"ASTRA!"

I faintly heard my foster sister yelling at me, though I pretended I couldn't. It was easy to believe: There were two whole floors between us now. I just stared at the pages of my book as I heard Mara pounding down two flights of stairs.

After a minute, she burst through my door, and I looked up, feigning surprise. "Hiya."

She glared at me. "Didn't you hear me? I've been yelling at you for like...like five minutes!"

More like one second, but correcting Mara is always a bad idea.

"No, sorry, I've been reading." I held up my book, The Hobbit, as proof.

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't deny the fact that I probably couldn't hear her from the basement. I mean, I knew I could, but she didn't need to know that.

She remained in my doorway, frowning at me as I pretended to continue reading. It's very hard to rad when someone is probably staring at you, though. After a minute, I put my book down, sighing. "What do you want?"

"Oh! Right." She had been staring the pile of letters perched precariously on the lid of my trunk, actually, not me. "Mom wants you to help clean out my closet, and I obviously can't do it looking like this," she gestured to her hair, "so do my hair."

I slowly got up and pulled my chair out from underneath my desk. "Sit."

Mara's eyes widened, and she shook her head frantically. For a moment, I was confused, then turned my head to see Anastasia, my owl, contentedly sitting in her cage on my desk. Mara had had an irrational fear of owls ever since one had attacked the kitchen the previous year. I sighed, then shoved the chair back in its place.

Mara grabbed my arm and dragged me up the two flights of stairs, then plunked down on her stool after shoving a hairbrush into my hands. "Do what you did on Blaise yesterday."

While I brushed through Mara's curls, Mrs. Lewis wandered in, and started asking Mara's opinion on various makeup products and things as she sorted through the piles of clothes next to her closet door. That was definitely Mara's speciality. Covering up her ugliness with so much makeup that her face looked like an admittedly pretty mask.

Mrs. Lewis completely ignored me. It had been like that with her since I'd returned from school, except when I messed something up (which seemed to happen a lot, no matter what I did). So, she was screaming at me, or pretending I didn't exist, neither of which is called a good environment to raise a child in.

Mr. Lewis had been much worse. He'd confiscated my wand, and any other item with a trace of magic, and locked them in my former bedroom. He'd then shoved me into one of unfinished rooms in the basement. I think he was a bit scared that I could still do some sort of magic without my wand.

Mara tried valiantly to act like nothing had changed, though it only took one mention of my school, or my wand, or anything magical really to set her off screaming and cowering behind the couch. I didn't do that often, though, because I'd only get slapped or worse when that happened.

Of course, I got slapped a lot anyway. I was what Mr. Lewis calls a "problem child."

Maybe I should tell you exactly what was wrong with me.

I am a witch.

Yeah, you heard me right. I'm a witch. And I had just finished my first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. My previous foster family had graciously agreed to take me back in (blackmail, probably) over the summer, so I was stuck with them for at least a month.

It was awful.

Of course, now that I was officially a freak, Thing 1, Blaise, was avoiding me, which was good. Thing 2, Cameron, was a different matter. You'd be surprised what kind of evil stuff a horrible, undisciplined six-year-old boy is capable of. With coaching from Mara, he rose above and beyond his normal brattiness that summer.

Was that a freshly baked cake on the counter? Throw it against the wall, start crying, and blame Astra's freak powers!

Was that a Lego city Blaise had built? Stomp on it and say Astra did it with her mind!

Is Astra not paying attention? Trip her, and make sure she bumps into Mum, Dad, or Mara, and claim it was her evil magic acting up!

Mrs. Lewis, of course, only saw her perfect angel of a son being tormented by me. I eventually started avoiding him. Luckily, he was scared of "monsters" in the basement. I spent most of my time down there.

It wasn't the sort of gross, damp, dark unfinished basement that people generally avoid. The Lewis's house was built on a hill, so my room was actually about level with the backyard. I had a nice sized window that Anastasia could fit through (though I could only let her out at night), and an actual bed, which was a huge step up from a blanket on the floor in the linen closet.

As soon as Mara's curls were tamed (as much as possible) in a braid, I bolted back downstairs. No way was I sitting through hours of listening to Mara and Mrs. Lewis argue over what clothes she could keep. Neither noticed me slip out, because they were already in a heated debate about a crop top that Mrs. Lewis had proclaimed "highly promiscuous" (I doubt Mara even knew what that meant) and that Mara said was her favorite.

As the Lewises avoided me, I avoided them. I couldn't wait to get back to Hogwarts. The month I'd been here had dragged on forever, and though it might sound weird that I was so eager to get back to school, you have to understand, I was wanting to get back to Hogwarts. The best wizarding school in Great Britain! Not only were my only friends there, and magic, but everyone thought James Potter and I were really cool after what had happened last year. We'd "saved the school" the past year from a series of mysterious attacks on students. We'd basically spent the year accidentally walking in on attacks, but in the end, we'd managed to unmask the attacker.

