Chapter 1

Stranger than Fiction

As I grew older, I kept the fact that I was reincarnated into another time to myself. It wasn't easy, because if my parents found out that I knew some facts or information that a five year old isn't supposed to know about, I would give myself away. Thankfully, they never suspected a thing.

From my parents' heavy accents, I would say they were sort of British. I loved people who spoke in British accents because it was unique. And ever since I caught on to the accent, I was proud of myself and wanted to speak as much I wanted.

My parents weren't out of the ordinary, but rather the kind of family that blends in with the background. My mum, Lydia, worked as a housewife. I often see her cleaning the house or cooking our meals. My dad, Eugene, was a business man of some sort. I'm not sure what he does for a living, but I supposed it was a very important job.

I would often be told by mum that I'm rather mature than other kinds my age. Of course I was. My parents looked too old to have a child, both being older than 45. I knew that if I acted like an ordinary infant, I would probably stress them out. So it became my goal to give my parents almost no problem with me at all.

Mum and dad appreciated it. Whenever I was hungry or thirsty, instead of crying out like a brat, I would try my best to communicate as much as possible. I stopped using diapers as soon as I could walk properly, which was when I was 9 months. I would always clean after myself, which is why mum rarely feels the need to clean my room.

But an adult mindset wasn't nearly enough to keep my maturity. I was also very childish, often playing with dad whenever he could and demanding toys. Despite me being polite, I still have that childish instinct to be a loud, playful, and active person I was before.

I guess some things just never change.

"Mum, what year was I born?"

She looked up and gave me a look of surprise. "Why ever would you want to know, dear?"

I shrugged, toying with my stuffed bunny. "Curious,"

Mum hummed. "I'm not sure your exact birthdate, but I do know you were born somewhere in between April and May of 1980." She answered.

"How come you made my birthday on the 16th of May? Is there a reason behind it?" I asked.

Mum shook her head. "Not really. 16 is just your father's lucky number."

I blinked. "How come?"

"It was the day he was promoted, and the day he survived an accident. It was also the day he managed to live after I beat— sorry, scolded him for acting like a moron."

I stifled a laugh, which I found difficult to do. No one who makes mum angry can get away with it unscathed. She's very clever.

"Now hurry Arlina," she said. "Your homework won't finish by itself. And hiding it under the carpet and telling your teacher that you lost it won't work this time."

Alright, maybe too clever.

I walked to school, my friend Clara beside me. She was a plump girl, with braided red hair and dreary brown eyes. She had slightly large teeth for her age, but she was a very nice person in general.

"Hey look, fat Clara and wormy Arlina are here!"

Clara's cheerful face crashed down into worry and fear. "Oh no, not them again." She murmured sullenly under her breath. I fully agreed with her.

Patricia Flores, a girl who looked more like a boy was a very big bully. No one in my grade dared go against her, because she was very strong for her age and threatening. Three girls were usually seen accompanying her, all equally ugly and strong, following her orders.

Clara was one of the people who was bullied more than others. I was very annoyed by this, so I decided to become Clara's friend. Not out of pity, but because she was very lonely and because she was a kind person.

"Go away Patricia." I stated with an angry expression.

She laughed at me. "And what are you going to do? Cry to your mum and dad? Ha! Neither can survive for long, if you ask me."

I flushed in anger before turning around. "I don't talk to people who are lower than dirt. Let's go Clara," I said before walking away.

Clara nodded and trailed behind me before Patricia pulled her pack. I turned around and saw Patricia drop all of Clara's school supplies in the ground before throwing it away.

Clara cried loudly, much to Patricia's and her friend's amusement. I can't believe she had the nerve to do that!

I was seething. But I knew better than to resort to violence. I walked to Clara, helping her gather her school supplies and pack. We walked away but before I did, I glared at Patricia, wishing she would learn how it feels like to be humiliated.

Then the strangest thing happened.

Patricia started to float up in the air. At first, I thought she jumped. But then she kept flying higher and higher until she ended up in one of the tall trees in the school. She was then dropped on a high tree branch, where she nearly fell.

All I could do was stare in awe and shock. Clara did the same. While Patricia was flying, a teacher and a crowd of students gathered around.

"Help me!" Patricia cried helplessly, clutching onto the branch tightly. "I don't want to die!"

How dramatic. You won't die. You'd survive, only with a broken bone or so. Though if you did die, no one would miss you.

Principle Mason appeared from the building. He looked gobsmacked when he spotted Patricia high up in the trees.

