I was pissed off.

All bloody summer I had heard nothing from Ron or Hermione. I thought we had built great friendships over the past year, but I guess that was just me being delusional.

It did not help being stuck in this vile household, although I had at least been upgraded from the cupboard under the stairs to Dudley's second bedroom. He fumed about that one.

My twelfth birthday was pretty shit. Uncle Vernon had business guests downstairs for dinner and I was meant to be up in my room, making no sound and pretending I didn't exist.

The problem was, I had an unexpected visitor sat on my bed. A weird, ugly creature.

"What are you?" I asked, struggling to hide my disgust.

"Dobby. Dobby the house-elf, and I'm here to tell Henrietta Potter that she must not go back to Hogwarts. If Henrietta Potter goes back to Hogwarts, she will be in mortal danger."

Great. A drama queen in my bedroom was all I needed.

"I don't mean to be rude," I sighed, rubbing my fingers tiredly against my temple. "But this is not a good time."

But Dobby would not quit. He even went as far as going downstairs and throwing Aunt Petunia's vulgar looking dessert over one of the guest's head.

I was locked in my room after that, and bars were even put up on my bedroom window, just to really get that prison vibe going on.

I really was having a shit summer.

***

But then it got better!

Ron, Fred and George broke me out. They had some crazy flying car that their dad had enchanted. They took me back to their home, The Burrow, which was amazing.

Molly and Arthur, Ron's parents, were exactly the kind of parents I wish I had for myself. They made me feel so welcome, safe and secure.

They set me up a bed in Ginny's room as they did not think it appropriate for me to share with Ron. I was a bit disappointed - Ron and I would have had a giggle. But Ginny was okay, I guess. A bit on the quiet side though. She confessed to me that she was really nervous about starting Hogwarts so I reassured her that I would look out for her. This made her beam so much.

Being a hero was like second nature to me.

I had such a fantastic time at The Burrow. Ron showed me all the magical delights of living in a wizarding household, including being able to practice Quidditch in the paddock. I never wanted to go back to the Dursley's ever again.

About a week in, Mrs Weasley offered me a flowerpot.

"I'm sorry," I apologised kindly, offering it back, "but gardening is not really my thing."

Sniggers filled the Burrow.

"She's never traveled by Floo powder," Ron said suddenly. "Sorry, Etta, I forgot."

"She'll be all right," Fred said, stepping up to the fireplace. "Etta, watch us first."

And, taking a pinch of something from the flowerpot, he threw it into the flames and stepped in.

A scream stuck in my throat. How had he not died?!

Well, it turned out it was just another wacky way us wizards liked to travel.

And so, I did just that. Just not very well. I landed in a fireplace of a shop that didn't look remotely like a place in Diagon Alley. Although that was hard to tell because my flipping glasses smashed when I fell clumsily to the floor.

Luckily, no one was there to witness me being anything less than awesome.

I looked around the dark dank shop and took in all the eerie artefacts. I shrunk away as I came across a withered hand. Ew. I decided to get out of there - right that instant.

Except that as I started towards the shop door, I was horrified to see a familiar face approaching from the street.

Draco Malfoy.

I quickly jumped inside a cabinet, not wanting Draco to see me covered in soot and wearing broken glasses. I couldn't take the humiliation.

I watched through a tiny crack as a man, who could only be Draco's father, entered the shop with him. His hair was the same colour, only long. They shared the same pointed face and cold grey eyes. I shuddered at the thought of an adult Draco.

"Touch nothing, Draco." He had the same drawling voice I recognised in Draco.

"I thought you were going to buy me a present." God, he sounded just like Dudley.

"I said I would buy you a racing broom."

"What's the good of that if I'm not in the house team?" Draco whined. I peeked at his face which looked sulky and bad tempered. "Henrietta Potter got a Nimbus Two Thousand last year. Special permission from Dumbledore so she could play for Gryffindor. She's not even that good, it's just because she's famous... famous for having a stupid scar on her forehead..."

That bloody cheeky bastard! I was a flipping awesome Seeker!

"... everyone thinks she's so smart, wonderful Potter with her scar and her broomstick-"

"You have told me this at least a dozen times already," his father interrupted him, "and I would remind you that it is not - prudent - to appear less than fond of Henrietta Potter, not when most of our kind regard her as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear - ah, Mr Borgin."

Mr Malfoy turned his attention to a man who appeared behind the counter.

Draco looked around, lazily fingering items along the shelves. I was fuming. I wanted to jump out of this cabinet and hex is stupid little arse. How dare he bitch about me like that.

He was edging closer to the cabinet as his father continued discussing selling some of his dark shit to Borgin.

I froze, my heart hammering in my chest as Draco's hand went out to pull open the cabinet door. I shakily gripped my wand, ready to use it.

"Come, Draco!"

I breathed a sigh of relief as Draco was summoned. He dropped his hand and walked out of the shop after his father.

It had turned out I had ended up in a place called Knockturn Alley. Luckily, Hagrid found me looking rather lost on the street after I escaped that horrid shop.

Back in Diagon Alley, Mr Weasley fixed my glasses for me and we were joined by Hermione. I told her and Ron about Draco being in Knockturn Alley with his father.

"Well that's hardly a surprise," Ron muttered. "Dad always said Lucius Malfoy was a dodgy sort."

We all went to Flourish and Blotts to pick up our schoolbooks. Mrs Weasley and Hermione went gaga over a wizard called Gilderoy Lockhart who was doing a signing of his books.

To my horror - the moment he saw me, he grabbed me, pulling me up to his side.

"Nice big smile, Henrietta," he said as a photographer took our photo. "Together, you and I are worth the front page."

It turned out this moron was going to be our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

Damn, I was starting to regret murdering the last one.

"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" said a voice I had no trouble recognising. I groaned inwardly as Draco Malfoy's sneering face appeared before me.

"Famous Henrietta Potter," He spat. "Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."

Before I could tell Draco to do one, Ginny stepped between us glaring right at him. "Leave her alone!"

"Look, Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend!" Draco drawled gleefully.

A hand clamped down on Draco's shoulder making him flinch slightly as he looked up to his father.

"Silence, Draco! Ah... Miss Potter. I don't believe we've met."

I recoiled as he reached out to push my hair aside, revealing my scar.

Pervert.

"Forgive me, Miss Potter. But your scar is legend. As, of course, is the wizard that gave it to you."

"He was a murderer." I spat, feeling revolted by this man.

Did he not realise that killing people was not cool except for when I did it?

"Yes, it was a pity about your parents."

I stood, mouth agape, as he waffled on about Voldemort in front of me. This guy was a real git. I could see where Draco got it from now.

In the end, Mr Weasley came and rescued us from this awkward situation by smacking his fist into the side of Lucius's pretty face.

Grabbing my big cauldron full of freebies, I went to step past Draco, his grey eyes glinting maliciously into mine.

"See you at school, Potter."

"Oh, I'm looking forward to it, Malfoy."

I tell no lies.

***