I stared stupidly at the letter in my hands. Magic? I had been accepted into a school of magic, one that I had never heard of, much less applied for. It even came with a train ticket at King's Cross. The supply list was questionable at best. Cauldron, wand, books with ridiculous names. This wasn't real.
"Magic?" My father asked as he took the letter from my hands. "Like, card tricks?"
"I'm not interested in it," I replied. "Magic is just silly illusions."
"I think you should go," my mother said. "It's not like you're doing so great here."
That much was true. I had been sick for quite some time, unable to eat anything and surviving off blood transfusions and broth. The doctors had no clue what was wrong with me and had tried every treatment the world could offer. They could only say my heart was weak, and it was only a matter of time. Fortunately, I had enough energy to move around and do as I pleased, but I couldn't go out in public in fear of spreading my bizarre disease or getting worse. I suppose one last adventure wouldn't hurt. After all, I could just return if I didn't like it.
A few weeks passed, and my condition got worse. I could tell by the warmer temperatures I was getting colder, but not weaker, though the doctors said otherwise. As the end of July began to approach, my parents decided to take me shopping for my strange school supplies. However, before we even stepped out of the house, we were stopped by a package.
It was addressed to me from the same school. I skeptically opened the box to find a small, textured beaker filled with red liquid. With it was a note.
"Drink this every six hours. It won't cure your disease, but it will make you feel better." My father read. "Do you think she should try it?" He asked my mother.
She had tears in her eyes as she kneeled to my level and hugged me, "You do what you think is best, sweetie," she encouraged. "Just know that I love you and I will always love you."
She did this before every treatment. If it was going to be my last, at least I would die knowing my parents loved me. I pulled the cork out and was greeted by a warm scent. It reminded me of my father's freshly brewed coffee he made on Saturday mornings only. Rich, earthy, almost sweet.
Since it didn't smell bad, I immediately drank the contents and found the liquid to taste almost the way it smelled. I could feel my body warming up. The world didn't seem so dreary anymore. It was like I had been given a second chance at life.
I was pulled from my stupor when my mom sobbed while embracing me. My father had taken the beaker from my hands and was looking at it, trying to find the courage to smell it.
Her hands felt cool on my heated cheeks, and I felt better. Maybe this magic stuff was real. Maybe it would cure me, with time. How great would that be?
When we got in the car, I couldn't shut up about this school called Hogwarts. I ranted and raved about the illusions of magic and how I was possibly wrong about the entire thing seeing as house I had been cured of my symptoms, for the time being. My parents made sure to remind me of taking my medicine, but also finding out what the liquid was and what it was made from so they would know if I could build a resistance to it, or maybe an allergy. Ever since I had first gotten sick, they had been on a health craze, washing everything all the time, cooking with only vegetables, no dairy, no eggs, no animal anything.
Now, I felt like I could eat an entire buffet. All those months without solid food had come to an end, though the letter stated on the back I was not allowed to eat anything solid until I got to school.
It felt like ages before we got to London where this Leaky Cauldron pub place was. It was odd since my parents acted as if they couldn't see it, but when I pulled them to it, they tried to keep me from walking into an abandoned building.
Once I managed to get them inside, it seemed their eyes were opened as they stared in awe of the rather run down joint. It fascinated me as well, a broom sweeping the floor, candles floating around the room, chairs moving all by themselves.
"The awe of a Muggle-born and her parents is always refreshing," a lanky old man said from behind the counter. Though he was rather homely, he still had a kind smile. "My name is Tom' and I'm the keeper of the Leaky Cauldron."
I walked to the counter, barely able to see over it, "Mr. Tom, where is Diagonal Alley?"
He pointed at a hallway, "Right that way, dear. Get your robes first. It doesn't take long for the seamstress to get them hemmed, but you've come at a busy time. It may take some time."
I nodded with a growing smile as I headed to the hallway he had gestured to. As I got to the end, my smile began to fade when I was greeted by a brick wall. I placed my hand on it just to make sure it was real, and it was. There was no sound coming from the other side of the wall. Was it a lie?
