The Dubious Origins of Morgan Keele
Chapter One — Chapter 1
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I'm meeting Professor Graham in a few minutes, and to be honest, I've never been so nervous in my entire life.
The reason? By some strange, unknown circumstance, I've been accepted to Hogwarts. The best co-educational school for witchcraft in the world. Generally, that wouldn't make me nervous, but apparently Professor Dumbledore doesn't understand that my overprotective mother might have a few problems with me traveling overseas to go to a school that she hasn't even heard of. (I tried to explain this to him, but he obviously didn't get the hint.)
She doesn't even know what's going on in Britain, I'm sure, but once she figures out that either (1.) a powerful Dark Wizard is loose on the streets of London, or (2.) the headmaster's lost his mind, she'll go nuts. I am quite sure that she'll buy a one-way ticket to England and drag my ass back to Massachusetts.
Honestly, I'm hoping that she does. I don't generally ask this of my elders, but what in blue fuck was Graham thinking when she did this? I'm sure that she was thinking, and I'm sure that she has good reasons for doing this, but I'd love to know what they are.
They'd have to be pretty damn good if she's going to convince my mother that this is the best route for me.
I wonder if the other two students are thinking the same thing. Perhaps they know more than I do, but I doubt it. If they did, wouldn't they tell me what they knew? Wouldn't they tell me who they are?
Who am I kidding? I'm probably the only one freaking out about this.
I'm probably late, but I don't care. They can wait, for all I care - as a matter of fact, I don't care if they leave without me (although I do think I'll have to pull my ass off of this bed eventually). Maybe she'll see things my way and decide that I don't have to leave.
Who am I f
"Morgan, it isn't true," moaned my room mate, Amy, as she threw herself on top of my suitcase. "You're not leaving us! I won't allow it!"
"Since when do you have any say in that?" I replied coolly, stuffing my diary into my already-packed suitcase before she could tell what I was up to. “If I could stay, believe me, I would, but I can't.”
Boy, was that ever true.