First year: Roxanne is eleven years old

Sound travels in my house; any word said or secret divulged above a whisper is fair game for any lucky snoop who happens to be in the vicinity. My brother, Fred, and I swear our Dad (better known to the world as George Weasley) put a spell on the house to make it that way. An addition he made due to his bitter resentment of having to use his extendable ears so frequently in his own childhood home. So, when Fred was being scolded by Mum the day I headed off to Hogwarts, let's just say – it felt like my own personal radio broadcast.

"FRED WEASLEY THE 2ND – I'VE CAUGHT YOU! CAN'T PULL THE WOOL OVER MY EYES – NO SIR! George, that's a point for me," my mother's voices echoed through the house. I ran downstairs to see the show live, plus if we didn't leave soon it was likely we were going to miss the Hogwarts express.

When I got downstairs, Fred was sitting in a chair in the middle of the living room, clutching a sad black puppy and grumbling to himself. He was no doubt not very pleased that he'd been found out. See, Hogwarts doesn't allow dogs but last Christmas my brother and I both got to pick out pets and he chose a puppy while chose a cat. I, of course, would be taking mine to school with me and he was supposed to sneak his in past Mum under an invisibility cloak our cousin, James Potter, let us borrow. Obviously, I knew the whole plan; I may be two years younger than Fred but we are very close. I had never once snitched on him and I certainly wasn't going to start over a little matter like transporting illegal contraband my first day at a new school.

"Ahh Roxanne, honey, you aren't by any chance getting into any mischief this morning that I can bust you on. Your mother seems to be ahead in this month's tally," Dad said to me as I entered the room. Let me explain, Fred and I got in trouble a lot growing up, we had this family rule though: If you're not caught, you can't be punished. There was even a two week crime expiration date. Anyway, my parents turned it into a competition to see who at the end of each month could catch more of our dirty deeds.

"Nope dad, I'm clean."

"Ugh, since when? Come on, no spider eggs in your brother's bag like last year?"

"No dad, I'm good… You know most parents would be pleased at this sort of thing."

"We are dear," Mum (former quidditch pro, Angelina Johnson) said in a mildly sarcastic tone, sticking her tongue out at her husband. So, my family wasn't exactly normal but hey, we're Weasleys, and I wouldn't have had it any other way.

When we'd finally got ourselves organized enough to get to the station, we were pretty much the last of the Weasley clan to arrive, all my cousins who were making the trip had already boarded the train. But, even so, you couldn't miss the road block of adults, a huge clump of ginger with some blonde and black spots every few heads.

"Roxy, my sweet, I'm so proud of you – going off to school," Gran Weasley had tears welling in her eyes. She pulled me into a tight plump hug, sneaking a sack of treats in my bag for later.

"Thanks Gran," I smiled at her.

"Hey Weasley, you better get on the train before it leaves you behind" a tan boy, with a curly black affro said from the train window. That was my best friend, Ivar Jordan, he's the son of my mum and dad's best mates Katie Bell and Lee Jordan.

Mum and Dad gave me and Fred one final hug and put us on the train. My heart was beating with every step. This was it – it was finally my turn to go to Hogwarts!

"BYE KIDS! MAKE GOOD CHOICES."

"BUT DON'T LET THE MAN KEEP YOU DOWN"

"MUMMY LOVES YOU"

"BUT NOT MORE THAN GOOD OLD DAD!"

That would be my parents trying scream over the sound of the train leaving the station. Curious how they didn't stop yelling even after the train's whistle subsided. That's my parents for you, always making a scene.

The train was just as magical as I'd always pictured, there were older wizards casting spells and playing games of exploding snap and wizard's chess. My uncle Ron taught me to play that once. Back when he was in school he helped stop Voldemort by playing the game – the way he tells it, he could have died it was so dangerous.

"So, where are we sitting?" Ivar Jordan asked his sister Jessa, Fred, and my cousin, James. Jessa was Fred's age and Ivar and I secretly thought that they had a crush on each other.

"Not with us, sorry. The train's official Wheezes business for the three of us. Dad asked us to sell merchandise on the train while kid's pockets are still fresh with money from emotional parents." I crossed my arms, disappointed.

"Dad never asked me."

"Cheer up little sis, mum probably told him to let you enjoy your first ride or something maternal like that – you know, sentimental and stuff. Go sit with the rest of the family, I think I saw Victoire, Domonique and Molly go over there somewhere."

