A/N: Ok, this is definitely the weirdest plot I have EVER come up with, but it's kinda a cool concept. I don't think any one else has done something like this. If they have, I'm truly sorry! I'm bad a creativity, but I don't try to copy people. I also don't suddenly claim some thing as my idea when some one's story goes well (ala N.K. Stouffer.) I'm confusing you aren't I? Oh well, I do that. Tell me if my stories do that, so I can fix them some what. On we go... General Idea: How come Ms. Rowling is so good at writing the Harry Potter books? Could it be because she was there? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Jo? Come down here." "Coming Mum." Joanne Rowling, age 11, shoved her hair behind her ears and slammed her empty journal shut. Well, almost empty. There were five simple words written: I want to be special. However, she was unaware off what was awaiting her in her confused mother's hands in the kitchen. It was a letter. A letter addressed to: Ms. J. Rowling The Upstairs Bedroom 42 Leighton Road Chipping Sodbury South Gloucestershire "Yes, Mum?" She asked impatiently. She was working on a new story, and was eager to write about it in her journal. "Dear? I have a letter here, about a school. I think... well, maybe you should read it to your self." Handing her daughter the strange letter, Mrs. Rowling glanced warily at her daughter. She wasn't quite sure what the reaction would be. Oblivious to her mother's thoughts, Jo began reading. HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards) Dear Ms. Rowling, We are pleased to in form you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. It was signed Minerva McGonagal, Deputy Headmistress. "Soooooo... What's today?" " The twenty-fourth of July. Why?" "Because that gives me seven days to find an owl." ****************************************************************************** Jo sat on her bed, listening to her parents. " Ben, I know that this is her niche, but we....know.....My.... witch! I...her get hurt...." "Merri, calm down! She.... And...who..." "That's... problem... We...KNOW!!" Jo discovered that floors are greatly inconvenient when you are trying to eavesdrop. Giving up, she sat back down at her desk. She looked at what she had written. Sighing, she picked up her pencil. Dear Diary, July 24 I want to be special. Oops. I am special. Though, not quite what I imagined. Who would've thought. I'm a witch. Really. What an odd thought. I always thought I was quite nice. Ok, I' give up on humor. Any way, my parents are talking about it. It's funny how a small thing like a letter can change so much. Sort of like in Sense and Sensibility, how that one letter changed the out come of all four people. So, I have to find an owl to send them my reply. That is of course, if I can go. But how do I catch an owl if I can't even catch a ball? Hopefully there won't be a sport a this school. However, I doubt I'm that lucky. Luck, for me, is a rare occurrence. Then again, there was that time when I forgot my report for school, and suddenly, it snowed so hard we had to go home. That was definitely neat. I must say, I hope that I don't have a boring life. However, I get the distinct impression that that isn't my fate. It might be that I wish it were boring. Nah. She signed it J.Rowling.. She liked her initial. It was very professional. "Joanne!" Grumbling to her self about the unfairness of interruptions, she pushed her self out of her chair and mournfully walked down the stairs. I hope I don't have to do the dishes, she thought. When she reached the kitchen, though, and saw her parents sitting grimly at the table, she decided that it was going to be a "talk," which isn't much better. "Dear, we have to talk. Sit down" Am I good, or am I good, she thought, sliding in to her chair. Her parents just stared at her. Shifting uncomfortably, she made a mental note to compose a poem to her chair. It was very useful, and undoubtably didn't receive nearly enough recognition. They were still staring. "Sooo. Where's Di?" "In her room..." "Oh." Silence. "Mum? Dad? Why aren't you talking?" "Well," Her mother said quickly, almost nervous. " We thought it over, and have decided that you will attend this school. Your father will drive you to London on Saturday. It says you will be able to get your things then." She paused. "What do you think?" " I think..." Jo grinned. " I think that I can't wait!" A/N: Slightly Cheddar, but oh well. I am not allowed on the computer for much longer, I'm sneaking this on while I "quick check my email." so I don't know if I got the facts straight, tell me if I messed some thing up, I'll try to fix it. By the way.... asking your opinion... should I make some flash forwards? Or should this part be a prologue, and have there be flash backs? Maybe I should keep it like this? Just wondering!