Chapter One: I'm a What Now?
Dear Ms. Barrett,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School. I would like to make an appointment with you and your guardian(s) to discuss this excellent opportunity, and to answer any questions you may have. Please select the best time and date from the list provided, and send us a return letter indicating your choice no later than 15 June.
I look forward to meeting you soon.
Yours sincerely,
Neville Longbottom
Hogwarts Professor
I fingered the rich texture of the parchment paper as I read, pausing on the creases where the letter had been folded and unfolded many times. The letter had come in the mail over two weeks ago, and though my parents and I had no intention of transferring me to a new school, replying as requested with a time and date to meet the Hogwarts professor had seemed the polite thing to do. It was a strange situation—a previously unheard-of school, with a silly name like Hogwarts, sending a teacher to personally come and tell us about the school…but whenever I had started to question the letter’s contents, I became distracted and my mind wandered elsewhere.
Now, with the appointment less than fifteen minutes away, I was less distracted. Who in their right mind decided to name a school after warts on a hog? Why did they care enough about recruiting an eleven-year-old like me to send someone in person? I was a good student, but not that good, surely. I could only conclude that it had something to do with my family’s wealth, and this thought put me in something of a sour mood. Being rich is all good fun until you realize people only value you for your parents’ money. I sighed and folded the letter once more, setting it down on my nightstand.
Finally, the doorbell chimed, and I jumped up from my seat on the bed and dashed downstairs to the entryway. Papa had already greeted the professor and invited him inside, and as I arrived he was saying, “…just prepared iced tea for us in the sitting room. It’s just this way.”
“That sounds brilliant,” the professor said cheerily. He was younger than I’d expected, with blond hair and a round face. He was dressed rather like my father in a light, button-up shirt and neatly-pressed slacks. The two men headed for the sitting room and I followed several paces behind, still unnoticed.
I tried to see my home as Professor Longbottom must be seeing it: a quiet manor home on the coast, spacious but not excessive, smelling of salt air and home-cooked meals and flowery scents from a few, well-placed diffusers. The furnishings were wood the color of warm sand, and the drapes and sofas and such were all in the soft blues, teals, and greens of the ocean in summer. The owners’ wealth was obvious, but not gaudy, the money put towards comfort rather than showy ornamentation. We could hear the tinkling of ice in glasses as we entered the sitting room, where my mother was busy pouring tea. She looked up and smiled welcomingly.
“Hello, professor. I’m glad you could make it. Please, sit and make yourself comfortable. Would you like some tea?” Mum was a natural hostess, always radiating genuine warmth towards any guest that crossed her threshold.
The professor reciprocated, immediately accepting the proffered glass and adding a spoonful of sugar to the unsweetened tea. “Thank you kindly, Mrs. Barrett. This is a perfect treat on such a warm day.” I reflexively glanced toward the window, through which the nearby ocean glinted merrily in the vivid sunlight.
When all were seated, our guest turned to me, and his smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Would you happen to be Miss Alyssa Barrett, then?”
“Er, yes. That’s me,” I answered clumsily, nervously smoothing the front of my skirt.
Fortunately, my awkwardness seemed to go unnoticed. “Pleasure to meet you. I am Professor Longbottom—though I think you’ve guessed that much by now. I am a teacher at Hogwarts, and I’ve come to invite you to our school. I have the formal acceptance letter here somewhere…yes, here it is,” he said, taking a creamy envelope from his pocket and holding it out to me. I took it automatically. It was made of the same heavy parchment paper as the last letter he’d sent me, but when I turned it over, it was sealed with crimson wax and bore an unusual crest with a decorative letter H in the center.
I hesitated to open the letter. Instead, I looked up at my mother and father, seeking guidance. Papa either took pity on me or had been waiting for an excuse to let loose his questions, because he immediately addressed the professor. “Sir, meaning no disrespect, but Alyssa’s schooling has already been decided. I know for a fact that we did not make an application to your school, so how, then, did…Hogwarts get my daughter’s name? How has she already been accepted? You must admit, this is really most unusual.”
