mind, not mine.

I opened my eyes to total darkness and instantly panicked, bolting up into a sitting position. The shirt fell off of my face and I was blinded my the sunlight coming through my window. With a groan, I laid back down and looked up at the ceiling. I really needed to clean off my bed so I could quit freaking out every time I woke up. After an hour of unsuccessful attempts to continue the more than pleasant dream I had been in the middle of, I climbed out of bed and went through my usual morning routine constisting of yawning, showering, dressing, and slowly making my way to the kitchen for some breakfast.

The sound of my mother making a high pitched excited sound made me jump as I entered the kitchen. "There's the birthday girl!" she exclaimed wrapping me in one of her warm mom hugs. I had totally forgotten that it was even my birthday up until this point, so I just smiled and gave a delayed hug back. She handed me a stack of birthday cards that had come in the mail with a huge smile. "How does it feel to be eleven, Mel?" she asked.

I had never understood why adults felt the need to ask that question. No, I do not feel any different than I did yesterday. Why would I unless I had come down with something overnight? "The same as it did to feel ten, I guess," I told her as I sat down at the table to open my mail. My grandparents had sent cards like always with their gift of money inside. I always looked forwards to their cards. But in addition to the usual birthday cards I got every year, there was a larger one with a red wax seal. I opened it and frowned.

Miss Melissa Moore

Down the Hallway, Around the Corner, Door on the Left

29784 N Carraway Road

Seattle, Washington, USA

Dear Miss Moore,

We are pleased to infrom you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of

Witchcraft and Wuzardry. Please find enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment.

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

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

As I read the letter, I grew more and more confused. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? Was the letter some sort of joke? I didn't protest as my mom read the letter over my shoulder as I was in need of some sort of explanation for the words written upon the parchment in my hands. "Mom, did you transfer me to some weird school because of what happened last year? I'm not a witch. I'm not some sort of freak. I know that that girl's books didn't light themselves on fire and I know that that boy didn't put that python in his backpack, but I had nothing to do with it!" I threw the letter down and stood up from my chair at the table to face her.

"I didn't do anything, honey. Maybe someone from school did it as a harmless joke. I'll just throw it away." She reached for the letter, but I snatched it up again.

"No. I'm going to find out who did this. It's not funny and I'm going to make them pay for their little 'joke'." I walked out the door, letter in hand to find out who had sent it.

"Mel, calm down. It's your birthday. Surely this can wait until tomorrow?"

"No, mom. I'm going to do this now." I was looking at her as I opened the door and when I turned to walk out of it, I collided with a person. I stepped back to find myself face to face with an older woman in an emerald... cloak? What on earth was she doing wearing that? "Who the hell are you?" I asked, forgetting that I was in front of my mom.

"Melissa! Where did you learn such foul language? Apologize!" she demanded as she pushed me aside to let the strange woman enter our home. "I am so sorry about my daughter. She's a little upset because of a prank someone has played on her. Please, come in." She shot me one of her "we'll talk later" looks as she hearded the woman to the couch.

The woman extened an aged hand toward my mother. "Minerva McGonagle. You must be Melissa's mother."

She reached out and shook her hand. "Yes. It's nice to meet you. I'm Stephanie Moore."

"So, Ms. Moore," Minerva McGonagle said, turning her attention to me, "what kind of prank did these young students pull?" She sat down on the couch as she spoke, moving suprisingly gracefully for as old as she looked.

"Sent me a letter of acceptance from a school for witches," I told her with disgust. "Why do you care?"

"Because, Ms. Moore, that letter was no trick. It was very real. As are witches and wizards."

"Yeah? And what makes you say that?" I asked, not believing her one bit.

"I happen to be a witch myself as well as the professor of Trasfiguration at Hogwarts. You will be my student if you choose to attend this August."

I snorted. "Un-friggin-believable... Witches aren't real lady. You must be dilusional."

"We are very real, Ms. Moore," 'Professor McGonagle' said as she pulled a wand from her robes and pointed it at the fireplace, causing a roaring fire to spring to life inside. "You would do well to start believing it. As you are one yourself."

"My daughter is not a witch," my mom said, saving me from having to come up with a response to her rediculous claims. "There must be some sort of misunderstanding."

"There is no misunderstanding, Mrs. Moore. Your daughter belongs at Hogwarts. She needs to be able to control her gifts."

"You think that lighting random things on fire by accident is a gift?" I asked in total disbelief, deciding that this woman must have escaped from a hospital somewhere.

