I never thought I'd see the day when everything I once had would go down the drain and I would be stuck in a world I couldn't escape from.

But believe it, as it happened to me.

My name is Lydia Morrison, and I used to live in a city called Chesterfield, Massachusetts. I was just your normal average 12-year-old girl when I was somehow taken away from my home and sent to stay with my uncle and aunt who lived in London. I thought I was going to London, Texas, but nobody told me that I was going to London, England.

I guess this is what happens when you daydream and forget to pay attention to the geography lesson. But it's not my fault I have problems focusing in school. It's just that when I sit still in one place too long, my mind starts to wander. And when my mind starts wandering, I start imagining myself in some sort of fantasyland. In my fantasyland, I could be whatever I want, do whatever I want, and never have to put up with any ornery people who call themselves my teachers and classmates.

I guess I must've done too much daydreaming because the school counselor called my parents when I was caught daydreaming in class one day. After a timely intervention, it was decided that I would have to spend a year living in England with an uncle and aunt I didn't even know existed.

Well, that was just my luck.

Now instead of being able to participate in the activities being held at my middle school, I was being shipped off to England as a last resort for my behavior correction before I would be sent to military school or the juvenile section at a mental hospital. Mom didn't want me in a mental hospital and dad couldn't bear the thought of me being being sent to military school, so they agreed to sending me to England.

So now I am, for better or worse, away in England.

My uncle and aunt (Jacob and Georgina Reynolds) were the kind of people who didn't stand for any nonsense. They didn't allow their children Marley and Rowan to watch TV or read certain books. As a result of that restriction, there's over 1,000 toys all over the floor and not a single friend for them to play with those toys with.

This really can't be my life. But then it is, since I don't have any other choice. it was either stay with them or go to military school or juvenile hall. So I'll have to grin and bear it.

One night, I chanced to sit in my new room reading one of my books when I heard an owl hooting outside my window. At first, I didn't know what to make of it because I had never seen an owl before and I wonder why that owl was hooting outside my window. I opened the window and prepared to tell that owl to go away when I noticed a piece of paper tied around its leg. Now why would someone tie a piece of paper to an owl's leg? Isn't that animal cruelty?

Yet the owl continue to hoot until I took the piece of paper from around it's leg. I opened up the piece of paper and read a very unusual letter:

"Dear Miss Lydia Morrison,

"We have noticed your arrival in England and are extending an invitation to attend our school, Hogwash School of Magic & Mastery..."

At first, I had to laugh. This had to be some sort of joke. I was sure that I was sent to my uncle and aunt with orders to attend a school called Lone Oak Institute. (To be honest, I'm sure it's a fancy name for a school for reality-challenged children.) But as I continued reading the letter, I began to understand that it was not a joke. As in I really am going to be sent to Hogwash.

Knowing that my uncle and aunt were not going to stand for anything of that sort, I knew I had to run away from my new home. So I packed as many things as I could into a suitcase. Yet I left behind a few choice items, such as the ugly blue shoes I wore to middle school and the blue jean jacket with a picture of Mickey Mouse embroidered on it. I also left behind my collection of Magical Bears toys and my VHS tapes.

After everything was packed (or left out), I left the house with no intention to return.

As I walked down the street, hoping that no one would notice me and bring me back to the relatives I was beginning to despise, I chanced to see a huge bus pull up in front of me. The driver said, "Are you going to Silver Moon Plaza?"

"No," I said. "I'm going to Hogwash. Do you know where that is?"

"Why yes I do," said the bus driver. "Let me give you a ride to The Kings Crossing. When you get there, you will want to look for Platform 9 1/8. That will lead you to the Hogwash Express."

Admittedly, I was not the type of girl who liked riding on the school bus, but I knew I didn't have a choice in this situation. I climbed up on the bus and the bus quickly took off towards the train station. I guess the driver did not understand the concept of wearing a seatbelt or even driving at a reasonable speed limit, as the bus swerved past cars, trucks, and buses. I found myself grabbing onto a metal pole in the middle of the bus and hanging on for dear life as my suitcase slid around on the floor like in a pinball machine.

When we finally got to the train station, I found myself fainting. The next time I took a bus, I will make sure that the person has their bus driver's license first.

As soon as I recovered from my disastrous bus trip, I grab my suitcase and got off, running into the station. I needed to know where Platform 9 1/8 was so I wouldn't miss the train. I always make sure to get to places on time, and this was one of them.

Yet when I asked around, most of the security guards gave me a strange look. Did these people not know that Platform 9 1/8 existed? Why would they ignore it or choose to withhold that kind of information from me? Did I not have the right to know about the place?

