She had done it again.

Or at least, they blamed her. She couldn't see how it was her fault, however; the glass had simply disappeared and the snake had taken its opportunity to flee the zoo. That was not her doing. How could it be?

Her explanations never carried much water with the Dursleys. They wholeheartedly blamed the entire ordeal and ruining their son's birthday celebration on her. She earned a long stint in the cupboard that was her bedroom as a result.

Ten-year-old Linnea Potter lay on her bed, staring up at the roof, which was adorned with spiders. They didn't bother her; she had been living in the cupboard under the stairs for as long as she could remember and the spiders were her only companions in all that time. The Dursleys rarely visited her cupboard, only doing so to rap on the door and bark out a fresh set of orders for her. She handled most of the chores around the house and yet couldn't even be afforded regular meals.

She sighed as a pang of hunger racked her stomach and sat up. She had not eaten for at least two days now. She looked demurely into the mirror on the door, her cat's eyes sweeping disapprovingly over her reflection. She didn't much like her appearance; Linnea wasn't short, but her features had always made her feel significantly smaller than other girls her age. She had a lithe frame and soft, rounded face, set with a dainty nose and delicate mouth. Thick, midnight black hair fell past her shoulders in stark contrast to her deathly pale skin, which she attributed to her sleeping in a dark cupboard and staying mostly indoors for ten years. Linnea had never heard anyone describe her as being pretty - or even decent-looking, for that matter. No, everyone said that she looked like a ghost, thanks in main to her skin. It was, however, Linnea's eyes that most unnerved people; they were big, framed with heavy lashes and possessed a bright, piercing green color. As far as she knew, no one liked her eyes; she was often harassed in school about how creepy they apparently were - which, by extension, made her entire being creepy. Linnea was as far from being popular as a child could ever be.

A scar, shaped like a bolt of lighting, sat on her forehead, hidden behind the fringe she kept for just that purpose. She hated it. It was a constant reminder of what she could not remember, but had lost. Her parents' demise was the reason why she had to live with the Dursleys.

Her aunt, Petunia Dursley, was Linnea's mother's sister. She and her husband, Vernon Dursley, had taken her in to live with them alongside their son Dudley, her cousin. Such a tale would have touched a casual observer, but Linnea often wondered why they had bothered to put her up. The Dursleys hated her, there was no other word for it. Her meals each day consisted of their leftovers, and that was if she was lucky enough not to be under suspicion for something. Her clothes were barely more than rags, having all been purchased at dingy second-hand shops for half a pound. The only treatment that her hair received was washing and brushing, as Aunt Petunia claimed that she cost the family enough without any cosmetic maintenance.

Dudley, however, was constantly doted upon by his parents. He always got the best gifts and toys, new and expensive clothes, and was fed a little too well, making him beefy for his age. He would look just like his father when he grew up. His misdeeds and bad grades had always been ignored by his parents, and he had become spoiled for it. He was the fearsome local bully and led a gang of delinquents in terrorizing the children of the neighborhood. He did, at least, avoid harassing girls too much, which kept Linnea as safe as she could be from him.

A sharp knock on the door interrupted her musings. She heard the latch slide out of the lock and in came Aunt Petunia with some bread on a plate and half a glass of water.

'Eat,' she snapped. 'Then come prepare breakfast.'

Oh, it's morning, Linnea thought as she took her measly breakfast. She had lost track of the time, seeing as she had neither a watch nor a clock in her cupboard. Her aunt immediately left, leaving her to struggle with the stale bread. She didn't much care, though; she was far too hungry for that.

'Hurry up, girl!' Her voice was like the crack of a whip. Linnea ate as fast as the tough bread could allow, then stood up and made her way down the hall into the kitchen.

Number Four, Privet Drive had always been a pristinely clean house, owing to her aunt's clean freak tendencies. Each surface was absolutely spotless. The house cleaning was the one chore that Linnea was saved from. She often wondered if her aunt thought that she would end up making everything dirtier than it had been before.

She brought out some eggs, sausages and bacon and began fixing breakfast, watched through narrowed eyes by Aunt Petunia, who sat in a corner sipping tea. She blended fresh orange juice, sliced tomatoes and made toast. Once she had gotten over the initial failures and resulting punishments, Linnea had found that she actually liked cooking. It was the one time where she was truly safe from the Dursleys; they never interrupted her while she cooked.

She had just finished setting the table when her uncle and cousin came in. They both said "Good morning" to Petunia, who joined them at the table, and ignored Linnea, who stood a little away from the family, waiting on her relatives as they ate. She looked towards the window sill and let out an inaudible sigh. Her flowers had dried up again. Her vase sat next to that of her aunt, which contained a vibrant bouquet of petunias.

