November (the month of course, not November Potter) descended on Hogwarts castle, bringing with it a crisp, chilly addition to the air. No one much cared for Potions class or Defense Against the Dark Arts because the dungeons were by far the coldest parts of the castle. It wasn't unusual to find students wearing their House-colored scarves to their classes, particularly those in the dungeons. On more than one occasion Elijah and Abby had traded scarves, though they were careful to disguise them beneath their robes. When he'd offered his to her during Defense Against the Dark Arts she'd blushed, accepted the gift, and offered her own to him. The two were getting to be best friends. Paul was very sore about this, but tried not to show it for fear of being accused to jealousy.
It was late one evening in mid-November – November 15th, to be exact. The next day would be Abby's 12th birthday. *LOL to anyone who's seen the movie!!!* She sat inside the window of the girls' dormitory, perched comfortably on the cold stone ledge, lost deep in thought. Her parents' old owl Hedwig, a beautiful snowy owl despite its age, had flown in that window just minutes ago to deliver a letter from them. Everyone was still in the common room by a fire they'd lit, since it was Friday night and they didn't need to be in bed for another few hours. Abby was alone with Hedwig and her thoughts. She sat lengthwise on the windowsill, her knees drawn up to allow the tips of her toes to just touch the other side. On her lap she had a piece of parchment, and in her hand was a quill. She gently scratched the owl beneath its chin as she thought about what to write. Finally she dipped her quill into the inkbottle beside her and began to write.
"Dear Mom and Dad,
Hello! Good to hear from you again. I thought you'd forgotten me! Haha, only joking. Things are great here at school, though it feels a bit strange that everyone already knows so much about me. You're right Dad; it is creepy! I did end up being sorted into Gryffindor, and so did Paul. Hugh, of course, is in Slytherin. Nasty little bloke, he deserves it. There's the strangest Slytherin here, though. His name is Elijah Young, and he's so sweet! He's so kind and generous. He really wanted to be in Gryffindor, and I think he'd do great in our House. But for some odd reason the Sorting Hat put him in Slytherin. I just don't understand it! Professor Dumbledore says it's all right to be friends with him, even though our Houses hate each other. But it's so hard! What do you think?
So, what do you think of this color for my ink? It used to be black, but I transfigured it into blue! Can you believe it? Professor Granger asked us on the first day of school if anyone could do it, even though we didn't study it yet. And I got it right! She let me keep the ink as a sort of souvenir. Yes, Dad, Potions is a rotten class. I don't like it at all. It's so hard! I have to work twice as hard at it than I do any other class, and when I don't get something right Professor Snape makes it a huge deal! ¡No es justo! I know you say it's because I'm not in Slytherin, but I think it's worth it then. I'd rather have one bad class than go through all my classes as Slytherin.
I hope this letter makes it to you. Hedwig seems very tired. I'm going to let her rest in the owlery for a few days before sending her home. Honestly, we really ought to get a new owl. I mean, I love Hedwig, but she shouldn't have to spend her last days working for us. That's really cruel.
Anyway, I can't wait to see you both for the holidays!
With love,
Abby."
With one final flourish across the page, she finished her letter and folded it up neatly. She tucked it into Hedwig's beak, but not without a word of caution.
"Now Hedwig, I want you to go straight down to the owlery and rest until you're strong enough to take this letter to Mom and Dad," she directed, patting the old owl's head. Hedwig blinked slowly as if to say, "yes, I understand". Then she spread her wings, flapped them a few times to warm up, and flew awkwardly out the window. Abby watched her go, hugging her knees tightly to her middle for warmth. She sighed deeply. The night sky was a dark, inky black. It looked as though someone had spread a navy blue curtain over the sky, then poked it with many, many holes. The brilliant white stars were countless. As she stared out longingly at them, she couldn't help wishing desperately that she were one of them. One among thousands, she thought wistfully, resting her chin on her knees. That's all I've ever wanted to be. Just one star like all the rest of them. Not some great big meteor that sticks out like a sore thumb. Just because I'm the daughter of the famous Harry Potter, everyone thinks I'm some sort of great witch. They all expect so much from me! But I'm not great. Not at all. I'm a lousy Potter.
She brooded for a little while longer, until a thunderous clapping and applause broke her contemplative mood. There was a sound of hands clapping, teeth whistling, and voices congratulating. It seemed to be coming from the common room. Wonder what all the commotion was, she rose slowly from her window ledge, her bare feet pattering softly against the cold stone floor. There were rugs in the room, of course, but not between the beds where she was walking. She had just stepped onto the scarlet *what else?* -colored rug at the foot of her bed when she heard the hollow sound of something hitting carved-out stone. What on earth could produce such a sound? She looked behind her, where the sound had come from. Her wand, which had been lying on her bed protruding slightly, was now on a patch of stone behind her ankles and next to the bottom of the bed. But why did it sound hollow? Curious, she turned and knelt to the spot, picking up her wand.
