Note: Tom Riddle began Hogwarts in 1938. He was born in 1926. I don't have any idea how kids talked (what words they used) back then, but I tried my best!
Please review also! This is my first fan fiction, and I need to know how I am doing! Thanks!
I met Tom Marvolo Riddle in my first year, on that big train called the Hogwarts Express. I remember like it was yesterday, but I'd rather not think of it all. When I think of it, I remember The End.
My mom was a first grade teacher, and often after school I would walk to the school and assist her around her colorful, simple classroom. Organize her papers, help set up lessons, decorate the walls of the classroom with the ABC's and cartoon animal prints and such. The basics.
See, my life was pretty ordinary. I lived in an ordinary town in an ordinary house. Nothing special. Nothing special about my looks either. Just long brown hair tied up in two pigtails with ribbons. Big green eyes. "Nerdy" glasses. Typical looks. Typical life, typical family, typical everything.
But that all changed in the July of 1938, the day I got my letter. My Hogwarts letter….
My dad was at work; working in some factory I forgot the name of, the morning when I got my letter. My mom was off grocery shopping at the market.
I was in the living room, drawing. I loved to draw. Whenever I was feeling down, I would pick up my pencils and my worn sketchpad and flip to a blank page and draw what I felt. I often drew what I saw going on outside the window, an impression of my nosy neighbor weeding her rose and daisy and who knows what else garden, a dog sitting on its haunches staring through some window with sad puppy eyes, a mother walking a stroller, a kid with two or three dolls clutched in her little arms, the house next-door, or the big blanket of blue with white fluffy clouds.
Of course, it was challenging to draw that quickly, to get the impression of what I was seeing and wanting to draw. But I had this strange feeling that while I was drawing, the people outside or whatever I wanted to draw went in slow motion, which suited me just fine. I couldn't explain it, really. I figured it was just me and when I was concentrating so hard and such that time when slow. Or maybe I was just fast. I didn't know.
But that was about all the strange things that occurred around me. Sure, one time I dropped an important paper, and the wind carried it across the street into some water, and when I reached the water, there was my arithmetic problems, floating about two inches above the water. I figured the wind was to blame. And I never thought about that event again, until I got my letter.
Perhaps I should have really known something when I was at school one day and this big guy came up to me and attempted to steal my lunch money. When he grabbed it from my hands, he shrieked loudly, and ran off, holding his hand, leaving the money on the floor by my feet. My money had burnt him. I dismissed it as just an ordinary event of some science thing like friction or air temperature or whatever.
Just ordinary, I had thought, as I gladly shoved my money back in my skirt pocket and dashed off to the diner to buy some chocolate milk. You see, I thought these things ordinary. All the rest of my life was ordinary, why shouldn't this be? That was my reasoning.
That's why I was so shocked over the letter, I guess. I didn't even know such things as witches and wizards existed.
As I was drawing my nosy neighbor's garden, just weeded, and applying red colored pencil to the roses, I hear a loud "Hoot!" outside. I was puzzled. Usually, we didn't get owls in this neighborhood, and when one of those seldom times I did hear the hoot of an owl it was at night or late in the evening. And I had only heard two hoots in my life up to that point. This was my third, and the first time it was daylight.
I set my sketchpad down on the wooden coffee table, carefully placing my colored pencils on top of it and using a paper weight to hold them down, lest they would fall. I approached the window, and looked out. All seemed ordinary.
My nosy neighbor, who I will introduce to you as Ms. Rose, as she will be important later in my story, was in her lawn chair across from my house sipping lemonade or tea or perhaps her favorite, as I well knew, because of all the times she tried to offer it to me, water with a hint of olive. Yuck!
A dog I knew as my next-door neighbor's, called just Dog, sniffed at our lilies. Some random kid in overalls ran down the street, hollering at the top of his lungs "I'm flying!" I chuckled softly. I loved kids. In fact, I hoped to become a first grade teacher just like my mother one day.
Of course, that same day changed that.
