Disclaimer: I own the characters that aren't in the HP books. So like...one main one and a couple mentions.

Edited by Mandy

The plane ride toLondon was about four hours too long, and by the time I finally got there I was ready to rip the eyes out of the next flight attendant that asked me if I wanted peanuts or not. It really was quite wearing by the seventh hundred time.

The overweight, sweaty man that had been sitting beside me hadn’t helped to improve my flying experience either. He hogged the window sit, completely blocking the window from my sight, and his fat had pretty much oozed over the armrest to my side of the seat. It was nasty. Plus he smelt like major B.O. He had told me that he had a fear of flying, which probably explained the nasty sweating thing.

I couldn’t even use my magic to help my situation at all, or I’d risk getting expelled from a school I had yet to set foot in. That would be a world record.

My name is Stephanie Bloom, I’m seventeen and I’m a witch. Sounds crazy? Tell me about it. When I was eleven years old and in the middle of wedging my younger brother (hey, it was a joke!) I got an owl saying I was accepted to Blitzen Academy of Magic, the American school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

I had gone to that school for six years, and they never challenged me enough. So I tried to spice things up a bit, which helped lead to my expulsion from Blizten. Luckily, I have friends in high places. My cousin, Nicole Button, is also a seventeen-year-old witch. Only she lives in England and goes to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It’s the best magic school you can go to.

To my knowledge, Hogwarts had never accepted any transfers, especially in the seventh year, but thanks to Nicole all that was made possible. She got the headmaster, Dumbledore or something, to look at my transcripts and challenged him to take me on as a student.

Of course, then the old guy died and I almost lost my chance to go to Hogwarts. The new Headmistress, McGonagall, hadn’t been so easily convinced by my talents. By some odd stroke of luck, she accepted me in at the last possible moment.

I’m actually a really smart person. My marks were always extremely high, even though I barely did any of the work.

I had already been expelled from Blizten, and I didn’t want to blow my second chance. Besides, I had read several pamphlets on Hogwarts, and it seemed like the school for me.

And it was the only place where I could find the answers to all the burning questions I had.

I was also looking forward to it, and living with my cousin Nicole and her super rich family wasn’t such a downer either.

As I peered past all the annoyingly loud people waiting to collect someone they knew, I saw my cousin Nicole standing with her parents. She was easy to spot, with her fair hair that stood out in a crowd…and the sign that said my name.

“Stephanie! You look like you’re ready to kill someone!” Nicole commented, seeing the annoyed look on my face.

“Word of advice, never fly commercial,” I told them all. My Aunt Sophie laughed and gave me a bone crushing hug. Her strength surprised me, as she was very petite.

“Oh Stephanie! You haven’t changed one bit!” she laughed, still finding the commercial joke funny.

“Yes she has, she’s completely changed,” Nicole pointed out. Aunt Sophie pulled away and spun me around, taking in my appearance.

I had recently highlighted purple through my raven black hair, which was semi-long and very thick. I had bangs and several piercings.

“American teens certainly have a different style,” Uncle Warren commented, referring to my dress style.

I dressed what could be called Punk, and I guess I did look pretty intimidating to a clean-cut family from London.

“Do you have any tattoos?” Nicole asked. The last time I saw her, we were twelve and talking about the wonderful first year we had had at our school.

“Nope, just the piercings,” I replied. I had my nose pierced once; my ears pierced three times each on the lobe and once at the top on the cartilage of my left ear. I also had my belly button pierced, and most recently my tongue.

“Oh Merlin, that looks like it hurt when you got it,” Nicole said, peering into my mouth to stare at my tongue ring.

“It didn’t hurt that much,” I shrugged carelessly. I was lying through my teeth.

“Nicole, I forbid you to get any part of your body pierced!” Uncle Warren was obviously regretting ever suggesting I stay with them, he clearly feared I would turn his clean-cut daughter into a Satan worshiper.

I was actually stunned to hear that they were okay with me coming to London. When I told Mom about my plans of leaving America to go to London, she had forbid me. The only reason why I was standing here today was thanks to my stepfather, who hated my guts and had helped me convince my mom that it was the best thing. He just wanted me gone, and I don’t blame him.

Aunt Sophie laughed and placed her hand on Uncle Warren’s arm to calm him down. Aunt Sophie was the polar opposite of my mother, my mother was as dark as she was fair, and my mother was also taller. They both could have been models, well maybe not Aunt Sophie with the height requirements, but they did have the looks.

“Let’s get out of here, please!” I begged, after being jolted around by some pushy person who was trying to get past. If I didn’t get out of that airport soon, I was going to snap.

“Good idea, let’s go get your bags,” Aunt Sophie said. We only had to wait five minutes for all of my bags, and Uncle Warren carried them out to the car.

Because I would be spending the year with them, I packed three huge bags and a carry on. I also was carrying my book bag, which was full of my entertainment junk such as my brand spanking new iPod, my Apple Notebook computer and my stack of amazing CDs. My carry on had all my makeup and facial stuff, which I also needed.

My mother had always taught me to take good care of my skin, it was one of the few lessons she taught me that was useful. At forty-five, she had never really started taking care of her skin until she was in her late thirties. There were so many products that she didn’t feel the need to buy.

She didn’t want me making the same mistake, so she always kept me well equipped with at least Cleanser and moisturizer. I didn’t really have to worry about all that other junk, as I wasn’t prone to getting blemishes like she had been as a teen.

“Do you want to stop for something to eat, or go directly home?” Aunt Sophie asked as we sped away from the airport.

“Home if you don’t mind,” I replied. I felt like some home cooking! Although I knew for a fact that Aunt Sophie didn’t cook. She didn’t need to; they had a cook that did all that for them. I wouldn’t cook either if I had a cook. What would be the point of having a cook?

“School starts in less then a week!” Nicole chirped excitedly. “Mum’s going to take us shopping in a couple of days!”

“Sounds great,” I replied, shifting in the seat. My Uncle drove a very fancy looking, top of the line SUV. The seats were extremely comfortable, and they even had a DVD player for long distance trips. Talk about Pimp My Ride.

“Ooh! And I’ve got to tell you about the sorting!” Nicole slapped her head for forgetting and turned to face me with an animated look on her face.

“The sorting?” I stopped shifting immediately to stare at her.

“Yeah, there are four different houses. Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Slytherin, and Hufflepuff. I’m in Ravenclaw!” Nicole explained. “In your first year, your sorted into whichever house by the Sorting Hat. It’ll place you in whichever house it feels you belong in.”

“Ok, so tell me about these houses. Which one should I shoot for?” I questioned, leaning forward.

Both Uncle Warren and Aunt Sophie laughed hysterically at that. Uncle Warren had gone to Hogwarts, but Aunt Sophie was completely non-magical, muggle born. Even she knew what Nicole was talking about though.

“You can’t shoot for any of them,” Nicole explained patiently. “Whatever is in your soul decides, like your traits and what not. But Slytherin is the house that you don’t want to get placed in.

“And why is that?” I asked, very interested in the topic.

“Pretty much every witch or wizard who was in that house has turned dark,” Nicole replied.

I had heard all about the dark ages thanks to my mom. She used to live in England and go to Hogwarts, but she moved to America when I was about a year old. Apparently, my birth dad had sent us away, but I wasn’t so sure if I believed that. I had an irking feeling there was more to it then she would, or could, tell me. We left just in time too, because that was when the Dark Lord Voldemort attacked one of my mom’s closest friends and their family, killing them.