Professor Longbottom was nodding along as Papa spoke. He swallowed hard and shifted in his seat, the first signs of nervousness he had displayed so far. “Yes, er, I know this is highly unusual. You see, Hogwarts is a very special school. We seek out and accept only…certain kinds…of people.” He cleared his throat and ran a hand over his hair, as if checking to make sure it was still lying flat. “Your daughter is very special, and has exactly the qualities we are looking for in our students. That is to say…well…” he trailed off, and I began to wonder if he was new to this job. Maybe he had been given a script, and was now forgetting the lines? Mum and Papa patiently waited for the professor to continue, and I followed their lead, watching curiously.
“Right. I suppose there’s no easy way to say it.” He squared his shoulders and looked Mum and Papa straight in the eyes. “Hogwarts is known in full as Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am a wizard, which means I am someone with the ability to use magic. My colleagues and I teach magic to young witches and wizards. Miss Barrett,” he addressed me directly now, and I speechlessly met his eyes, “you are a witch. You have magic, just like me. We would like you to attend Hogwarts School so we can teach you how to control and use your magic. Please, go ahead and open your letter.”
Shell-shocked, I glanced over at my parents for direction, but they seemed just as stunned as I was. They stared open-mouthed at the professor, and I could imagine the thoughts going through their minds. Was this man crazy? Was this a prank? Should we call the police? How, exactly, was one supposed to react to this sort of news? Strangely, their continued silence helped me to finally find my voice.
“Did you say…I’m a witch?” I asked, my tone sounding surprisingly calm.
The corners of the professor’s lips twitched up. “Yes, I did.”
“Are…are you sure? I mean…you don’t really believe…do you?”
“Yes, I am sure that you are a witch, and yes, I really do believe in magic. Perhaps a demonstration…?” Unbelievably, he pulled a polished stick from the sleeve of his button-up and flicked it at his tea. Mum let out a small shriek as the liquid began to steam and bubble, and I watched the ice cubes melting to water in a matter of seconds. He waved the wand again, and the liquid within froze solid, frost marching up the outside of the glass. With a loud pop the glass broke, falling in shattered pieces to the coffee table.
“Whoops! I didn’t think that through. The sudden temperature changes…” he pointed the wand once more at the broken glass, and the fallen pieces flew up to their previous locations around the frozen tea, seamlessly joining together into a now-undamaged glass. “There, good as new.” He beamed up at his audience, who seemed completely unable to react. “I know this must come as a shock to all of you, but please believe me when I say that this is good news. Magic is…well, magical, I suppose,” he finished with a chuckle. “Now, if you don’t mind, Miss Barrett, please go ahead and open that letter. Then I can answer all your questions, as I am sure the three of you will have plenty of them.” He sat back, smiling genially, and waved at the envelope still in my hands.
Dazedly, I did as I was told, breaking open the seal and unfolding the parchment within. The letter began with the same crest I’d seen on the wax seal. I began to read aloud.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall
Dear Ms. Barrett,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Filius Flitwick
Deputy Headmaster
I looked back up from the letter. “They await my owl?”
“Yes, wizards typically use owls to deliver letters,” Professor Longbottom explained helpfully.
“They use…that seems…I mean, why?”
The professor raised his eyebrows at me, apparently surprised by my question. “Well, why not?” he answered, shrugging.
I blinked a few times as I processed this answer. “Er, I don’t know. Are they…better at delivering mail than, say, I dunno, eagles? Or hawks? Or…or…” I burst into giggles at that point, the absurdity of everything suddenly crashing down on me. Owls, magic, wands, a school named Hogwarts. And me, a witch!
“Is this a prank?” My father’s tone was quiet and serious, the kind of tone he used when he was trying to decide if my brothers and I were in trouble. I choked on my laughter and managed to bring my hysterics back under control, looking warily at Papa. He was red in the face, whereas Mum had gone pale at some point.
“No, sir,” Professor Longbottom answered calmly. “I truly understand how difficult this must be to take in—”
“Difficult?” Papa interrupted, his voice sharper now and his cheeks reddening further. “I think the word you’re looking for is impossible.”