"How did you get up there?!"

Patricia was crying. She was screaming for someone to get her down. The crowd of students in our grade kept on laughing and pointing at her. Patricia's group was also crying.

I didn't feel pity for her. I was rather satisfied that she learned her lesson for bullying. But how on earth did that happen?

I growled angrily.

Beside me, mum rolled her eyes. "You're acting like a dog, Arlina."

"My hair looks like a dog had been ran over by a truck, mum!"

She sigh. Of course she wouldn't understand how frustrating it is to have uncontrollably curly hair! Never mind the fact that it was blonde, unless it was straight of curled fashionably, it means nothing!

"Ugh," I said before making my way upstairs. I took a pair of scissors and held my hair on my right side, chopping off half of my hair away, now leaving it uneven and shoulder length.

I stared at my reflection. Even 'til this day, I would always be surprised whenever I would look at my face. I would always expect a narrow shaped head, slightly brown skin, dark chin length hair and dark eyes. But now, all I see is a round shaped head, bloody curly hair, fair skin, and stormy gray eyes. The complexion and combination of my traits were scary, making me seem fugly.

I sometimes wonder what would've happened if I had never died. But then again, I was enjoying my life as a British child and daughter of a new and cooperative family. The only things abnormal about my situation was that I used to be another person, I could fully-remember how I was given birth, I still have memories of my past life, and that I was a complete wuss when it comes to vehicles.

Ah well. Life is a mystery.

I thought that my life wouldn't get any weirder than it had been so far. Boy, was I wrong.

I had just turned 11 over a week ago, and I was overjoyed to discover that for another birthday gift, we would be going to Mexico and visit dad's sister, who married a Mexican.

I was very excited to go to Mexico, especially being able to eat all kinds of food there. I couldn't wait!

On the morning, a day before we depart to Mexico, I went outside the house to retrieve our mail. It was the usual lot; newspaper, bills, taxes, and advertisements.

I was about to enter the house but I stopped when I noticed an old letter in between. I separated it from the other letters and looked at the emblem used to stick the envelope closed. It was red and had a huge letter H.

I raised an eyebrow. This looks oddly like the Hogwarts acceptance letter. There's no way that would be possible!

I flipped it over to examine the back, and surely enough it was written in a curly handwriting with my name and my address written behind. There was no stamp or anything that told me it was delivered by the postman.

This must be a trick, I thought to myself as I rolled my eyes. I entered the house and placed the letters on the table.

Dad noticed the letter. He picked it up and gave me a questioning look. "What on earth is this?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I'm not sure." I admitted before taking a bite from my sandwich. "Probably some joke."

He stared at my letter. "Mind if I open it, Arl?"

"Not really," I answered.

He used a butter knife to slice open the envelope. He took the letter inside and unfolded it. Mum saw it as well and stopped, peering curiously over her shoulder.

"I'll read it aloud," Dad said before clearing his throat and holding the letter out in front of him.

"Dear Ms. Fray,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1st of September. We await your owl by no later than the 31st of July.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress"

I swiftly turned around from my spot, too surprised to move from my spot. My parents' reaction weren't that different either.

How could this be? Harry Potter is nothing but a fictional story! I couldn't have been reincarnated into the world of Harry Potter! That would be preposterous! Not to mention catastrophic!

"This… this must be a joke," Mum stammered. "There is no such school named Hogwarts. It's ridiculous."

I wanted to agree, but someone rang our doorbell. We all looked at each other, wary of what may come next before I walked out to the door. Hesitantly, I turned the doorknob and pulled it open.

"Oh. My. Gosh."

An elderly woman stood in front of me. She was wearing strange robes and a pointy witch hat. Much like my mum, her features were sharp and her gaze was intimidating. She was poised and proper.

"Hello," she said formally. "My name is Minerva McGonagall. May I come in?"

I opened my mouth, wanting to say something. But I couldn't.

Mum and Dad walked out of the kitchen to see who it was, and they wore expressions full of shock on their faces.

"Well?" she asked expectantly.

I did the only thing I could do;

I fainted.

[A/N:] How do you like it? I know that if you're somewhat Muggle-born or if you're adopted into a Muggle family with no wizarding relations, someone from the Hogwarts Staff will lead the student into Diagon Alley and teach her/him about the magic world. I couldn't pick anyone, so I decided to place McGonagall instead.

Also, big thanks to my darling reviewer and follower GaleSynch! :D If you're reading this, thanks for your support! I'll be looking forward to more of your opinion.

Reviews are love~