Just then, I saw a man walking towards the spot between Platforms 9 and 10 and disappearing. This had to be the spot where Platform 9 1/8 was.

I stared at that spot for a very long time, wondering was it worth all the trouble I would soon be in to go through that (what you call it) portal. I still don't know why I got that letter from that owl and I needed to get answers. I hate being kept in the dark, especially when it concerns me.

"Hey you, you need to move now or get out of the way!" A girl yelled at me.

"Excuse me," I said by way of greeting, "but do you know if this is Platform 9 1/8?"

"Yes it is," said the girl who was beginning to lose her patience. "Now go through it quickly; I need to hurry up and get through before the traffic starts."

I needed no second prompting, as I took my suitcase and walk through the portal as quickly as I could. As soon as I did, I open my eyes and saw what appeared to be a completely different world.

There were people walking around dressed and elaborate costumes carrying what appeared to be magic wands. And here I am completely out of place with me wearing a T-shirt and some jeans. I knew I stuck out like a sore thumb in this crowd, but I couldn't let my imagination get away from me.

"Darn, I was hoping those two would get their butts over here," said a girl as she stood next to the train. "I can't wait for them forever."

"Don't worry, Harmonica," said a boy with crazy red hair who stood next to her. They'll be here."

"They better be," said the girl named Harmonica. "They better be here or else."

I didn't need to stick around to see what kind of punishment the girl would give to the two boys who weren't here yet, so I decided to board the train. Unlike the Amtrak trains, which I rode on during my childhood, there was no preferred seating. The other children were quickly picking out their seats in the many cars that were part of the train. I quickly ran into what appeared to be an empty train car and set my suitcase down. I pulled out the book "God of the Eastern Earth" written by H. D. Bland and began reading.

All too soon, the train started to move. As I heard scores of kids saying goodbye to their parents, I frowned, knowing that I too have left without so much as saying goodbye to anyone in my family. I just hoped they didn't issue a missing child report or I would be in big trouble.

For the next few hours, I sat on the train as it pulled through the English countryside. I ordered snacks from what appeared to be the snack cart. I continue to observe the other kids as they started pulling off their shirts and pants and putting on what appeared to be a school uniform and long black robes.

Once again, I was like a fish out of water. I didn't have a school uniform or a robe and I wasn't sure where I was going to find either one of those items.

As I stepped off the train, I saw a large caravan of what appeared to be wagon carts lined up by the train station. Before I could approach the wagon carts, I heard a voice saying, "First years, this way!" But it sounded like, "Firs yers, dis way!"

I found myself following a group of younger children towards what appeared to be a caravan of small boats lined up at the dock. There had to be a lake nearby and it was a very large lake too.

I don't know about you, but I am adverse to going out on a boat onto the lake. I mean, those things are so flimsy that if you make one wrong move, the boat could tip over into the water, where you could drown. Yet, to my surprise, nobody drowned even though I ended up on the smallest and flimsiest of boats, which sat deeply in the water.

As soon as the boats got to the castle, I chanced to see what appeared to be a very old woman standing on the steps waiting for us. She said, "Hello, and welcome to Hogwash School of Magic and Mastery. In a few minutes, you'll all be sorted into your school houses."

At that, I heard most of the students behind me burst into chatter, with most of them saying, "I hope I don't end up in Silverin. That's the bad house."

"Well, what house do you want to go into?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Griffinheroes!" Everyone yelled.

"I had to ask," I muttered to myself as I internally asked myself what was Griffinheroes and why did the kids want to go there instead of Silverin? Was Silverin house really that bad? What was going on that the other kids would prefer to be in one house instead of the other house?

When we got inside the castle, I looked around and saw that there were four long tables with students sitting at them. Candles were floating in the air, which looked really cool but could seriously pose a fire safety hazard. A long table was at the head of the room, where the teachers were sitting.

I then saw what appeared to be a large hat sitting on a stool. One by one, The kids took turns sitting on the stool with the hat on their head and the hat pointed out the house where they would go. So far, it appeared to be a contest between Griffinheroes and Silverin, with a few students going to two other houses called Hopefully Forgotten and Supergeniuses. And here I was thinking that I had to be special to go to this school.

Just then, I heard my name being called. Everyone turned and looked at me for a second while an old man wearing the ugliest costume I had ever seen said, "It appears that we have the unusual honor of having an American student among us this year."

Wow. Way to put it out there, old man.

He continued, "And as such, we must figure out a place for her to go."

