Prologue: My Life in a Nutshell, Just to Bring You Up to Speed
To this day I don't understand how things could've worked out the way they did. They never do. Even things you think you have complete control over have a way of screwing themselves up. Ifni. Nevermind. It's that subtle risk of unpredictability that keeps our lives interesting. No matter how many things science explains away, nothing is 100% sure.
Anywhom, that's hardly the point. My point was, that in all reality, my life never should have happened.
I knew at a young age that I was different. I saw things no one else could; patterns in the way things worked, or at least how they ended up happening. I picked up language easily: French, Spanish, German. I had a wide vocabulary in my native language, English. But I learned to hide my special abilities. I was completely normal to anyone you asked.
Sorry, I'm babbling. At 11 years of age—I swear I was normal before—I got quite a shock to my system: a letter. It was from Hogwarts of course, a letter inviting me to become a witch. So I did. I went to the school of witchcraft and wizardry for seven years. My parents weren't too thrilled, but they knew they couldn't stop me. If you asked any of my friends, I went to a fancy boarding school. But that's what happens when a muggle child becomes a witch. A few lies here and there to protect our secret. I also had to fib a bit when they'd ask over the summer which classes I was taking.
I had an average seven years at Hogwarts. Harry Potter was in his seventh year when I got there. I met him once or twice, but we weren't friends or anything. I was a Ravenclaw, and damn proud of it. I didn't play for the house quidditch team, but I was okay, playing with my friends in my spare time.
I graduated with all the rest of my class. I achieved honours in any class that had to do with language, but my magical ability was nothing to shout at.
After Hogwarts, I had no idea what to do with my life. There aren't any wizard colleges. You go straight to whatever you want to do, and stay there. Some wizards take ordinary muggle jobs, but why anyone would want to do that, hiding their magic all the time, is a mystery to me. I knew I couldn't live with that. But still…what did I want to do?
The few friends I'd kept in contact with from my days as an ordinary muggle wanted me to come to college with them. So I had to go to some stuffy boarding school for the best years of my teenage life. Who cares? My parents couldn't choose what I did anymore. I was an adult. I almost went, but I didn't have the same level of education needed for college. I didn't know how I'd explain that to anyone.
So I got a job on the outside working in a pet shop while I decided what to do. I knew I didn't want to be at the Ministry, a bunch of stuffy wizards who moved too slow for their own good. I didn't think I wanted to teach. I'm not real fond of kids, never have been. It might have been bearable if it were an advanced class, sixth and seventh years only. And then I realised. I loved writing. I loved reading. I loved magic. Why not open a wizard bookstore? I could tell you how it all ends here, but that would spoil the surprise.
Disclaimer: I don't own much here, pretty much only Alex. The rest belongs to the wonderful JKR.
A/N: R/R, please, tell me how it's going.