An Auora of Mystery

A/N: This will be somewhat like a teaser trailer. But it really is the first chapter in my book. However the second chapter probably won’t come for months. I just wanted to get this out there to see what you guys thought.

Also, I wanted to inform you that this will sort of replace my other book. A lot of the “scenes” (or whatever you want to call them) that occur in my other book will now occur in this book too. The reason I decided to write this book instead was because I felt like I was giving away to much information in the first book of the series. AND because after reading the 6^th book there were a couple of things that I wanted to change.

Chapter 1

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Owl Post

                    

Lily woke up, one mid-July morning, got changed, and went down to breakfast without making her bed. It was funny, Lily thought, laughing to herself, everyone thought she was perfect. She was nowhere near perfect—her room was a pit, she rarely made her bed, she didn’t get perfect marks, and she couldn’t help but feel hurt by the rude lies her sister threw at her on a daily basis.

            Yes, her marks fairly good, she had a lot of friends, and, when she wanted to be, she was fairly organized, but her greatest imperfection was that weird things always happened to her. Sometimes when she was angry with somebody, something bad would happened to them, sometimes when she was in trouble, her mom and dad would forget what she had done. It was almost like magic…only it wasn’t, it couldn’t be.

            When she went downstairs, she saw that the television was on, which meant that Petunia was already up. She had always hated it when Petunia woke up and claimed the television before her, but she found that today she didn’t care. For some reason, watching TV seemed so boring and usual; she felt like doing something different, something adventurous.

She went upstairs, into the study and grabbed a book. But she soon found that didn’t interest either. She didn’t know what to do. Suddenly everything in her life seemed too ordinary, too boring, and she didn’t want to do any of it. She thought about what she wanted to do. The neighborhood pool was the same thing, and she hated swimming alone. Movies and drive-ins showed the same types of movies with the same types of endings every time and her friends had no better ideas on what to do.

Suddenly, it felt like she had led a boring life. How did she ever manage to have any fun? She decided to go get some breakfast and find something to do later, because eating actually did sound appealing.

***

Molly Prewett glanced outside from the window seat in the parlor—it had to come today, it just had to. After a few minutes of waiting not so patiently, she looked outside once more. Only this time the sky wasn’t empty, this time a tawny owl was flying straight at her. She hastily opened the window and let out her hand for the owl to perch on. Before untying the letters attached to the owl’s leg, she said a quick prayer that whoever the recipient of the badge was, that it wasn’t that horrible Adriana Puecy. She then discarded the letters addressed to her brothers and opened the one that read:

Molly Prewett

Parlor Window Seat

Number

            She rummaged through the envelope took out the letter explaining the start of term, took out the usual list of school supplies, and finally found what she was looking for. As she hastily opened the third piece of parchment, a bright, shiny badge fell to her feet. She picked it up, and let out a scream of excitement when she saw that it read “Head Girl.”

            A couple seconds later she heard two sets of feet sprinting down the stairs. She heard the door swing open and her brothers, Fabian and Gideon, clamber inside.

            “What’s up, Mol?” Fabian asked, “Did something get you?”

            “No, it’s just,” Molly answered, trying to regain her composure, “I’ve been made Head Girl.”

            “No! I don’t believe it!” Gideon said, acting horrified, “No wonder you were screaming.”

            “Shut up,” Molly said quickly. “Now take you letters and leave, you little gits. Fabian, you have two.”

            Fabian picked up his two letters and left to go into the parlor. He first opened his one that looked different than Gideon’s and Molly’s and opened it. He skimmed through it, smirking as he went on:

Mr. Prewett,

            Since you seem to be so unaware of the rules and goings on at Hogwarts, I have attached a list of the numerous rules, punishments and banned items in the school. I would also like to remind you that Hogsmede visits are not permitted on any day other than Hogsmede weekends, and going into the is NEVER allowed. I would also like to inform you, that starting next term, punishments will be much more stringent.

-Apollyon Pringle

            “What’s that?” Gideon asked, snatching the letter out of his hands. After reading the letter once over he turned to his brother and his face broke into a smile. “That is so tight!” he exclaimed, “You’ve got to be the first student ever to receive a letter from Pringle.” Then, he added in an undertone, “Just don’t let our dear sister know, she’d go ballistic.”