I jumped back when the bricks began to shake and slowly fold back, revealing a massive crowd in a narrow alley. The noise was practically overwhelming as parents yelled for their children or the laughter of children or the screeching of strange animals echoed around.
Tall, yet squatty, buildings seeming to reach the skies lined the streets, a giant white building with a massive dragon being at the end. What was this place?
And the people were dressed in such bizarre clothing. Robes of all things, all different shades and fabrics. Some wearing pointed hats, even. I felt like I had stepped into Halloween Town.
"We need to go there first," my father said as he pushed me through the crowd toward the dragon building. "That's where we can get money for the books."
Everything was silent in this building that was supposed to be a bank. Odd, angry looking, ugly creatures were hard at work with whatever they were doing.
"Do you have a key?" The creature asked, glaring nastily at my father over his half-moon glasses.
"Well, no," my father answered. "Mr. Tom back at the pub told me to tell you I was a Muggle and I needed to change money."
"Ah," the creature grumbled, though not as angry as he had been. "I'll explain what I can to you as far as money goes in the Wizarding World."
I was barely able to focus on the creature, who claimed to be a goblin named Nord, as he spoke about Knuts, Sickles, and Galleons. My father managed to get enough money for all of my things, though it didn't seem like much. In his words, however, he basically said that it was like buying college books all over again.
"Sometimes Muggle-born are given discounts, if you talk to the right person," Nord said before we could walk away. "Welcome to your new life."
I gave a quiet thank you and followed my parents out, shy and baffled at the creature I had just encountered. Was the rest of this place going to be like this?
It was. The building where robes could be bought, Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions was filled with parents arguing with men and women over the robes for their children. Children were on various stands getting measured by floating measuring ropes and a quill that was scribbling on a notepad. The woman only had to glance at the paper before pulling out a stick and tapping it on various parts of the robe. Scissors would suddenly appear, cutting the fabric, a swing needle and thread following behind to keep the hem from falling apart.
"Oh look, a Mud-blood," someone said as they slammed their shoulder into mine.
The girl froze in place when I grabbed her wrist, forcing her to stop in place. I wasn't mad, just confused, yet there was nothing but fear in her eyes. "L-Let me go," she demanded.
"You called me a Mud-blood," I replied.
"I-I take it back. Please don't hurt me," she begged.
"But, I don't know what a Mud-blood is," I frowned as she ran away.
Left alone in the crowd, I looked around trying to find my parents. Near the wall that had released us into Diagon Alley, my parents stood talking with a red haired man that seemed incredibly interested in them.
Rather than bother them, I made my way to the other shops to gather my other supplies. Everything was so strange, the bookstore having books of all kinds, hexes, curses, healing, charms, everything imaginable, even some on basic house cleaning. As I looked through the books, I found my focus on potions. There were cures for diseases that were impossible to cure, poisons of all kinds, way to change appearances, even a weird formula to create liquid fire.
The people in Flourish & Blotts gave me odd, almost fearful glances, but mostly kept to themselves. Finally, I found the wand shop, the ultimate source of a wizard's power. Ollivanders, it was called.
The rickety building had much to be desired as I opened the door. I thought I heard a bell, but there was no way I could be certain. The dimly lit place had a few lanterns, and what sunlight that came through the window seemed to sparkle with dust.
"And what do we have here?"
My attention when to an old man who was hanging on a ladder. The store said it had been open since the B.C. age, and this man definitely looked like he might be the founder.
"What's your name?" He asked as he stepped down the ladder.
"Avaeda Carrow," I smiled weakly.
"I see," he murmured as he began looking at what could have been shoe boxes, but thinner. "The wand chooses the witch, Ms. Carrow." He handed me a stick, "Oak, nine inches."
