7.

Poppy and Minerva introduced me to the Daze Bus and the Knight Bus, the two wizarding Britain bus routes. In both cases, a witch or wizard with a working wand put out their wand arm, and with a bang a violently purple triple-decker bus appeared, one on which you could get a table and coffee and lunch during the day, and a bed and hot cocoa and a toothbrush at night. There were no seats; the bus was literally three rows of beds or lunch tables (depending on time of day) with windowed curtains.

I always chose the top deck, both because I loved the feel of it as the bus sped along and because there was less chance of someone spotting my scar up there. The bus would start and stop with sudden bangs, whizzing along through different sections of the country at alarmingly high speeds, occasionally teleporting to a different area of the country randomly. None of the bus drivers seemed to have mastered the use of a steering wheel, but it didn't matter - the bus could squeeze in the tiniest spaces between cars, no Muggles ever noticed the bus, and when the bus jumped onto the pavement lamp posts and trash cans all dodged out of its way, and then back into place once it had passed.

The bus cost money to board, but I had that in spades and it was worth it to me, to be able to travel to London and the Alleys and back in the space of a day anytime I wanted. I began going on my own to check out the other Alleys in more detail freely.

I did explore Knockturn once or twice, because come on, wouldn't you be curious? It was a smoky little dark lantern-lit alleyway full of equally dark, forbidding shop buildings and shabby, sketchy-looking people in torn robes. Someone tried to pick my pocket once; another time an old woman offered me a plate of what looked horribly like human fingernails. I politely declined her and decided not to look too closely at the plate. Those were fingernails, and that was gross.

But for the most part, Knockturn was very interesting. The shopkeepers were trying to make a living just like everybody else, so as long as I kept my bangs over my scar I got plenty of very interesting tours. Knockturn shops sold things like large live spiders eating each other in cages, poisons, human bones, ancient weapons, handy tools for thieves, and cursed objects. There were lots of neat little antiques stores there, but it was wise not to touch anything too pretty until you asked what it was in Knockturn for first.

I was used to wandering and taking the bus around even the dingier parts of Surrey just to get away from home growing up as a child, so I took all this more calmly than most children might have. As long as you kept one hand on your purse, the other hand on your wand, and a sharp and cautious eye, Knockturn was an interesting place. I did buy a thing or two to appease shopkeepers who led me on tours, little non-cursed antique trinkets with a promise to buy more when I came back. (I rarely did.) Mostly I was there for the experience, though I was careful never to tell anyone else this.

But I spent the main part of my time in the other Alleys. And then, of course, at home, I paid an owl for the Daily Prophet every morning, learning things like who the current Minister for Magic was (Cornelius Fudge) and who the biggest gossip columnist was (Rita Skeeter; she seemed to write an article at least once a week about either The Weird Sisters, an all-male rock group, or Celestina Warbeck, a popular singer). I kept my radio on while working on this or that, tuning in to Quidditch games and news updates and slowly learning the ins and outs of wizarding lingo, and in my spare time I played my new wizarding music. I downloaded all of my favorites onto my technology, connecting to the WWN and finding wizarding social networking sites.

I felt connected to the wizarding world in a way I never really had before.

I continued with therapy, but I also dove into my studies in preparation for Hogwarts. It seemed I was always either reading something, or practicing a new potion or a spell. I also practiced wandless magic - and sensing out my own magic helped me greatly with wand based magic; after that it was all just a matter of practicing physical technique - and I read studies Minerva had recommended of Parseltongue.

Between all of this and my new hobbies (music, drawing, cooking), I was kept quite busy, though I did have time to name my new pet Siamese cat Jada. I had a piece of paper pinned to the wall, counting down the days till September the first.

Minerva and Poppy helped me celebrate my eleventh birthday on July 31. They brought me a chocolate cake and sang me Happy Birthday, took me to the aquarium, and then the three of us took the bus to the nearest flying practice field, which was hidden behind something that looked to Muggles like an elementary school but which was upon closer inspection found to be abandoned.

There was an instructor to teach me my first flying lesson out on the grassy green field, but I didn't need much instruction. The broom jumped into my hand on the first try, I leaped onto it, and ten minutes later I was flying every which way about the Quidditch field, fast and graceful, like I'd been doing it for a decade. Minerva, Poppy, and my supposed instructor watched me, amused and mystified.

"This is amazing!" I kept shouting. "It's so easy!"

And it was. Somehow, I just magically knew what to do. It was instinctive, it was easy, it was wonderful. Quidditch was suddenly demystified for me as a passion.

First years weren't allowed brooms - we learned flying on the school brooms first - but I promised myself that the minute I was allowed one I was buying a top of the line racing broom. That looping, fast, flying sensation - there was nothing like it.

I shouted and laughed, looping and flying around the flying field. For once, I was having the time of my life on my birthday.

And for the first time, I felt connected to my Dad.