Part 1 Chapter 1: Margot Murphy

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Margot Murphy, my name scribbled in black ink on letter left outside my door, my parents loved alliteration. My mum would always say that an alliterative name always sounded important, a name worthy of someone famous or legendary. Those words always stuck with me, and I always wanted to be someone worthy of the name. Everyone back at Hogwarts all knew me by Murph.

Picking up the thick brown coloured envelope I already knew that this wasn't any ordinary piece of mail from my life in the muggle world, as I see the scruffy grey feathered owl flying away. I made my way eagerly through our foyer, and into the kitchen holding my not so ordinary package as I was greeted by my parents and our butler Barnaby. "What do you have there?" my father asked curiously.

Sitting and quickly unwrapping it, I say, "my fourth-year school supplies list", with a huge grin. "The only 14-year-old I know excited for school supplies" Barnaby says with a chuckle. My mum hurries to me, "my perfect Margot is no ordinary 14-year-old" she says putting her hands on my shoulder proudly. "That is true, not many 14-year old's in this town who are witches Barnaby says dryly. I sometimes forget how normal my life as a Witch is to my muggle parents, and to our butler we confided in and trust so dearly.

My mother however was always on board from the moment I received my invitation to Hogwarts. She has always wanted me to be extraordinary from the minute I was born, so finding out I was a witch made her ecstatic, she had a child who was special. Safe to say I was on pedestal far too high.

Although, living up to my mothers expectations was sometimes stressful, I still felt lucky to have a muggle parent who was so involved in my life as a witch, she knew more about this mysterious wizarding world than I did, she wanted to know how to help me excel in a world full of special people, and it was she who had informed me about the legendary "boy who lived".

My dad sighed, "Vivian my dear" he says to my mum, "give the poor girl some space to read her letter". My father, while supportive of my life as a witch, never showed a lot of interest in the wizarding world. I knew he loved me, but I could tell that this other side to me was just too different and it slightly scared him.

After our trip to Diagon Alley to pick up the supplies and textbooks I needed, I began packing. I still had a week till I needed to leave for Hogwarts however I like to be as organised as possible, some might say I'm a bit of a control freak but there is nothing wrong with wanting everything to be perfect.

This need for perfection does stem slightly from my mothers encouragement to be extraordinary and do great things one day, but a lot of it stems from the fact in a muggle-born Witch, trying to leave behind a legacy that future generations will speak of, after all in the Wizarding world I'm not special, I'm not a pureblood, I come from a wealthy muggle family, I don't have a terrible past and both my parents are alive and well, safe to say no one will be writing stories about the privileged muggle born Witch with pretty hair.

After a week of packing and organising everything PERFECTLY, it was the morning I was due to leave for Hogwarts. I stood looking at myself in the mirror reassuring myself that this year will be great. I stared for a while analysing my appearance. I had dark hair, wavy but always neat, big brown eyes and tan skin. I was ready in uniform, neatly pressed by Barnaby, shirt tucked into my skirt with a small black ribbon tied in a bow around my collar. To finish off the look I was proud of I grabbed the bright emerald green head band I placed in firmly in my hair, just to make sure everyone knew exactly which house I belonged to.

Slytherin. 

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