It is every book fanatic’s dream to go into their favorite book; to fight alongside Eragon and Saphira; to eat famous Redwall Abbey food; to race Melanie and Hi Jinx in the Preakness. It is every book fanatic’s dream.
But mine.
Ok, so I never leave the house without a book, or go to bed without reading first. I’m your regular bookworm, with one catch.
I never see the good side of books. I like seeing the evil side, but I hate it, too. Who would want to fight vermin, or fall in a race and get trampled? Maybe that’s why Harry chose me”because I understand what he’s up against.
Calm down! Yes, I said Harry. Harry Potter, the famous teen wizard who lived through the Avada Kedavra curse when his parents died. Almost everyone in the world knows his story. No one thought it was real, though. Like most book lovers who resign to the fact that they’ll never get a letter from Hogwarts saying they are a witch or wizard and have a place on the Hogwarts Express, I didn’t either.
Guess what? As usual, Lara Winston was wrong.
***********************************
It all started that fateful day in June of 2003. Well, it was more like night. I had stayed up late trying out my Grandpa’s new computer, so I didn’t get to bed until eleven. The muscles in my hands wouldn’t stop screaming at me, but I finally dropped off around midnight, only to wake up a few hours later to the sound of breaking clay. Thinking Spotty, my cat, had gotten into my pots again, I reluctantly got out of my nice, warm bed and headed downstairs.
My grandparents’ house has two floors, a three-car garage, and a huge back yard where my garden is. I slept upstairs (the whole second floor was practically my bedroom, including the bathroom and bonus room) and my grandparents sleep downstairs. I walked through the living room, dining room, then past the kitchen to the garage, my nightgown swishing around my legs. I unlocked the garage door and peeped inside. From the light coming in through the windows, I could see Grandma’s red Camry and Grandpa’s 1978 blue corvette. Beyond that was my potting table.
As I walked in further, leaving the door wide open, I noticed small, sharp bits of clay that used to be my best pot. I knelt down and picked up a piece, then another, holding back tears. My mother had made me that pot before she had died. I traced the design, a pattern of suns and moons, while I scooped up the broken pot. Maybe I could glue it together later, after I killed Spotty.
I went back to bed, saddened by this event. When I closed my door, though, I jumped”a man was standing right behind me!
Ok, so he wasn’t a man, per se”he looked to be about fifteen, with jet-black hair and emerald-like green eyes. He held a stick with a light on the end. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.
“Lara Winston, I presume?”
I clutched at my heart; it beat loudly, and I swear the boy could hear it. I soon got over my initial surprise and my eyes narrowed. “Who’re you, how’d you get here, and why the hell--” Words stopped pouring out of my mouth.
He had put round glasses on; in doing so, he had shifted his bangs. Underneath them was a lightning-shaped scar.
Speechless, I sat down on my bed. I knew that scar, I knew that face. J.K Rowling had written four books about him, He looked the way he had when Cedric died; too bad I hadn’t gotten to meet him.
“Harry Potter,” I mumbled. “Harry Potter is in my bedroom.”
Harry sat down beside me. Without a word he put his wand”the thing I had called a light-stick, stupid me”away and he turned on my bedside lamp. I could see him more clearly now; he was wearing slacks and a t-shirt under a black cloak. A silver lump was on my bench, at the end of my bed. I felt naked without my bra on in front of a guy.
“Lara--” he started, but before he could get any further I got up, grabbed an orange book with a dragon on the cover, and shoved it in his face.
“This is where you should be!” I whispered, almost in a hiss. “You should be in the Graveyard kicking Voldemort’s behind, surrounded by Death Eaters--”
“How’d you know all that?” Harry interrupted.
I smiled crookedly. “I know who you are, Harry. I know your history. You’ve fought Voldemort three times in the past four years! And, more amazing than that, you lived! Every single time!”
Harry sighed. “Remus said you’d know, and Dumbledore had, too.”
Remus Lupin. The name rang a bell in my head”he was a werewolf who had taught Harry in his third year, when he had found his godfather, Sirius. I couldn’t believe that I might meet him, because if Harry was here, that could only mean someone had come along with him.
And Dumbledore. Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, the only person Voldemort ever feared. The man with the long white beard and long pointy nose, half-moon glasses over blue eyes. I knew both well. Not personally, no, but I knew them.
I poked Harry in the shoulder. He blinked at me. “What was that for?”
“Had to make sure you were real,” I said simply. “How’d you get here, anyway? Invisibility?”
“That, and…” he paused. “You’ll find out later.”
A moment’s silence followed. “What are you here for?” I demanded after a while”I can’t stand silence; it eats away at me until I have to say something. “Unless your world is real--”
“It is.”
It was my turn to blink. “It…is?”
“You’re a witch, Lara.”
