As promised, chapter 1! I hope you like it, and please leave any constructive criticism and thoughts below.

I was just getting to the good part of my book, racing through the pages, when my mum shouted up the stairs.

"Leigh? Please come down. There's a lady here that wants to speak with you."

I knew something was up right then. I had been diagnosed at an early age with social anxiety, and I hated meeting new people. My parents knew that full well, so, when any prospective visitors came around, which was very rare in itself, an excuse along the lines of "she's at her grandmother's house" was brought up, and the person in question usually didn't come back after that. Besides, our only visitors were mostly just co-workers of my Mum or Dad's and when they did come, my presence was really only required for about a minute, in which the visitor in question would spout out the overused phrase of Oh Wow Daniel And Charlotte Look At Your Beautiful Child she's Gotten So Big at which I have nothing to say and that is my cue to head back upstairs like a good little girl and read for the rest of the night, which I was only too happy to do.

I considered telling her that I was right at the part in my book where it's revealed that the main character's best friend is actually the villain, the part at which the book was finally going to get interesting. But, that would take me shouting down the stairs, and I had always had a small, mousy voice, so that option was out. Option two: Suck it up and go down the stairs and see what my parents wanted of me. That seemed like the safest choice, so option two it was.

I cautiously made my way down the long hallway leading , and plodded silently down the stairs. I took this time to silently observe the scene. Mum, Dad, Roscoe, so far, so normal- but who was that? A lady, fairly old judging by her face, was sitting by our fire, which was always roaring in any temperature, traditional cup of tea in her hand. I was even more surprised that she elected to sit in that particular spot, because she was clothed in emerald green robes- quite the getup, and probably would be very hot in this July weather, even without this heat. The London area had been on a horrific heat wave for the past week. I reached the bottom of the stairs and in my mousy voice, proclaimed. "I'm here."

Our visitor jumped at hearing my voice; my parents made no motion of surprise. They had long since gotten used to my silent traipsing around places. I hesitantly walked over to where my parents were sitting, sneaking a cautious glance at our unusual visitor as I did so.

"Leigh," my mother started in her "please act normal for once or God so help me" tone (I heard it all too often), gestured to my usual armchair, which was now occupied by this woman, "this is Professor McGonagall from, well, I'll let her explain it."

The woman- Professor, apparently- rose from the armchair, rather gracefully for her apparent age, and took a half step towards me.

"Yes, thank you Mrs. Watson. As I was just telling your parents here, I am from Hogwarts, a boarding school in Scotland. Hogwarts is a school only for certain people, people with special abilities."

My brain immediately shot back into the depths of my memories, reeling through them to possibly figure out what made me so "special" as to be accepted into this school. Sure, I was plenty smart, but not the smartest one in my year. I played violin, and sure, I was concertmaster of my school orchestra, but going all the way to Scotland for that? That really was unreasonable. Besides, I was already enrolled in a magnet school for creative writing, so I was set for this year.

Or so I thought.

I got snapped out of my mind when the Professor continued, "Miss Watson, you have magical abilities. In short, you are a witch. Hogwarts is the wizarding school for Great Britain and the surrounding areas, and you have a place there, if you so choose to accept it."

Me? Magical? A… witch?

My mind went blank as I momentarily struggled to process this newfound information, and in that moment I spout out the only coherent thought that came into to my head.

"What?"

The professor- well, Professor McGonagall to me now- shook her head a bit and smiled momentarily- I guess she must've been very used to this reaction at this point in her career.

"You're a witch," she reiterated, "you have magical abilities and powers, and Hogwarts is one of the only schools in the world at which you can refine your abilities, and is one of the finest. I am the Headmistress, and before that I taught transfiguration for some time.

"A-are Iris and Trevor magical as well?" Iris and Trevor, my twin little brother and sister, loved reading books about magic and playing sorcerer- they would be ecstatic if they could go to Hogwarts.

At this McGonagall pursed her lips and said, "Trevor is, but Iris is not. We do have Trevor on our lists for admission in 3 years.

"So you're saying- that I can go to school to become a witch?"