“That’s perfectly understandable,” the professor answered reasonably. “Wizard-kind has gone to great lengths to encourage the idea that magic is not real, and so stay hidden from muggles—non-magical folk. However, I think you have known for some time that there is a special quality about your daughter. Haven’t you ever noticed strange things happening when she gets scared, or angry?”
I could feel my parents’ eyes on me now, and I knew they were remembering the same incidents as I was. When I was maybe five years old and was still afraid of the dark, floating orbs of colored light would appear in my bedroom at night. To me, they were pretty and comforting. But to my parents, when they peeked in to check on me, the lights were inexplicable and frightening. They thought the house was must be haunted, and we moved soon after. A few years later, when I’d raised some mischief in school, my parents grounded me and wouldn’t let me go to my friend’s birthday party. I was so upset, I stomped my foot; and at that same moment, one of the legs on the china cabinet snapped and the whole thing came crashing down, splinters of wood and glass and porcelain flying everywhere. There had been countless other incidents, too, though most were much smaller in scale: passing butterflies and hummingbirds landing upon my outstretched finger when I wanted a closer look; an unnervingly accurate sense for when I was being lied to; falls from heights that should have broken one or more of my limbs, but instead felt like landing in a massive pile of cushions…so many inexplicable little events that had been passed off as luck or intuition. Now, however, they looked quite different. Had I been making all those things happen? Did I have magic?
“I thought so,” Professor Longbottom murmured into the long silence. “All young witches and wizards have bouts of accidental magic as their talent develops and their emotions grow stronger. Once you’ve started learning to use and control your magic intentionally, these outbursts of accidental magic will become increasingly rare.”
“This is a lot to take in,” Mum said faintly.
“Yes, I imagine it is,” Professor Longbottom agreed, his tone sympathetic. “Look, there’s a concealed area in London where witches and wizards do most of their shopping. We can get all of Alyssa’s books and equipment there, if you’d like me to show you around. I think that getting a glimpse of the wizarding world for yourselves will help you process things. We can go now, or we could go sometime in the next few days.”
“Now wait just a moment,” Papa cut in. “We haven’t decided yet if Alyssa will be attending…er, Hogwarts. She has an excellent education lined up for her already, and we don’t know anything about your school’s credentials.”
“I assure you,” the professor said soothingly, “that Hogwarts is one of the finest magical institutions in the world. Moreover, we are the only wizarding school in the United Kingdom, as the wizarding population is much smaller than muggle populations. By law, Alyssa must receive a magical education so she can learn to control her magic. Lack of control will become dangerous as her powers grow, and will put our society’s secrecy at risk.”
“You’re saying we have no choice in the matter?” Papa asked with some heat.
“I’m saying that Hogwarts is by far your best choice,” Professor Longbottom countered. “Though, ultimately, the choice is your daughter’s to make.”
Of course, they all turned their heads to stare at me then. Shifting uncomfortably in my seat, I searched for something to say. “Um, I think it makes sense to see what Professor Longbottom wants to show us before we make a decision.”
My parents exchanged one of their looks, communicating silently. Finally, Papa sighed and returned his attention to the professor. “Alright, then. We’ll have a look.”
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School. I would like to make an appointment with you and your guardian(s) to discuss this excellent opportunity, and to answer any questions you may have. Please select the best time and date from the list provided, and send us a return letter indicating your choice no later than 15 June.
I look forward to meeting you soon.
Yours sincerely,
Neville Longbottom
Hogwarts Professor
I fingered the rich texture of the parchment paper as I read, pausing on the creases where the letter had been folded and unfolded many times. The letter had come in the mail over two weeks ago, and though my parents and I had no intention of transferring me to a new school, replying as requested with a time and date to meet the Hogwarts professor had seemed the polite thing to do. It was a strange situation—a previously unheard-of school, with a silly name like Hogwarts, sending a teacher to personally come and tell us about the school…but whenever I had started to question the letter’s contents, I became distracted and my mind wandered elsewhere.
