LAST EDIT: 2018.12.02

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my OC

I Am Not 100% Sure When to Call Something a Prologue So I Have Decided to Name Every Chapter Like a Fall Out Boy Song

(by Fall Out Boy)

My great-grandfather died three years ago at the whooping age of 113 years old. I was 18 years old and barely passed my final exams. It was on the day of high school graduation ceremony. I was all dressed up in my graduation robe and talking to some fellow friends and classmates about college and future plans. At the time my mind was preparing myself for the moment we had to get in line and walk into the hall once Pomp and Circumstance started to play – like we've practiced it three hours beforehand.

My parents and my baby brother (and with baby brother I meant he was eight years old that time) were sitting somewhere in the sixth or seventh row in the audience. When the ceremony began and all graduates walked onto the stage to receive our diploma, I searched for my family and smiles happily, holding up my diploma in a victorious to show them that I was done with his hell hole called High School and I wasn't going miss it at all.

Don't get me wrong, I made some good memories here, but High School still sucked.

Back to my parents.

I did notice that they didn't look as enthusiastic as I was, but that time I dismissed it and blamed it on the bad lights. Or they were sad because their baby girl was done with school and about to move out soon.

Oh boy, was I wrong.

That time I wish those were the reason but alas I found out later that my great-grandfather Archer Ainsworth has passed away. He died in his sleep, in his country house somewhere in the middle of nowhere in England. Deep inside I knew that sooner or later he would leave this world (again, he was 113 years old that time already), hearing the news saddened me very deeply. I used to spend every summer vacation at his country house. There was just something about the house that I loved very very much. As a kid he would play hide-and-seek with me; it often ended up with him almost having a panic attack because I was just too good at it.

The Manor wasn't as big as the one you'd find on Google when you'd type in English country house, but it was still quite bit for just one person. Great-Grandpa's wife died waaaaay before him and he never remarried afterwards. But he did have some people coming over from time to time to look after him and take care of some chores for him.

Point is, the Ainsworth country house was a hidden treasure itself and I felt like every year when I came back there was always something new to discover. But since he died I didn't step a foot back on the property again. I'm a coward when it comes to feeling that would send me into a frenzy roller coaster ride. Not going back was my way of running away from them.

At least that's what I kept telling myself until the day I turned 21 and received a call from some lawyer about the will of my dead great-grandfather, who claimed I inherited a fortune including the country house. 23 years old me did not really know what to do. 23 years old me wanted my dead great-grandfather back.

Wishful thinking, mindless dreaming.

I did take care of all the paper stuff as fast as I could, deposited the money away for future uses and focused on my studies first. My mom asked me what I was gonna do with the country house, to which I simply shrugged my shoulders (my brother's idea was to use the house as his Quidditch practice ground, at which my mom lightly smacked him over his head). Her suggestion was to sell it if I wasn't really planning to do anything with it. It sounded like a reasonable thing to do, I wasn't visiting the house anymore anyway. But at the same time I was too attached to it and didn't want to sell it like that.

Which lead me to make the spontaneous decision to check on the country house a week or two before Christmas. The other idea I had was to take photos of the interior for my Instagram page.

Yes, I am one of those people.

By now you're probably wondering why I'm even wasting your time by telling you some background stories about my dead great-grandfather and his country house? Where is the magic? Am I a witch or a muggle who's a wannabe witch and desperately trying to be a part of a world that was not my world because I did not have the right requirement for it? How did I even know about wizards and witches and magic if I was not one?

That's for me to know and for you to find out. If you have gotten this far and already hate my story, I'm sorry it was not written for you.

However if you are curious, then by all means, please keep reading and decide at the end whether you loved it or hated it.

You see, the reason why I tell you all this is because this chapter of my life started at the day I arrived at Archer Ainsworth's country house, equipped with a check-in luggage and my messenger bag that contained my most vital urban exploration gears.

The day I arrived at the country house there was a platinum-blond haired woman standing at the gate, looking at the house like she was searching for something. At first I thought maybe she was one of the people that used to work here. Still I carefully approached and took notice of the way she combined her purple dress that looked like it was made of grandmother wallpaper with a green squared sweater and a blue-silver-striped scarf. It was an odd combination in my opinion, but then again who was I to judge people about their clothes.

"Hello, can I help you with something?" I inquired as I put my hands into my pockets and stood up a bit straighter.

It seemed like it took her a few seconds to notice I was there, but when she did, she looked at me and gave me a friendly warm smile and said in an airy and slightly aloof tone: "Hello. Do you happen to be Archer Thomas Ainsworth's great-granddaughter?"

"I... who wants to know that?" I asked back as I took a closer look at her. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties, but I can't really recall ever meeting her. So in my eyes, she was a complete stranger and in my eyes and I was taught from a young age not to trust strangers.

Of course the moment I hit off well with a stranger on the Internet that rule is being thrown out of the window and I'd totally invite the friend who lives on the other side of the globe to live under my bed.

"Silly me, I haven't introduced myself yet." She extended her hand out for a shake "My name is Luna Scamander. I was told by my grandfather-in-law to give this to you."

Luna Scamander reached into her pouch (lime green for those who are curious) and took something of the size of a book wrapped in brown package paper. I grabbed it, still a bit cautious a stranger is giving me something. "Thank... you? What is this?"

"You'll see it when you open it. I don't know what is it, but that's just a part of the surprise isn't it?"

Right, so basically it could be anything from an ordinary book to a time bomb disguised as an ordinary book. Charming.

Tugging the package under my arm, I pointed at the country house and bid my goodbye. "I have some family stuff to take care of. Need to go inside now." On the inside I was cringing at the very badly told white lie.

Much to my luck she didn't comment on it and kept her friendly smile while bidding me farewell. I stood at the spot and waited for her to disappear from my sight before I took a better look at the package.

It smelled... old. I quickly unwrapped it.

Good news, it was not a bomb disguised as an ordinary book.

It was indeed a book though. Now when I think back about that day, I like to think that the book was the catalyst that started my out-of-the-world-adventure, to which I am still wondering sometimes whether it was real or not because it was such a magical and surreal experience.

You see, the thing here is, I while I am a Muggle, the same does not apply to my (half) brother. Two years ago, when I was still in college slaving away trying to finish my degree, he received and old fashioned letter via owl stating that he was a wizard and should go to Hogwarts to learn his craft (he was sorted into Slytherin).

However, due the ten years old age gap and me living abroad for university and my brother being away most of the year for Hogwarts, we did not get to see each other very close. Nor were we very close either. So while I was aware that there was an entire different world out there hidden from normal sight, I wasn't very familiar with the magical world – to put it briefly, I didn't know jack shit about magic. I knew of its existence and that's it.

Which is why this entire adventure that I am going to tell you soon about was something that I will never forget.

By the way, the title of the book was Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.

I have decided to steer away from the MARVEL Cinematic Universe for now, maybe one day I will go back to it again maybe not, but or not I am crazily obsessed with FTBAWTFT and I just had to write something. There's no guarantee whether I will finish this or not.

Old readers, I welcome you back and hope you will accompany me on this journal too and learn to love her as much as you did with Jackie Walker, and hello new readers, I hope you will enjoy this story :)

Updates are most likely gonna be irregularly, depending on when I'll get a new chapter done I guess?

Also please not that English is not my first language and therefor there will be spelling and grammar mistakes, do feel free to point it out if you spot some!

And lastly I wish all a pleasant day (ﾉ◉ヮ◉)ﾉ