PROLOGUE
I STARE at the letter again. Then back to my mom. Then, the letter. I'd spent my entire life avoiding this stupid school, and here she is, waving the crimson emblem in my face.
Hogwarts.
Save me the bitter arguments. I already know what you'd say; how dare I? I'm perfectly aware that Hogwarts is a great school and I could learn to be be a wonderful witch or whatever, but I've lived my entire life without it and I'm not too keen on changing it now. Not to mention, my last name is probably enough to get me kicked out on the first day-Malfoy. That's right; I am the Draco Malfoy's niece, to a sister he never knew he had. Not until I turned eleven, at least, and he tried his hardest to get me into Hogwarts out of his own guilt.
It was only one of the many reasons I didn't want to go. It pained my mom to talk about, and we didn't really have any more pain to spare these days. For the past three years, she'd been stalking around like a zombie; not really living, but not committed to the world of the dead either. She was hardly a mother anymore. Not that she ever was much of one; being married to a wizard and descended from a line of Pureblood wizards without being one herself broke her down at a young age. Her parents had always suspected she didn't have any magical abilities within her and hid her away in a basement. Obviously, their fears were confirmed when she finally turned eleven. Mom never got into Hogwarts. She wasn't a witch. That's the reason her parents-my dead grandparents-sent her away. So don't blame me if I'm not super keen on going.
Until this letter, sent on my sixteenth birthday, arrived. It wasn't any different from the other letters they sent me over the years; the thing that changed was my mom's response.
"I want you to go," she insists again, calmly sipping her tea. I nearly choked on my Captain Crunch.
"You're kidding," I repeat for the fourth time, confused and a little worried about her mental health. "I'm not going, Mom."
"Elenora goes," Mom continues, going on and pouring my sister's cereal like nothing was off or different. I blink a few times, trying to figure out whether this is actual reality. As far as I could tell, it was.
"You don't even get along with Elle," I hiss back, glancing over to my fourteen year old sister, who doesn't even flinch underneath her beanie. "She only goes because Dad wanted her to before he died." Mom flinched; we don't talk about my dad much around here. It's a pretty taboo subject. My dad, Brannon, was a wizard and we inherited it from him. We never took his last name though, because my parents never married. I'm not even sure I know his last name, to be honest.
"Megara," Mother warns with a harsh tone, "Anastasia has decided to attend also." I felt the rolling of my eyes without even realizing it. Anastasia was our youngest sister; I was the oldest at sixteen, then came Elle at fourteen, and then our little baby Ana at eleven. Of course she would get a letter this year; eleven is the age you start going. It's also not a surprise that she wants to go-she's such a bright spirit and has always been obsessed with magic.
"That doesn't determine what I do, Mother," I spit out nastily, feeling my annoyance heighten by the second. "I haven't attended all this time and yet now you want me to? Who are you?"
"Anastasia is going," she repeats sternly. I know she doesn't have a good argument, that she isn't making sense, but something in her voice warns me to back off and something in me knows I have to. I am angry, extremely so, but underneath all the angst I'm afraid. I shove the bowl of cereal in my hands angrily away from me and stomp to my room, slamming the door behind me. I know she'll come in later and apologize; she would never make me go.
Except when I wake up the next Monday, all of my bags are packed and my sisters are waiting for me at the door. My mom says nothing, and won't even look me in the eyes.
It wasn't until then that I knew she was serious.
I had a feeling it was going to be a long year.