The next day, and several more after that, mother told me everything she could about the magical world. I was still only four years old, so she had to keep it relatively simple. Though had I actually had the mind of a four year old none of this would have made any sense.

She told me that there was another community separate from the mundane world. The non-magical world. That community was filled with different magics, and witches and wizards. The magical residents called it the Wizarding World. Completely hidden from the mundanes.

There were three different groups in the Wizarding World: Purebloods, Halfbloods, and the Mundane-Born. Mother made sure I knew that it didn't matter what group I belonged in because here in America nobody took them seriously. It was like the mundanes labeling someone black, or Mexican. It was just recognition of who you are.

Purebloods are those whose ancestry is made up of other witches and wizards. Halfbloods are the ones who have one magical parent, and one mundane. Mundane-Borns are ones who have both parents as mundanes. The title was pretty self explanatory.

"Mother are you a Pureblood?" I had asked her.

"I was, am, a newer generation of Pureblood. We no where near as rich or influential as other Pureblood families, but we were fairly well off."

My eyes widened, "We have money?"

She chuckled, and turned away from the dinner she was making, "We did, yes, but I don't know what's happened to it. I haven't touched it since I met your father."

All of this new information was soaked up like a sponge. It's the first new material I've heard for nearly eighty years. When you go through two lifetimes of learning the same thing you tend to latch onto any new information you hear. The threat of having to go through high school again had me thinking early thoughts of suicide.

Of course I knew how horrible thinking that way was. Killing yourself is never an answer, and I couldn't imagine the pain it would put my parents through. But just imagine living through one life, then being born into another, and then waking up for a third time. Living becomes a chore in your first life, imagine doing it twice more.

At least this third time seems to hold a real adventure.

I mean, magic. Stuff found in fairytales or bedtime stories. I actually had an ability that defied all physics! Magical abilities that let me change my appearance at will, and cast spell with the flick of a wand. According to mother my ability to change my appearance was called metamorphmagus–and wasn't that a mouthful? I decided to go easy on myself and call it morphing. There was also potion making, and a sport called Quidditch where witches and wizards flew around on brooms while trying to catch/dodge different balls.

That one made me laugh. So much for warty witches flying around on their rickety old brooms. Apparently the mundanes got some facts wrong.

Another popular Wizarding community was out in Britain. Somewhere near London. Hearing that got me thinking to the other night when mother told me what caused my hair change. She said her grandmother went to Hogwarts.

That name struck a chord somewhere deep inside of my memories. It took me a few days of hardcore thinking before it all clicked into place.

Wizarding World. Hogwarts. Purebloods, Halfbloods, and Mundane-Borns. Quidditch. Metamorphmagus. All of these things are from that old book series Harry Potter. The ones they made movies out of.

The realization sent me into a state of silence for several days. I had, apparently, been born into the magical world of Harry Potter.

I hadn't known how to feel about it at first. I'd even asked mother if I was like Harry Potter, but she only gave me a strange look. She didn't know who Harry Potter was, though she did know there was a Pureblood family in Britain by the name of Potter.

That meant Harry Potter hadn't been born yet. No doubt those books weren't going to be written, considering I was inside of that magical world. It makes sense that she wouldn't know him though. It was the 1960's, and the setting of the books don't take place till the 90's.

Then I allowed myself to wonder why I was born in a magic filled dimension, thirty years earlier than the main events that take place. It took me a while before I finally figured out that Harry's parents had been the ones to go to Hogwarts in the 70's. If my calculations were right then I was the same age as them.

No doubt there was some sort of reason for me being born now instead of later I the future, but I couldn't find it.

With my school work doing a poor job of holding my attention I asked my mother to go to the magical world and buy me some books. She seemed surprised by my request, but nonetheless went out to buy some magical children's books. I read them to get a feel of the magical world, and know some references, but I went through them so quickly I was done within the week.

Mother noticed this, so every time she came home with more books they would be at a higher and higher reading level.

I did as I promised my mother and kept everything magical related on the down low. All of my book were kept hidden beneath my bed so father wouldn't see them, and I made sure to keep my emotions in check. It was hard to do for as a 4+ year old. When I brought it up with mother she got me another book from the magical world involving several meditation techniques.

I attempted them for as long as my 4+ year old mind could last. It helped more than I thought it would.

As the years went on my collection of books grew, and I was soon losing the space to hide them all in. I needed something to put them all in, and the only person I could think to ask was mother. Father certainly couldn't help me.

I brought it up a little after my sixth birthday, "Mother?"

She turned around from the sink to see me standing in the kitchen doorway. Father was still at work, so I felt comfortable enough to bring down one of the transfiguration books mother gave me. "What is it sweetie?"

"I need somewhere to put all of my books," I lifted the transfiguration book as emphasis for what types of books I was talking about. "I'm running out of space to put them all."

She 'hm'd to herself, and turned back to cleaning the dishes. "There's probably something I could find that you could keep them all in," she mused to herself.