Her aunt had once told her that girls in their family were traditionally named after flowers, which was why she kept a vase of petunias on the window sill. Then, as though angry at Linnea for this revelation, she had ordered her to tend to the garden in the backyard, which had been overrun by weeds. Linnea had gone out the next day and found a bunch of her namesake flower. She had taken them home and put them in a spare vase next to her aunt's. Oddly enough, Aunt Petunia hadn't objected to this. Linnea supposed that it must have been something she and her sister had done with their own mother. She would not, however, care for the flowers in any way and they had of course dried up while she had been imprisoned in the cupboard.

I'll have to go get a fresh bunch, she thought as the gentle flop of the mail landing on the doormat reached their ears.

'Go get the mail, girl!' barked Uncle Vernon. Linnea hastened into the hall to obey.

Three envelopes lay there: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge, who was on holiday, a bill and -

Linnea stared at the final envelope which was made of yellowish parchment. There, in emerald green ink, was her name as the addressee. Someone had sent her a letter. But who? She didn't have any correspondents and she had definitely never sent a letter to anyone either. The address, however, was so plain that she did not doubt that there was no mistake.

Miss L. Potter
The Cupboard under the Stairs
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey

Linnea turned the envelope over, still staring in consternation at the first bit of post she had ever received. There was a purple wax seal on the back bearing a coat of arms: a lion, eagle, serpent and badger united around a large letter H.

'Would you hurry up, girl!' shouted Uncle Vernon.

Linnea ignored him. The other two letters dropped to the floor, long forgotten, as she tore open the envelope. There were two other pieces of parchment inside. She pulled one out and smoothed it over

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot,
Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards)

Dear Miss Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School
of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books
and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Owing to your living situation, a school representative will call on your residence at 9:00 a.m. on June 26 to explain the situation to your guardians and assist you inn any means necessary

Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress.

Linnea felt her breath stop. Then her heart dropped. Was this a prank?

She shook her head. No, something told her that this was not a prank or a joke. But then what was it? If this letter was to be believed, then she was a witch. She shook her head again. No, that was impossible. There was no such thing as magic, her aunt and uncle had shouted that fact at her plenty of times. They had seemed determined to squash her imagination as much as they could. As to why, she had no idea.

But wouldn't this be a reason? she asked herself. What if I really am a witch and they knew? But how could they know? Could my parents have been...?

She thought back to all the times she had been blamed for something that she had had no way of causing. She had deemed many of these occurrences as impossible, but dismissed them when she could not find any plausible explanation as to how they happened. Magic would definitely explain them - all of them.

She was shaking as she pulled out the second piece of parchment and read.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

All first year students require the following items to attend Hogwarts

UNIFORM
1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

SET BOOKS
All students should have a copy of each of the following
1. The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk
2. A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
3. Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
4. A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
5. One Thousand Herbs and Magical Fungi by Phyllida Spore
6. Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
7. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
8. The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
1 standard potions ingredients kit

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST-YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

Linnea's breath came in short bursts as she continued staring at the contents of her letter long after she was done reading them. She was a witch. The thought was a statement, not a question. She knew it was true. It would explain everything - the inexplicable accidents, the way her relatives treated her. The shock was starting to fade away and be replaced by a growing elation. She had something that the Dursleys didn't, and they hated her for it. She was special, despite their claims of her being just as worthless as her mother had supposedly been. She was going to go to this Hogwarts, not the terrible public school that they had picked out for her. Unbidden, a malevolent smile crossed her lips; she could gain the power she needed to make everyone pay for how they treated her. The bubble of joy inside her continued to grow.

'What are you doing?' The voice brought her back to earth. She looked down the hall to see Aunt Petunia staring at her venomously. Without a word, Linnea raised the parchment she was holding so her aunt could see it. Her suspicions were confirmed as the horse-faced woman's eyes widened and her skin lost all color. She knew what the letter was.

'Vernon! Vernon, come quickly!'

Linnea saw something in her aunt's eyes that she never had before: fear. She was afraid of Linnea.

Uncle Vernon and Dudley came charging into the hall as fast as their bulk could allow. 'Petunia, what is it?' her uncle asked. In response, her aunt pointed a bony finger at her. Vernon's eyes rested on Linnea and her letter and for a moment he frowned in confusion. Then he went white.
'Is - is that -?' he stammered. Petunia nodded. A long silence followed, during which Dudley's confused 'What's going on?' went unanswered. Finally, Vernon seemed to come back to himself.

'Dudley,' he said in a hoarse voice. 'Go outside and play with your friends. Girl - Linnea -' It was the first time that Uncle Vernon had ever spoken her name. '- go into your cupboard and stay there until we call you.'

For a moment, Dudley looked like he wanted to argue. But even he seemed to notice that defying his father at the moment would not be the wisest choice. He went down the hall, pushing past Linnea as she placed the letter in Uncle Vernon's outstretched hand. She heard him close the front door even as she shut her own. She was mildly surprised that her aunt didn't lock her in. She lay once more on her bed, her mind buzzing with a torrent of thoughts.