Disclaimer: If you recognize it, It's not mine. I am most certainly not
J.K. If I could write like J.K., it wouldn't be posted here. It'd be
published and I'd be making millions of dollars. Oh, the girl at the end
isn't mine. But no worries! I have permission. Duh.
She sat on her bed, listening to her beloved stereo and thinking back. Mest - Jaded. That's what she was listening to, it made her think of how she had lived her teen years.
She sighed heavily and picked up a roll of parchment. Well, she thought, I might as well right it down. I've nothing better to do...
It starts on a day 20 years before. We came home from the carnival. I was angry because I had not wanted to leave. Silly thing to get mad at, if you ask me. In fact, I was so angry that I burnt the house down. With magic. Yeah, a fateful day. You see, my parents were both magical. They pretty much knew I'd be, but not so much so early!
From then on, I was trained heavily. My dad got a permit for me to practice magic under their supervision. I was taught quite a few spells, but to their suprise, I was not some great witch. I was pretty much average, despite that outburst when I was 4. I taught myself Alohoroma, though. Used it to get the brooms out of the cupboard when they weren't home.
On my 11 birthday, I certainly got a surprise. I was accepted into Herald's Institution of the Magical Arts. That's because I lived in America. But there was another letter. From Hogwarts. The greatest school in the entire wizarding world had accepted an American? Why? I, to this day, don't know why. They must have expected great things from me. Unfortunately, they didn't get much.
I flew to England and boarded the Hogwarts Express. I knew I wouldn't be homesick, I never really liked living at home, the whole preteen privacy thing was starting to get to me. Also known as growing up. So we went into Hogwarts, and damn, it was a BIG castle. Well, it'll help me drop that 5 pounds. I was put into Ravenclaw, with the smart people. Why did everyone want me to be smart? It was like everyone was pushing me, but hey, that's another one of those preteen things. Growing up and becoming a witch should not be attempted at the same time. Besides, I couldn't understand these people, they're accents were to strong. They said I had an accent, so I guess to them I do... Whatever.
My first class was Herbology. It was much more work than I was used to. We all know American Muggle Elementary Schools are a joke! And homework. Well, in the words of an American Teenager, 'Don't go there, Girlfriend.' I mean, I went from almost no homework whatsoever to THIS. And that's a big jump. An even bigger jump to someone who doesn't like change. Me, for example. I mean American Schools are a joke. English Schools are for real.
Mom sent me a Magic CD player. You just tell it what you want to hear. It's cool.
I wanted to make something out of these years. I begged my brother for his card, and named myself 'Freak'. It wasn't offensive, just fun, and it fit my personality much better than plain old Sarah did. Don't you think? No? You will. I made Super Sugar Quills my signature. Loads of sweets and butterbeer! Fred and George were my heroes. But secretly, I wanted to be like Hermione, smart and clever. Two things I wasn't.
Then to Charms class. I was late, of course. I was lost, don't bite me. So I picked a seat. Got myself yelled at, yup. I had to show Flitwick the right way to hold a wand. I had done this before. I showed him.
"Good job!" he shrieked in that high pitched voice, "5 points to Ravenclaw!"
Yeah, first points of the year to Ravenclaw. To me, too. Strange. I danced happily in the seat. Got myself yelled at, yup. So after class, a girl came up to me.
"Good job." she said. You see, I'm not really a people person, hence the name Freak. But that doesn't mean I don't try! So I invited her to skive Potions with me. See? Not a people person.
Well now, I'm tired of writing. I may write more. If I feel like it. I'm too much like my old self, too lazy for my own good!
She sat on her bed, listening to her beloved stereo and thinking back. Mest - Jaded. That's what she was listening to, it made her think of how she had lived her teen years.
She sighed heavily and picked up a roll of parchment. Well, she thought, I might as well right it down. I've nothing better to do...
It starts on a day 20 years before. We came home from the carnival. I was angry because I had not wanted to leave. Silly thing to get mad at, if you ask me. In fact, I was so angry that I burnt the house down. With magic. Yeah, a fateful day. You see, my parents were both magical. They pretty much knew I'd be, but not so much so early!
From then on, I was trained heavily. My dad got a permit for me to practice magic under their supervision. I was taught quite a few spells, but to their suprise, I was not some great witch. I was pretty much average, despite that outburst when I was 4. I taught myself Alohoroma, though. Used it to get the brooms out of the cupboard when they weren't home.
On my 11 birthday, I certainly got a surprise. I was accepted into Herald's Institution of the Magical Arts. That's because I lived in America. But there was another letter. From Hogwarts. The greatest school in the entire wizarding world had accepted an American? Why? I, to this day, don't know why. They must have expected great things from me. Unfortunately, they didn't get much.
I flew to England and boarded the Hogwarts Express. I knew I wouldn't be homesick, I never really liked living at home, the whole preteen privacy thing was starting to get to me. Also known as growing up. So we went into Hogwarts, and damn, it was a BIG castle. Well, it'll help me drop that 5 pounds. I was put into Ravenclaw, with the smart people. Why did everyone want me to be smart? It was like everyone was pushing me, but hey, that's another one of those preteen things. Growing up and becoming a witch should not be attempted at the same time. Besides, I couldn't understand these people, they're accents were to strong. They said I had an accent, so I guess to them I do... Whatever.
My first class was Herbology. It was much more work than I was used to. We all know American Muggle Elementary Schools are a joke! And homework. Well, in the words of an American Teenager, 'Don't go there, Girlfriend.' I mean, I went from almost no homework whatsoever to THIS. And that's a big jump. An even bigger jump to someone who doesn't like change. Me, for example. I mean American Schools are a joke. English Schools are for real.
Mom sent me a Magic CD player. You just tell it what you want to hear. It's cool.
I wanted to make something out of these years. I begged my brother for his card, and named myself 'Freak'. It wasn't offensive, just fun, and it fit my personality much better than plain old Sarah did. Don't you think? No? You will. I made Super Sugar Quills my signature. Loads of sweets and butterbeer! Fred and George were my heroes. But secretly, I wanted to be like Hermione, smart and clever. Two things I wasn't.
Then to Charms class. I was late, of course. I was lost, don't bite me. So I picked a seat. Got myself yelled at, yup. I had to show Flitwick the right way to hold a wand. I had done this before. I showed him.
"Good job!" he shrieked in that high pitched voice, "5 points to Ravenclaw!"
Yeah, first points of the year to Ravenclaw. To me, too. Strange. I danced happily in the seat. Got myself yelled at, yup. So after class, a girl came up to me.
"Good job." she said. You see, I'm not really a people person, hence the name Freak. But that doesn't mean I don't try! So I invited her to skive Potions with me. See? Not a people person.
Well now, I'm tired of writing. I may write more. If I feel like it. I'm too much like my old self, too lazy for my own good!