Later that night when she was tucking me in she told me of her plan, "This Saturday we'll go and buy you a trunk."

My brows scrunched up in confusion, "A trunk?" Didn't she mean a suitcase? And how would it fit all of my books? There were a lot of them.

She sent me a secretive smile, "A trunk is what witches and wizards use in place of a suitcase. You can have them charmed to hold several compartments. Some could be bottomless. Maybe even a secret compartment. They will only open when you say the password."

The idea of a trunk greatly intrigued me, but most of my excitement originated from her saying that we would both be going to get the trunk. Mother has yet to take me to the magical world, probably thinking I was too young, but that Saturday she decided to let me have my first taste of the magical community in America.

And it. Was. Extraordinary. Extraordinary, remarkable, breathtaking, magical.

Mother had to keep a tight hold on my hand so I wouldn't venture into one of the surrounding shops. And why wouldn't I? There was a toy store, a joke shop, a store filled with odd plants and ingredients for what must have been potion making. There was a shop with a broom displayed in the window. Mother had only gotten me a couple of books on Quidditch, and I knew I wanted to try it out. As Édouard I loved sports, and here I could try out one that involved flying.

We went into a large white marble building called Gringotts. It was filled with odd men that were as tall as I was, and they were covered with various wrinkles, and had long, spindly fingers.

I clung to my mother's legs. The things (goblins) freaked me out enough to hang back and let mother do all of the talking. She seemed to be handling things rather well.

She handed over a large, old fashioned key. The goblin looked it over in his thin fingers before snapping for the presence of another goblin. Said goblin led us deeper into the bowls of the bank, and I was introduced to the most stomach twisting roller coaster you could ever ride in.

After taking a few seconds to let the lingering nausea fade away I looked over to see the goblin stick the clunky key into a large round door. A series of clicks emanated from the locking system, and the doorway cracked open with a gust of air. The goblin grabbed onto the door and slowly walked it open.

I was greeted by the sight of several piles of gold coins covering the ground of the cave-like room. There were piles of silver and bronze colored coins as well, but the gold was most prominent.

Mother grabbed a couple handfuls of the gold coins and shoved all except one into a small pouch connected to her jeans. The one she didn't put away she handed to me, "This is a Galleon, the most expensive of the coins. Next comes the Sickle," she picked up one of the silver coins, "then the Knut," she held up the bronze. "There's 29 knuts in a sickle, and 17 sickles in a galleon."

When she knew I had it all down she set aside the money and led me out of the vault. We rode the roller coaster back out–much to my joy–and left the bank to go and buy myself a trunk.

The shop we went into was fairly cozy. There were trunks lining the walls of the store so people could check out the interior and exterior materials.

"Ah, customers!" A man was standing behind the counter with a pair of reading glasses perched on the edge of his nose, "Can I help you with anything?"

I spoke up before my mother could, "I need a trunk for all of my books."

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows, and shared a smile with my mother. Apparently me being assertive was funny, "Then you'll need a trunk with a large compartment."

"Could it be bottomless? Can there be more then one compartment? Can I have a secret compartment? Can it be blue?"

My barrage of questions were cut off by my mother laying a hand on my shoulder, but the man only smiled at me, "Yes."

He gestured to the room from behind the counter, "Choose the trunk you want and I can give you everything you want."

I smiled excitedly, and bolted from my mother's side. There were so many trunks, but I mostly stuck to the brown, red, and blue ones. All of them were rather dark in color.

Eventually my eyes picked out a maroon colored trunk with a black velvet interior. There was only one compartment, but when we brought it up to the counter the man assured me that he could change it.

"What would you like to have in your trunk?"

I immediately gave him a list of things, "I'd like three compartments. One bottomless, one for clothes, and another for school books. Could I have a fourth compartment that's secret?"

He nodded at me, the warm smile never leaving his face.

"Can the trunk and the secret compartment have a password?" Another nod. "Can I decorate the outside of the trunk?"

"With what?"

I hummed in thought, "I guess my initials work. A.S.P. Could you put it here?" I pointed at the lock. It was on the long side of the trunk. I briefly wondered why there would be a lock when it was password protected.

Since we were the only customers in the shop the man could place all of his focus on spelling my trunk. It took him about half an hour to get it done, but when he was finished I was very pleased with the result.

There were three visible compartments. One on the left where I could place my books, one on the right where I could put clothes, and in the very middle was one with what looked like a small set of double doors. All I had to do was pull on the small doorknobs to reveal a black, bottomless space.

The secret compartment was, apparently, accessible from the outside of the trunk. I'd say the password and when you pulled the handle on the far side of the trunk it would pull out like a drawer.

Mother placed the requested amount of money on the counter, and when we got him I raced up to my room to pull out every single book I owned. Each book was placed into the bottomless compartment, and each time a book disappeared into the darkness I marveled at the sight.

Magic was officially the most amazing thing I have ever come across.