And realize that it was my closest friend, Wren Predatel.

The weeks I'd spent with the Lewis's had helped me do one thing: come to terms with it. I'd finally sorted out my feelings, and decided what I thought about my former best friend.

I was angry. Angry at her, angry at the people who made her do that, angry at myself for not seeing it. But mainly angry at her. Because she could have told us. We would have understood. Professor Potter would have helped her. We all would have. And yet, she never asked for help. So, she allowed herself to be blackmailed into it, or she did it willingly. Neither option was great. If I ever saw her again, the chances were high that I would punch her.

Or I might cry and hug her.

I suppose I was still a bit confused.

I plopped down onto my bed and picked The Hobbit up again. I had only just recently found a large box of books in the basement storage area, and it was now hiding under my bed. It probably wouldn't be missed, but I wasn't taking chances.

After a few hours, I hopped up to stretch my cramping legs, knocking into my chest as I walked past it. I groaned as the tower of letters toppled, creating a huge mess. Getting down on my hands and knees, I started rounding them up.

James and Albus Potter, Luna Scamander, Arthur Longbottom, and Rose Weasley had all kept in touch with me fairly consistently. Rose sent me a letter every Tuesday and Saturday, no exceptions. Luna was a bit more relaxed, I think, though I still got at least two letters from her a week, filled with tales of her exciting holiday in the Alps with her family, searching for fantastic magical beasts. Arthur managed one or two letters, with little notes scrawled on the bottom by his two sisters, who were starting Hogwarts this year. James and Albus sent me one every day. No exceptions.

According to James, no trace of Wren had been found. We assumed she'd gone back to America, but no one knew where. Someone had been sent to her grandparents' house, but it had looked abandoned. No one who lived near there knew what had become of the odd old couple and their strange granddaughter, the one who inexplicably and accidentally turned one of the local boys' hair blue once.

I opened the lid of my trunk to shove the letters in somewhere. As I pushed things aside to make room, something silver caught my eye.

I reached down and drew a small silver locker out of the mess. A sob caught in the back of my throat as I recognized the intricate swirls engraved on it. Fighting back tears, I opened the latch to reveal a moving wizard photo of Wren on one side and Albus on the other.

I had completely forgotten about this Christmas present from Wren. It had been in the bottom of my trunk for at least a few months. I couldn't even remember when I'd stopped wearing it. I thought I'd lost it...

For an instant, I considered throwing it across the room. Seeing it shatter against the wall would definitely be satisfying.

But...I just couldn't. Instead, I slowly unclasped it and put it around my neck, letting it fall with a soft thud against my shirt.

I closed my eyes and leaned against the bed. There, imprinted into my memory, were the smiling faces of my closest friends. Albus, Wren, and James, laughing about who knows what. I had tried my hardest to blot her out of mind, my memories, but it was impossible. And I started crying.

I don't know how long I sat there, silently sobbing and rocking back and forth. I had my knees drawn up, and my head leaning on them, and I couldn't stop crying. Once the floodgates were open, they couldn't be closed. I just had to hold on through the storm.

Eventually, I calmed down. I stumbled down the hall to the tiny, cramped bathroom and washed my face off. I gave my reflection a half-hearted smile, then tucked the necklace inside my shirt.

I walked back to my room, closing the door behind me. I felt a bit better, actually. It was the kind of peace you feel after you've cried for a while.

On that night, I hadn't known how I would recover from it. Wren's betrayal had felt like a fatal blow at the time. Now, it wasn't much better, but I could at least think of her without crying. I knew that once I was with my friends again, it would be harder. But it would also be easier. They were constant reminders of Wren, of course, but they were going through the same storm. And it would be easier together.

I glanced my watch and groaned. It would be dinnertime soon. And the Lewises were having family over tonight, which meant at least three hours of everyone making snide comments about what a terrible kid I was.

It would have been a lot worse if the Lewises hadn't been adamant that my "condition," as they called it, remained a closely guarded secret. I was a freak, and no one needed to know that. Their explanation for everything was that I was a "troubled kid."

I slowly climbed the stairs and wandered into the kitchen. The Lewis relatives would be arriving in a little less than half and hour, and undoubtedly I would be put to work sooner or later.

The Lewises extended family consisted of a cross, surly grandmother in her nineties, Aunt McKayla and Uncle Terry (whom I was still expected to refer to as Aunt McKayla and Uncle Terry even though I was not remotely related to them) who always frowned at me distastefully and commented on how my parents were probably no-good drug addicts or something, and their two bratty children, Aften and Henry, who were thirteen and eleven.

The only good thing was that Mara couldn't stand her cousins any more than I could.