Now, with the appointment less than fifteen minutes away, I was less distracted. Who in their right mind decided to name a school after warts on a hog? Why did they care enough about recruiting an eleven-year-old like me to send someone in person? I was a good student, but not that good, surely. I could only conclude that it had something to do with my family’s wealth, and this thought put me in something of a sour mood. Being rich is all good fun until you realize people only value you for your parents’ money. I sighed and folded the letter once more, setting it down on my nightstand.
Finally, the doorbell chimed, and I jumped up from my seat on the bed and dashed downstairs to the entryway. Papa had already greeted the professor and invited him inside, and as I arrived he was saying, “…just prepared iced tea for us in the sitting room. It’s just this way.”
“That sounds brilliant,” the professor said cheerily. He was younger than I’d expected, with blond hair and a round face. He was dressed rather like my father in a light, button-up shirt and neatly-pressed slacks. The two men headed for the sitting room and I followed several paces behind, still unnoticed.
I tried to see my home as Professor Longbottom must be seeing it: a quiet manor home on the coast, spacious but not excessive, smelling of salt air and home-cooked meals and flowery scents from a few, well-placed diffusers. The furnishings were wood the color of warm sand, and the drapes and sofas and such were all in the soft blues, teals, and greens of the ocean in summer. The owners’ wealth was obvious, but not gaudy, the money put towards comfort rather than showy ornamentation. We could hear the tinkling of ice in glasses as we entered the sitting room, where my mother was busy pouring tea. She looked up and smiled welcomingly.
“Hello, professor. I’m glad you could make it. Please, sit and make yourself comfortable. Would you like some tea?” Mum was a natural hostess, always radiating genuine warmth towards any guest that crossed her threshold.
The professor reciprocated, immediately accepting the proffered glass and adding a spoonful of sugar to the unsweetened tea. “Thank you kindly, Mrs. Barrett. This is a perfect treat on such a warm day.” I reflexively glanced toward the window, through which the nearby ocean glinted merrily in the vivid sunlight.
When all were seated, our guest turned to me, and his smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Would you happen to be Miss Alyssa Barrett, then?”
“Er, yes. That’s me,” I answered clumsily, nervously smoothing the front of my skirt.
Fortunately, my awkwardness seemed to go unnoticed. “Pleasure to meet you. I am Professor Longbottom—though I think you’ve guessed that much by now. I am a teacher at Hogwarts, and I’ve come to invite you to our school. I have the formal acceptance letter here somewhere…yes, here it is,” he said, taking a creamy envelope from his pocket and holding it out to me. I took it automatically. It was made of the same heavy parchment paper as the last letter he’d sent me, but when I turned it over, it was sealed with crimson wax and bore an unusual crest with a decorative letter H in the center.
I hesitated to open the letter. Instead, I looked up at my mother and father, seeking guidance. Papa either took pity on me or had been waiting for an excuse to let loose his questions, because he immediately addressed the professor. “Sir, meaning no disrespect, but Alyssa’s schooling has already been decided. I know for a fact that we did not make an application to your school, so how, then, did…Hogwarts get my daughter’s name? How has she already been accepted? You must admit, this is really most unusual.”
Professor Longbottom was nodding along as Papa spoke. He swallowed hard and shifted in his seat, the first signs of nervousness he had displayed so far. “Yes, er, I know this is highly unusual. You see, Hogwarts is a very special school. We seek out and accept only…certain kinds…of people.” He cleared his throat and ran a hand over his hair, as if checking to make sure it was still lying flat. “Your daughter is very special, and has exactly the qualities we are looking for in our students. That is to say…well…” he trailed off, and I began to wonder if he was new to this job. Maybe he had been given a script, and was now forgetting the lines? Mum and Papa patiently waited for the professor to continue, and I followed their lead, watching curiously.
“Right. I suppose there’s no easy way to say it.” He squared his shoulders and looked Mum and Papa straight in the eyes. “Hogwarts is known in full as Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am a wizard, which means I am someone with the ability to use magic. My colleagues and I teach magic to young witches and wizards. Miss Barrett,” he addressed me directly now, and I speechlessly met his eyes, “you are a witch. You have magic, just like me. We would like you to attend Hogwarts School so we can teach you how to control and use your magic. Please, go ahead and open your letter.”
