There Will Never Be Another You

Prologue

What is love? Across generations, many witches, wizards, and muggles alike have tried in vain to answer this question satisfactorily. I myself have spent years thinking about it until I finally came up with one conclusion.

Love cannot be explained. It should not be explained. There are no words to describe love. Love is something that just happens, and all of a sudden, your life isn't your own anymore. Every decision that you make from there on out will be with the said object of affection in mind. Love is a feeling that can only be felt. It's too complicated to even try to fathom. Even when you are in love, you cannot describe properly what you are feeling. In short, love is the one emotion that deals nothing with the mind and everything with the heart.

The story of my life deals a lot with the concept of love. Throughout all my years, I have come to realize that the most important thing that has ever happened to me was love. After all is said and done, everyone knows that love is all there is. Everything in life boils down to something so plain and simple, but so infinitely complicated at the same time: love.

In thinking about how best to retell my story, it seems so surreal to me how much we have all been through since the beginning. Life for me began on a cloudy June day when I arrived at the London Airport, not knowing the turn my life would take as I walked into the busy streets for the first time.

I guess now the question is how I came to be in England anyway. Well, that was decided many months ago when my dad was asked to start an American chain of markets in Europe. Although it was a very big move for us, my dad decided it was what was best for the family and more specifically...me. This would mean that we had to leave our relatives, friends, and our whole life behind to come to this strange new place where we knew no one and try to make a living. It was a very big step but one that I, for one, was willing to make in order to leave the place where I knew no happiness.

Within a month or so, something strange and unexpected happened. A tall, thin, rather old man with long silver hair and beard appeared at our doorstep. What was even stranger was that he was wearing long robes, a cloak that swept the ground, and boots. He had blue eyes that were twinkling in a very friendly and somehow comforting way behind half-moon spectacles. This man introduced himself as Albus Dumbledore.

But it didn't stop there. The strange old man explained how I was invited to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry because I was, for want of a better word, special. I almost burst out laughing in the man's face because surely this man had to be crazy. The idea that magic existed was preposterous. The man kept on explaining about the classes and about how I would be going there for the next seven years. He also talked about a place called Diagon Alley in which I would be able to buy all my supplies. My parents weren't quite convinced until the man took out a wooden stick and pointed it at a teacup, which promptly started flying until it reached the table between us. By that point, my parents had the look that suggested they very much wanted to beat this man out of the house. But after a little more explanation, it was decided that I would go mainly because an untrained witch can be a danger to herself and to everyone around her.

This is where my story begins. It's a story about death, destruction, loss, friendship, trust, but mostly it's about love. Without further ado, I give you my years at Hogwarts.