My digital clock in my room struck midnight. I paused, listening for sounds that the Dursleys might be awake. When I didn't hear anything, I went back to my summer homework.

Unfortunately, the Dursleys had locked up my trunk with all my schoolbooks the very first day of summer vacation. Fortunately, I was able to pick the lock (a trick I had learning from Fred and George Weasley) and successfully gather all my schoolbooks and homework assignments, and stuff them under my bed.

I was now forced to work in the middle of the night, which I really didn't mind, either. I was a night owl. I chuckled, and then glanced over at the empty cage where my snowy white owl, Hedwig, usually sat. She was out right now.

I suppose I should introduce myself for the third time. I'm Haile Potter. And since the clock just turned midnight, I'm officially thirteen years. I go to a school of witchcraft and wizardry called Hogwarts, and I love it more than you'll ever know.

My best friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, were amazing in their own special ways, and without them, I might not even be alive.

For another half an hour, I worked on my essay, and finally, at 12:32 AM, I finished it. I smiled at my hard work, and put it under my bed. I collapsed on my bed, thinking that I should go to bed. However, I sat up, and stared out the window, waiting for a glimpse of Hedwig.

I was proud to say that during the last couple months I had grown an inch. I now stood at a grand height of four feet eleven inches—almost five feet tall. My untamable, curly black hair had grown longer, and my green eyes had developed a new intensity to them. Maybe it was because of my terrifying encounter with Tom Riddle and Basilisk a few months ago, I don't know.

Thankfully, that memory was interrupted by small, dark figures in the night sky. I recognized them at once as owls. There were three of them. They soared closer and closer, and I eagerly awaited them.

The first one through the window was Hedwig, leading them. The second I recognized as Errol, the Weasley's hyper and crazy owl, and the third was unfamiliar.

Errol was carrying a package. He dropped it on the bed, and swooped over to Hedwig's cage. I opened it excitedly. There was a wrapped present and an envelope. My face broke into a grin. My first ever birthday card.

I ripped open the envelope clumsily, and I pulled out two pieces of paper. One was a newspaper clipping. The huge picture on it was in black and white. The family standing in it was moving, and I recognized them at once as the Weasleys.

I read the article, growing happier by the moment. Apparently, the Weasleys had won a large pile of gold from a drawing, and they had vacationed to Egypt, to visit their older son/brother.

He told me to meet him London as well. I made a mental note to ask the Dursleys.

I opened his gift next. It was some sort of a glass, spinning top. I read Ron's note next to it. He explained that it was a Pocket Sneakoscope. I grinned, and put it on my bedside table.

I took the parcel that Hedwig had brought next. All three owls were drinking enthusiastically in Hedwig's water dish. I smiled at the sight.

This one was from Hermione. I grinned the whole time as I read her letter. She, too, mentioned the London trip. I opened up her gift, and it was a Broomstick Servicing Kit. It was utterly cool.

The owl I hadn't recognized carried a package and card from the gamekeeper at Hogwarts, Hagrid. I was a bit uneasy about opening the package, but I realized that Hagrid wouldn't send me anything that would intentionally harm me.

I shrugged, and opened it. A book fell out. I read the title: The Monster Book of Monsters. I gulped. It then began to scuttle across the floor, snapping at nothing in particular. I gaped in horror.

It chased me around my room, while I tried not to make a huge racket, trying to throw things at it. The three owls watched as if amused, perched happily on Hedwig's cage.

I finally managed to find a belt in the back of my closet while trying to shake the book off my leg. I wrapped it around the evil book tightly. "There," I sighed.

The owl that had delivered Hagrid's gift had dropped another thick envelope on my bed. I realized at once that it was my Hogwarts letter.

The letter was interesting this time. It mentioned that third years are allowed to visit the village of Hogsmeade with a permission slip by a parent or guardian.

As I tucked myself into bed, I frowned. Like the Dursleys would ever sign that. I sighed, and fell asleep.

In the morning, I trudged downstairs to the smell of bacon, eggs, toast, and pancakes. As I walked into the kitchen, I enviously eyed Dudley's plate of two pieces of toast with butter and jam, a huge pile of scrambled eggs, at least ten pieces of bacon, and a stack of pancakes with syrup.

I sat down at the table and Aunt Petunia shoved a piece of toast at me. I nibbled on it, annoyed. I turned my attention to the new kitchen television.

The news reporter was rambling on about some escaped convict, by the name of Sirius Black. I ate my toast, listening to the story. He supposedly was very dangerous.

"I think criminals are misunderstood," I contemplated thoughtfully. "Don't you think?"