            “Let me know what?” Molly asked, coming into the room.

            “Nothing,” Fabian said in a too-casual voice. He then quickly muttered the incantation and waved his wand—with a BOOM, the letter from Pringle blew up, and Molly shrieked.

            “WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?” she screamed, “THAT LETTER WAS FOR ME, WASN’T IT?”

            Fabian and Gideon both shook their heads quickly.

            “YES IT WAS! WHY YOUR LITTLE…” but apparently Molly couldn’t find a word to describe how bad her brothers really were. “MUM! DAD! FABIAN USED MAGIC!”

            “Molly no!” Fabian said, but the order came too late. With two small pops, Mr. and Mrs. Prewett appeared in the room.

            “Molly, keep your voice down!” Mrs. Prewett said harshly, “Our neighbors are muggles you know.”

            “Now what did you two do?” Mr. Prewett asked, looking down on his two sons.

            “Nothing,” they both said at the same time.

            “They blew up a letter that was addressed to me.” Molly informed them.

            “No we didn’t,” Fabian said, “Well, yes, we blew up a letter, but it wasn’t addressed to her, it was addressed to me!”

            “Why did you blow it up then?” Molly challenged.

            “Because he didn’t want you to see that he was the first ever student to receive post from the Pringle.” Gideon informed them.

            “What?!” Molly asked, looking confused, “Pringle sent you a letter?”

            After throwing a harsh glance at his brother, he looked back at Molly and said “Yes,” trying to make it seem as though it was nothing.

            “What was it about?” Mrs. Prewett asked.

            “Oh, you know,” Fabian said casually, “Just rules and such.”

            “Since he never follows them” Gideon added.

            Fabian threw him a harsh glance.

            “What? You don’t!” Gideon said matter-of-factly.

            “How much trouble are you in with the caretaker?” Mrs. Prewett asked strictly.

            “None yet,” Fabian said.

            “What does that mean?” Mrs. Prewett asked.

            “It means that last year; Fabian got caught sneaking into Hogsmede 3 times.” Gideon explained.

            “There’s no way in hell I’m ever showing you that passageway.” Fabian warned his brother in an undertone.

            “There’s no way in hell I’d ever need to know, Pringle obviously knows about it,” Gideon muttered back. “And I probably already know about it.”

            “Bet you don’t” Fabian whispered angrily back.

            “Behind the mirror on the fourth floor?” Gideon asked quietly.

            “No.” Fabian replied in an undertone.

            “The one-eyed, humpbacked witch?”

            “No, you showed me that one.”

            “Is it the…” Gideon began in an undertone but was cut off by his mother.

            “THREE TIMES?” Mrs. Prewett asked, outraged.

            “Hey and it’s not like he doesn’t get in any trouble!” Fabian accused, “He got more points taken away from Gryffindor than any first year ever!”

            “But he…” Gideon started, before Mr. Prewett cut him off.

            “We don’t want to know what trouble you guys get into at school, that’s between you and your professors. However, we are inclined to punish you for what you do at home. I’m under the impression that you did magic Fabian?” Fabian nodded solemnly, knowing that there was no way he could get out of this one. “Then hand over your wand.”

            “What?! When will I get it back?” Fabian asked, outraged.

            “You’ll get it back once term starts.” Mr. Prewett answered.

            Molly realized she was a numbskull for thinking what she’d been thinking. Even if Arthur had broken up with her, as she had feared, Gideon and Fabian wouldn’t have cared about her enough to try and hide it from her. She should have known that it was something stupid. However, she wasn’t completely consoled that everything was alright with her and Arthur. He hadn’t posted her back yet on whether he could come over for the summer, and she was worried that he might not want to come over at all. She decided to send her owl, Errol, to her best friend Jody Wellington for advice. Also, if Arthur wasn’t coming over, she might as well invite somebody.

Dear Jody,

            A few weeks ago, I posted Arthur, asking if he could come over for the remainder of the summer. However, Errol came back with no reply. Thinking that he had to ask his parents and that he’d post me back when he could, I waited patiently. However, it’s been 2 ½ weeks since a posted and, still, I haven’t received a reply. What do you think hat means? Does it mean what I think it means or am I just being paranoid?

