"You sure you have everything?" My mother fretted, rechecking my luggage for the hundredth time. "Yes mom," I reassured, giving my mother a quick kiss on the cheek, pushing down the guilt that bubbled inside me.

Mum handed me my luggage and hugged me, and I breathed in her sweet scent of lemon dish soap before letting go.

The train whistled and the people of the nine-and-three-quarters platform jostled around, cries of excitement from the kids and tearful goodbyes from the parents echoing around.

I wiggled my fingers in farewell at my mother and a fresh wave of guilt engulfed me as I watched her use her back fists to wipe her wet cheeks, tears spilling out of her eyes.

My mother was raising me alone.

I always felt like a terrible daughter leaving mum to fend for herself for a whole year, let alone the past five ones.

She always said she wasn't lonely, but I knew she was. Who wouldn't be, sitting in a house alone with no husband or other children to take care of? If only I wasn't half-blood.

My dad's a Muggle, and he died shortly after he found out that my mum was magic when I was eleven.

But it was a different type of death, not like the normal one where you'd have a funeral and people came to pay respects, and where the person dying 'moved on.'

No, my father died in a much different way.

If only my father would've been magic. Then my mum wouldn't be alone, and I'd have a father, and I wouldn't be ashamed of my own dad...

I pushed down my thoughts. It was the first day of school for gods sake; no time to wallow. My mother would be fine.

I hoped.

Turning my back to the station I climbed onto the Hogwart's Express, throwing my luggage into the nearest seat.

The train whistled one last time and pulled out of the station, and I watched as my mother's scarlet scarf blew around her neck in the wind, her waving hands and tiny figure growing smaller and smaller until she disappeared completely.

After I had set my luggage down and gotten my bearings I pulled out my latest Muggle book called Lost Girl.

As I got lost in the world of Emma Dosay and her troubles of finding a job in the 1860s as a woman I forgot all about my mother and the chattering of the students around me turned into a dull roar that faded into nothing. All that was left now was the wind blowing my dark curls around me, the rolling green fields of sweet smelling morning and flouncing deer out the window, and Emma Dosay arguing with her soon to be lover at the market.

I had read about halfway of it, and I couldn't put it down. Sometimes my mother would tease me about my love of reading, telling me fibs like if I read too much I'd disappear into a book. Sometimes when my mother and father would fight I'd wish I could disappear into the books, but no matter how hard I wished and tried I never could.

Sure, I wasn't reading "witch books," but I loved Muggle stories, and how they lived life without magic. How do they do it? I can barely go a day without twiddling with my wand. Muggles, besides my father, are extremely fascinating.

Soon a couple hours had passed and I had picked up some treats from the trolley, chatted with a couple of friends that stopped by, and had moved on to writing in my diary.

Writing down my feelings made everything better for me. It put things into perspective, and I could pour down my emotions as heavily or angrily as I wanted.

It was the only thing I would dare share my secrets with.

I was about halfway done with recording my day and snacking on a pumpkin patsy when my two best friends slipped into my compartment.

"Morgan!" My best friend Steph squealed, sitting down across from me. We hugged and I noticed her fashionable new hair style. "Steph," I said, grabbing her hands. "Your hair looks great! Your parents finally let you get it?"

Steph's green eyes sparkled and she ran her fingers through her new blond bob. Right now it was all the style, and when it came to Steph she always had to have all the styles. I remember the summer of third year where animal printed leggings were in. Steph hated those ugly things, with their scratchy fabric and bright, gross colors.

Yet she raced to the mall with me and practically bought out the whole store, something I didn't understand despite her being my best friend since first year. "Yes! It's so wonderful." She said with a little twirl, and I pushed down the twinge of envy that pricked my heart.

Steph was an only child like me, except her parents showered her with admiration and let her get or use whatever she wanted, hence her new haircut. I wonder if my parents (if they were both present) would let me cut my hair like that or buy out a whole store if I wanted too or if we had the money. I wondered if things had turned out differently they might've centered their whole life around me like Steph's parents did around her....

I was snapped out of my thoughts as Steph let out a long, dramatically wistful sigh.

