Ever heard of witches and wizards? To be honest, I think I may have heard too much. But if you go out into the street and ask ten people if they believed in magic, at least eight would say no. But if you asked some of the people I know...well, you might just get ten out of ten.
You are probably wondering who I am. I am Scarlet Riddle, the girl who has been kicked out of twelve (and counting) foster homes. Apparently, I'm not too popular with the people. The kids always make fun of me for various reasons. Maybe my long blonde hair is too pretty for them, or my perfectness is just too much for them to bare. But whatever it is, they call me a witch, a monster, a demon. So I get the animals to attack them. I tell them to come, and they come, and do everything I say. I guess that is probably the reason for my lack of friends, but that's not the point. Okay...maybe it is...but anyway, today the head of the foster home told me I had a visitor.
"It's a doctor, isn't it?" I sigh. "You think I've gone insane. Well, I'm not, I tell you!"
"No, Scarlet, dear," she tries to get me to sit back down on my bed. "I promise. He is a professor from a school, and he says you are signed up to go there."
"Your father." The man is here, and he is quite the sight. His beard is identical to a silver facial-hair waterfall, and he is wearing a regular suit. But that beard...good God. It is hovering over the ground. How does he walk without tripping? I think to myself.
"You know my father?" I'd never met him.
"Yes. But let us change the subject." He smiles. The lady has left.
"Okay. How about you introduce yourself?" If you can't tell, I am not particularly polite.
"Okay." The man acts like I was perfectly polite. I growl under my breath. "I am Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School."
"Hogwarts?" I snicker. "Quite a funky name. Like warty pigs?"
"No, Miss Riddle." Once again it is like I am the perfect picture of an angel of a child. It sickens me. "It is a school for witches and wizards. Like you."
I laugh out loud. "If you think that is going to make me come to your stupid asylum, you must have horrid business."
"No. I promise that you are a witch."
"Excuse me? Rude... you have clearly given up."
"No. Here, let me prove it to you." The man looks at the box sitting on my vanity. It opens suddenly, even though nobody touches it. I stare as the contents start flying out. Emma's jump rope...Bradley's lunchbox I have a liking for, everything I have stolen from the rotten brats. "These aren't yours, I presume."
"No." What? Why did I answer him, and why correctly? I feel like throwing up. "I stole them." Stop! I scold myself. Stop it, Scarlet, shut up!
"Yes, ma'am, you have." Dumbledore is a wizard, apparently. I choose not to believe it, not to fall for his trick.
The jump ropes and other various items fly out the magically open door to their owners.
"Believe me now, Miss Riddle?"
Dumbledore hands me a letter enclosed with a red stamp. Imprinted in the stamp is a symbol.
It looks something like this:
I open the envelope to see a letter telling me I need to purchase things like cauldrons and a wand and things I have never seen at the supermarket.
"Here is some money from your vault." Dumbledore drops a jingling bag of coins onto the vanity next to the now empty box. The only thing in there is some gum I stuck to the bottom so something (I don't remember what) would stick. I listen to his words, but they go in one ear and out the other.
"We expect you there at...get your things...Diagon Alley..."
"Next to the Leaky Cauldron in London." That's a while from here-wait. Am I actually considering this? I guess I am. Besides, what am I doing here, anyway? What have I got to lose?
"Okay." I wait a moment. "You knew my father?"
"Know. Goodbye!" And he leaves. Know. He's alive?