            Also, I’ve been made Head Girl. I know it’s not that big of a deal, but I’m just glad the wench, Adriana Puecy, didn’t get it. I can’t even think of the number of times she’d abuse her privileges and how many fake reports she’d fill out. Slytherin would win the house cup every year. I’m just glad I got it and I hope my brothers realize that just because their my family, otherwise, I’ll be forced to take points off from them.

Yours Sincerely,

            Molly Weasley

            With that Molly went down to lunch, some of the excitement of becoming head girl draining out of her with the thought of Arthur fresh on her mind. Knowing that all she could do was wait for Jody’s reply, she grabbed a piece of toast and bit into it, knowing that she wasn’t hungry.

            Fabian was sitting in his room reading a book about Quidditch when an owl flew through his open window and landed on his bed. He recognized it at once as Uaxley, his friend Barry George’s owl. He untied the parcel from the owl’s foot and him an owl treat. He then continued to read the letter:

Fab-Man-

            Dude, I got a letter from Pringle with the supplies list this year. He said I better follow the rules this year or the punishments are going to get a hell of a lot worse. I bet you got one too, didn’t you? But I think he’s bluffing, I mean, how much worse can you get than cleaning out frog brains from the dungeons? What’s he gonna do now, hang us out the castle window by our toes? Anyways the reason I wrote was to tell you that Mum got company tickets to the Wasps vs. Cannons game, Top Box. D’ya wanna come? They’re pretty good seats, the top row, besides the boxes. It’s an important game dude, you have to come. Write Uaxley back with your answer once you ask your folks.

-Barry

            Fabian put down the note and he couldn’t help himself from smiling. He couldn’t believe that Mrs. George had gotten tickets to the most important game of the regular season. If the wasps didn’t make it into the finals he would kill himself. True Bagman was an exceptional beater, but the Cannon’s Seeker, Trist, was better than Florian, the Wasp’s Beater. The problem was that the game landed right on his dad’s birthday and he wasn’t sure if his parents would let him go.

***

            James Potter swerved, dodging a strategically placed bludger hit by the Slytherin Beater, then he ducked to avoid an opposing Chaser, and sped towards the goal post, Quaffle in hand. He was fifty feet, forty feet, thirty feet, twenty feet—the Keeper was stationary at the goal post, ready for his shot. He decided to feint; it was something the Keeper wouldn’t expect from this close in. Sure enough, he was right. Once realizing what he had done the Keeper flew, as quickly as he could on his outdated Comet, to the right goal post. However, James shot had already flown into the goal post when the Keeper outstretched his hands.

            The crowd went ballistic—the score was 240 to 10. If the Gryffindor seeker could only catch the snitch now, they would be almost undefeatable for the Quidditch Cup. Then James saw something that mad his heart sink 2 feet. The Slytherin Seeker was diving for the snitch and the Gryffindor Seeker was miles behind.

But was that going to stop the youngest ever Quidditch Captain from losing a match for his first time? Nope; James had an idea. He accelerated straight towards the path where the opposing Seeker was diving. He got there right in time and blocked the Slytherin Seeker from reaching the Snitch. As his head as his Seeker swooped by, the Slytherin seeker tried to swerve around him. James, however, was too good of a flier for that, and easily kept him away from the snitch.

His seeker pulled out of an easy dive and caught the snitch. However, when it was over, when they had one the match, it wasn’t the seeker they were cheering for, it was James. ‘And, well,’ James thought to himself, ‘why shouldn’t it be? After all, I did win the match for us.’

“James! James!” the crowd of Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws cried in unison.

Then, suddenly, he heard his mother’s voice in the mix. And, before long, her voice was the only audible one.

After shouting his name a couple more times, had finally awoken her son.

“What is it, mum?” James asked, half sleepily, half annoyed.

“Honey, you’ve gotten a letter.” Mrs. Potter explained, showing her son the letter that had arrived for him.

“You woke me up for that?” James asked, now completely annoyed.

“I think you’ll want to read this letter before you decide how annoyed your our.” told her son.

