I don't usually consider myself cheesy, but really, "It's my life. I wouldn't have it any other way," can't be considered as anything other than a cheesy statement. Let me justify it to you?

The Leaky Cauldron is where literally everyone comes when they need to visit Diagon Alley. I get to see them all at least once a year, and a good number of my friends stop by quite frequently. To clarify: yes, I do have friends, even with my hectic lifestyle.

I'm addicted to ice cream. If you don't believe me, just look at how much of it I eat during my shifts at Fortescue's. There's no way I could afford to buy that amount, but I get it for free while I'm working.

Madam Malkin's is a bit harder to explain—I like clothes, but I'm not addicted. I can afford to buy all I need. People don't stop there frequently to visit. I'd have to say it has something to do with Averill (Madam Malkin to her customers). She's old—maybe in her mid-seventies to early eighties—but there's just something so vibrant about her that she's fun to spend time with, especially after the events just a few years ago. She can remember other things and assures me that, with time, I will too.

I'm sentimental; you probably know that by now, though. Or at least you've guessed. Selling sweets on the Hogwarts Express reminds me of my time there. It wasn't often pleasant, starting about the start of second year with that Chamber of Secrets disaster and lasting for almost exactly five years. Some of the older kids vaguely remember it, but the younger ones are gloriously innocent of all the suffering some of us endured during those years. I envy them for it, sometimes, but I am often simply and pleasantly reminded of my first two years at the school.

I'm not addicted to my work, I swear. I have a flat—my own, by a stroke of pure luck. I go out with the girls when I can, and those evenings are always filled with plenty of joyful laughter.

If you care to listen, I'll tell you a story. It's the story of the young witch pushing the sweets trolley and struggling to make ends meet. It's the story of how her delicately-balanced life comes crashing down on her head, with just one letter. And it's the story of how she survives it all.

I'd like a new name for this story—"Something to Try" is what it was originally saved as on my computer. It was just that, something to try, an exercise in writing. It's taking a bit more shape than that and is heading in a different direction as I get to know the trolley witch. Any suggestions? Review and let me know. If I pick yours, I'll send you a preview of the next chapter :)