The Sibylline Code; A Harry Potter Next Generation Fanfiction

4: Dresses are stupid.

AN: Hey guys here's the update! Be grateful...at one point is wasn't gonna come so count yourselves lucky!

Anyways I think I'm gonna move AN's to the end cause you guys are just gonna skip this and move one so...

Hope you enjoy!

Aardvark ;)

CHAPTER 4: Dresses are stupid

It was Saturday. The sun was bursting through the window. All the children down the street were outside their houses, drenching each other with water guns. All the adults were sitting in deck chairs and wearing sunglasses whilst reading something sophisticated like 'To Kill a Mockingbird' or whatever, trying to appear 'classy' to the others.

I was in my room having a staring contest with a book. Well it was more of a 'let's look at the book and debate the pro's and con's of actually reading it'. This had been going on for about eternity. Well if you want to be all specific and human then it would be about two weeks, but I generally avoid operating with anything remotely normal. So it would be eternity.

It all started after we came back from Diagon Alley, with Professor Flitwick. He'd given me a ticket for the 1st of September and told me to get to King's Cross Station by 11 o'clock. And then I was to walk through the barrier between platform 9 and 10 to get to Platform 9 ¾ for the Hogwarts Express. I'd spent the whole of his explanation, staring in bemusement, but my avid mother had been taking feverish notes at his side.

Well, whilst my mother examined her many detailed notes, my father had got himself down to the nearest bookstore and bought me the whole Harry Potter Series plus the Hogwarts Library. He then presented these to me as 'early birthday presents'. He expected me to read them before I left on the 1st. I'd taken them up to my room and placed them on my table in stubborn denial.

Really? I spend 11 years of my life despising all people who fanatically obsess over these random books and then I hypocritically go back and read them? Nah, I wasn't going to give in that easily. Okay, I'd just received a letter saying I was a witch and could perform magic, and then I was taken to a 'magical' high street by a random shortie with no fashion sense, who claims to be a 'wizard'. Then I meet all these random magic people, who say I can perform extraordinary magic.

All of this after 11 years of completely detaching myself from normal people was I really going to admit that I was like them? It seems slightly weak. You stand for something for a good part of your life, but as soon as something alternative comes up you move on and abandon everything you'd created. That's what it felt like to me. I know it sounds stupid but I felt as though I was being disloyal to myself. I was supposed to be the freak kid at the back of the room, whom everyone avoided. The one who was supposed to be the loner and just another student to make the numbers in the class. That was me, not some powerful, magical, person who was somehow able to do magic! It couldn't be possible, it just had to be a joke...

***

"Asha! Come down here for a second!" My mum shouted up the stairs.

"Coming." I mumbled closing my book, careful to leave my torn bit of paper inside. I trudged down the stairs stiffly after having sat in the same position for a few hours. I strolled into the kitchen to find my mother surrounded by a cloud of steam coming from the kettle

."Oh hello dear! Nice to see you after- hmmm" she looked at the clock mockingly "that'll be about 3 hours! You know I was starting to forget that you lived in this house!" She joked.

"Ugh mum! I was just getting into the books that's all..." I mumbled.

"Yes, yes dear. Don't worry! I'm glad you've found something to do." She smiled kindly.