Melody Riddle and the Sorcerer's Stone

Chapter 1: To Be Magical

My name is Melody Riddle...

I know what you're thinking in your head: "I've never heard of you!" and "What side were you on when Voldemort — obviously your father — came to power again?" Well, when Harry's biography was being written, I had to ask that I not be included at all. Easier said than done. Where there are strange holes in his story, they're basically where I was... not that you'd notice the holes until you read my story.

Back on topic, I wanted to write my own autobiography so you can see the choices I had to make and what brought me to do everything I've ever done. It may not make you understand my decisions any more than if Harry had written it, but at least it's from my perspective.

Where my story begins, I am ten years old living in Colorado in the United States... but I used to be Melody Gray — a decision of my mother's that I still have yet to understand:

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"Melody! I-I need to tell you something! Come here!" mom shouted from upstairs in the living room, her British accent sounding nervous.

I sat up in bed, setting aside the history book I'd been reading for school. Well, not particularly for school, but for my teacher. I was a quick learner, so she was attempting to push me past limits she just can't find.

"I'm coming!" I yelled, wondering just what she was so worried about. It was a Sunday, and dad had just left an hour prior for his business trip — during that time he was always running out the door as quickly as possible to avoid mom's pregnancy mood swings. At that point, she had trouble letting him leave the house.

Raised in the United States like my dad, I had no accent to speak of. I knew mom was from somewhere in the United Kingdom, but she wouldn't tell me, nor dad, why she came to America. As much as I had asked while growing up, she would not explain a single word.

I arrived upstairs to see mom pacing back and forth, looking extremely nervous as she obviously thought hard about something. Her belly bulged with the baby that was to come out in about three months, and I watched her from the darkness of the basement stairs for a bit, just listening to her mutter something I couldn't hear. Does this count as something stressful that mom shouldn't do? Probably.

It took me one extra step forward for mom to notice that I was there, and she instantly gestured to the plum colored couch. Ugly color if you were to ask me and dad, but mom loved it. I sat down, leaning back into the couch to listen.

"Sweetie, I have something to tell you..." she sat down next to me, seeming fairly hesitant, and pulled the stray strand of curly brown hair out of her face. I inherited the same color, except mine is strangely straight. "And I don't know how else to do this, so I'm just going to come out and say it. I am a witch."

There was a prolonged silence where all I could do was stare at her. This isn't good, I thought. "Nice to know being pregnant hasn't made you insane, mom," I quipped.

Her face reddened, "I'm being very serious, Melody.... The reason I haven't told you before is because... oh, I'm very bad at this.... Well, your father isn't a wizard.. and — erm — he doesn't know that I am a witch.. but I need to tell you now because you most likely are one." The last few words were said slowly, uncertainly. But she waited patiently for me to say something.

"Mom, we've had this discussion before. I know kids at school call me a witch, but it's only because — as nice as I try to be — I somehow give off this vibe that I don't like any of them. It's very true in most cases, but —"