Emily Parker was not one people generally considered to be beautiful. Though, to reserve judgement, she couldn't exactly be called ugly either. She was rather tall for her age, already standing at 157 centimeters. Her skin could be called neither fair, nor tan. Her cheekbones were high and slashing; her face all angles and points, as opposed to the soft distinguished features most girls coveted. She wore her ash blonde hair in a plain style, cropped at her shoulders. But if anything about Emily made a person take a second look, it would have been her eyes, for they were a most striking shade of violet. And when she smiled, they glittered with the innocence of her youth.

A storm raged outside, thunder and lightening clashing loudly, seemingly at war with the rain droplets that hammered away at the window pane. Emily lay awake, on her back, still wrapped in a tumult of blankets, fearing the moment her mother would come in the room to rise her. None of her mates mothers made them get up at eight o'clock in the morning during the summer holidays. She pouted for a moment, and pondered what she could possibly spend the day doing, seeing as the tempestuous rain would ensure an indoor play-day.

"Anything to avoid cleaning my room" she joked to herself, and pulled her body from the warm sanctuary of bed, before her mother could do it for her. Gingerly and delebritely, she stepped over a pile of dirty jeans, kicked aside a pair of trainers that hadn't fit since last summer, and revealed a bare spot of carpet.

"Well, what'da know. Its blue under there. I'd forgotten." She laughed again at her own joke, and continued down the hallway where she could smell kipper frying for breakfast. The closer she came, the louder the whispered conversation of her parents became.

"Josie, she's eleven. All eleven year olds enjoy living in a pigsty. Its a right of passage."

"Matt, it's disgusting. She's going to clean her room today, or I'm going to ground her. Its that simple."

In the hall, Emily moaned, and dejected, entered the kitchen. "Hi." she muttered, heaping toast onto a plate and silently falling into a chair in the cramped kitchen.

"I think she heard you." her father said on a laugh and rumpled his daughters hair. "Tell ya what Em, we'll do it togehter. You and me. Then maybe, if we finish early enough, we can go for gelato later."

Hearing this, the little girl perked up, her eyes sparkling. "Really, daddy?"

"Of course. So eat, and we'll get started."

Josie scowled. Unlike her daughter, she was, and always had been, classically beautiful. Tall and slender, with hair the colour of the expensive champagne she had a taste for, that ran in a cascade down the middle of her back. Emily had inherited her high cheekbones, but not her easy smile, nor her unsettling blue eyes. With her good looks, Josie had put herself through university by modeling, and even had a brief hope of turning professional. But instead, she'd found herself getting married, and not soon after, pregnant. Often she lay awake at night, wondering what had become of her dreams.

Emily never wished for her mother's looks, she never prayed that one day she'd wake up and have inherited her grace either. From the time she could walk, she'd always preferred playing with the boys in the mud, seeing who could collect the most worms, and seeing who could go the most days without cleaning their room. She favored her father, who also was tall, but had a much more relaxed look about him, with wildly curly brown hair, and the same glittering violet eyes.

"You give into her far too easily." her mother said quietly.

There was one thing, that even at such a young age Emily found mesmerizing. Her parents relationship astounded her. For she could not imagine two people less suited for each other. Her father always seemed so down to earth, always so easy to relate to. Her mother, and perhaps, Emily realised, this came from being so beautiful, had an air about her, something of vanity wrapped in the space around her. It was disruptive, and she clung, steadfastly, to her father. But then again, all you had to do was take one look at Josie and Matthew Parker, and there wouldn't be a doubt in your mind that they loved each other.

She watched them have a silent stand-off, though she knew her father would win, as he always did whenever the fight was about Emily. And besides, the little girl thought to herself Mum gets what she wants anyway, my stupid room will be clean, and I'll have to try and beat Edward's month long record all over again. Aloud, she sighed. But before her mother could ask what was wrong, the doorbell rang.

Perplexed, Josie cautiously made her way into the foyer, opening the door without removing the security chain. The sight she was met with was one not many people can claim they've seen, and the shock of it rendered her speechless. There was an old man in the doorway, face lined slightly with the wrinkles of age and wisdom, his hair and beard both silver, but peppered with strands of auburn, and long enough to be tucked into his belt. This alone, was not a strange sight in itself, for there were many men that age living in the city of London. The weird thing about this man was the fact that he was dressed in a set of magenta robes. Finally, Josie found her voice.

"Could...could I help you?"

"I certainly hope so." the man responded cheerfully.

Maybe he's lost... Emily's mother thought to herself.

