Elizabeth Stone

Backstory

I was raised by my aunt, a strict and non feeling woman. She despised children, but was my closest relative, and my parents had written in their will to give me to her. I don’t know what they could have been thinking. My aunt had no children and wanted nothing to do with my parents. She was my father’s sister. My father died two days after I was born, and nobody really knew who my mother was. Nobody even knew he was married, only that he showed up at the hospital doors, holding a cold, dead child. The only witness said he pulled out a stick, and put it to his heart. There was a bright blue orb, which was floating above the stick. He tapped the stick on the child’s chest, and then he collapsed, dead. The witness took the child in, saying, “I swear she was dead; now she’s breathing!“ And that’s my story. My aunt told me my father was a strange man, and he went to a school for “special needs children” at the age of 11. She rarely spoke of him. My aunt raised me in a mansion home, large and old. She pridefully states often that this same house belonged to her great-grandfather, and I had always believed it. The house was quite old and decorated in the old-fashioned way. My aunt absolutely hated me. She never went out and said it, but I could see it through the way she looked down upon me. As a young child, I was bright and curious. She shaped me up into a reserved, quiet, obedient, and shy girl. I woke up every day at sunrise, and made breakfast for my aunt and I. Then I would wake my aunt, and after breakfast, she would begin homeschooling. I was expected to sit quietly and attentively with a chalkboard and chalk in my hand, and listen to everything my aunt said. When asked to write something on the chalkboard, my aunt would watch over me like a hawk, slapping my hand with a ruler every time I made a mistake. Once my schooling was over, I spent the day doing chores. Either yard work or around the house or sewing, my aunt always found something to do. She always said, “Children shouldn’t be seen nor heard. They should be raised proper. No pretend, no imagining, and NO QUESTIONS.” I had a hard time with the last rule especially, as I was a very curious child. I sometimes forgot, and each time a question slipped out, hand marks appeared on my cheeks. Now, life was very dull for me until my 11th birthday. I received a letter in the mail, from Hogwarts. My aunt was in tears, the most emotion I’d ever seen from her. She immediately packed my clothes, as I didn’t have any other belongings, and kicked me out of the house. I picked up the bag that contained all my worldly belongings, which was only a few items of clothing, and walked down the street, writing a letter to the school. I gave it to the owl who delivered it, and I sat there. Only minutes later, someone appeared out of nowhere in front of me. And my adventure began.