Uncle Vernon shot me a look. "Misunderstood," he mocked. "Did you see the picture of that Black man on television? He's filthy! Those people need one thing only—a hanging!"

He stood up. "Best be going," Aunt Petunia agreed.

"It's Sunday. Work isn't today," I reminded him, stuffing the crust of my toast in my pocket for Hedwig.

Uncle Vernon barked, "I'm going to get Aunt Marge at the train station, ignorant girl."

I choked on the crust of my toast. "You're—kidding!" I gasped out.

Dudley pounded me on the back, and my face hit the table. I lifted my throbbing head back up to annoyed stares from Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon.

"She's coming for a week," Aunt Petunia informed me. "And you better act like a young lady. You remember your previous encounters with Aunt Marge."

Aunt Marge was Uncle Vernon's sister. She was the most horrible woman I had ever met. When I was younger, she would always carry on about how she would have loved to have a daughter. She attempted to adorn me in jewelry and poofy dresses. I would complain the whole time.

And then she would try to teach me to drink tea and dine like a lady. I just had no patience for her silly games.

And then, the day came that everything went horribly wrong. Aunt Marge gave me her great-great-great grandmother's tiara to try on. She thought this final attempt at making me more beautiful would finally break through my shell.

She made the mistake of leaving me alone in the room. She thought some time alone with it would make me realize how fun being a real woman could be.

I remember rolling my eyes at my reflection in the mirror. The tiara was beautiful, but it was just a tiara. I wasn't interested in being beautiful. At nine years old, all I cared about was escaping from my bullying cousin and his humungous friends.

That's when Aunt Marge's dogs came into the room. They were vicious, and I had always been afraid of them. I jumped on the bed of the guest room I was in, and unluckily, the dogs followed me up, lunging at me.

Screaming, I fell from the bed, against the closet. I acted on instinct as the snarling dogs were now running full speed at me. I ripped the tiara from my hair and threw it as hard as I could at them.

It missed, of course, and it smashed into the mirror I had just been standing in front of.

Here comes the worst part of it. Dudley had come running into the room at the sound of me screaming—his favorite noise in the world—and as he stumbled into the room, he stepped on the tiara with his huge feet.

It cracked into three pieces. I screamed again. Dudley looked horrified and as the three adults finally came to see what the racket was, Dudley did the only thing he knew.

He blamed me.

From then on, Aunt Marge hated me with her life.

Coming back into the present, Uncle Vernon was sternly warning me about the visit. "Any funny business…any at all…and there will be trouble. Your cover story is that you attend Mary Ann's Academy for Young Girls. It's a private etiquette academy."

I nodded, sighing. I couldn't believe she was coming. It was a nightmare. It was a disaster waiting to happen. It was…maybe it was my key to blackmail.

"Uncle Vernon," I said, abruptly getting up and following him out the door. "I need to ask you something."

"What?" he barked, unlocking his car.

"I need you to sign a permission form for my school," I said, hurriedly, an idea forming in my head.

He laughed evilly. "Not in a million years," he said, opening the car door.

"Right. Well, if I happen to let something to slip to Aunt Marge about…well…"

Uncle Vernon paused. He turned to look at me. "Very well, you sly girl. If you behave yourself and actnormal, I'll sign your silly form."

He got into the car and slammed the door. I ran upstairs. Might as well prepare. I told Hedwig, "Hey, dear, could you go off with Errol for a week? I hate this, but it's necessary."

Hedwig shot me a sad glance, but flew off with Errol anyhow. I watched her fly away, frowning. I made sure nothing magic-related was visible. I sifted through the clothes in my closet and found a gray, pleated skirt I wore at Hogwarts under my robe. I pulled on a white shirt with it, and slipped on a pair of black shoes. I even made an effort to comb my mess of a hair.

Aunt Marge arrived promptly with Uncle Vernon. I heard her loud, booming voice carry across the house. "PETUNIA!" she was shrieking. "And where's Duddy-kins?"

I made my way downstairs. She was just finishing giving Dudley a bone-crushing hug. She then spotted me. We stared at each other down. Then, her ugly, fat face broke into a wide grin.

"Haile, dear," she said, walking towards me, arms spread wide. "Give Momma some sugar."

I was entrapped in a bear hug a second later. What wais going on here?

She let me go and grasped me by the shoulders, taking a good look. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia watched apprehensively. Dudley was holding his breath.

"Your hair has grown out just beautifully," Marge gushed. "And your face has matured. You are just a vision. Have you thought about getting this little girl into modeling, Petunia?" She turned to face her sister-in-law.

Petunia stuttered, and then choked out, "Why, no, but I'll have to…to look in to…that." Shocked, she glanced at me, and I shrugged my shoulders, as confused as she was.