Well, nothing seemed out of place that day, unless you counted the…
My eyed grew to the size of apples. There, out on the fence surrounding the garden behind a tree where only I could see sat a big, gray, handsome owl, his amber eyes scrutinizing me. In his beak was the thing that made me gasp. It was a letter. Yes, maybe that does sound ordinary, but really, how many times have you seen an owl in your yard hidden from view from all but you with a letter in its beak? Didn't think so!
But yes, there sat the owl, and there stood me. If anyone had looked in on me that day, they would have found an eleven year old girl with huge eyes and an open mouth leaning forward toward the window, her nose almost touching the clean glass and leaving a stain. (Gasp!-That would have been from my mom!)
Finally, I overcame whatever shock I was in, and thought that the owl would make a great picture to draw. I crept over to the table, not wanting the owl to see much movement and fly away. It didn't, and continued what it had started as soon as I left the widow, preening its handsome feathers. Carefully, like a cat creeping on a poor canary out of its cage, I headed back to the window eagerly, pencil and pad in hand.
When I had just set up my sketchpad in my lap, and had my drawing utensil ready for action in my right hand, the howl gave a hoot, and swept of the fence in a bundle of gray feathers. It swooped down to the front of the living room door, the entrance to the house, and dropped the letter onto the steps, and flew up, up, and away. I watched as it disappeared into the big blue blanket of summer sky.
Being my curious self, I laid down my drawing things and went over and opened to door to the outside world. I looked up and down the street. No owls. Just a grouchy old lady sipping olive water reading a novel.
I looked down at my feet. There is was! A letter! Carefully, I bent down and touched it. It didn't explode or anything. It just moved lightly under my touch. Reassured, I picked up the letter and stood up. I turned it over in my hands. Some kind of crest thing was sealed on it. I turned it over again, the front addressed to me. It even contained the line "Attic" which was where I had my room. Now I was scared. What if someone was spying on me?!
I looked around the neighborhood again. No one looked suspicious or was even looking at me. I retreated into the house and shut the door with a frightened slam and locked it, something I seldom did because of all my trips outdoors.
I went and sat on the couch, my eyes practically glued to the envelope. Finally, after much consideration, I gingerly broke the seal and pulled out its contents, some parchment. My mouth slowly opened as I read what was neatly printed on them. Finally, an extraordinary thing in my ordinary life!
I was sitting on the kitchen table when Mother got home, loaded down with vegetables, fruit, bread, dairy, and meat.
I had the letter open and spread out on the table in front of my smiling self. I could barely contain my excitement. I believed for a fact that this letter was genuine, in was no faux. Rather, though, I needed to believe it. Having this, being this, made me feel…unique, and not plain and ordinary. It made me feel part of a greater something, feel excepted, and wanted, and not just some girl that attends some school that lives in some house in some place. With this letter, I felt that I was much more than I ever expected.
My mom set down the paper bags. A few oranges tumbled out, and, unlike I usually did, I did not go and pick them up. I just sat there, excitement built up in me. Even with me mom soon going to have a child, I didn't help her out with the food. All I could think about was the letter. The letter and Hogwarts and September First and platform nine and three-quarters. My childish mind was filled with images of me pulling a rabbit out of a hat, levitating a cup of water, encounters with unicorns and pink glowing fairies. My mom stared at me, her eyes gesturing toward the groceries.
"A little help with these, Samantha J?"
"Of course, Mom, but look at this!" I practically shoved the paper into her face.
She took the paper and started to read. After a while, some kind of radiant glow or something passed over her face, and she practically danced me into the living room, leaving the forgotten groceries behind. Doing the best jig she could with such a round belly, she shouted joyously.
Finally, she plopped down on the sofa and patted the seat next to her. I came out sat down with her. She sighed happily, and stroked my hair. "I always hoped that one day this letter would come, Sam."
"Whatdoyoumean?" I said in a rush, straightening up to stare directly at her.
"Well, Sammy, my great grandpa Will went to Hogwarts so many years ago. Wizard blood ran in my veins, and now it is in yours."
"B..but!" I sputtered, "How did you know that? Why did you not tell me? Are you a witch or something? How about daddy? Does he know? What about Paul? Will he be one too?"
