Sorry About this I actually published the whole thing so far previously but removed it because it was too long so I will be putting up 3 chapters at a time from now on.

This is only temporary and the beginnings of a MASSIVE fan fic. So can you just tell me if you like it? That would be great! :)

DISCLAIMER - I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters. I do own Alex, though.

Note - It’s based on a sort of mixture between the book and the movie, but the characters’ appearances and personalities are more like the adaptions in the movie.

Prologue

The rain beat down into the grey looking graveyard, soaking the shoulders of my black jacket. A temporary platform was rigged in front of the saturated crowd, where a little man with a chequered bow-tie and prominent ears read out his respects to the recently deceased Colonel Fubster. He had been droning on for a while now, and I could tell everyone was eager for him to finish.
It was pouring something terrible, and few had brought umbrellas. One of these few was Marjorie Dursley, the one I was here with. She was my summer job boss. I didn’t even know why I should be here. I’d never even met Colonel Fubster before. But the reason Marge wanted me to come was to act as her dog Ripper’s personal servant.
Yep, I had to clean his bed, wash his luxury silverware dog bowls and give him baths when he was extra dirty. Plus, my pay was £2 an hour. It would be a horrible job for anyone, but it was torture for me. Why? Because I was a witch, and all I wanted to do during these long days was whip out my wand and do it by magic. But Marge was a muggle, and she watched me for the majority of the time I spent, so I daren’t even begin to think what her reaction would be. And I’m only thirteen years old so it would be underage magic. So I would just curse under my breath and get on with it.
Marge herself was not a very likeable woman, fat and nasty, always picking out every flaw about me and what I was doing. I think it’s safe to say I hated her, but I wouldn’t say it to her face. She would most likely grab her umbrella and start to hit me with it. And that wasn’t an attractive idea. She seemed a very formidable lady (if you could call her that) and not one to cross. I’m not that stupid.
So that explains a little of why I was at a funeral on a cold and rainy 16th of July in England. But there is more to it than that. Here is the full story.

Chapter One

Alexandra Flinderson

Hi! Yes, that’s my name just above, but I’d rather you’d just call me Alex. I’m from a town called Townsville in Queensland, Australia. I am thirteen years old and attend er…
Well alright then. I’m a witch. I attend Parrings Magical Education College in Western Australia. Well, I used to. This winter I came to England as a sort of exchange, I guess, so I will be spending my third year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I know this school doesn’t usually do this type of thing, but my father wrote to Dumbledore personally. So here I am spending winter – I mean summer in England.
I’m staying with a lovely old couple by the name of Smith, who’re muggles too. They are old friends of my mother’s family, but still, I was good of them to take them to take me in until it’s time to go to Hogwarts. It’s been terrible to lie to them, because they are just so nice. I have to tell them that I would be attending a boarding school for girls for the school year and that there are no dirty clothes in my trunk so that Mrs Smith won’t open it and find my broomstick and scarfs and ties of my house colours from Parrings. I was told I would be able to use them at Hogwarts because I was in Eaglesbane at Parrings, the equivalent of Gryffindor at Hogwarts. So I would automatically be put in Gryffindor, and luckily for me, they had the same house colours too. The small pile of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts I brought along might arouse suspicion as well.
My mother is a witch, a muggle-born. Her whole family knows. They know about me too, so there’s no having to lie when I’m around them. My dad’s from a pure blood family but isn’t a wizard. He’s a squib. But none of them are here. They’re all back in Australia, back at home. Whereas I’m stuck in England having an awful winter – I mean summer working at Marge’s dog house. And what’s the point of a job that’s paying me in pounds when all of my important purchases are in Galleons anyway? But I have to make it believable for the Smith’s sake.

Chapter Two

An Unexpected Turn

I knew Marge wouldn’t share her umbrella. She’s not that kind of person. When the service had finished and we were walking up the road to the bus stop she started to speak.
‘Alexandra,’ I winced. I didn’t like being called by my full name. ‘Alexandra, I need you to do something.’ I groaned inwardly. This didn’t sound good. Marge continued. ‘On the thirty-first of July, I am going to visit my brother Vernon and his family for a week. I need someone to give Ripper special care.’
It was as bad as I thought it was going to be. Now I was going to have to stay with her for a week. At least on normal days I got to go back to the Smith’s afterwards. And a week! A week from the 31st was the 6th of August, and I was planning to take the Knight Bus and leave for Diagon Alley on the 7th. I would have to tell Mr and Mrs Smith that I would be leaving one week early. Dammit.
‘The Dursleys are a lovely family,’ Marge was saying. I sincerely doubted it if they were anything like Marge. ‘Except for that Potter boy. Not Vernon’s son, of course. His wife’s sister’s. She was a strange one I’m told.’
I stopped dead, and Ripper gave a yelp as his leash was suddenly yanked back. Potter? Could he possibly be the Harry Potter? ‘What’s this Potter kid’s first name?’ I asked as casually as I could.
Marge turned around in surprise. ‘Why do you ask, girl? He’s a horrible child. He’s got bad blood, that one.’
I looked at her coldly. It was the most rebellious thing I was able to get away with. ‘Geez. No need to talk about other people like that. I just wanted to know.’
‘His name is Harry, and he is an embarrassment and burden to their household.’ She snapped. ‘Now Dudley, on the other hand…’
But I wasn’t listening anymore. Could it possibly be? I didn’t know. But I hoped he wasn’t as horrible as she’d made out, because I was quite looking forward to meeting him. If it was really him.
*
We got on the bus and ten minuted later, Marge got off and took Ripper with her, to the relief of the other travellers. Another three minuted later it was my stop, and once I was off I dashed home through the still heavy rain. When I got to the residence of the Smiths, I greeted Mrs Smith, who was reading in her favourite armchair. Then I went and had a shower to get rid of the smell of dog that always followed me after coming home from Marge’s.
I dressed in clean clothes and flopped down on the bed in the spare room I was using. I wondered what the Dursleys would be like. I thought about that Charms Essay from Parrings I had abandoned before I came here. But I knew Professor Stevenson would let me off, because of this little exchange to Hogwarts for the year. But most of all I thought about Harry Potter. The same questions rolled over and over in my mind; Was it really him? Was he a wizard? Would I see him at Hogwarts? Was he as horrible as Marge said he was? I didn’t have the slightest clue what the answers would be, and I was partly excited at what I would find out at the Dursleys. The only thing preventing me from looking forward to this visit was the prospect of a week with Marge and Ripper.
*
Mr and Mrs Smith were a little worried at the thought of me spending a week with Marge and a family they didn’t know, but I convinced them I could look after myself. It was the 29th of July, and I had already packed most of my things into my trunk. I knew it wouldn’t have made a blind bit of difference if the Smiths approved or not, because Marge would have made me go anyway. But I still consulted them. It couldn’t hurt, right? Also, if thinks got too unbearable there, I could always threaten Marge with my wand and get away to catch the Knight Bus earlier. And if Harry was really a wizard, the Dursleys would probably know about magic. That way I could threaten them if I needed to, and I doubted they knew anything about Parrings so I could say I was allowed to do magic.
But that was a last resort only. Now all I had to do was wait.

TO BE CONTINUED