I stared at him. How could I be a witch, I wanted to ask him. How could I, Lara Winston, daughter of a felon and living with my out-of-date grandparents, be a witch? According to his world, I was a Muggle”non-magic folk. Meaning, I couldn’t do magic. I was almost as bad as a squib”Muggle born into a wizarding family”when compared by Purebloods.
“You can’t be serious!” was all I could say. He smiled. His hand went to a pocket inside his cloak. “I am. Here.” He handed me a parchment envelope. It was creamy white, and shone in the light of the lamp. On the front, in bright green ink, were the words:
Lara Winston
1200 Oak Street
Kaka, Virginia, U.S.A
This couldn’t be real! Again, I was speechless. Fiction was just that”fiction. Meaning it wasn’t real! I had to be dreaming, had to! To make sure, I pinched myself. Hard. Harry was still there, and my arm hurt.
Not dreaming.
Excited now, I ripped open the envelope and read the first sentence.
Dear Ms. Winston,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
My eyes went to the bottom. It was signed Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress.
“Excuse me,” I apologized, then found my pillow and screamed into it. I could hear Harry laughing at me, and I blushed. I took my face out of my pillow and took a deep breath. “One last thing,” I said. “Prove you’re Harry Potter. Prove you can do magic. Prove your world truly exists.”
“The scar isn’t enough for you?” Harry asked, surprised. I shook my head. Boy, he was smart. (Sarcastic moment, bare with me) He shrugged. “Ok.” He took out his wand again and pointed it at my cat as she pushed her way through the door.
“Engorgio!”
I watched as Spotty grew before my eyes; her white fur grew longer, her limbs the same, her frame larger. When she was the size of a border collie I cried, “Ok, ok, you can stop it now!”
With a rueful smile Harry muttered the counter spell and Spotty grew smaller again. Calmly, she jumped on my lap and began to purr.
Nothing can get more real than that.
I looked at my letter again, feeling the crisp parchment under my fingers. I saw the list, touching lightly on the fact of how I was going to pay for all of it, and then I found the ticket. It was a scarlet red with the words Hogwarts Express sprawling across the top and Platform Nine and Three Quarters beneath it.
I smiled. My aquamarine eyes turned on Harry. “When do we leave?”
He stared at me for a second, and then said, “Whenever you want to.”
******************************
It had taken me ten minutes to get some real clothes on (jeans and a t-shirt, nothing special) and brush out my short, brown hair. I slipped quietly out of the house, stopping for a minute to write a note to my grandparents (not that they’d believe me, but I had to try) before closing the garage door as gently as possible. I almost made it out through the side door when I went past my potting table. There, good as new, was my mom’s pot.
I looked down at Spotty”I couldn’t leave her behind, no way! ”and smiled. “I think I might like this,” I whispered. She meowed in answer.
I stepped out into the night with Spotty at my heels, and stopped in my tracks.
Standing right in front of me were three people I never through I would meet: Remus Lupin, werewolf, teacher, and former Marauder, with light brown hair streaked with gray. He looked tired and sick, like he didn’t want to be here but had to. His robes were patched up, showing years of use. The other man, a stooped older man with bushy gray hair and what seemed to be a wooden leg, was whispering in Harry’s ear. That was Alastor “Mad Eye” Moody, one time teacher for Hogwarts and ex-Auror. (Dark Wizard catcher) His magical eye spun around in its socket. (It was hard to keep from retching there.) Beside him, looking very pleased with herself, was Ginny Weasley. Her red hair was down to her shoulders now, and her brown eyes were the same as always”bright and mischievous.
“She’ll have to learn everything in two months,” I heard Moody hiss. “That’s not enough time”we still have enough to rethink this.”
“I know--” Harry looked up when I closed the door. “There you are, Lara!”
I blinked. “Why are they here?” I jerked my head towards Lupin, Moody, and Ginny. “We can get back on our own, can’t we?”
“Well…” Harry smiled, and said hesitantly, “You…know who these people are, don’t you?”
I nodded. “Remus Lupin, Alastor Moody, and Ginny Weasley, Ron’s younger sister.”
Ginny’s eyes widened. “How’d you know that?”
Before I could answer Harry cut in. “I’ll explain later. Right now we need to get back.”
“How are we getting back, exactly?” I asked. “Brooms?”
Moody shook his head; his eyeball rolled around. “Too dangerous. Who knows what kind of things Voldemort will send after us?”
“What would Voldemort want with me?” I thought it was weird that no one flinched at his name. Everyone did in the books. Oh, wait”Ginny flinched. Just a bit.
I was ignored. “Where’s the Portkey?” Harry asked.
Lupin pulled out an old kettle without its handles out of his coat pocket. I raised an eyebrow”What would a retired professor want with a broken kettle? “and gave Harry a look.
Everyone gathered around Lupin and touched the kettle; I hung back. I still didn’t really know what it was, and I wasn’t about to take any chances.
