  In one of the rooms of a seemingly-ordinary unit in a housing block, a fifteen-year-old girl lay sleeping. Everything about this girl seemed normal, from her long dark hair down to the tips of her toes. Yet a look around her room clearly showed that she was not what you and I would call “ordinary”. Various books lay scattered on the floor with names such as Intermediate Transfiguration and Charms for the Charmed – An Intermediate Course . On a study table nearby lay several quills, ink bottles, pieces of yellowing parchment, and most mysteriously – a wand. The posters on the walls were of boybands and handsome singers – but unlike normal posters, the people in those posters were moving, flashing their plastic smiles or mouthing lyrics.
The clothes spread out on the chair were not your normal T-shirt and jeans, but long, deep-blue robes. Cheryl Cheah was a witch. Even as a solitary ray of light fell on her sleeping form, there was a loud knock on the door, and muffled shouts of “Wake up, sleepyhead!” The girl stirred, and with a yawn, sat up on her bed. Putting on her glasses, she looked up at the clock on the wall. It was 9.30 a.m. Throwing a disgusted look at the door (the shouts were becoming louder, progressing to not-so-subtle insults like “Wake up, you pig!”) she shouted, “Coming!” and got out of bed.
She wished she could have slept longer. After all, she had slept at 2 a.m. that morning, having stayed up to celebrate the New Year. After getting dressed and taking a shower, she made her way to the kitchen, finding her family seated round the kitchen table, eagerly awaiting breakfast. “’Morning, sleepyhead,” a man at the head of the table said, smiling. Cheryl grinned back at her father, and sat down at the table. Soon enough she was eating her way through her bacon and eggs with gusto. “You better hurry and get your stuff packed, we’re leaving at 10.30 to get your books,” her mother said, pointing her wand to the plates in the sink. The tap immediately turned on by itself and a sponge started scrubbing the plates. “And, by the way, it’s already 10.15,” Mrs. Cheah said with a small smile. Cheryl choked. Swallowing down the last of her egg, she rushed to her room. She eyed the mess her room was in with horror. Apparently she had not bothered to clear up in the two months of her holiday. Well, she had to pay for her laziness now.
Hastily, she threw her robes into a trunk and her books and writing materials into a sling bag. Then snatching her wand from the table, she quickly surveyed the room once again to see if she had left anything behind, before dragging both trunk and sling bag into the hall. “Well, that was quick,” her father said dryly. “Come on, let’s go.” They made their way downstairs and into a car, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, though how to be inconspicuous with a large trunk and a piece of wood sticking out of your jeans’ back pocket I don’t know.
Soon they were off, heading out of the suburban haven of Tampines towards town. The journey was rather quick – Cheryl had barely settled down before they screeched to a halt in front of a tall, imposing building. A sign over the nearest entrance read “Change Alley”. Quickly, they made their way through the entrance and down a rather deserted corridor, stopping in front of an ice cream stall. There was only one person there – a young man of about 20, who was manning the stall. “’Morning, Basil,” Mr. Cheah said briskly. The man named Basil grinned back and waved to Cheryl and her sister Cherie, who were both looking longingly at the many tubs of ice cream on display.
“Come on, let’s go before a Muggle sees,” Mrs. Cheah whispered, as the family made their way to the front of a large glass pane at the back of the stall. “Cheryl, you go first.” Cheryl took a deep breath before walking straight through the barrier. It felt as if cool water was cascading down from the ceiling. Yet when she emerged from the other side, she was still perfectly dry. A few moments later she was joined by her family once again. “Welcome to Change Alley,” a voice said. 