"Not a chance, we'll find our own compartment," I responded, motioning Ivar to come along. It's not that I didn't love my cousin's Victoire and Domonique, on the contrary, they were really cool and super pretty – Veela blood, as it were. But it was Molly's first year at Hogwarts too and she had to be the most annoying Weasley in the bunch, Dad swears her father, Uncle Percy, was worse but I beg to differ. Molly was known for doing what was practically outlawed in my household; she was a grade A tattler and I had no tolerance for it.

"Let's sit in here," Ivar suggested. The compartment was practically empty, excluding this first year witch with bone straight, yellow hair. She was wearing a pink mini skirt, a light blue tank top and baby blue platform shoes, a rather elaborate outfit for an eleven year old. She was tapping on a weird flashing rectangle that Ivar and I stared at with the upmost of confusion.

"arrrg!" She grumbled, Ivar and I sat up, thinking she must be referring to our recent entrance. "This dumb thing is going haywire! I'll have Daddy's assistant sort it all out. I'm Christie, by the way, Christie Simmers!" She moved her head side to side as if we were supposed to say something. "It's ok, I'm not shy. I am the Simmers from Simmers Incorporated – Daddy started the company by himself didn't you know. Ugh are your cell phones doing this too?"

Ivar and I just stared at her, dumb founded. We had no Idea who her father was and we definitely didn't own that cell phone thing she was talking about.

"A what?" I asked sheepishly. The rectangle she held up was all pixelated and flashing. I knew absolutely nothing about it, but it didn't seem to be working right.

"A cell phone." She paused. "Oh my God, you guys don't know what that is, do you?" She pulled a large, leather bound book out of her sparkling blue handbag. It said 'what you need to know about Wizards' on the front.

"oooooooooooooh" Ivar and I said together, nodding.

"Duh, you must be a muggle born." I hit myself on the head with the heel of my palm. "I'm Roxanne, this is my friend, Ivar."

"Is it that obvious I'm muddle born?" She asked looking worried. I giggled.

"Muggle born. And yeah, it's pretty obvious to any other witch, but Hogwarts will change that sure enough. So is your dad like a big deal in the muggle world or something?"

"Huge! He owns a cellphone company. But it seems his merchandise is faulty," she said, hitting the flashing rectangle rather hard.

"Is it electronic by any chance?" she looked at me like it was obvious. "Yeah, nothing electronic works in the wizarding world, the magic interferes with its signals or whatever. My granddad is real obsessed with muggle stuff so I know. Sometimes he takes us to muggle neighborhoods to see this thing called the cinema."

"No electronics?! For a whole school year? You're kidding me right? How do you talk to your friends or ask your parents for stuff?"

"You send an owl."

"I'm sorry, what? I thought that whole owl thing was a joke."

"Man they don't tell you guys nothin' do they?" Ivar said looking sideways.

"They gave me this book, but I thought it was just, like, suggested reading." She held up the leather bound book from earlier. Ivar snickered, I jabbed him in the side.

"Owe!"

"So…were your parents excited when you got your letter, my mum cried when my brother, Fred, got his and she knew it was coming."

"Oh yeah, they were over the moon. Of course, we knew I was gifted – I was just like too good at guessing games, you know. Like someone says 'what do you think the weather will be like today' and I'd be like "hot, the neighbor's farm is going to catch on fire blah blah blah!"

"Wait, you're a seer?" Ivar asked in disbelief.

"Sure am! McGonagall, the Witch who told my parents about this stuff so they knew it wasn't some weird scam, told me I had the inner eye. Whatever that means."

"That's sooo cool!" I said, because it absolutely was. First of all, I had never met a real seer before in my life. They're a real big deal in the Wizarding World. I guess that's why McGonagall went to talk to her herself, that job was usually for someone a little less high up than the head mistress of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"If you're so good," Ivar said irritably "what house are we all going to be sorted into?"

"Oh please, that's easy! The one about the doors and thank god, am I right, I mean green and yellow are not my colors. I was kind of hoping for the blue but crimson's classic, you know, it's a total consolation. I'm deff not disappointed." Ivar and I stared at her, jaws dropped. Were we really just sorted by a little blonde muggle born that didn't know what Gryffindor was? We were so excited, though, we went off to tell our siblings. They were skeptical, of course, but it didn't matter because I, Roxanne Weasley, would be continuing the esteemed family tradition of being sorted into Gryffindor house!

And sure enough, at the start of year feast, Christie, Ivar and I found ourselves sitting underneath Gryffindor's classic crimson banners eating and smiling with rest of the Weasley/Jordan/potter clan. That is, excluding Molly, who I'm happy to report was sorted into Ravenclaw. This might be a bit harsh but I had considered requesting the hat sort me into another house just because the idea of rooming with her for seven years aroused the same feeling as rooming with one of my gran's lawn gnomes… and they bite.

