PROLOGUE
The years came and went. Youthful eight and blissful nine, followed by ignorant ten, until finally the first day of her eleventh year appeared, and all that was waiting sprung on her, and filled her undiluted little mind with realities beyond comprehension. One would say that eleven was much too young for such a burden to be laid upon the frail shoulders of a child, but time would come and prove those disbelievers wrong, for age and experience rarely matter when the time tattered affairs of good and evil are at hand.
She remembers the day she received her letter of acceptance from a school she had never applied to. She can recall, in vivid detail, the look of honor and pride upon her fathers face, and the hesitation caught momentarily upon her mothers. Innocently, she had asked why the giant bird had flown into her window that night, and scared her so bad that she nearly fell out of bed. Her father took her on his knee and told her,
"This is a day you will never forget. You will always remember this moment, these words that I am speaking to you. Your mother and I are so proud to discover that you have been born magical. You are just like those beings we read to you every night in fairy tales. You can do almost anything they can, and much more. This letter that has come to you means that you will go to another school, very far away, that no one but we and your new classmates and their families know about. You have been born a witch, my child, and you will learn how to use your magic at Hogwarts."
Even at eleven, she understood these simple words, and celebrated with her family her new future. But, eleven, ten, nine, eight, even a thousand years of living, cannot prepare one for a mysterious and unfamiliar future, one that no one can possibly know anything about. You must live it for yourself, and then you will never forget.
The years came and went. Youthful eight and blissful nine, followed by ignorant ten, until finally the first day of her eleventh year appeared, and all that was waiting sprung on her, and filled her undiluted little mind with realities beyond comprehension. One would say that eleven was much too young for such a burden to be laid upon the frail shoulders of a child, but time would come and prove those disbelievers wrong, for age and experience rarely matter when the time tattered affairs of good and evil are at hand.
She remembers the day she received her letter of acceptance from a school she had never applied to. She can recall, in vivid detail, the look of honor and pride upon her fathers face, and the hesitation caught momentarily upon her mothers. Innocently, she had asked why the giant bird had flown into her window that night, and scared her so bad that she nearly fell out of bed. Her father took her on his knee and told her,
"This is a day you will never forget. You will always remember this moment, these words that I am speaking to you. Your mother and I are so proud to discover that you have been born magical. You are just like those beings we read to you every night in fairy tales. You can do almost anything they can, and much more. This letter that has come to you means that you will go to another school, very far away, that no one but we and your new classmates and their families know about. You have been born a witch, my child, and you will learn how to use your magic at Hogwarts."
Even at eleven, she understood these simple words, and celebrated with her family her new future. But, eleven, ten, nine, eight, even a thousand years of living, cannot prepare one for a mysterious and unfamiliar future, one that no one can possibly know anything about. You must live it for yourself, and then you will never forget.