"Well, one of your parents must have had some looks in them," Marge boomed, and I automatically cringed. "I've never seen pictures."

"We have none," Uncle Vernon declared. "Let's have lunch, shall we?"

For the next week, she wouldn't give up. She continued to inquire about my parents, harping on how grateful I should be, and being downright evil, though disguising it with smiles and laughs and compliments about me. I tried to ignore it most of the time, and I tried my hardest to stay out of her way. However, she always wanted me around, for some curious reason.

At the very last night, after she had quite a bit of wine, she was really pushing it with me.

"Yes, so what did Haile's father do?" she slurred.

Vernon cleared his throat. "Unemployed," he said gruffly.

"Ah, of course," Marge said, nodding. "Your sister was a silly girl," she continued, shaking her head. "Silly, silly girl. Married a loser, and had this little girl right here. You, girl, should be so grateful these fine people took you in."

I resisted the urge to snort. Instead, I just began to get really mad.

"Imagine what poor Haile would be like if she grew up with those idiots! Yes, what a fool," she continued, and I looked up at her, beginning to shake with fury. "Stupid girl. And then, to get herself blown up in a car crash! Most likely drunk, I'd say."

"They did not," I sneered. Then, I covered my mouth, and busied myself with my piece of pie. (Aunt Marge had complained I was too skinny and made Petunia and Vernon feed me more this week.)

Aunt Marge looked taken aback. This whole week I had not talked back to her even when she began to harp on my parents. "Oh, really?" she laughed. "Your loser of a father and airhead of a mother died in a car crash, and you know it!"

I stood up, shaking. "You don't know anything about my parents!" I said, my voice cracking. It hurt me too much to think of anyone bad-mouthing my beautiful mother…my brave father….

"Your mother was a dirty little slut and you—"

I clutched my head, and screamed, the anger I had been containing all week had seeped out through the cracks, and finally exploded.

I opened my eyes, and they widened at the sight. Aunt Marge was literally blowing up before my eyes. Her eyes were popping, her mouth widened, her face was expanding as well as her already large body frame….

Soon, she was a enormous bubble floating to the ceiling. I stared in horror. A bite of pie fell out of Dudley's open mouth. Petunia and Vernon were speechless.

"No!" Vernon suddenly yelled, seizing one of Marge's legs and trying to pull her down. Petunia screamed.

I turned on my heel and ran upstairs. I used magic to open the locked cupboard and used magic to bring my trunk upstairs. I waved my wand recklessly, magically bringing all of my possessions into the trunk.

I knew subconsciously that I was going to be in a lot of trouble for this. Using magic. But what was done was done.

I magicked my trunk downstairs. Uncle Vernon was furious.

"GIRL, COME BACK IN HERE AND PUT HER RIGHT!" he hollered.

Aunt Petunia was whimpering. Dudley was still gaping.

"I'm out of here," I said, shaking still, wrenching the door open. "I'm done with all of you people!" I walked out the door, stumbling slightly.

I made my way to the street in a rage of fury.

But now my rebellion was over. I was currently out on the street, alone and cold.

I shivered. What now? I started walking down the street, not sure what else to do.

I weighed my options. Well, I was bound to be expelled. Should I just fly away on my broomstick? Would that make things even worse? Should I try to find a train to London? I didn't have any money. Was I really going to be an outcast, shunned from the magic world?

My hands started shaking.

I sat down on the ground, thinking. I was going to have to make a decision sometime. I looked up.

A pair of big bright eyes was staring at me across the street. Instinctively, I pulled out my wand, my vision blurring with shock.

BANG.

I screamed, jumping backward. I looked up in amazement. On the street right in front of me, a triple-decker bus stood. It was so big that it almost took up the whole street. I stood up shakily, staring at it in surprise.

"'Ello, I'm Stan Shunpike, welcome to the Knight Bus, I'll be your conductor this evening. We'll take you anywhere you want to go."

"Anywhere?" I repeated, my eyes widening in amazement.

He looked at me, his eyebrows furling. He had quite a young, acne-infested face. "Didn't ya mean ter flag us down?"

"What?"

"You jus' stick out yer wand and we come," he told me, giving me a strange look. "And we take ya anywhere."

"Oh, um, right," I agreed, nodding vigorously. "Transportation sounds lovely at the moment."

I followed him on the bus. "Woss yer name?" he asked, shutting the door behind me.

"Oh, um, Emily," I said, picking a name I heard on TV this morning. "Emily Donaldson." I quickly made sure my bangs were covered.