"I haven't seen you for so long Morgan, and you too Gwen! We're finally together again!" She squealed, and I turned to my other bff Gwen, who was admiring Steph's new hair. Gwen had always been the fun one, and we instantly connected when Steph and I met her in third year.

The three of us began to talk about our summers and the funny things that had happened when loud, boyish laughter drifted from the hallway.

It was like someone had put a spell on Gwen and Steph. They're eyes widened in apprehension and instantly they fell silent, a feat I didn't think was possible. I watched in disbelief as Steph rolled her skirt up higher and Gwen reapplied her lipgloss with a thousand new coats, both still ceasing to speak.

Instantly my curiosity was sparked. I might be a girl who loved books more than humans, but I still had some craving for drama every once and a while. "Who is it?" I asked, craning my neck just to be yanked back in my seat by a frantic Steph.

"Omg I look like crud," she cried, fanning her face. I sighed. Steph was known for being very over dramatic, especially when it came to boys.
I liked a good tea spill once in a while but Steph always took it to a whole new level of dramatic and that could be incredibly annoying.

"Calm down Steph, it's only some boy," I said, part of me just saying it to see her reaction, but Steph ignored me, her whole still with amazingly perfect makeup. "Girls," she began, frozen in time. "It's the hottest guy in school, James Potter. AND HE'S COMING THIS WAY." Steph literally was about to faint.

Gwen was mimicking her sarcastically while hypocritically fluffing her hair, and if I rolled my eyes one more time I was sure they'd disappear into my head.

I was about to seriously tell Steph to cut it out and see a therapist when I saw James Potter and his friends slide into the compartment directly across from ours.

And I was not prepared for what I was about to see.

James Potter was handsome but his personality is not. That was what I repeated to myself as I watched him glide into his leather seat like he owned it, his buddies around him, girls floating towards him like bees to honey.

Maybe it was his jet black hair, which he constantly ruffled and fell to perfection on his forehead that made a blush rise to my cheeks. Or it could be his sly grin, which made the dimples on his cheeks go up and looked like he was hiding some dirty secret. Or it could be his muscles, which rippled through his t shirt or his infectious laugh. No, I think it's his eyes. His sparkling, deep, green and gold flecked eyes...

I'm getting ahead of myself. So he's extremely hot... But looks can be deceiving; I know what trouble James can get in, and I'm not impressed.

He's tacky, rude, flirty and not my type.

Besides, Steph's obviously in love with him. Looking over at her and Gwen, who were both giggling over him, I sighed. I knew one thing about my sixth year at Hogwarts already.

It was going to be a long year with James around.

That's when Gino Hendrick from HCT (Hogwarts child therapy club) passed my seat. "Hey Morgan!" He said with a cheery wave. I waved back.

The HCT had been assembled after the Battle of Hogwarts for kids who had shocking losses in their lives. I had joined because of the 'death' of my father.

Does having the person you lost still alive count as a death? I didn't think so, but it seemed to me that if anyone was qualified to join, I was.

When Gino had passed I saw Gwen had flicked me a note in a shape of a swan, my favorite animal. I gave her a small smile and unfolded it to see she'd written in small cursive writing don't let Stephanie Clark get you down. I'm only googling at him because he's hot. I know what he's done and Steph knows too. We all know how crazy she is over guys. James is just a phase, just like Owen. Trust me on this one :)

I read the note and stuffed it in my pocket, this time giving Gwen a grin that said thank you. Gwen squeezed my hand from under the table, and I rolled my eyes at Steph's face glued to the screen door of the compartment, practically drooling over James.

"You know Steph would flip if she knew you said her full first and middle name." I said with a mischievous smile. Gwen snorted and gave me a death glare. "She'll never find out." She said in a dangerously low voice, and we both laughed. Gwen always knew how to reassure my anxiety that sometimes kicked in. She knew it was about my Dad, but not why yet.

But as we continued to talk and laughed over stories and James slowly faded in the background, I made a promise to myself. No matter what happened this year, I was going to make it the best one yet and no one was going to stop me.