My arm felt weird, and almost impulsively, I pointed at the lamp. I gasped when it exploded. He took the stick back and began looking for another. While he gave me the sticks, he told me a little about them. Cores of the wands mattered, apparently, as did the wood. The way he listed the woods made it seem like hundreds existed, but there were only three cores. By the end of it, I had a hazel wand with dragon heartstring. I liked the odd thing, the interesting swirly design similar to clouds in Chinese dragon art being the handle.
The old man kept giving me a suspicious look, even as I left. When I stepped out, the was still a crowd, but it was quieter. I started to feel dreary again. I hadn't noticed how cold I had become. Colors weren't as bright. Thinking back to the thing I drank earlier, I headed for my parents, knowing my mother would have brought it with her.
When I arrived where I had last seen them, only the red haired man stood, talking with, I assumed, his family.
"There you are," my father called from behind me.
Something was placed on my shoulder and fell into my arms. Possibly the smallest kitten I had ever seen was staring up at me with green eyes. The silver cat had folded ears that stole my heart.
"Well, hello, there," I cooed with a growing smile, and tearing eyes. "You're so cute I could cry." My attention went to my mother, "Did you bring that stuff? I think the six hours is coming to an end."
She blinked a couple of times before rummaging through her purse. After a couple of moments and nearly emptying her purse into my father's hands, she found what she was looking for.
My father's nose scrunched up as he watched me drink it. "How can you drink something that smells so terrible?"
"It smells like coffee," I replied with a frown. "Did you stop drinking coffee?"
"No, but there's no way that's coffee," he replied. "It smells like sulfur and iron."
Maybe this magic world was changing me. If my parents weren't magical, they would probably be different than me on many ends.
I followed my parents toward the brick wall that would take us back to the Leaky Cauldron. The ocean of red hair was still standing in the entrance, the man that had been talking with my parents talking very excitedly about something.
"Mr. Weasley," my father called to the man as he pushed me forward. "This is my daughter, Avaeda. avaeda, this is Arthur Weasley, a man that works with the Ministry of Magic and studies Muggles, which is what your mother and I are?" He ended his introduction uncertainly, almost asking Mr. Weasley if he had said everything correctly.
"Of course, the word Muggle isn't meant to be offensive," Mr. Weasley smiled as he shook my hand, though his eyes were on my father. "So, Ms. Avaeda, this will be your first year?"
"Yes, sir," I answered shyly.
"It's Fred and George's first year, as well," he smiled as he placed his hands on the heads of two identical boys. "It's Bill's last year, Charlie's fifth year, and Percy's third year."
My eyes followed the children as he introduced them. "That's a lot."
"I have two more at home sick with my wife," he said proudly.
"Do you have any siblings?" The twin I think was named Fred asked.
"No, I'm adopted," I smiled.
"Now," my father said as he put his hand on my shoulder, "I want you to clean up your room. I've invited the Weasleys to have supper with us."
I grinned widely. We hadn't had company in months. I had been too sick. Not only are we having guests, but we were having new, exciting people. People we didn't understand and people that didn't understand us. It was exciting.
"When?" I asked curiously.
"Next week," my father informed me. "Mr. Weasley has been particularly excited about having Muggle food, though I don't really think there's a difference."
"There's only one way to find out," Mr. Weasley said with a smile. He turned his attention to the twins, "Now, I want you two to behave. She might be sorted into your house."
"Sorted?" I asked.
"Yes, sorted. Hogwarts has four houses to be sorted in," Mr. Weasley began explaining. "There's Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw. You get sorted into the house according to your personality."
The tallest of the group, Bill, kneeled to my level, looking me straight in the eyes. After a moment, he smiled, "You'll do well in whatever house you're placed in."
"You don't think she'll get put in Slytherin, do you?" One of the twins questioned as he scrunched his nose.
"If you're put in Slytherin, we can't be friends," the other smiled, clearly joking, though his father gave him a scolding glare.
"George, you should apologize. Not everyone from Slytherin is bad," Arthur stated.
"I'm only joking, Dad," the boy replied as he smiled at me. "Don't worry, there's no way you'll be in Slytherin."