Anastasia... Jaeda to You

The floor underneath me was shaking. I was holed up in my room with my younger sister, both of us willing this latest argument to just end already. It had been brewing for nearly four hours now, and I was starting to get a headache. Actually... I didn't even know what it was about, though it was probably me.

My parents had constantly been at each other's throats for as long as my 11-year-old self could remember, and that was saying something. The arguments had become increasingly intense over the last couple of months, which was when my name had really been drug into it. My father always spoke proudly of my fiery spirit and even of my tendency to get into trouble. On the other hand, my mother frequently referred to me as "Anastasia," which I hated, and spat that much in disgust.

You see... I'm the mistake child. No, not like I shouldn't have been born--I mean I'm the one who didn't turn out to be right. My mother is a tall, skinny, tanned, pureblooded wizarding supermodel. (Uh, that's what I was supposed to be.) Her long blonde hair, big blue eyes, and perfect smile were all over the place. My dad is almost exactly the opposite. He's tall, muscular, and dark, with a fierce pride in both me and my sister; a Quidditch player but the best dad EVER! I was supposed to be tall, skinny, blonde, blue-eyed, and tan.

But... well... here I am. I've got green eyes (hence my middle name, Jaeda), a really weird color of hair, and freckles. Okay... by weird color, I mean there's really not a name. It's kind of dirty blonde, light brown, but has so much red that the freckles truly make sense. I'm not really pale, but I'm not as dark as either of my parents. The red hair trickled down from my dad's family; the other side of me (the one I claim) is a mix of Irish and Italian. My fiery spirit and knack for causing trouble anything but endear me to my mother's Russian heritage... and of course, I didn't really help that along.

For nearly five years I have been screaming in temper tantrums about my mother being "fake" and "evil." Indeed... I had yelled about it once when I was about eight at a party and the publicity from "my little stunt" as my mother called it had never really died down. Ah yes... publicity.

You see, we conveniently live right next door to the Potters--Harry, Ginny, and their three children. James is my age and definitely my partner in crime; we have caused more mayhem than I really remember. Al is a year younger than us, and Lily is only 8 but so fun to play dress-up with. I'm sure that will change soon but for right now, she's cool.

Then on their other side is one of several broods of Weasleys--Ron, Hermione, Hugo, and Rose. Rose is Al's age and Hugo is Lily's age. Because of this, we three families are pretty close, which is just as well. We usually go to the same silly parties, which only one person out of everyone really enjoys--my mother, naturally.

The "little stunt" when I was eight was really just one in a series. I noticed early on that James found them highly amusing, and the rest of the group (except my mother... sigh) had to quickly stifle their laughter or suffer her anger. This fueled the fire, which hardly needed to be fueled, and during one dinner party I burst out with something that went a little like this.

"My mommy's fake!" this, of course, earned more than a few gasps as heads turned my way. Luckily, my mother was not sitting near me. "Yeah, all that blonde hair and stuff? She's really, really mean to me and to Renee. She's like the evil stepmother from stories, except she's not my stepmother."

"Anastasia!" my mother had hissed. This little exclamation, however, had more than satisfied me, and I completely ignored her. James gave me a secret thumbs-up and I smiled widely at my empty plate.

Oh but this isn't all. Just the other day I earned her ire! I snuck out with James and Rose, and when we came back (just an hour or so before some stupid ball or something) we were muddy, grass-stained, and had thoroughly exhausted our supply of mud puddles. My mother went into overdrive and roughly cast several cleaning charms on me before yanking my hair into a fancy updo (my head STILL hurts from that!) and forcing me into a dress. Don't get me wrong, I love dressing up--even I can be a girly-girl sometimes!--but being stuffed into that kind of thing? Um, no.

Dear readers, do not lose heart just yet! You see I am more fiery than my dad dares to claim. My mother had for years hoped that I would get a letter to some stuffy magic school in Russia, but only earlier today I received... drumroll please!... my Hogwarts letter. Much to mine and James' delight, I would not be shipped off to Russia (not that I would've gone without a fight!) and would be attending Hogwarts in the fall with the only person I knew outside of those stupid parties. Naturally, I pranced around in my jeans and flip-flops as James and myself did stupid dances so many times that Harry and Ginny actually roared at us to shut up.

Of course, anything I do in public, no matter where that is, earns attention. So it was a kind of big deal about a month ago at the big celebration ball (it's been 19 years and has turned into an annual to-do... this one's actually pretty fun) when James and I found each other and, naturally, found trouble. This one made Daily Prophet headlines and I'm sure the entire wizarding world knew not only the escapade but both families' reactions. The Potter prince and Rehshe princess. "James Sirius Potter and Anastasia Jaeda Rehshe Find Trouble and Truth" or something like that was the headline and I don't think I could sit down until today. James, I'm sure, got a similar punishment.

But gag. My parents finally quit yelling long enough to come upstairs, and my dad asked the question I both feared and longed for.

"Jaeda, which one of us would you like to live with?"

Uh, duh. Like he needs to--hold on! REWIND and FREEZE! They're getting divorced?! About time! Before I could answer, my mother also chipped in. Her voice was so icy it actually made me shiver.

"Anastasia, if you come with me, you can go to Russia! Isn't that exciting?"

Sure... NOT! "I'm staying with Daddy," I replied in my usual fierce manner. This being Britain and the wizarding world my choice meant Renee stayed with us too. Within a week my mother and all traces of her were gone. FREEDOM! At last!

Then came the Diagon Alley Escapade. Yes... it's so famous it deserves its own name.