I went to the stool and put the hat on my head. The hat said, "You seem to be a strange one, American-born girl, but no matter. I know exactly where you're going to go."

"And where am I going?" I said to the hat. "It better not be somewhere dumb. I already have had enough of that."

"Now don't you worry," said the hat. "I have the perfect place for you, American-born girl. SILVERIN!!!"

With that everyone in the room gasped as it dawned on them that I wouldn't be going into Griffinheroes. In fact, the kids in Silverin laughed as the kids in Griffinheroes booed at them. "Oh you must be kidding!" A man wearing dark robes and even darker hair snapped as he looked at me. "She's an American; she can't go into Silverin."

"The Sorter Hat doesn't lie, Severing," said the older woman. "It clearly says she belongs in Silverin."

"But I can't have an American student in Silverin," said the man. "It's never been done before. Plus, all the Americans we have had usually ended up in Griffinheroes."

"Maybe this time, it wanted a change," said the old man. "Who knows what that hat is up to."

The man named Severing Snipe was about to reply with another man showed up, saying, "I caught two delinquent boys flying a car into the Whipping Tree."

"Oh is that so?" said Snipe. "Those boys are in big trouble!"

"Don't worry, Severing, I will deal with them," said the old woman. "You just go ahead and deal with Miss Morrison here."

"Very well then," said Snipe. To me, he said, "Come with me to Mr. Fetch's office and we will get you a spare robe. I don't know why your parents would send you to this school completely unprepared, but we'll deal with that later. Now let's go."

As I turn to follow the teacher, I realized that I was right when I said I would end up in a fantasy world I couldn't escape from. And believe it or not, this was it.

Let the games begin!

 Well, I should have realized that Hogwash was an actual magical school. I mean, how could I have not seen the signs? The floating candles, the bad costumes, and even the use of talking hats should have given it away. But I’ll deal with it later.

Anyway, after dinner was over and the school rules given out, (like come on! Why do kids need to know about something like Quibbage? That's stupid!) the kids were all taken into their dorms. Unfortunately, I wasn't among them because I had to go to Mr. Fetch's office to get some robes and a wand.

As I walked with Professor Snipe down the hall, I said to him, "So everything in the school is magic?"

"Yes," said Professor Snipe. "Everything you see here runs on magic."

"I hate to be an Offensive Oliver, but I think that's a dumb idea," I said. "A world that runs on magic is not even plausible. Haven't any of you heard of electricity?"

"Electricity?" Professor Snipe repeated. "We don't talk about that here; that's the work of Meggles."

"And what the heck is a Meggle?" I said. I can't believe that in the last hour everything I thought I knew about fantasy and magic was being shattered. What is this place exactly?

"A Meggle is a person who is born without magic," said Professor Snipe. "That means you're not allowed to do magic at all."

"Unfortunately, those rules don't apply to Harry Houdini, Siegfried and Roy, and all those other great magicians out there," I said. "I'm sure that somewhere out there, magic shops are filling with people wanting to learn how to do magic tricks. Plus, why should the use of magic be restricted to just one race?"

"For an American student, you seem to know way too much about magic," said Professor Snipe. "How your parents managed to send you here is interesting."

I was about to respond when Professor Snipe stopped walking and knocked on a door. An ugly old man stepped out and stared at us for a very long time. He said, “What is it this time, Severing? Can’t you see that I’m trying to be boring?”

“I don’t care,” said Professor Snipe. “Anyway, this is Miss Lydia Morrison, and she needs a uniform and some robes. She will also need a wand. If you can get me those things, I would appreciate it.”

“Bah! An American!” Mr. Fetch cried out as he stared at me. “Why do we keep having them here? The wizarding community in the States is more advanced than ours, and they have public magical schools! The thought of it! It’s blasphemy!”

“Blasphemous indeed,” said Professor Snipe as he took a huge box from Fetch. “Let us hope that she’s not up to any sort of trouble. We have a reputation to maintain.”

Mr. Fetch just harrumphed and went back to his office.

Professor Snipe said, “Come with me and I’ll show you Silverin Dungeons; that's where you’ll be staying for the next seven years.”

OK, I understand that I was given a year to change my behavior, but what did I really sign up for? Would I actually have to stay in Hogwash for the next seven years? What about weekends and summer vacations? Or did that not exist here?

Well, it doesn’t matter, as I’m going to change some things around here. No kid should have to be in a school that doesn’t believe in summer vacations.