"Ernie, we got a Emily Donaldson on board," Stan yelled to the driver.

The elder wizard, Ernie, nodded to me, and I took a seat on a bed. Stan shoved my trunk next to me. A second later, I was thrown backward. The bus had apparently started moving again.

We were moving so fast through the dangerously close traffic that I rather not look. I couldn't believe my luck. I still couldn't get those gleaming eyes out of my head though. I was sure I saw it. Come to think of it, the dark figure they came from looked like a big, black dog.

I tried to sleep, but it was impossible. The inevitable jerking and unpredictable breaks were too much to ignore. Instead, I focused on the newspaper on my bedside table.

The same surly-looking man with matted, dark hair stared at me from the photograph that I saw on the TV. "Sirius Black," I said, reading the headline. "He was on the Muggle news."

"D'oh," Stan said. "He broke outta Azkaban, he did. The on'y one ter ever do it. Murdered thirteen people with a single curse, too. Twelve years ago."

"What?" I gasped.

"He was a big supporter of You-Know-'Oo," Stan told me.

Ernie was shaking his head.

Once the rest of the passengers on the bus left, they turned to me. "Where to, Emily?" Stan asked.

"Diagon Alley, please," I said, sitting up.

It didn't take long. We were soon in front of the Leaky Cauldron. Stan helped me get my trunk off the bus. "Look, it's the Minister!" Stan said, pointing.

"Oh, crap," I mumbled under my breath. "Thanks, Stan! BYE!" I tried to drag my trunk away quickly, because Fudge was heading right for me.

"Haile, dear, there you are!" Fudge called.

"HAILE POTTER?" Stan yelled. "Ern, it's Haile Potter!?"

"Come now, Haile," Fudge said. Fudge magicked my trunk along, and I waved goodbye to an ogling Stan.

We stepped inside. My heart started beating faster. Was he going to expel me? Send me to Azkaban?

We sat down by the bar at a table. Tom, the bartender, asked, "What'll you have, Minister?"

"Cup o' tea, please," Fudge said, looking exhausted. "So, Haile," he continued once we were settled. "You know who I am, I expect. We haven't met, but I'm the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge."

I nodded. I already seen him, but I was under my dad's cloak when that occurred.

"So," he proceeded, "We've been so worried."

My mouth dropped. "Wor—worried?"

"Of course," Fudge said, running his hand over his tired-looking face. "You're safe, though, and that's all that matters, of course. You'll be pleased to know that we sorted out your aunt's—er—mishap. She doesn't even remember it. Your aunt and uncle will expect you back at their house next summer."

I nodded. "And my punishment?" I asked wearily. My eyes widened. "Please don't send me to Azkaban! Oh, I've heard such bad things…please!"

Fudge blinked. "What's all this, Haile?"

"My punishment. I broke the law. Again." Even though the first time I didn't really do anything.

Fudge laughed. "Not to worry, Haile. You won't be punished for a silly little accident like that. Now, you'll stay here, I presume, for the last weeks of your summer holiday. I'll go talk to Tom. Why don't you eat something? You look awfully pale."

He stood up and walked away. I closed my eyes and sighed with relief. I wasn't going to be punished at all. But why? That's strange. And why would Fudge come looking for me himself? Strange. Very, very odd.

Fudge came back. "Room eleven is yours. Please don't wander, Haile. I'll have people keeping an eye on you, but all the same…"

"Why?" I asked. "I'm thirteen, Minister."

"Age isn't the matter," Fudge said, briskly, putting on his cloak. "I'll be off, then."

"What about Sirius Black, Minister?" I asked. "Any luck?"

"Oh…it's only a matter of time," he answered, eyeing me with sad eyes. "Don't worry, young Haile. You're safe here."

"Oh, right," I said. "And um, Minister, one more thing."

"Sure, dear," he said.

"Could you please sign my permission slip to visit Hogsmeade?" I asked, with pleading eyes.

Fudge shook his head at once. "Absolutely not. Not in these times. Maybe next year…or…well, yes, that's that. Goodbye, Miss Potter."

And he was gone. I stared after him, defeated. Tom came up behind me. "Miss Potter? If you'll follow me, I've moved your things upstairs."

I thanked him and he led me to a spacious room with a bed, a fire, furniture, and a rug. Hedwig flew straight into the window the moment I walked in.

"Hedwig!" I cried, running to her. She nipped my finger affectionately.

"Smart owl," Tom marveled. "Knew right where to find you, eh? Well, if you need anything, I'm downstairs."

"Thanks!" I called as he left the room.

I plopped on my bed. Hedwig perched on the windowsill behind me. I fell asleep straight away, still not believing my good fortune.