"So do you guys, like, not know how to write and add and stuff?" Christie asked Ivar and I in the middle of our dessert.

"What?" I asked, mouth half full of custard.

"Yes, Christie we're homeschooled – you great ninny. What did you think, we were a bunch of illiterate eleven year olds?" Ivar said back angrily. They weren't getting off to a great start on the whole friendship front. Especially after Christie commented that she thought that his name sounded silly. Ivar and his sister were named after the first ever female quidditch player – Jessa Ivar. But, yeah I guess it would be a bit weird for a muggle born.
"Well, I wouldn't know," she said defensively.

"You would if you read the book you were given on Wizards! I mean were you planning to just wing it?"

The sound of a woman clearing her throat was heard behind us, we all turned around – it was Headmistress McGonagall staring down at us with her cat eyes. She had a wrinkled face that was a mark that she'd gotten on in years but her presence was still very much agile and intimidating. I gulped audibly.

"Hello Headmistress," the three of us said together.

"Hello Miss Weasley, Mr. Jordan it is lovely to finally meet you. I hope to get to know the two of you quite well over the next seven years, though I hope not for the same reasons I know your brother, Roxanne." She turned her head towards Fred across the table. "Yes, it seems he certainly does live up to his name."

"How are you, Headmistress? Good holiday?" Fred said smugly with a charming smile. Ugh, my big brother was so cool.

"It was lovely, Mr. Weasley, thank you for asking. I spent a great deal of time visiting some friends of mine in America, such interesting Witches and Wizards they have there." She wrinkled her nose disapprovingly, then shook it off. "But enough of me, Miss Simmers, if you're done eating, I actually was wondering if you wouldn't mind taking a walk with me to the edge of the forest to talk to Professor Freinz. I think he will be able to give you a lot of insight into your divination capabilities."

"Sure thing Professor, just let me finish this cake. You sure do have some great food at this school." Christie said as if she were talking to a peer. James and Fred looked at her impressed.

Suddenly, there was a loud commotion at the entrance to the great hall. A balding, greasy man with shabby looking clothes came hobbling down the hall, clutching a disheveled boy wearing slytherin colors.

"Headmistress, headmistress!" The man said, heading in our direction.

"Excuse me," Headmistress McGonagall said before she went to meet the man half way.

"Who's that?" I whispered to my brother.

"That's Filch, the squib Dad's always telling us about."

"And that guy," my cousin James continued, "is Finnian Parkinson. He's a slytherin in my year." That must mean he was a grade above me. James was a year younger than Fred, but they were best friends all the same. "He's always getting into trouble. I mean, even more than the average slytherin."

"I saw this one drinking from a flask in a back corridor. I smelled it myself – waddn't butter beer in that cup." Flitch said to Professor McGonagall.

"With detective work like that it's no wonder you keep him around," Finnian said to McGonagall rolling his eyes. He was a handsome boy; he had dark hair that spiked up in all different directions, a set jaw and small grey eyes. He wore his white bottom down with the top buttons undone, only to reveal is small, slender frame.

"I see we are starting out the year on a positive note Finnian. Thank you Filtch, you can release him. Follow me Mr. Parkinson." McGonagall said sternly. The whole great hall seemed to have gone silent in rapt attention. All but Christie who seemed to be staring off into a very precise part of space. I wondered for a second if she was having a vision of some sort. She turned to look at me worried.

"Hey Roxanne, you should – " but before she could finish McGonagall and now Finnian showed up, signaling it was time for her to go "See you guys later." Then the three of them were off and I was left at the table to ponder what Christie was about to say.

"That Christie girl's weird," Ivar said once they were officially gone. It was the first time we'd been without her since the train. I laughed at him.

"I like her!" I stated proudly, much to Ivar's dismay.

Later that evening when I should have been sound asleep in my Hogwarts four poster, resting up for a full day of classes, I instead was wondering about the castle, too intrigued by all its many mysteries. My uncles Harry and Ron, my Aunt Hermione and even my Mum and Dad all had adventures in this place and it was finally my turn. My whole childhood, I'd heard the magical and thrilling stories of life at Hogwarts and it was time for me to start my own.

It's true what they say, be careful what you wish for. When I had reached an abandoned hall near the dungeons, the floor began to cave in, sucking me down with it. I let out a scream that sounded more like a child's shriek. So much for being in Gryffindor, I thought to myself. I wiggled and squirmed as I continued to be absorbed by the floor. The surrounding concrete did not seem to be melting so I attempted to push myself up but I wasn't strong enough.