"It is a gift that you have not yet learned how to control. And that is the purpose of Hogwarts. To teach you how to control and use your gifts. I understand that this is difficult for you to accept. But come with me and I'll show you how real all of this is."

"What, are you going to take me to your hospital or something?" I asked. "You're out of your mind, lady."

Able to tell that their visiter was losing her patience, my mom jumped in again. "Honey, maybe you should see what this is all about. I'll come too. I'm sure we can get everything cleared up in no time. I'll go get my purse."

"It would probably be wise to pack a bag as well, Mrs. Moore. The school is quite far from here. In Europe, actually."

My jaw dropped instantly. "Europe? You came here all the way from Europe to try to get me to go to some imaginary school?" I asked in disbelief. Maybe this school wasn't a joke. The lady had just lit a fire with a wand. Maybe all of the freaky stuff that was happening was for real...

After that, my mom was a blur as she packed things, getting us ready to travel to Europe with a weird lady that had randomly shown up at our door 20 minutes before. I just sat down and tried to accept that the school and everything the lady had said could be real. In almost no time at all, my mom was ready.

McGonagall stood and led us to the fireplace, telling us something I didn't even remotely understand about something called Flew Powder. The second she tried to get me to step into the fireplace that she had so recently started a fire inside of, I stopped cooperating. "You want me to stand inside of a fireplace? You must be absolutely insane!"

"It will take us to Europe much faster than any device you would be used to, Miss Moore. If I wanted to make you look silly, I would do it a much better way than making you stand in a fireplace."

I sighed and stepped inside, shooting her a "you can't be serious look".

"Now say 'Diagon Alley' and wait for me there. Do not move," she told me, emphasising the last part.

"Diagon Alley?" I asked, just to make sure. But, before I knew it, I was thrown to someplace I had never even dreamed could possibly exist. There were so many enterances to so many different places that I was flying past at a sickening speed.

I saw one that looked like the middle of a town filled with people dressed like McGonagall and willed myself towards it. I cried out as I was thrown through it and my shoulder scraped against the cobblestone street. I sat up and rubbed my shoulder, feeling a hole in my shirt with my fingers. "Great..." I groaned and stood up, looking around. Where was I? Forgetting the woman's words, I started to wander, getting caught up in my surroundings. I passed many stores with strange names, my head tilted up to read the storefronts as I passed. I gasped as I ran straight into someone. "I'm so so-" I began to apologize but stopped short as I looked at who I had run into. He was about my age black hair and dark eyes. He looked mean, but the expression on his face made me have to force myself not to laugh. He looked so confused.

"What are you doing dressed like that? You look like a Muggle," he said, dislike tainting the strange name he called me.

I looked down at my shorts and Washington State t-shirt. "What do you mean? This is how I dress all the time."

He raised his eyebrows at me. "You wear rediculous Muggle cloths all the time? Weird. Just watch where you're going." He started to walk away, shaking his head and muttering something about the weirdos he was going to have to attend school with come September.

"Hey, wait!" I said, following him. "Do you know where I am?"

He stopped and gave me another "what a weirdo" look that I was begining to think was one of his signature looks. "You don't know where you are? You do you find your way to Diagon Alley and not know where you are?"

"So I am in Diagon Alley then. Good. That woman gives crappy instructions..."

"You're Muggle-born aren't you?" he asked, stopping and turning to face me. "That explains a lot. Listen, you'd do good not to just talk to random people and to not run into them either. Most of us don't like your kind." Something about his voice hinted that he was part of 'most'.

"I'm sorry. I just don't know where I am. That McGonagall lady just threw me here." I looked behind me to see if she was there yet, not seeing her, I turned back to find him gone.

"Miss Moore!" The now familiar voice of McGonagall came from beside me as she rushed up to me. "I thought I told you to stay put," she told me breathlessly as she straighted her robes.

"Mel, we were worried sick!" My mom scolded although I wasn't really hearing either one of them.

"What's a Muggle?" I asked suddenly.

"A Muggle?" McGonagall asked. Where did you hear that word?"

"A boy I was talking to asked why I was dressed like a Muggle and said that I must be Muggle-born. What does that mean?"

As she explained everything, it became undenyably clear that this world she had told me about was very real. I had traveled through a fireplace and somehow been thrown in a totally different world. I was surrounded by magic, something that I would have denied the existance of two hours ago. How could my life have changed so much because of a simple letter and a lady in emerald robes?