"I'm here to speak to Emily Parker" he continued.

"About what?" she demanded to know, placing her hands on her hips.

"She's been offered a place at my school."

"Oh." Again, rendered speechless, Josie stepped aside, unsure how the chain had removed itself from the door, as she couldn't remember doing it herself. But she figured she must have, for how else had it come off? "Please come in... Mr...?"

"True enough, I haven't introduced myself." he said quietly, his blue eyes twinkling brightly. "My name is Albus Dumbeldore."

Without another word, Josie led him into the kitchen, where, much to her dismay, Emily was shooting pieces of kipper at her father, seeing how far she could get them to fly. She felt the blush rise hot on the back of her neck. What would this man think of her daughter now?

"Stop that." she ordered simply. "You are a young lady. Act like one."

Emily exhaled loudly, rolling her eyes. "Who's that?" she asked suddenly, turning her attention to the man standing silently beside her mother.

"This is Mr. Dumbeldore. He's come to offer you a place at his school?"

Matthew Parker turned his attention to his wife. "How can that be? She's never been entered into a private school." he hissed out of th corner of his mouth.

Josie shrugged. "Maybe she did it herself. At one of those career fair things."

Dumbeldore sat down at their breakfast table, wedging his long limbs into the tight space. "Emily's name has been down for Hogwarts since birth." he answered the Parker's whispered questions.

"Hogwarts? I've never heard of it. And we most definitely did not ask for her to be admitted there."

"My school is one based on ablities. It is a school of magic."

The reactions were mixed, and typical of what you would imagine a situation like this one would result in. Josie's mouth hung open, unable to find words. Apparently she'd correctly assumed that this man was crazy, and had made a grave mistake in allowing him into her home. Matt was outraged, screaming as Emily had never seen him do before. And as for Emily, well, as many children at that age are, she was fascinated, but weary, for she'd seen too many dreams shattered.

"Prove it." she'd said simply, and folded her arms tightly over her chest, set her mouth in a thin line and waited.

Instead of looking, as Emily had predicted, distraught, that he'd be unable to prove himself, Dumbledore looked delighted, as though this is exactly what he hoped would happen. removing a long thin piece of wood from beneath his cloak, he waved it, and wordlessly vanished all the food from the table.

"Whoa." she whispered.

"It's a trick." Matt growled. "I want this man out of my house. Now."

Dumbledore held up a hand. "Just a moment more of your time. If when I've had my say, Emily still doesn't want to attend Hogwarts, then I will leave you in peace, just as I've come."

Emily's father said nothing more, just mimicked his daughters actions, crossing his arms over his chest, and setting his mouth in a line.

"Miss Parker," Dumbeldore said softly, eyes still sparkling. "Have you ever made anything happen? Anything you couldn't explain, like when you were angry, or scared?"

Emily bit down on her lip and thought of the single time she'd lied to Edward, telling him that she'd caught fifty worms, and hidden them in a box under her bed. Of course, what she hadn't counted on was that her friend would demand to see said worms, and wouldn't let the subject drop until she'd agreed to take him. She'd prayed fervently on the walk over, that if somehow a massive pile of worms would appear under her bed, she'd go to church every Sunday for the remainder of the month. And to her astonishment, when they got to her room, they had. Edward had been grossed out, and that was saying something. She'd always chalked up the miraculous appearance of the worms to God, but now, she wasn't so sure.

"Well... actually, yeah. I have."

Dumbeldore smiled. "I know. And now that you're eleven, we'll train you to harness your magic. To hopefully use it for good. There's so much for you to learn." And at this, he handed her a letter. A letter written on yellow parchment, in green ink, sealed with red wax, bearing an intricate coat of arms. "You'll be needing that, if you choose to attend Hogwarts."

"I do!" she practically yelled. "I want to learn all about magic!"

"Good. Then you'll need a few things. I can take you today to get them, if you so desire..."

"No way." It was not Matt that spoke this time, but Josie. "I'm sorry Em, but there's not a chance in hell that I'm letting you go off alone with this man. We don't know anything about him. No offense sir."

"No, none taken. I would, of course expect at least one of you to join us today."

Emily had now ripped open her letter and was reading her list of needed supplies. "All first year students are required to have:

Two sets of robes (black) for daily wear
One winter cloak, (Black with silver fastinings)
One standard size two pewter cauldron
One set of scales..."

She droned on, reading her list of items, then upon completion, turned to Dumbeldore. "Cane we find all this in London?"

"Sure," he responded easily. "If you know where to look."