"Oh jeez!" I said. Then I swore I heard a maniacal laugh right by my left ear. A shiver and a chill ran down my spine. Another loud screech escaped me, echoing through the halls. I heard footsteps coming from around the corner.

"Blimey, Kid, you wanna keep it down. What're trying to do, get every prefect in the school to bust us out of bed after hours?" It was the Parkinson Kid from earlier, he had a half smoked cigarette in his mouth.

"My hero, ladies and gentlemen," I said irritably because he'd yet to try to get me out the hole I was waist deep in.

"You want my help or not?" He said, coming closer. I gave him my hands. It took four hard yanks and a partially dislocated shoulder to get me out of that jam.

"Thank you," I said, getting to my feet.

"Yeah well, I just wanted to finish my cigarette in piece," He responded, he took another drag and blew out a big puff of smoke. He threw the bud into the hole just as it closed. I coughed from the smoke. He chuckled. "What're you doing wondering around the Castle at night by yourself? Haven't you heard this place's haunted?" He said that last part darkly. Even though he was only a year older than me, he talked like he was a bloody fifth year or something. I wasn't sure if I liked it, it gave the impression that there was a hint of condescension in everything he said.

"That's why I'm out," I said haughtily. "I'm cursed with overactive curiosity. Wanted to know what all the stories were about. "

"And how'd that work out for you?" He smiled, a crooked smile that favored his right side. "I swear you Gryffindor's are always out to prove something."

"Why am I not surprised, Finnian Parkinson and… Roxanne, is that you?" It was my cousin Victoire on prefect duty. I waved wirily at her. "Roxanne it's your first night in the Castle and already your following in your brother's footsteps?" She looked at me, disappointed.

"No," I said defiantly. "I'm making my own footsteps." Finnian snickered next to me.

"Nice," he whispered in my ear. I gave him a dirty look.

"What are you doing out of bed, Roxanne?" Victoire said, ignoring Finnian.

"I was just exploring the castle a little, honest." I said, hoping not to get written up due to the family clause of 'that would be a really Molly-like thing to do.'

"Try to do that during the day, OK? And what's your excuse, Parkinson? Haven't you already been to the headmistress' office once today? You have a thing for her or something, trying to see her in her night gown?" I let out a giggle that was too loud because I don't think Finnian took kindly to being made fun of. Finally, I thought, he looked his age – a twelve year old embarrassed little boy. I may have gotten a bit too much enjoyment out of the sight, he did save my life after all.

"That's my fault too Victoire," I said, "something uhh – frightened me – you heard the screams. Well, Finnian was in his common room, minding his own business, when he heard me and came out to see what was wrong."

"How valiant of him," she looked at him suspiciously, he just smiled back at her.

"Fine. Get to bed, both of you…Oh and since you're such a hero tonight Finnian, you won't mind walking a lost first year back to Gryffindor tower, will you?" He nodded his head with his left-tilted smile. Victoire left, heading around the corner to finish her rounds.

"It was pretty cool of you to cover for me back there," he said as we were on our way to Gryffindor tower.

"It was no big deal, I'm used to it. I do it for my brother all the time."

"How'd you know hottie-miss-snooty-pants anyway?"

"Oh Victoire? She's my cousin." He stopped walking, gawking at me.

"Wait, you're telling me you're a Weasley?" he said in a tone I didn't much like.

"Yeah I know, I'm not blessed with the dead giveaway hair color. I have the freckles though." I pointed to the row of dots that speckled my nose and a small portion of my cheeks. My hair was not the typical Weasley red like my brother's, nope my long wavy locks were average old brown.

"Ugh, I didn't peg you for a Weasley," he said, saying my last name in that rude way again.

"What're you trying to say, Parkinson?"

"Nothing, it's just the Weasley/Potter fandom around here, I'm over it. Like they saved the Wizarding World, big deal, so did half the other kid's families in this place. You're families just so… loud and entitled." My cheeks went warm with annoyance, I'd also inherited the Weasley temper. Nobody talked about my family, I thought. I pinched him hard on the arm. It was the only thing I could think to do on short notice.

"Owe," he said laughing. "Did you really just pinch me?" I was fuming.

"You know, I think I can make it back to Gryffindor tower by myself," I said marching away. "It's been nice getting to know you – NOT." Ok, so not my best line but I was eleven and in a rushed situation.

"Good, wouldn't want to be seen with a Weasley anyway," he said smiling, as if nothing I'd said affected him.

"ARRRG" I grumbled all the way back to my four poster, so angry that I completely forget the floor tried to swallow me whole.