Bedtime Stories

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".....will be sorted like any other first year." Shit. Had Dumbledore been talking this whole time? We got home from Diagon Alley 2 hours ago, and since then Ginny and I had already become friends. I think so, at least. I've never actually had any friends since I was locked in my room all the time. Anyway, since I didn't think to bring extra clothes-i know, I know. Stupid me-we bought some at Diagon Alley. Right now I was wearing skinny jeans, a white sweater, plaid scarf, and brown boots. Much more comfortable and stylish than what Mo-sorry-Aunt Petunia bought me.
"Did you get all that?" Mrs. Weasley asked me.
Crap. "Uhh, yeah. So I'll be the oldest first year?"
"Technically, you will be a fourth year, but sorted this year. All you need to do is go with the flow." Ron explained.
So so I needed to know is: My name is Heather Potter. I am 14 years old. This is my first year, but I am starting as a fourth year.
"If it was anyone else, it would be your first year, but since you are obviously very powerful, you'll be with you're age level. 14 and 15 year olds." Dumbledore added.
I pulled out my wand. "So, my real mother and father were murdered. By... What's his name... Voldemort?" I saw everyone but Harry and Dumbledore cringe. Harry nodded.
I check the time. 11:47. I wasn't sure how schedules are in the wizard world, but it was way past when Uncle Vernon me me go to bed. Everyone sat in silence with their own thoughts. I was thinking about the Story of Horrors-that's what I'm calling Dumbledore's story about my parents death.
The little girl had found her mother's wand and started swinging it around. A powerful protection spell was cast, right before the unforgivable curse was.
Am I actually as powerful as he claims?
The man directed it the girl. It hit her neck, bounced off of it, and hit the boy in the head.
Something didn't feel right about this. Like something was there that made this story real. I looked at Harry.
Then something in my mind clicked.
The story was true.

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