Shell-shocked, I glanced over at my parents for direction, but they seemed just as stunned as I was. They stared open-mouthed at the professor, and I could imagine the thoughts going through their minds. Was this man crazy? Was this a prank? Should we call the police? How, exactly, was one supposed to react to this sort of news? Strangely, their continued silence helped me to finally find my voice.
“Did you say…I’m a witch?” I asked, my tone sounding surprisingly calm.
The corners of the professor’s lips twitched up. “Yes, I did.”
“Are…are you sure? I mean…you don’t really believe…do you?”
“Yes, I am sure that you are a witch, and yes, I really do believe in magic. Perhaps a demonstration…?” Unbelievably, he pulled a polished stick from the sleeve of his button-up and flicked it at his tea. Mum let out a small shriek as the liquid began to steam and bubble, and I watched the ice cubes melting to water in a matter of seconds. He waved the wand again, and the liquid within froze solid, frost marching up the outside of the glass. With a loud pop the glass broke, falling in shattered pieces to the coffee table.
“Whoops! I didn’t think that through. The sudden temperature changes…” he pointed the wand once more at the broken glass, and the fallen pieces flew up to their previous locations around the frozen tea, seamlessly joining together into a now-undamaged glass. “There, good as new.” He beamed up at his audience, who seemed completely unable to react. “I know this must come as a shock to all of you, but please believe me when I say that this is good news. Magic is…well, magical, I suppose,” he finished with a chuckle. “Now, if you don’t mind, Miss Barrett, please go ahead and open that letter. Then I can answer all your questions, as I am sure the three of you will have plenty of them.” He sat back, smiling genially, and waved at the envelope still in my hands.
Dazedly, I did as I was told, breaking open the seal and unfolding the parchment within. The letter began with the same crest I’d seen on the wax seal. I began to read aloud.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall
Dear Ms. Barrett,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Filius Flitwick
Deputy Headmaster
I looked back up from the letter. “They await my owl?”
“Yes, wizards typically use owls to deliver letters,” Professor Longbottom explained helpfully.
“They use…that seems…I mean, why?”
The professor raised his eyebrows at me, apparently surprised by my question. “Well, why not?” he answered, shrugging.
I blinked a few times as I processed this answer. “Er, I don’t know. Are they…better at delivering mail than, say, I dunno, eagles? Or hawks? Or…or…” I burst into giggles at that point, the absurdity of everything suddenly crashing down on me. Owls, magic, wands, a school named Hogwarts. And me, a witch!
“Is this a prank?” My father’s tone was quiet and serious, the kind of tone he used when he was trying to decide if my brothers and I were in trouble. I choked on my laughter and managed to bring my hysterics back under control, looking warily at Papa. He was red in the face, whereas Mum had gone pale at some point.
“No, sir,” Professor Longbottom answered calmly. “I truly understand how difficult this must be to take in—”
“Difficult?” Papa interrupted, his voice sharper now and his cheeks reddening further. “I think the word you’re looking for is impossible.”
“That’s perfectly understandable,” the professor answered reasonably. “Wizard-kind has gone to great lengths to encourage the idea that magic is not real, and so stay hidden from muggles—non-magical folk. However, I think you have known for some time that there is a special quality about your daughter. Haven’t you ever noticed strange things happening when she gets scared, or angry?”
I could feel my parents’ eyes on me now, and I knew they were remembering the same incidents as I was. When I was maybe five years old and was still afraid of the dark, floating orbs of colored light would appear in my bedroom at night. To me, they were pretty and comforting. But to my parents, when they peeked in to check on me, the lights were inexplicable and frightening. They thought the house was must be haunted, and we moved soon after. A few years later, when I’d raised some mischief in school, my parents grounded me and wouldn’t let me go to my friend’s birthday party. I was so upset, I stomped my foot; and at that same moment, one of the legs on the china cabinet snapped and the whole thing came crashing down, splinters of wood and glass and porcelain flying everywhere. There had been countless other incidents, too, though most were much smaller in scale: passing butterflies and hummingbirds landing upon my outstretched finger when I wanted a closer look; an unnervingly accurate sense for when I was being lied to; falls from heights that should have broken one or more of my limbs, but instead felt like landing in a massive pile of cushions…so many inexplicable little events that had been passed off as luck or intuition. Now, however, they looked quite different. Had I been making all those things happen? Did I have magic?