She gave another one of her almost imperceptible smiles that I tended to get from my teachers a lot, as if to say "How many times do I have to explain this concept to you?"

I spun around to look at my parents, who I had almost forgotten were in the room, and was about to ask if I could go, when I remembered one crucial detail like a sucker punch to the stomach. Every time I asked if I could go to a private school, my parents always said no for one reason. They were just too expensive. I mean, we weren't poor by any standards, but adding private school (especially in Scotland) on top of handling three kids and all the expenses that came along with them was just too much.

So, with that, I turned dejectedly back to Professor McGonagall and mumbled "imsorrybutidontthinkwecanreallyaffordthatrightnow" which came out quite fast.

"What's that dear?" she questioned, not quite understanding my incoherent speech.

"I-it's just that, well, um, we're kind of tight on money as it is, and well, I don't think we can really, well, afford the tuition right now at the moment." I stuttered as I glanced at my parents, who had adopted an almost murderous glare. Rule number one of the Watson household was that we never ever ever talked about our money. Especially the family finances. Pretty poor choice on my dad's part, as we were going to have no idea how to handle our savings after university, but I digress.

Professor Mcgonagall took a deep breath, as if preparing to spill some bad news. "Well, I think there's another option. Your uncle, Thomas was it?"

I nodded mutely in response, not sure where this was headed. Uncle Tom, Mum's brother in-law, had just died a few short weeks ago, hit by a drunk driver.

"He was a wizard."

Surprisingly, this did not shock me as much as I thought it would. Who else was secretly a wizard in my family?

"And, that's not all. As you probably knew, he was fairly wealthy, and when he passed, in his will he left the entire sum of his Gringotts bank account to be divided among his relatives with magical blood. You are not directly related to him, but since you and Trevor are his only living magical relatives, the funds are automatically transferred to you two to split between you both."

"Gringotts?"

"The bank for wizards. It's located in Diagon Alley, secretly located right in the heart of London. Run by goblins."

"Goblins? Like, from the fairy tales?" My dad asked weakly; I had forgotten how much of a shock this would be for my parents as well, as I was continually told that children had more elasticity to their minds, and were more open to new ideas, usually said by my teachers in the context of "use it or lose it".

"Well," continued Professor McGonagall thoughtfully, "depending on what 'fairy tales' you're using for reference, and what goblins in our society you're referring to, yes, some of the more rogue groups of goblins can be quite nasty at times. But, those bands stay far away from any sort of human community, and the ones that work the banks are very, well, I wouldn't call them exactly nice, but they are civil."

I was all but ready to shout "Count me in!" but then I remembered. Attending Hogwarts, however fantastic it may be, still meant a new school, with new people, a new friend group to make, most likely a new bossy clique to deal with, and so many other variables. I had attended my primary school from the age of five, and I had had the same group of friends, well, if you could classify them as friends (they were mostly just people to have lunch with, seeing as there were no empty tables in the courtyard for me to sit at alone) , ever since the first day of Year 1. I hatedhatedhated meeting new people, and especially hated meeting people in my own age group. Whenever I met new kids around my age, usually at various orchestra events and Trevor's taekwondo meets, everyone always forgot about actually meeting me and started gossiping to each other about how I was such a baby for still hiding behind my Mum's back at age 10.

I began to argue with myself in my head.

It's HOGWARTS! Go while you have the chance.

Yeah but… I'll have to meet new people- and new classes- and what if they don't offer orchestra?

HOGWARTS! MAGIC! WIZARDS! SPELLS!

But….. people? And do they even have wi-fi in old castles in Scotland?

Who cares about Wi-fi? You can probably magic-ify your cell phone into working off of magic. And really, who would you text if you could?

That was the sad truth. Even if I did, by chance, happen to get the chance to communicate with someone, who would I talk to? And then, I said the words I would've never imagined myself saying.

"I'm in."

So, two (well technically one) chapters done! Next time, we'll be going to Diagon Alley and stuff like that. Again, please leave any thoughts, comments, reactions, constructive criticism, etc. below.

Thank you for reading!

BD