Jane sat on her trunk marveling at how she had managed to get sent back to St. Agatha's yet again.

For the last 19 months, 3 weeks, and 4 days she had been living with her new family. A lovely couple living in Chelsea (part of Manhattan, NYC), the Delacroix's had started fostering her just after her 13th birthday. They had even considered adopting her. It was almost unheard of, a girl that age being adopted. Jane had thought it was because they were rich but wanted people to believe they were socially conscious. The whole time Jane had lived with them Mrs. Delacroix was either hosting to attending charity fundraisers. She would dress up her husband and Jane in expensive and uncomfortable clothing and make them pretend that they were a perfectly happy and unconventional family.

Jane thought they must have made a mistake picking her out over some of the cuter more …compliant kids at St. Agatha's. They must have realized this too. When Jane first moved in with them, they bought her a new wardrobe, one that was socially acceptable in their circle, and all the random electronics she could ever need. But it didn't matter how expensive her clothes were, or how well she did in school; everyone still saw her a the foster girl.

Jane even tried to change. When she lived at St. Agatha's she tended to fall back on her little habit of thievery. She was good at it too. Once time she picked the pocket of a man, while at the same time convinced him that she had broken her arm so he would call her an uber. Grifting and lifting were her two favorite past times, but she wanted to change for the Delacroix's, well for Alison.

Alison, the wife, was the one who made Jane want to change, be a better person. Alison was a loving woman, and she was the one that showed Jane what it could be like to have a mother. When Alison found a box under Jane's bed with a couple of wallets and a few watches, it changed everything. Jane thought they would send her back to St. Agatha's that night, but Alison didn't even yell. She sat down on the bed with Jane and just talked to her. They talked all night.

Alison told her that she understood why Jane stole. How it was Jane's way of taking control, taking care of herself, and how it was also her way of hiding. Alison told her that she didn't need to do that anymore that she had a family to take care of her now. That they weren't ever going to let her go, how they would love her forever.

Thinking about it made Jane cry.
So she stopped thinking about it.

Jane couldn't believe how stupid she was to think that they were different, that they would actually keep her, forever. She was even stupid enough to picture her future with them as her parents. That was the one rule she had, never imagine the future, especially not with anyone else in it.

But they had sent her back, so that didn't matter now. Nothing really mattered now. Jane could go outside and pick all the pockets she wanted, and no one would care, well except for the people she stole from.

But Jane knew that that would only make her more upset. So instead she went through her return to St. Agatha's routine. She had done it six times already; this would be her seventh time. She got off her trunk and opened it up. Inside it was everything that matter most to her, and a few thing that didn't matter. There was the box that contained the few things of her mother's that she owned, her Mac laptop (the Delacroix's had bought it for her), her blanky, some clothes and shoes, her green canvas messenger bag, her journals, a couple crap romance novels that she liked for an escape, and all seven Harry Potter books, both the actual books and the audiobook read by Jim Dale (She had stolen every single book).

Jane took out the first book closed her trunk and lay on top of it with her knees bent and her feet on the edge. She opened the book and read.

At this point in Jane's life she had read the Harry Potter series so many times that she never really read the books all the way through anymore. She skipped around, but for this particular ritual, there were certain parts she read.

Harry being miserable in the beginning, sleeping under the cupboards, everyone being horrid to him. That kind of stuff

When the Hogwarts letters start popping up everywhere

Harry's birthday when Hagrid tells him he is a wizard and takes him away

When Harry meets the Weasley's, and his first time on the Hogwarts Express

Jane didn't read past that point when she was in this mood; otherwise she would start to resent Harry. He got to have a family, it wasn't his original family but if he were to die people would notice. Not Jane. If Jane were to go outside that moment and jump off the Brooklyn Bridge the only people who would notice were the few bystanders who saw it happen. It would even save the state about $12,000 a year. She didn't have friends, a side effect of moving around, and she certainly didn't have family.

But she didn't want to die, not really. She just wanted to get old enough to be on her own, legally, and then she could start her life. In the mean time she read.

Just as she got to the part where Ron said that he hoped Hermione wasn't in his house, everything started to go a bit blurry, and spiny, and then it all went black.

"What do you reckon this is Fred? A book about Harry Potter?"

Jane woke up to the feel of someone taking The Philosopher's Stone from her hands. As the book was lifted away from her face, she was greeted by the sight of two very tall and skinny ginger boys in wizard's robes, and it looked like she was in some kind of …castle? Where was there a castle in Brooklyn?

"Oh, she's up. You're up." One of the gingers said.

Jane sat up on her trunk rubbing her head. She had a bit of a headache. "where the fuck am I, and who the hell are you two knock-off Weasley's?"

"You're at Hogwarts, and we're not 'knock-offs,' we are real Weasley's. I'm Fred, and this is by brother George, and why would there be 'knock-offs' of us?" Fred said kneeling down in front of Jane so that their eyes met?

"Fuck!"