I rushed toward the seemingly solid brick wall at full speed, watching the rough red and brown bricks come closer and closer with every step I took. It was only thirteen feet away, now ten feet, now five, now three.......... And then I passed through the barrier that was the only thing separating me from my muggle life and the life beyond.

I heard the low whistle of the train along with the voices of my classmates and their families as I passed through the magical barrier that led onto platform 9 and 3/4. I gazed around myself, smiling softly at the thought of going back to Hogwarts, to the one place where I was whole.

You see, my life’s rather, how do I say this, complicated. Or at least, that’s how other people see it. I just see it as my life; who I am. First off, I’m adopted. But my adoption was under very strange circumstances. Up until seven years ago, I was under the impression that my real mom and dad had died in a car accident when I was a only a baby, and that my foster parents graciously took me in because my mom couldn’t have any children. This seemed completely normal, at least, I never questioned what had happened to my real parents, and my foster parents were so loving and kind, they treated me like their own child. Then came the day that I recieved my Hogwarts letter. I like to refer to it as The Day My Life Changed Forever. As soon as my mom and dad saw that legendary Hogwarts crest, they knew that the truth about my parents would have to come out.

It was weird, that what seemed like a normal letter(besides the fact that it was dropped at our house by a pure white snowy owl) could have such a huge impact on my rather plain life. When my parents sat me down that fateful day and told me the truth about my life, I was the dictionary definition of shocked. They had told me that there was a whole other world out there, a world filled with good and evil and, most shocking of all, magic. I had thought that they were crazy, and loudly voiced that opinion. I mean, magic? Come on now, I wasn’t FIVE, for god’s sake! Magic was a world of fairies and ogres and, well, FICTION! I had read about magic in books, but to have my parents seriously tell me that it was real, well, that was just weird.

Then my mother did the impossible. She pulled a wooden stick out from under the couch and, with a flick of her wrist, lit a fire in our fireplace. I stared at her in open-mouthed shock, not believing what my eyes had just seen. She turned to me and, taking my hand in hers, told me that her and my dad were wizards. I sat there, my hand in hers, my eyes as wide as plates, gaping like a fish at the flickering flames crackling merrily in our fireplace. When I turned to my father, half- expecting him to be staring at my mom as blatantly as I was, he merely nodded.

I then started to go into the denial phase. I leaped up and started screaming at them that there was no way that they were wizards, that our family was normal, that this horrid joke that they were playing on me wasn’t funny. My mom simply patted my hand, looking up at me with a pitying smile on her face. I slowly lowered myself into my seat, taking deep, steadying breaths. After I was calmed down a bit, I shakily asked them the question that had been eating at my mind the whole time: Why had they never told me?

They glanced at each other and told me that they worked for the wizard government, the Ministry of Magic, taking care of children that have had some type of magical trauma in their past; making sure the child didn’t remember the experience. I then asked them the most obvious, but still most frightening that I could ask. I asked what had happened to me. They both took a deep breath and looked at each other for support. My father was the one to tell me: My parents hadn’t died in a car accident.

My breath caught in my throat, I started to feel lightheaded. But all of this was nothing compared to what he told me next. He told me that my parents had been murdered by a werewolf, Fenrir Greyback while on a mission to kill him and his fellow werewolves. At this, I flat out fainted.

I awoke about ten minutes later to find my mother and father staring down at me, looking worried. I gazed back up at them, not really seeing them but rather sensing their presence over me. I softly repeated what they had just told me, letting the syllables roll around in my mouth, letting the meaning sink in: My parents were killed by a werewolf.

After that, my parents and I had a long, emotional talk about their jobs, my being a witch, and magic. I went into the magical world not really knowing anything about it, except for one thing:

Werewolves are evil.

I broke out of my flashback was jolted into sudden reality when I heard someone call my name.


I turned around, and there he was.

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