My mother taps on the door, hoping to wake me up. My body stirs in the blankets, but I don't wake up. My dream continues as more people walk by, like most of my dreams. They would just show people's feet as they rushed by. Every now and then, you'd see my bare feet padding along. I wonder what it means.
"London, honey, it's time to get up," my mother walks up to my bed, pushing my dirty blonde locks from my face. I open my eyes. I see her brown eyes and her bright red hair covering her face as she leans down to shake me awake. "Today's the day. Today's the day you go."
"Really?" I bolt upright, my head spinning because of the sudden movement. "Oh, mum, I'm so excited! I can't wait, I can't wait, I can't wait!" I jump up and down, so happy. Today is the day I get to go to Hogwarts. And if you don't know what Hogwarts is stop reading this book immediately and find another because I don't feel like stopping to explain things. So there.
I grab my wand and stare at it.
"Eleven inches three quarters. Mahogany and unicorn hair, with a bit of dragon scales on the outside. Only one of it's kind. Very odd." Mr. Ollivander was intrigued by my wand. I didn't see the difference between any of them. Just longer and shorter, thinner and thicker. But mine had scales from a dragon on the outside, next to the tip. Mr. Ollivander also said nobody had even been able to do a thing, not single thing, with that wand. For eleven years he had been trying to sell it. Not a single spark. It was special. I learned it was made on February 14th, my birthday, eleven years ago. Like it was just for me. On the day I was born. Weird.
"Hey, mum, in the car ride, can you tell me the story of Grandpa Harry on the way, please?" I plead. My grandfather, the hero of Hogwarts. I wish I could visit him now, but it's much too late. I'll have to wait for Christmas break. Pity.
Yes, dear," my mother, Lily Wayne (nee Lily Potter II), smiles. I throw my robes on, grab my trunk, and my screeching-off-the-top-of-her-lungs owl, Ruby, and throw it into the back of the SUV (not the owl, of course. Maybe I should have worded that better...I sit with Ruby in my lap in the car). I sit in the back and wait for my dad to come and drive us. Mum sits in the passenger seat, telling me the story of her brave, wonderful father. Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived.
"When he went into his second year, he got there by flying in a car because Dobby, like I've told you, blocked him out." She'd told everything there is to know about her father to me thousands of times. But I am still very intrigued every time she tells them. However, I am much more interested when Grandpa Harry tells them. He told you a story in a way that made you want it never to end. I love him. He takes me to Diagon Alley to get ice cream and shop every month, but we visit him almost every other week. Also the Weasly family. My best friends are Rose Weasly's children, Hermione II and Peter. Rose 's mother and father, Ron Weasly and Hermione Weasly (nee Granger), were Harry's best friends during this odd childhood of his. They also had a boy, Hugo, but he's been dead for two years now. I wonder why. I don't ask. I wonder why. "And he unknowingly destroyed a horcrux... oh, look, there's your father."
But I am tempted to say "Are you sure?" Because that doesn't look like the father I know. He looks very nervous, his hair sticking out because he fingers it when he is nervous.
"Are you alright, Marcus?" Mum looks at him compassionately.
"Lily, Ron is dead."
"What?" I exclaim loudly, almost dropping Ruby 's cage. My mother is already crying.
"Rose was going to get him to come along and take the kids to King 's Cross, but he was sitting there, dead. The same way they found Hugo. No sign of anything that happened to him." My father looks at his wife's red face, then turns to my red face, then makes his own red face.
"I sent an owl to Professor Longbottom, and he said he was allowing them to get off school when the funeral happens. He will attend as well," says Father. Neville Longbottom, another one of Grandpa's friends who was promoted from Herbology professor to Headmaster of Hogwarts. At least I know what happened to Hugo.
"Honey. The only way they could have died without a trace is the Unforgivable Curse. But why, why would anyone want to kill him?" Ron was her mother's mother's brother, my other grandpa. I have a very wide family.
“ No. That's impossible." My mother says sternly. "London, honey, don't expect to be in school much long before the..." She breaks down. "F-funeral."
"Oh, dear," Father hugs Mum.
"Tell Granny I'm sorry and say hi to Gramma for me," I say. Gramma is my mum's mum, Ginny Potter nee Weasly, Ron only sister. Granny is Hermione, Ron's wife. I am sad for all of them. Grandpa Harry, just losing his best friend. Rose, just losing her father. I can't feel sorry for Ron's parents, because they are long dead, and are probably happy he is up there with them and his brother Fred and his son Hugo. The car ride is silent, filled with only the sound of mother sniffing.