A little bird told me ...

Prologue : Humble Beginnings

I have always loved books.
From the first time I can recall being read to and my clumsy words as I first puzzled out the markings on each page, I loved them. And when I found that these wads of parchment could not only hold stories, but infinite knowledge as well, my mum couldn't tear me away from some volume or another - it was different each time she entered my room of recluse - for nearly a month afterwards.

I was not what they call smart, and yet I was a bookworm. I could not always remember exactly what I had read a week ago, but what else were books for if I could not go back and check the particular tidbit of information?

I was not a fast reader, but I spent so much time reading that many mistook me for a person who could devour a novel in a few hours.

I was not like the intelligent authors who wrote these masterpieces, but I would claim quite humbly that I was the best, most devoted reader.

I often wondered what it would be like, to be so glorious as to have a book written about myself. Or to have such an imagination that I could weave a tale from my own mind. I admit, neither of these things have or ever will come to occur, but I did find in my life enough second-hand adventure, mystery and intrigue to write my own little story. And though I cannot claim anything like what the heroes of my generation have done, I am quite sure that I can give you a very different and hopefully rather entertaining perspective of the great events which concluded the last century.

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I was born Delia Lucy Bones to my pureblood mother Celeste and halfblood father Findley. My dad had gingery hair, brown eyes and gangly limbs, whereas my mum had light brown hair, twinkling green eyes and a fuller figure.

My sister, Susan, was eighteen months older than me and my idol from the ages of three through to eleven. She had long red hair which she frequently wore in a long plait down her back and freckles around her nose.

My hair was a darker red than hers, which my dad liked to compare to a carrot to tease her, but so thick and with the most annoying slight wave which meant it looked ridiculous just about any way except for in a simple ponytail. I didn't have freckles like my dad either, but I was much shorter than Susan and didn't look like growing very much at all.

We grew up together in a cosy house near Surrey, playing games together and Susan dressing her dolls whilst I read. My dad owned the broom shop in Diagon Alley and each morning he would step into our fireplace as it glowed green and vanish in a whoosh of flames to his beloved stall. He was a fair flier, but no one could match his knowledge and understanding of brooms. He was even working as a consultant to one of the biggest crafting companies and was back then helping make a new Nimbus broom.

Neither of us could fly, as the highly dense muggle neighbourhood didn't allow for practice and Susan was afraid of heights, but my dad had promised me a broom for my twelfth birthday to use in my second year at Hogwarts if I didn't get into too much trouble as a first-year.

When we were little, our mum stayed home to look after us, but once we could be enrolled at the local muggle primary school she went back to her job as a scribe for the Wizengamot. In the playground at school I would often wave shyly to my sister and she would grin back or even come over and give me a hug. She was - and still is - the nicest person I know and so no one was surprised when after receiving her letter and boarding the train to Hogwarts, she was Sorted into Hufflepuff, where both of my parents had been when they were at school.

My last year at primary school was very different without Susan. I was forced to become less dependent on my big sister and I found my voice a little where before I had been too shy and nervous to speak. I still avoided confrontations and felt exceedingly awkward in some social situations, but by the time it was my turn to get aboard the Hogwarts Express my sister was no longer the perfect person I'd thought her to be and I didn't need her so much.