Annabelle Blanchard, Witch and Fangirl.

Witch not Muggle.

It's 2nd August 2015 and Annabelle's lounging comfortably on her beanbag, re-reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix for the sixth-no, seventh? Time, but that doesn't matter, she can never keep count, she's read each of the books of the series several times, enough to constantly reference to them and directly quote the characters.

Honestly, to say Annabelle's obsessed is a complete understatement. She's mesmerised by the plot and character development, she believes she can only dream of writing how J.K Rowling does.

But anyways, she's on page 16, where Harry screams "Expecto Patronum!" to save his slightly patronising and total bully of a cousin, Dudley. However, she accidentally closes the book, scolding herself, she's so clumsy and uncoordinated. She flips the pages to reach the page that she was previously at, before seeing the paper split and form into-a portal? I'm off my head, she thinks, but inspects the page closer, not before falling into the page though.

She falls to the ground with a thud, her head hurts so much, opening her eyes slightly, she sees that she's in a regal looking room, decorated with paintings, that are, moving?

Oh my god, what the hell? This can't be.... I'm in Albus Dumbledore's room?

Her suspicions are confirmed when she sees the meant-to-be fictional character advancing and walking swiftly towards her, welcoming her with a warm smile.

"Annabelle, I know you must be utterly confused right now, but in a few hours, as you may know, Harry and Dudley will be attacked by the Dementors, I want you to prevent this happening them by conjuring the patronus yourself since you do not have the trace. You have to equip yourself with a wand from Ollivander's and apparate there, you believe that you cannot do this, I can sense this, but you shall know, you are a witch of immense and count-less talents and I know for a fact that you will not disappoint me."

"Oh my god...." Annabelle whispers, "so, does this mean, it's 1995?"

Dumbledore nods, "Yes, it is."

"But, I was just reading the books, you're fictional!" She exclaims.

Dumbledore silences her and replies, "This shall be explained to you soon but you need to do what I have said, please Annabelle."

Annabelle firmly says, "I can trust you, I believe you Albus, I'll do it."

Dumbledore smiles softly, noticing the mention of his first name, and disappears, but not before thanking her.

She focuses on apparating, she imagines herself walking against the cobbled road of Diagon Alley and suddenly, she's there, and her head is a bit hazy. Annabelle walks with such a confidence, that people notice her and whisper, "It is the Blanchard girl, it has been years, she's the girl that will save us soon, I am sure of it." She ignores all the comments and enters Ollivander's to receive her wand.

Ollivander gasps and merely stares at Annabelle, "This cannot be, the Blanchard child... after all this time."

She knows that this will be all explained by Albus, so she ignores this. "Hello Sir," she greets with an easy grin, "could I have a wand?" Ollivander mutters,
"Yes, yes." and steps over the piles of boxes that contain wands, handing her one, she snaps the spine of a book with this one, and gasps, she's a book nerd and feels ultimately guilty.

After countless attempts of finding the perfect wand for Annabelle, Ollivander hums, "Hmm.." and gives her another, "here is one, I'm not sure it will work but I have my suspicions, it is 12 inches, the core is Thestral tail hair, a wicked and very rare core for wands, plucked by one who has seen and accepted death, and it's wood is Elder. It's brother is, the Elder wand, the most exquisite and powerful wand in the history of Wizarding. You cannot tell others of this, but I can tell you this, you are very powerful, possibly more than," he shivers slightly, "you-know-who." Annabelle audibly gasps and lets out a deep breath, she thanks Garrick and leaves the store.

Annabelle has surprised herself, she's wanted to be a witch and has dreamt of this for years in fact, why hasn't she overreacted like she thought she would? She clenches her cold hands while grabbing onto her denim jacket and apparates to the very play-ground Harry Potter is at.