“It’s from Hogwarts then?” James asked excitedly, jumping out of bed and running over to grab the letter from his mum.

“Hold on, young man.” Mrs. Potter said, holding the letter out of James’ reach. “You have to promise me that you won’t brag about this to your younger brother, and that, once you get your wand, you won’t try to curse him.”

“Why shouldn’t I brag to him?” James argued, “It’s not like he’s a squib or anything. I’ve known that ever since he set my buttocks on fire. And what’s the point of getting a wand if I can’t use it?”

“You know the restrictions on underage magic, with your father working for the ministry and all. If you use magic outside of Hogwarts, you’ll be expelled from school and you wand will be broken in half,” his mother warned him.

“Fine mum” James agreed begrudgingly. After all, what choice did he have? “Can I see my letter now?”

Elizabeth Potter handed her son her letter and he opened it quickly. It read:

Dear Mr. Potter,

            We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Students shall be requested to meet in the Chamber of Reception upon arrival, the date of which shall be duly advised. We await you despondence by return owl. Please make sure that the utmost attention be paid to the list of requirements attached herewith. We very much look forward to receiving you as the new generation of Hogwarts’ heritage.

Draco Dormiens Nanquam Titillandos,

Professor Minerva M McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

            James quickly read over the list of supplies that was behind the letter. He read it carefully marveling at each new book and item he was asked to get. Pictures and ideas formed in his mind about what his first wand or real broomstick would look like. He had a broomstick, but now, since he had informed his parents that he would be trying out for the Quidditch team, he would need a top-notch broomstick for a top-notch chaser such as himself:

First Year Students Will Require:

1. 3 sets of plain black robes
2. One black hat for day wear
3. One pair of dragon hide gloves
4. One clock with silver fastenings

And the following set of books:

1. The Standard Book of Spells, by Miranda Goshawk
2. A Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, by Phyllida Spore
3. A History of Magic, by Bathilda Bagshot
4. Magical Theory, by Adalbert Waffling
5. A Beginners Guide to Transfiguration, by Emeric Switch
6. Magical Drafts and Potions, by Aresenius Jigger
7. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, by Newt Scamander
8. The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self Protection, by Trimble

All Students Must Be Equipped With:

1. A wand
2. One standard size 2 pewter cauldron

And may bring, if the desire, a cat OR an owl OR a toad

Please Note that First Year Students are not allowed their own broomsticks.

            At the last line, James’ mouth fell open, he was outraged. Why the hell wasn’t he allowed his own broomstick? He could probably fly better than half the seventh years the damn school—he’d been doing it since he could walk. Quidditch was what he lived for, and there was no chance in hell that he’d make the Quidditch team on a crappy school broom.

            “Mum,” James said, horrified, “They don’t allow first years their own broomsticks.”

            “What?” Elizabeth Potter asked, her heart sinking. They had just bought James a Nimbus—the newest racing broom out there, what all professional teams used, and the one broom that ever child over the age of five would die for.

            “There’s some stupid rule that says first years aren’t allowed their own broomsticks at school. This pretty much makes the Nimbus you were planning on giving me pointless.”

            “What?” said Mrs. Potter, James’ last statement distracting her from her thoughts, “How did you know you were getting a Nimbus?”

            “You always hide my presents in the oak chest in the guest bedroom grandma always stays in.” James said as though stating the obvious.

            “But I placed a charm on that crate, you couldn’t have opened it!” Mrs. Potter gasped, dumbfounded.

            “Mum, you’ve known me since, well, forever. You should know by now that when I want something badly, I get it.” James said casually.

            “But that’s a difficult charm to break…you couldn’t…you wouldn’t have the necessary…” Elizabeth Potter stuttered.

            “Well I’m a very powerful wizard.”

            “You know, I have yet to meet another eleven-year-old that’s as self-absorbed as you are.” Mrs. Potter exclaimed to her son.

            “But what about my present?” James whined.

            “Well your father had company tickets to the top box of the Wasps vs. Cannons Quidditch game. He and I were going to go together, but maybe you could go with him instead.”

            “Oh.” James said, trying to hide the excitement that was penetrating throughout his body.

