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BFFL by sectumsempress101
Chapter 1 : Prologue-Six Years Before
 
Rating: 15+Chapter Reviews: 6


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"But Mu-um!" A pleading Esme Geniveve said.



"No buts, you can't have the new iWizard yet. Your birthday isn't for another few weeks, and we don't have the money now." Mrs. Geniveve said.



"Oh come on! I deserve it; I do my chores, I take care of Max, I'm practically a housekeeper or nanny! The least you can do for me is get me the newest music player!" Max was Esme's almost three year old brother and was a huge troublemaker.



"No, Esme. Maybe for Christmas. Times are tough, and aren't you wanting an owl for Hogwarts?"



"Yes, I am, but-" Esme was interrupted by her mother.



"Then, if you want the owl no iWizard. That's final."



"Fine." Esme continued to eat her breakfast of biscuits and gravy with bacon. "I'm sure Dad will get it for me."



But Esme was wrong. When she asked her dad at his work study on the ground floor, he gave the same reply as her mum. "Esme, we just can't afford it now. You're lucky to even get your owl."



"It's my birthday. Can't you just manage a few galleons to get me my own music player? It works at Hogwarts, unlike any muggle device. Please, Daddy?" Esme would not let the subject go. She would be a first year in the fall, and she'd be the coolest one-if only she had the iWizard.



"Maybe for Christmas." Her dad continued writing his job application at the Ministry.



Esme returned upstairs to read on her favorite couch in one of the living rooms. When she climbed the final step to the top, her mum ran to her.


"Esme! Esme! Your Hogwarts letter came!" her mum squealed.



"No joke?" Esme started to the spot where her mum was standing. "Awesome!"



"Yes. It's here. Hurry, we'd better get to Diagon Alley before all the good bookstores are crowded."



"Sure. Let me get my shoes, and I'll meet you by the fireplace to Floo."









Annemarie Porter sat in her bedroom at her desk, writing about her recent trip to New York City. The Porter family was a pureblood line and lived in Porter Manor in Beverly Hills. For all she knew, Annemarie could be Paris Hilton's twin-straight, blonde hair, contacts that made her eyes look blue, and a whole wardrobe with the finest designers-Prada, Donna Karan, Marc Jacobs, Tom Ford, Alexander McQueen, and Dior. 



Annemarie stood up. An indistinct object was making it's way to Annemarie's top floor bedroom window. It looked like an owl, but they only came out at night-or did they?



She opened the window and stuck her head out. It was an owl. On it's leg was a scroll. She had heard about things like that-in storybooks and fairytales as a child. They always came from magical places-but she couldn't be magical. She was plain old Annemarie, the daughter of a famous movie producer, the girl that only was on magazines because of her father.



She hadn't shown any signs of magic as far as she could tell, except for that one tim in Kindergarten. Annemarie's milk carton had suddenly been hoisted up into the air by some invisible force-magic.



Annemarie started hyperventilating by the time the owl reached her window. Magical, Annemarie Vonne Porter, magical? She must be dreaming. But when the owl reached it's destination Annemarie realized she wasn't dreaming-the owl pecked on her hand until she untied the scroll.



Dear Miss
Porter, the letter said,
I am writing to inform you of your acceptance into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
You are a witch, and you will learn the ability to perform magic over the course of seven years. You will be sorted into one of four Houses and will share a dormitory with the other females of your house that are in your year. On September 1st you will ride a train called the Hogwarts Express to the village of Hogsmeade. A member of the staff of the school will be arriving shortly to explain to you and your parents.
Good day,
Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress.



So she was magical. 



Annemarie hurried down the stairs to the living room. Her parents were stationed on the finest couch and a short man with wild hair was waiting for her to arrive.



"You must be Miss Porter. Pleasure to meet you. I'm Filius Flitwick, Charms teacher at Hogwarts. I just finished explaining to your parents about magic and how you are a witch." Then Flitwick began a detailed speech to her about magic and the wonders of Hogwarts.









Lily Evans sat swinging on the swingset in the local park by her best friend, Severus.



"Hey, Sev, can you believe I really am magical? I didn't believe you, but ever since the letter came I've been jumping up and down with glee. I'm just sad Tuney can't come."



"See, I always told you that you were. Now if only we can both be in Slytherin."



"Sev, you know that in the letter they decribed Slytheriins to be mean, cunning, sly, sneaky...I'm just not at all like that. I'd be better of in somewhere like, Ravenclaw. Or maybe Gryffindor."


"Gryffindor? How can you even think of being in such a rathole?"



"Sev, I'm brave. I"m noble, I'm kind. I'm daring, but not too reckless. While Slytherin, ughh."



"You'll see. When we're both in Slytherin, ooh, we'll be with each other in all our classes."



"Maybe, Sev. Maybe."










Aspen James raced towards her cousin Sarah and tapped her on the shoulder. "Tag! You're it!" She didn't know exactly why her mother made her play with her snotty cousins. They were purebloods. She'd much rather hand around with her muggle-born cousins on her dad's side of the family. They were fun. Not stuck-up going to be Slytherins.



Aspen's letter of entry to Hogwarts had came a few days previous. She didn't want to be in Slytherin for sure, or Hufflepuff. She was smart enough to be in Ravenclaw, and brave enough to be in Gryffindor. Half-and-half. Like her parents-Cynthia James was a Ravenclaw while Derek James was a Hufflepuff. She didn't know where her bravery came from-maybe just unique, and not a genetic trait. She could care less either way, as long as she became prefect-and maybe even Head Girl.



Her wavy, luscious chestnut brown hair reached just below her shoulders, and her sparkling blue eyes could light up a town during a new moon. She wasn't slim, but she wasn't fat either. Just average. Average Aspen.









A/n:I decided to rewrite the story. It just wasn't working for me. I do not own any of the designers mentioned in this chapter, or Paris Hilton, or Lily, or Snape, or Flitwick, or anything of JK Rowlings creations.




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