"Lumos," she murmured, tapping it against the stone. It was a spell Professor Granger had taught her privately. She held it on the floor long enough to give it a rich, luminescent glow, and pulled it away again. Something had been carved hastily into the floor, but there was too much dust in the letters to read them properly. This she quickly dusted away with her other hand. Now the light poured into these letters, presenting them to her eyes. She traced them with her fingertip.
"HJP," she read thoughtfully. She spoke in a voice so soft, there was no conceivable way for anyone else to hear it. "Those are Dad's initials. This must have been his bed too when he went to school. Oh no…another legacy I'm supposed to fulfill. I get his scar, his House, and now his bed? This is so unfair! Wait a moment…" *…and the author just realizes that the boys and girls dormitories are kept separate, and that readers might wonder why Harry's bed was in the girl's dormitory, and feels really stupid. Well, let's just pretend the rooms switched or something over the years, cuz I don't feel like rewriting it ;)* These were, of course, simply her thoughts as she thought them. They were just spoken aloud. Her eyebrows knitted in slight confusion and wonder, she tapped her wand against the stone where the letters were carved. Again that hollow, echoing sound. This time, though, she noticed pencil-thin lines around the letters in a rectangular shape. There was definitely something beneath the floor. Now she had to figure out how to get at it.
Abby toyed with her wand between her fingers for a moment, silently musing. In her mind's eye she was flipping through her Standard Book of Spells for a charm that might help. This was clearly a secret little cove that required advanced magic beyond her years. Still, a basic spell was worth a try. Shrugging with a "here goes nothing" attitude, she pointed her wand at the letters and muttered the first spell that came to mind:
"Alohomora!" She didn't expect this to work. Not in the least. She had only said it as a blind shot in the dark while she tried to come up with something better. After all, who would lock up something as obviously secret as this when a simply "alohomora" would open it?
Her father, apparently. The word was barely out of her mouth when the box-shaped lines around the initials faded away-along with the stone in that area. It was like the lines withdrew from themselves, like they were being drawn on but in reverse. The stone dissipated completely, leaving a little cubby open for Abby. It was like an open box made of the same gray stone as the rest of the floor. Inside sat a fat, rugged-looking book. This made her curious. Gingerly she pulled the book out and blew softly on the cover to remove the dust. It looked old, but not by hundreds of years. The forest-green cover was tattered and worn, especially around the corners, and it bore no title. The pages on the inside were yellowed, torn, and a bit crinkled. It had obviously been used quite often, an object that had been referred to time and time again. It was also clear as crystal that it had once belonged to her father.
Now thoroughly enchanted by the mystery of this book, Abby sat on the frigid cold stone with her legs crossed and dropped it into her lap. She completely ignored the fact that the so-called "secret" cubby was left wide open for anyone to get into and see. This had her complete attention now. She carefully lifted the cover to reveal the first page.
"September 19 [it read]
Well, hello. This is going to be a bit strange for me, since I've never kept a journal or diary or anything like this before. But Hagrid bought me this in Diagon Alley. Said I should write in it and keep track of my time at Hogwarts, and that it might be interesting to look back on years from now. So hello to my future self! This girl I met on the train here - Hermione? - showed me how to hide this so no one would find it. Even if they did, they wouldn't be able to open it. Only my wand can open it. Or a wand like mine. I don't exactly remember. Anyway, Hermione's really smart. She knows how to do loads of spells already, and she's getting top marks in all her classes. Ron, a boy I met on the train, says she's too smart for her own good. I wonder if that's possible.
Hogwarts is incredible! It's our third week here, and it gets more interesting every day. I don't care very much for the staircases, though. They're so confusing! And tricky. I'm still learning their tricks, or trying to, anyway. But it's a lot more fun here than grammar school was. And I have friends!
Dudley never let me have friends before. Ron is super nice. His family is full of wizards, so he knows all about this stuff. We've got flying lessons tomorrow. Everyone's going crazy over it. Can you believe they're actually going to show us how to fly-on broomsticks? I mean, I knew witches rode broomsticks, but that was only on Halloween. And it was just superstition. I never imagined I'd be riding with them! Anyway, it feels like everyone already knows how to do it. Hermione's been reading all sorts of books on broom flying, and Ron says he used to fly with his brothers. He says he'll help me out. It's a bit scary, but it's all so much fun, too. Magic is a lot harder than I thought it would be. It's not all just wand-waving and saying silly words. There's a lot more to it, and you know, there's more use for it in the end.
Oh, I love it here. Malfoy is a horrible classmate, and I think one of my teachers hates me, but I've got my friends, and I'm having loads more fun here than I've ever had before in my life. For the first time, I really feel like I'm home."
So Professor Snape had hated her father, too? Abby was now thoroughly absorbed in this book. It was like finding a kindred spirit who really understood her, like he was no longer her father. He was just Harry, a young boy her age who could relate to her troubles. Of course, it wasn't exactly the same. She hadn't grown up with Muggles, alone, friendless, and orphaned. But then, that gave her a deeper appreciation for what she did have. She turned the page, eager to see if Harry had ever experienced troubles like the one she was having with Elijah.
For the next hour or so, the noise in the common room was completely forgotten.