“I thought so,” Professor Longbottom murmured into the long silence. “All young witches and wizards have bouts of accidental magic as their talent develops and their emotions grow stronger. Once you’ve started learning to use and control your magic intentionally, these outbursts of accidental magic will become increasingly rare.”
“This is a lot to take in,” Mum said faintly.
“Yes, I imagine it is,” Professor Longbottom agreed, his tone sympathetic. “Look, there’s a concealed area in London where witches and wizards do most of their shopping. We can get all of Alyssa’s books and equipment there, if you’d like me to show you around. I think that getting a glimpse of the wizarding world for yourselves will help you process things. We can go now, or we could go sometime in the next few days.”
“Now wait just a moment,” Papa cut in. “We haven’t decided yet if Alyssa will be attending…er, Hogwarts. She has an excellent education lined up for her already, and we don’t know anything about your school’s credentials.”
“I assure you,” the professor said soothingly, “that Hogwarts is one of the finest magical institutions in the world. Moreover, we are the only wizarding school in the United Kingdom, as the wizarding population is much smaller than muggle populations. By law, Alyssa must receive a magical education so she can learn to control her magic. Lack of control will become dangerous as her powers grow, and will put our society’s secrecy at risk.”
“You’re saying we have no choice in the matter?” Papa asked with some heat.
“I’m saying that Hogwarts is by far your best choice,” Professor Longbottom countered. “Though, ultimately, the choice is your daughter’s to make.”
Of course, they all turned their heads to stare at me then. Shifting uncomfortably in my seat, I searched for something to say. “Um, I think it makes sense to see what Professor Longbottom wants to show us before we make a decision.”
My parents exchanged one of their looks, communicating silently. Finally, Papa sighed and returned his attention to the professor. “Alright, then. We’ll have a look.”
Author's Notes
And so it begins!
If you've read this chapter, please submit a survey below. It doesn't have to be fancy; you can even just put "read" in the comment box without rating the chapter and then hit submit. This way, I can tell how many people have read the chapter without paying for website analytics. Of course, more thorough feedback is always appreciated. Your input will help me to improve both my writing and the story itself. Thanks!
For those of you who are curious, this chapter takes place in July of 2003, five years after the Battle of Hogwarts. I plan to address this in a later chapter, but thought you might like to know now. ;)
Please note that, as an American, I am attempting to use as much British word choice and culture references as I can, but my knowledge is severely limited. Perhaps y'all can help with that? However, I am strictly using American spelling and punctuation.
Quick questions: How did you all like Professor Longbottom? I tried to show his clumsy side as well as his maturity and recently-acquired confidence. I think I managed a decent balance, but I'd love to hear what you think!
Best wishes,
Camlin
If you've read this chapter, please submit a survey below. It doesn't have to be fancy; you can even just put "read" in the comment box without rating the chapter and then hit submit. This way, I can tell how many people have read the chapter without paying for website analytics. Of course, more thorough feedback is always appreciated. Your input will help me to improve both my writing and the story itself. Thanks!
For those of you who are curious, this chapter takes place in July of 2003, five years after the Battle of Hogwarts. I plan to address this in a later chapter, but thought you might like to know now. ;)
Please note that, as an American, I am attempting to use as much British word choice and culture references as I can, but my knowledge is severely limited. Perhaps y'all can help with that? However, I am strictly using American spelling and punctuation.
Quick questions: How did you all like Professor Longbottom? I tried to show his clumsy side as well as his maturity and recently-acquired confidence. I think I managed a decent balance, but I'd love to hear what you think!
Best wishes,
Camlin