As soon as Mrs. Lewis caught sight of me, she put me to work cooking while she ran upstairs to finish her makeup. I seriously wished I could use magic, and make this food cook itself like Mrs. Potter did. The stupid law about underage magic would have stopped me even if I had my wand, though.

Eventually, the clock struck six, and the doorbell rang at precisely the same moment. I heard someone pounding down the stairs, then the normal exclamations of joy as the door was opened.

Mara sighed in disgust. I looked over my shoulder to see her sitting at the kitchen table, putting her headphones in her ears. She had definitely reached that "angsty, rebellious teen" stage.

The babble and noise drifted down the hall, and the group of people filtered into the kitchen. I turned the stove off and tried my best to discreetly slip into a corner where I wouldn't be noticed.

Of course, it didn't work.

The first relative to swoop down on me was Grandma Lewis. She dragged me out into the middle of my room by my ear, muttering about how I was "antisocial" and how "in my day kids were excited to speak to their elders." If their elders were anything like Grandma Lewis, I'd suggest throwing all of those kids into a mental institution.

"So, have you become any less troublesome?" she asked, half squinting and half glaring at me through her glasses.

I shrugged. "I suppose so...I mean, I was gone-"

"IS THAT HOWYOU SPEAK TO YOUR ELDERS?"

Mara snickered.

I sighed. "No."  She glared at me, so I added, "Ma'am..."

Grandma Lewis rolled her eyes and hobbled away to exclaim over how adorable the twins were.

I slipped out of the kitchen, where Aunt McKayla was gushing over Mrs. Lewis's cooking prowess (as if she did anything). She always said the same things, and Mrs. Lewis always said the same things. It was quite obvious to anyone who knew Mrs. Lewis that she was completely faking it all, and really couldn't stand her dear sister-in-law. Of course, I was always around to hear her complain about the woman for two days afterwards every time they came. I highly suspected Aunt McKayla did the same thing.

I wandered out of the kitchen, hoping the way to the basement would be clear so I could escape. Joy of joys, I ran right into Aften. And I mean right into her. She actually fell over.

"Hey!" Aften glared at me, and ignored my attempt to help her up.

"What're you doing??" Henry screeched, swooping down on us like a hawk.

"She attacked me," Aften said quickly, brushing away a nonexistent tear. It was going to be a long night.

After ten minutes of my repeated explanations that "I literally just ran bumped into her, calm yourself," Mara stomped in. I could only guess that her parents had sent her in to keep tabs on me. I got the distinct impression that they didn't want their family knowing about my "freak" condition.

My foster sister awkwardly walked up, squeezing her way between me and Henry before we started punching each other, or worse, before I started doing magic. Without a wand. Because I could totally do that.

Of course, I could have told them that I could blink and they'd end up in Antarctica, and they'd believe me. The Lewises did not have a good understanding of magic, and I was perfectly okay with keeping it that way.

"Hey, Mara!" I said, smiling too brightly.

She glared at me. "What're you guys talking about?"

"Oh, you know, stuff," I said vaguely. If I had to endure a night of these people and insults anyway, I'd at least have a little fun with it. Maybe a stupid idea in the long run, but "planning" has never been my thing.

That was Wren's thing.

Not thinking about that.

"What kind of stuff?" Mara asked suspiciously.

"Oh, you know, I was just about to tell them about my school. You know, Hog-"

Mara clamped her hand over my mouth, eyes wide. After a quick glance at Henry, who just looked confused, she grabbed my arm. With more strength than I knew she had, she dragged me into the kitchen, and hissed something in her mother's ear.

"Astra..." Mrs. Lewis said, in a low voice, "you say one word about any of that, and you've guaranteed yourself a life in a facility."

I nodded, trying my best to look sorry. I think it looked more like a grin, but I didn't care.

Mrs. Lewis apparently didn't want to take chances, because she quickly called everyone to dinner and made sure I sat directly in between her and Mara.

The adults' talk was boring. Politics, petrol prices, and other mundane muggle things that I couldn't care less about. I tuned most of it out, focusing on my food.

It was desert before the anticipated topic was brought up. A new record, actually. Uncle Terry glanced down the table at me, and said, frowning, "Does that one go to some sort of special school? Henry said she mentioned a different one."

Mr. Lewis glared at me, then said, "Oh. Yes! We....we have her at... St. Claire's School for Troubled Young Ladies! It's one of the best boarding schools for delinquents like her."

I felt my face heat up. Delinquent? Even though I was used to being insulted, that was a bit much.

Uncle Terry nodded knowingly. "Yes, yes, I've heard of that one."

"It must be nice to have her gone all year," Aunt McKayla piped up.

"Oh, yes, lovely to have her away from the twins," Mrs. Lewis agreed.

I glared at all of them. They were acting like I wasn't even there!