“Here we are,” said Professor Snipe as he took me to the gateway of Silverin Dungeons. “The password is "Harry Protter sucks". Their words, not mine. Personally, I could care less about him, as he’s too stuck-up for his own good.”

The door swung open, and I found myself in a huge room facing many students. All of them were wearing their uniforms and robes and waving their wands. Well, that inadequacy about me was going to end right now.

Without another word, Professor Snipe left the room. I frowned as I stared at the box he pushed into my hand, not knowing what to do with it. Someone shouted at me, “If you’re looking for the girls’ dorms, it’s to the right.” I yelled out, “thanks,” before running down the hall to the girls’ dorms.

When I got to the dorms, I couldn’t believe my eyes. My suitcase was there, and everything I owned was stuffed into an armoire next to my bed. I guess going to a magical school has its perks if suitcases are taken to dorms and emptied so you don't have to do that yourself.

But I couldn’t afford to waste any time; I had to get my uniform and robes. So I dumped everything in the box onto the bed and rummaged for at least 45 minutes until I found at least four uniforms and robes that could fit me without dragging on the floor or falling off of me. I also noticed that wearing a tie was mandatory at Hogwash, as I noticed that most of the kids in Silvering were wearing the ties. My ties were green and silver, with a tiny bit of white.

With my uniform and robes selected, I folded them neatly and put them aside while I searched for a wand. The wand I chose was made of calabash and had a core of phoenix feather. It was 10 and 1/4 inches long and was unyielding. It was of a medium tone and was roughly carved.

Well, so much for me being left out of the loop, I thought to myself as the wand glowed in my hand and then sparkled. I set the wand aside and put the other contents in the box away and slid the box under my bed. I would figure out this whole “realistic magic” stuff later.

After setting my alarm clock so it could wake me up at 6:00 A.M., I changed into my pajamas and climbed into bed. It was a very exciting day, with me leaving my relatives before they could control me to coming to Hogwash and seeing a side of the world I never thought existed. But I couldn't help but feel slightly homesick for what I had left behind, as I thought about my relatives and how they would react when they found out that I was gone. Or maybe they didn’t actually care about me at all, seeing as I was supposed to be at the Lone Oak Institute for an entire year. So maybe they assumed that I was already at the place, which was why they didn’t go looking for me.

As I fell asleep, I was sure that I heard something strange in the walls. Since this was a magic school and not tine Institute, I was bound to hear weird things in the walls. but whatever that things was in the walls, I didn’t like it. 

And I certainly wasn’t going to like what was going to happen tomorrow…

* * * * *

I should've known that the next day would be weird. 

My alarm went off at 5:45 AM, which threw me off by 15 minutes. With a groan loud enough to break the shutters (if there were any windows in the dungeons), I forced myself out of bed and into the showers. After a prolonged hot shower, I put my uniform on and grabbed my wand. It was time for me to face my uncertain future at Hogwash. 

I left the dungeons and made my way towards what was referred to as the Great Hall. I wonder what was so great about this particular hall. Was it really that important that you have to call it the Great Hall? Was it named after anyone in particular? I don't know what it is about the school that has me questioning everything I thought I knew about fantasy and magic, but I don't like it at all. 

Anyway, when I get to the Great Hall, I saw a few students there; most of them had their wands out and were waving them around. I found myself sitting next to what appeared to be a set of twins at the Silverin table. One of them said to me, "Aren't you that American student who came here last night?"

"Well, you don't see any other American students here, do you," I said. 

"Every year, a group of American students come here to study magic for a year," said the girl. "I'm not sure what happened to the group of Americans who were supposed to be coming this year."

"Indeed," said the boy. "I bet the Ministry of Magic decided to pull the plug on that program last year because most of the students didn't get into Griffinheroes."

"Who knows what goes on behind closed doors," said the girl. 

"Are you guys Americans?" I asked.

"Oh no, we're from Australia," said the girl. "My name is Sally Nolan and this is my brother Austin. You must be Lydia Morrison."

"Yes I am," I said. There was no use denying that. "I take it that you've been in Hogwash for a while, haven't you?"

"We have," said Austin. "I'm currently in my second year here and my sister's in her fourth year. What year are you?"

"First," I said. "How do things at Hogwash operate?"

"Well, there's the point system, which I think is rather dumb because people can lose points faster than the house can get them," said Sally. "Also you'll have to get used to carrying parchment quills around, as they don't allow notebooks and pencils here."

"I think that's stupid," I said. "Parchment and quills are so 16th century; why are people still using them?"

"Who knows what goes on here?" said Austin. "Personally, I'd rather use a laptop computer; it's easier to carry then a bunch of old papers and ink that can stain your clothes and your backpack."