            “What? You love the wasps!” exclaimed his mother, “and you must know that this match determines whether they enter the finals or not.”

            “Yeah, going to the game would be fun, but,” James said in his most subtly persuasive tone, “I was just thinking, well hoping really, that I might get two presents because I got two privileges taken away from me from things beyond my control. Since I don’t get my broomstick and I won’t have a chance of making the House Team without it, I was wondering if I could go to the game and maybe get something else too.”

            “Well,” said thoughtfully, “I suppose that could be arranged. How about if we buy you an owl when we get to Diagon Alley?”

            “That sounds great mom!” James said happily, leaving the room. God it was so easy to weasel things out of his parents, hopefully the teachers at Hogwarts would be just as easy. But if they weren’t, he’d find their weaknesses. After all, he was used to getting whatever he wanted, and he didn’t plan to stop that trend anytime soon.

***

After a few hours of sitting in her room thinking of what to do, Lily decided to go downstairs and get some breakfast. She walked down the flight of stairs connecting the upstairs of her house to the kitchen and jumped down the last tow as was her tradition.

As her dad saw her come into the kitchen, he said over the top of his paper, “Lily, honey, will you go get the post?”

“Sure dad,” Lily said shrugging. After all, she didn’t have anything better to do. She went down the short flight of stairs to their doorway, bent down, and scooped up the small pile of letters that had come through. She absent mindedly looked through the small stack until she saw something that made her heart stop, she had received a letter.

It was rather funny, every time Lily received a letter she was in a momentary state of shock because, over anything else in the world, Lily loved receiving mail. Not that she didn’t like talking on the phone, she’d just rather write them, and she was deaf on the phone and usually had to ask people to repeat things at least four or five times in one conversation.

When Petunia saw her looking at a letter, she jumped off the couch and ran towards Lily. If Lily hadn’t known any better, she would’ve thought that Petunia was going to make a pass at her. However, after growing up her whole life with Petunia, Lily knew what she was after. She lifted the letter through her sister’s outstretched hands and into the hair just in time. Even though they were twins, Lily was an inch and a half taller than her sister so, by standing on tip toes, it was impossible for Petunia to reach it.

“Mum! Dad!” Petunia yelled, “Lily’s got my letter!”

“No I haven’t!” Lily retorted, “It’s got my name on it. See how it says ‘Lily Potter, Kitchen, Number 8 Privit Drive, Little Winging, ’ on it!” She then waved the envelope in front of her sisters shocked face.

“!” Petunia screeched, “after carrying her backpack, cleaning out her locker, and clearing her lunch tray for a whole year and a half, Shannon Harrison invited you to her birthday party and not me.”

“Why would she invite me to her birthday? I don’t even know her. Besides, it’s not from ,” Lily said noticing a weird seal on the back of the envelope.

“Well who’s it from then?” Petunia asked impatiently.

“I’d like to know that too.” Came Mr. Evans’ voice. Him hand Mrs. Evans had come to the top of the stairs, clearly to watch the argument. “Why don’t you open it Lily?”

“Alright.” Lily said, and she opened the letter. As Lily read further and further down the letter, the more pronounced the confused expression on her face was.

“Well, what does it say?” Mr. Evans instigated.

Lily handed the letter to her mother who read it aloud:

Dear Miss Potter,

            We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Students shall be requested to meet in the Chamber of Reception upon arrival, the date of which shall be duly advised. We await you despondence by return owl. Please make sure that the utmost attention be paid to the list of requirements attached herewith. We very much look forward to receiving you as the new generation of Hogwarts’ heritage.

Draco Dormiens Nanquam Titillandos,

Professor Minerva M McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

After Mrs. Evans had finished reading the letter, their was an uncomfortable silence. In a few minutes, however, Mr. Evans broke it by saying “This is rubbish. What kind of lunatic would pull such a prank on a poor little girl like Lily?”

“Well, if it was a prank,” Mrs. Evans stated matter-of-factly, “they certainly went to great lengths to put this all together. They included a supplies list and a letter to the parents explaining that a wizard or witch from the…errr…Ministry of Magic, I think, will be coming to out house to take Lily out to get her supplies.”

