Y'know, in all 14 years of my life, I've learned a few important things; stand up for what you believe in, always be yourself, and most important:

Being alone sucks.

I could feel the migraine forming as I slammed the door of our little flat and walked out into the rain. So cliché, I had thought, with such rain after what had just happened; I should've realized it was meant as foreshadowing of things to come. The streets of Atlanta were busy – as always – so I started walking along towards the small playground of the school nearby, where I usually went when I needed to blow off a little steam.

It happened often enough, going off on my own at nearly midnight; it wasn’t very safe, but I never thought anything of it because I had always believed that anything bad that could happen wouldn’t happen to me. I suppose that was my own fault, thinking I was invincible, and it only led to the situation I find myself in now.

My parents and I hardly ever agreed on anything. They wanted me to be perfect: smart, popular, pretty… like my sister, Violet. But I wasn't. I wasn't dumb, but I was lazy; I had plenty of friends, but they were just as outcast as I was; and I was identical to my sister, but was tired of being compared to and mistaken for her, so I had dyed my hair pink. I was their mistake, in all senses of the word.

And they never let me forget it.

I sat on the swing, sobs wracking my frame; I had held in the tears as long as I could. I hated it, hated them… hated everything. Why couldn't life be like my books, or the movies? At least then, when life got too bad, I could just fly off to Never-land, or have tea with the Mad Hatter, or even fight Voldemort alongside my literary heroes. But alas, I was trapped in this cruel life fate had granted me.

Or so I thought…

A dark chuckle echoed behind me, and I froze. Who else would be out here at night, and in this weather? I stood up slowly, glancing all around me; I hadn’t thought anyone else would be out at this hour, or at least not anyone that would mess with me - like I said before, I thought those sort of things only happened on the news.

"My dad's a cop!" I called out, glaring into the shadows surrounding me. I heard the chortle again and turned, coming face to face with an elderly man, hunched under a burgundy cloak. It was getting harder to see, as the rain began to pour down harder, but I could just barely make out a strange necklace he wore; it almost looked like a plant root, but with a human's tormented face.

"So you say, and yet, you know you'd never ask for his help, would you, Rosie?" his voice rasped in a deep, almost British accent. I stared at him incredulously, taking a step back.

"Who are you? How do you know my name?" I asked, and he looked up at me, one eye swollen shut and a toothless grin on his face.

"That isn't of importance at the moment," he replied, stepping closer, "What is important, however, is what you want. Do you really wish to be free of this world, and live a life of adventure and magic?" The hairs on the back of my neck stood up; how did he know that? I frowned at him, reaching for the taser in my pocket.

"I'll ask you one more time…" This time he laughed outright, though I could barely hear it as the sky thundered; the weather was beginning to look much worse.

"Oh, Rosie, Rosie, you won't be needing that!" He waved his bony hand, and my taser flew from my fingers and into his grasp. I gasped, backing up until I hit something, glancing to see an old wishing well behind me.

"How did you-"

"Now, now, settle down, dearie," he waved me off, rummaging through a small bag he pulled from under his cloak, "Let's see here…yes, it seems that everything is in perfect order." He shuffled over to me, muttering under his breath.

"No, stay away from me!" I shouted, trying to press myself as far back as I could against the stone. He tittered again, coming up to my shoulder as he reached me.

"Don't be like that, come on," He snatched my hand in his leathery one, wrapping the strings of the bag firmly around my wrist. He then grabbed hold of my shoulders, gripping tightly as he stared into my eyes.

"Always remember, Miss McIntosh," he started as the storm picked up all around us, toothless grin never leaving his face, "Fate does not control you. You control it! Not everything is written in stone, and you can't believe everything that you read in books. Now, off you go!" He pushed me backwards, knocking me over the wall and into the well. I screamed, reaching up with my unbound hand to grab onto something, but was falling too fast. The old man leaned over the edge, waving down to me.

"Best of luck, dearie!" he called, and soon faded from my view. I tried to call out again, only to be cut off when my head began throbbing. Everything began to sound as though I was underwater, and my vision began to spot before blurring entirely to black.

I could hear stifled murmurs around me as I came to, but my eyes remained shut. I tried to run through everything that had happened, but only got so far as storming out of the house before I blanked; what had happened to me? I struggled to focus myself, straining to decipher the words around me.

"Do you think she's alright?" one voice asked. It was male, and young, coated with a thick British accent.

"Oh come off it, Ron, she fell nearly a hundred feet," another answered him, also male, sharing the same accent.

"Don't get too close," a third shouted from a ways off, "She could be dangerous!" Someone scoffed.

"Oh yes, Percy, because a girl with pink hair could be deadly if mistreated," the second person replied, though his voice sounded slightly lower in pitch.

"You never know!" the third yelled back, irritated, "She could be working with… Death Eaters, or something!” I groaned lightly, my eyebrows scrunching up. Death Eaters? Just how hard did I hit my head?

"Boys, look," another voice added into the mix, this one female, "I think she's waking up! Go get Mum and Dad!" I tried desperately to open my eyes, finally managing to crack them open enough to see the blurred faces of a bunch of redheads surrounding me.

"Look, Georgie, she's kinda cute!" the one closest on my right said to the boy next to him. I blinked again, clearing my vision enough to find that they were identical, and looked close to my age.

"Who are you guys?" I asked, my voice scratchy, "Where am I?" The group exchanged looks, looking shocked and confused. I heard a slam, and sat up to see an older man and woman, also red-haired, exit a very tall, mix-and-match house and begin running in my direction.

"Everyone back in the house, now," he man ordered, ignoring the protests coming from the twins beside me. The kids all began heading inside the house, leaving me with the two adults. I looked between them, confusion etched into my features; why did all of this seem so familiar?

"Are you alright, dear?" the woman asked, and I turned to face her fully.

"Who are you?" I asked, looking up at the man, "What is this place?" They looked to each other for a moment, before turning back to me.

"Well, I'm Arthur Weasley," the man replied, "and this is my wife, Molly. And this is our home, the Burrow..." My eyes widened, and I began looking around frantically, hoping it was all a joke. Have I finally gone completely insane?

"What's your name, dearie?" Mrs. Weasley questioned, bringing my attention back to her. I took a deep breath.