“Come on, Lara,” Harry beckoned. “It’s only a transportation device to get us back to London. Quick, before the Ministry figures out we have an unauthorized Portkey!”
A Portkey! That’s what it was! In The Goblet of Fire, Harry used one to get to the Quidditch World Cup and another to end up in the graveyard where Voldemort was resurrected. But I still wasn’t going.
Harry smiled. “Trust me, Lara. Just trust me.”
I cringed at those words. I hate them the most out of everything. The last time a person told me that, my dad ended up in prison and my mom dead. Does it really seem likely I’d listen to those words?
“Two minutes, Harry,” Moody growled.
“Let me try.” Ginny let go of the kettle and walked over to me. “Look,” she whispered in my ear. “We’re trying to help. People are after you; do you want to stay here and die, or come with us and be safe?”
“One minute!” Lupin warned.
“Screw this!” I mumbled. I picked up Spotty, who surprisingly didn’t protest, and pushed my way through to get a finger on the kettle. I was scared out of my wits, for sure, but I swallowed my fear (and vomit) to satisfy my curiosity.
“Hold on!” Harry yelled. My stomach lurched as we started to spin. Moody and Lupin seemed just fine”except for Moody’s eye, which still freaks me out”while Ginny was turning a bright shade of green and Harry was glaring at the kettle. When I dared to look up, I saw different places”grassy fields, tight streets, and tall trees.
“Let go!” I heard someone yell.
“What?!” I shrieked. If Moody’s eye makes me sick, this was going to make me retch. Bad.
“Just let go!” Harry grabbed my wrist and pulled my hand off the pot. Spotty yowled in pain; I was squeezing her in my own fear. The next thing I knew my hand was being ripped from the kettle and I was falling. I landed hard on the ground, the grass not cushioning it my fall one bit. I hadn’t realized I had closed my eyes until I opened them. Harry had let go of my wrist during our fall; he had landed some ways away. Spotty wriggled in my right arm; I let her go and she dashed off. I wasn’t worried; she never went too far from me.
I looked around from my spot on the ground. Trees surrounded the field we were in. The grass shone wet with morning dew in the dawn light. I saw some birds”well, they looked like birds”flying towards us.
Lupin, Moody, and Ginny were already standing and waving at the birds. I heard Harry mumble, “I’ll never get used to that…” when he got up. He held out a hand to help me up. I took it and soon I was up and swaying (I still hadn’t got my feet back under me).
“Where are--”
“Hey, guys!”
The objects I had called birds were actually people on brooms. They were all redheads, all tall, and they all had freckles. I smiled”Fred, George, and Ron Weasley were coming towards me. Ron was blushing a bit”no clue why. I remember thinking there must’ve been something wrong with my face and covering my nose up. I absolutely hate my nose”it’s too long and almost beak-like.
“So this is the young witch you brought home, Harry!” Fred”or George, never could tell one from the other, never will”said as they got nearer. All three shook my hand. Ron blushed an even deeper crimson and mumbled, “Nice to meet you.” I dismissed it as nervous jitters.
“Where are we?” I repeated.
“Just across the way from the Burrow,” Ginny replied. “We’ll be meeting up with Dad there.” She took one of the twins’ (I think it was George) brooms. He turned, arms out wide, and disappeared with a crack. I blinked”where had he gone? Before I could ask (it seems I’m asking a lot of questions lately) the other twin, whom I thought was Fred, handed me his broom and disappeared with the same loud crack, as did Lupin and Moody. The wood of the broom was smooth and polished, and I could see the word Firebolt on the end. I ran my hand up and down its length, whistling under my breath. This was the broom Sirius had given Harry after his Nimbus Two Thousand broke in the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff. I looked up at Harry and opened my mouth, about to ask why he had trusted Fred with his broom.
Harry held up his hand to shut me up. “Before you ask any questions,” he said, “ I’ll explain everything later.”
When’s this ‘later’ you speak of? I thought.
Ron and Ginny mounted their brooms and pushed off, speeding back the way Ron and the twins had come. I looked, first at Harry, then at the broom in my hand. “Do you expect me to ride this?”
“Not by yourself.” He took it from me and mounted. He looked just like the way the books described him”he sat on the broom like it was a habitual thing, and he looked so good on it. (Not that I’m saying he looked hot, God no! All boys, deep down, are idiots. Period.)
“Get on behind me,” Harry brought me out of my staring contest with the broom. “My Firebolt is a strong broom. It’ll be able to hold us both.”
I almost laughed out loud at this. Harry had to be at least one hundred and thirty pounds”I only weigh one hundred and twenty”so how could a broom, and a flying one at that, hold us both? Amazingly enough, I kept my mouth shut and obeyed.
I could tell I was in for a bumpy ride.
Muggles can't be Witches! by Wand_Waver2006
Chapter Notes: Thank you KateH for betaing and Rita Skeeter for helping this poor mush-brained Muggle out.