"And what about the teachers?" I said. "Are any of them as mean as they are in those movies about boarding schools?"

"While I can't speak for the other houses, I do know a few things about Professor Snipe," said Austin. "He's the head of Silverin House and he teaches the alchemy class."

"And he's not as bad as everybody thinks he is," said Sally. "He will only tolerate you if you do your work and don't waste time in his class."

"OK then," I said, knowing that I would have to learn to stop daydreaming in class. According to Lauren Vandervort, daydreaming was a sign of mental illness and should be avoided at all times. She also told me that fantasy was a lie and the devil's work, but I don't believe any of that. Not when I'm in the school where everything I was told about fantasy is being questioned.

Plus, wasn't me daydreaming in class the reason why I got sent here in the first place?

I was about to reply when I heard a student yell out, "Watch out everyone, Harry Protter is here!"

"And who is he?" I asked as I saw everybody else staring at the door to the Great Hall. A young boy with messed-up hair and horrible glasses walk to the door flanked by a boy with a red hair that desperately need a hair cut and a girl whose hair really could use a perm. The other kids started cheering as the kids from Silverin booed. 

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the scene. I mean what is this, a group of popular students? I'm going to tell you now that popular students are the bane of my existence; there's nothing good about being popular. Anybody who tells you to be popular is either an idiot or wants you to get hurt by those popular people. 

Sally said to me, "Oh that's just Harry Protter, The most famous boy wizard in this century. Everybody here seems to think that he's a hero, but I beg to differ."

"And what heroic thing did he do may I ask?" I said. In my book, you're not a hero unless you saved a cat from a house fire or pulled a small child from the lake or stood up to bullies harassing another person. That's what makes a hero. 

"They say that Harry is a hero because he survived a deadly curse inflicted on him by Lord Woldymort," said Austin. 

"And I believe that's rather insane," said Sally. "I mean, nobody ever survives the appakadava curse. When the curse hits you, you're dead. That's all. There's no spell that can bring anyone who's dead back to life."

"So what makes Harry so special that he survived that deadly curse?" I said. 

"To be honest, it was his mother who took the curse for him," said Austin. "She's the real hero, not Harry."

"I see," I said, "but I don't understand what makes Harry so special that everybody worships him wherever he goes."

"While most people don't know this there's a prophecy saying that Harry is supposed to be the savior of the wizarding world," said Austin. 

"You need to tell me that Harry Protter  is some sort of wizarding Jesus?" I cried out. 

At this, Austin and Sally laughed. Several other kids at Silverin table began laughing as well. The other kids in the hall stared at us for a second and then went back to admiring Harry Protter. 

"Wizarding Jesus?" said Austin. "Are you serious? Harry Protter is nothing like Jesus! Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Who knows," I said. "I'm just curious about how and why most people would worship a boy as their savior when there's a bunch of older wizards who could easily do the job. I mean, who is this Harry Protter person really?"

At this, everyone in the room gasped in horror and turned around to stare at me. I took a good look at the shot looks on everyone's faces before I said, "You dress in silly robes and school uniforms that not even Catholic school kids would want to wear, you don't know how to use a notebook and a pencil, and you worship a little kid who didn't even lift a finger to save the world. What kind of place is this?"

When no one moved to speak to me, I turn to stare at the boy known as Harry Protter. He stood in his spot with a strange look on his face. He had some sort of mark on his forehead and that mark looked very much like the letter L. 

So much for being a hero, I thought to myself. Even those popular kids at my old school do something significant, whether it's sports or wear the nicest clothes or even help out in the community. I have yet to see Harry do any of those things. 

Well, before a riot could begin, I saw the same old woman I had seen last night come into the Great Hall. She had a stern look on her face, which said, "If you all don't take your seats immediately, there will be no breakfast for you!"

As everyone took their seats, a boy said to me, "You're either very brave or completely foolish for questioning the greatness of Harry Protter."

"Well, someone has to do it," I said. "I mean, don't they?"

"Yes they should," said a girl sitting next to the boy. "It's like old Fumblebore told everyone that Harry Protter was a hero and made them all believe it. As for me, I've yet to see him do one heroic thing."

"Harry is such a teacher's pet," said another boy. It's like everyone in the school is required to like him. Everyone but Snipe, that is."

"I see," I said as I stared at the crowd. I knew that give or take I would eventually have to deal with Harry Protter. And when I do, there's going to be no stopping me from exposing him as a fraud. 

If only it were that easy.