“But there just can’t be magic,” Lily pointed out, “We would have known it by now, there would be odd things happening all around the world.”

“Would we though?” Mrs. Evans prodded.

“I’m in complete agreement with Lily. There is no such thing as magic—there isn’t proof, not even weird occurrences that might initiate such a rumor. We’d see people who got off on the wrong foot with a witch or wizard with extra big noses or purple skin or something.” Mr. Evans said defiantly.

“But there have been such occurrences, occurrences that have involved our daughter. Don’t you remember in fourth grade when a boy in Lily’s class called her a know it all, so she called her a big-head because he was rather conceited. He wouldn’t leave her alone and stop calling her a know-it-all and them his head somehow grew to twice it’s normal size.” Mrs. Evans reminded them all.

Lily stopped, starting to think. It seemed to make sense, sort of.

Mr. Evans, however, remained defiant. “But there just isn’t enough proof. How do we know that that incident had anything to do with Lily? The school nurse said it had to do with some growth medications he was taking. Anyways, what’s this rubbish about owl post? I mean what is owl post? How can magic exist, it just doesn’t make sense! There isn’t enough proof.”

“Sometimes you don’t need proof,” Mrs. Evans said walking over to the kitchen window. “Sometimes, you just have to have faith,” she said, pulling back the curtain to reveal a handsome tawny owl sitting in the flower bed.

***

“Wow mum,” Fabian said, coming downstairs, “You look really nice today, did you do something different with your hair?”

            “What do you want?” Mrs. Prewett asked, turning around automatically.

            “Nothing big,” he said quickly, “It’s just Barry’s mum got some really good tickets to the last Wasps vs. Cannons game of the season and he was wondering if I go with them.”

            “As I recall, that match falls right on your father’s birthday…” Mrs. Prewett started, but Fabian cut him off.

            “I know mum, but it won’t take the whole day. Can I please go?” Fabian pleaded, something that he hadn’t resorted to since he was ten.

            “Just because I don’t always keep up to date on Quidditch standings, doesn’t mean that I don’t realize that the match could go on for days.” Mrs. Prewett stated, “I’m sorry, it’s your father’s birthday, and you have to be here to celebrate it with us.”

            “Couldn’t we celebrate it the day before his birthday?”

            “Why should…”

            “If I ask dad and he says it’s alright?”

            “Okay, young man, if you ask your father and he gives you permission, you have mine.”

            “Okay.” Fabian said happily, especially since he had the perfect plan. Then, leaving his mother in the kitchen he went to his brother’s room

            “Hey Gideon, can I borrow your wand?” he asked hopefully.

            “No, you’ll just get it confiscated.” Gideon replied, pointedly.

            “No I won’t. Besides, you owe me, you almost got me busted for all the stuff I got last year.”

            “No I didn’t, mum and dad don’t care what you do at school.”

            “Yes they do, they just didn’t punish me for it in front of you.”

            “What did they make you do then?” Gideon challenged, “Make you write lines. ‘I must not be a prat and lie to my brother in order to guilt-trip him into giving me things.’”

            “No, I had to rid the garden of gnomes, bloody hard work.” Fabian lied quickly.

            “Yeah I bet there were thousands of gnomes there, since I just de-gnomed the garden yesterday for putting dung in Molly’s potatoes.”

            “Well you obviously didn’t do a very good job cause there WERE thousands of gnomes out there.” Fabian said, “For your sake, I didn’t tell mum what a lousy job you did. But give me a reason to and I will. No hand over your wand.” Fabian said, holding out his wand hand.

            “No,” Gideon said defiantly.

            “Ughh,” Fabian said annoyed. However, Fabian had a lot of practice in causing mayhem and pulling pranks and therefore never ran out of ideas. He went upstairs to his stash of Zonko’s supplies from his last illegal Hogsmede trip. He rummaged through the dungbombs, fireworks, and stink pellets, until he found what he was looking for. He took out a chocolate brownie and then went into his dad’s study.

            “Hey dad,” he said in his casually cool voice, “want a brownie?”

            “Sure,” his dad replied absent-mindedly. Great, Fabian smiled to himself, this was the perfect time to pull a stunt like this.