"She's a very bad influence on my poor brother and sister. It's so nice to have her gone. I just hope that school is helping her," Mara said, brushing away a fake tear.

I kicked her under the table, but she kicked back even harder, making me wince.

"You know, I think you should take it a step further," Grandma Lewis said, frowning. "I hear they've got these fancy facilities for children who are such bad influences like this one. What she needs is a school that still believes in corporal punishment. All these new-fangled schools for vandals like her don't."

I stared at her. Was she serious? The worst influence in this house was Mara, and even in all her brattiness, she wasn't that bad. Corporal punishment?

The talk continued, picking me apart until I sounded like a despicable excuse for a human being. They could have called me a murderer and it wouldn't have surprised me. It was getting harder and harder to listen to then without cracking.

"If she was my problem, Calvin, I'd simply let the state deal with her," Uncle Terry said, not bothering to swallow his food before speaking. "They'd put her in one of those schools Mom was talking about, guaranteed."

"It's really just what she needs."

Mrs. Lewis sent me a glance, and apparently noticed my flower. She took the chance to pinch my arm, hard. "Yes. I'm glad you mentioned that. We'll certainly look into it."

"But really, you can't completely blame the child," the grandmother mused.

Everyone, me included, stared at her in surprise.

Before I could even hope that she would start to rip apart the Lewises' parenting methods, she said, "It's often genetic, things like this. Back when I was a girl, the Germans were doing experiments with this kind of thing." Based on her age, she was definitely talking about the Nazis. Wonderful. "Delinquency in a parent, whether or not the child knew them, will bring it out in the child."

Finally, I couldn't handle it. That was too far. My mother and father were probably the most respectable people in the world. My mind flashed to the vision of seen in the Mirror of Erised. How dare she insult them?

"SHUT UP!"

Everyone froze, staring at me. Aften dropped her fork, which hit her plate with a loud clatter.

"E-excuse me?" Mr. Lewis stuttered.

I probably should have just apologized. I should have meekly let them yell at me for a few minutes and let my pride take a hit, but I was too fired up to take it anymore. "I said shut up!"

No one else seemed to be able to find their voice. Mr. Lewis seemed to have lost his again.

"My parents weren't delinquents! I am not a terrible person! I don't go to a stupid school for troubled kids! I'm not a troubled kid!" I stood up. "Ask them!" I pointed at the Lewis's. "They'll tell you! I'm a freak, right? That's it? Fine!" I stomped out, making sure to slam the door as loudly as I could.

It was midnight before I realized just what an idiot I was.

The next morning, bright and early, and Mr. Lewis installed a lock on the outside of my bedroom door. I heard the sound of the bolt sliding over, and glanced over at the window helplessly. It was big enough for an owl to fit through, but a human? No.

The first thing I did was cry. There was no way the Lewises would let me go anywhere this summer. They'd probably ship me off to one of those facilities Grandma Lewis had mentioned. I'd never go back to Hogwarts.

The next thing I did was sit down to write to James and Albus. Surely they'd be able to think of away to get me out of here.

It seems Mr. Lewis had thought of that. I turned my room upside down, but I couldn't find one single pen anywhere.

Then came the waiting.

~~~~

Funny story: I had no clue how to start this chapter. None. For the past two weeks, since I finished the last chapter of Star of Gryffindor (oh yes, I write these chapters days before I post them), I've been racking my brain to think of a way to draw you back into Astra's story.

Do you know what finally pulled the story out of me? I was revising some of the chapters in Star of Gryffindor, polishing it up for the Wattys, and I stumbled upon the Christmas chapter. I had completely forgotten about that silver locket, but there it was.

And I started thinking: What if Astra found it again? How would she react?

And so, everything written before the locket part was just me throwing out random ideas to lead up to it. And after that, it was pretty easy. Because inspiration can be that easy sometimes. It just takes patience and perseverance.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand I sound like a motivational speaker. I'm sure you weren't interested in all that 😂 I just felt like explaining because I'm the kind of person who feels the need to do things like this.

On to serious matters: I am willing to put any first year you submit into the book (or you could submit some for later books, I already have a few of those as well). I need a lot. I have like five. So just throw out random names and Houses and they will get in the book eventually, I promise! Probably in the Sorting, but the character could potentially have a big roll in the series later! You'll get credit if you do. Anyway, to those who have submitted characters: Thanks!

Update from 2020 (5 years after this was written, for context): I'm leaving the above paragraph in for the sake of preserving this fanfic in its original state, but unfortunately I am no longer taking reader-made students, simply because the seventh book's sorting has already happened. Thank you to anyone who sent one in over the years! Some of my favorite characters have come from you guys. Thanks for adding that extra detail to this series. I appreciate it!

Anyway, please vote, comment, fan, etc! I'm so excited for this story!

~Ellie