            “Mmm…this is a good brownie…” Fabian heard his dad say. Yes, it was a good brownie, Fabian laughed to himself. He then continued on with his plan. “So…erm…dad, can I go to the Wasps game on August 3^rd?”

            “Sure hunny whatever.” Mr. Prewett said.

            Perfect. Fabian then rushed downstairs to tell his mother of his triumph—well, not all the aspects of it, but enough so that she knew the verdict.

            “Hey mum,” Fabian said happily, “Dad said yes.”

            “He did?” Mrs. Prewett asked, clearly shocked. “What did you do, jinx him?”

            “You took my wand, remember?” he answered, shoving the brownie wrapper deeper into his pocket. He hadn’t exactly lied, but it sure felt like he had. Oh well, the brownie had jinxed his father, not him, and since when did he care about lying to his mum? He’d been doing it since he was four.

            Mrs. Prewett marched upstairs to what suspiciously seemed like her husbands story. ‘Oh well,’ thought Fabian smugly, ‘the effects of the brownie won’t wear off for at least another hour.’

            “I understand you gave Fabian permission to go to the Wasps game on your birthday?” Mrs. Prewett asked her husband.

            “Yeah, sure.” Mr. Prewett said, still under the influence of the brownie.

            “Well, alright then.” Mrs. Prewett said, turning to her son, “I told you could ask your father, and I can’t take back my words—no matter how much power I have as your mother.”

            “Yes!” Fabian said, almost screaming. He then ran upstairs to his room to post Barry back.

Barry,

            Guess what? I got my dad to let me go to the game, even though it was on his birthday. Dude, you should have seen how I did it though. Even you would’ve been impressed, mate. Remember those brownies we bought last year at Zonkos that’d make it so you’ll absent-mindedly say yes to anything you’re asked? Well I used one of those. I tried to persuade my brother to lend me his wand since I got mine confiscated because of the Pringle rubbish. But he refused, thinking it would get him into trouble. I think my mum pretty much knew he’d been jinxed, but she’d confiscated my wand, so she couldn’t accuse me of anything. She asked Gideon if I’d borrowed his wand and he truthfully told her “no.” She obviously knew he wasn’t lying because everyone knows Gideon can’t lie for beans, a tip that he should probably try and pick up from me. And my mum has no clue that we can get into Hogsmede through many passageways relayed to us through others including one by my dear brother who, though rude in no letting me use his wand, has proved his uses in other incidents. You should have been there dude, it was awesome.

-Fabian

            Molly hadn’t expected Jody to reply to her owl at least until the next day. However, as she was preparing for bed, she saw Errol flying straight towards her window. Although it was somewhat surprising, she was happy to see Errol and Jody’s note, nonetheless. She untied the parchment and read the letter:

Molly,

            I don’t know what to tell you about Arthur. Maybe he feels guilty about not being able to come and hasn’t written you yet, or maybe his owl got wet, or maybe his family surprised him with a vacation. I’m sure he’s not blowing you off, you two couldn’t keep away from each other last time I checked. Anyways, if he wanted to break things off, I’m sure he would just tell you. I mean, he seems like the kind of person that would be up front with you.

            Anyways, congratulations on making Head Girl. You have a right to be excited, I would be too, if it had been me. I wouldn’t have been sitting on the window seat or anything, waiting, but I definitely would’ve screamed when I got my letter. C’mon, show your excitement, it’s alright to brag a little. Especially since Adriana didn’t get it. And I’d love to come over for the rest of the holiday, although I’m not sure how I feel about being your second choice.

Missing you so much,

            Jody

            However, acutely this letter helped to console Molly. She had completely overlooked the fact that something might’ve happened to Arthur’s owl, or that Arthur might’ve been on vacation. Oh well, she’d just have to wait and talk to him again once term started, not that she could.

***

A/N: I hoped you liked this first chapter. Before I start the next chapter I’d like to know what you think about this. Whether you think I’m going in the right direction, whether or not you like the fact that the Prewetts are in it, whether or not you like my ideas for the characters and so on and so forth.

Most of all, I’d like to know whether or not you’d want me to continue this story, and whether you’d read it or not.

Oh and the next chapter is called: Bludgers and Bogarts