"Slow down, my Sam. Just settle down and I will tell you all I know."
I snuggled up close to my mom, and she explained:
"Well, I never went to Hogwarts, but like I said earlier, my great-grandpa did. And from words passed down to me, I heard he was a pretty smart kid. He was great at Quidditch, a wizard game played on brooms with enchanted flying balls. He was a master at Transfiguration. That's where you turn things into something else, like a banana into a baboon. But that's pretty advanced. When you go to Hogwarts, you will just start out with the basics, simple potions, levitating feathers, simple spells. But before you do all of that, you will get a wand. Yes, dear, a magic wand. With it, you can do a great many things. You'll learn more about that later, however. See, you will go to Hogwarts, and live there and learn things that wizards and witches must know. You will go there seven times, between each getting summer break and a Christmas break. After that, you will have chosen or will be close to choosing a magic career. Oh, just think! My very own daughter working at Gringotts! Or at the Ministry of Magic! Or a teacher at Hogwarts! Just think!"
My mom smiled happily, and I smiled along with her even though I had no idea what a ministry was or what in the world Gringotts was.
"Mom," I began, "how about Paul? Will he become a wizard like me?"
"Well," Mom chuckled, "For one thing, you are not a wizard. You are a witch. And maybe your brother Paul might become a wizard. He's only five though; it will be a while before we know for sure. Unless he displays some magic talent, which he most likely will if he is indeed a wizard. It would be great for Paul to become a wizard! And, speaking of which, I must go pick him up at the babysitters, Ms. Ranch's."
She gently shoved me aside, and said, "Your father is not a wizard Sam, in fact, he knows nothing of my history at all. I only know my history because my grandfather told me when I was your age. In fact, I wasn't sure if he was creating childish fantasies at the time, but despite that, I remembered all that he had told me about his father, your great-great-grandfather. And I never told you because I wasn't for sure. And if you never did turn out to be a witch, I would have disappointed you. You know, telling you all about this magical world that I wasn't even sure existed and then when you turned eleven and no letter come. That would have been heart-breaking."
She kissed me on my hair, and gathered up her purse and left. I stared after her. So many things were dancing in a crazed fury around my head at once. But they were all wonderful. Now, the only thing I had to worry about was what Dad and Paul would think. I knew Paul would except without question, him being at the age he was, but I wasn't sure about Dad. I mean, what if he grew angry at me for being what I was?
However, that thought was a silly one, even at the time I didn't think it was, because my father loved me. He would always. Or almost always.
Mom explained later that evening after we had a fine feast of vegetables and steak that had almost been forgotten in the kitchen in the living room.
I watched Dad as he took the letter and read it out loud. His eyes widened, and he looked to Mom for an explanation.
Paul, his stuffed bunny "Rabby" in his little hands, sprang up from the carpet. "Yay for Sammy!" He shouted, throwing Rabby up into the air and catching him. He did a somersault and then zoomed toward the couch, where Mom was sitting along with Dad and me. He took Dad's green cap off, and stuffed Rabby into it.
He handed it to me, and said in an excited voice, "Miss Sammy Witch, make Rabby disappear."
I dumbly looked at the stuffed animal stuffed into the hat. I had no idea what to do. How could I know magic? I had never been taught.
Mom came to my rescue. "Little Paul, your sister Sammy can't do magic just yet. She must learn. That is why she will be leaving home soon and going to school, where she will learn how to do magic. Also, she isn't allowed to use magic here at home. It is against the rules. She must only use magic at school, and here only in emergencies."
"But it is a 'mergeny!" Paul said, taking back the hat and looking at the bunny that had not disappeared inside.
"Well, in about seven years, she will be able to do it for you, and, maybe even then, you might go to school and learn yourself."
Paul's sad face immediately broke into a cute, dimply smile. "Yeah! Only seven years!" He skipped around the room and tossed the hat back to Dad, all the while twirling with Rabby around the room. I just had to smile. Little kids can be so cute when they are happy.
Around eight, my mom sent Paul to bed, and I went up to my room, my letter clutched in my hand.
I was greeted by that wonderful attic scent that is just hard to place. It smelled a little like fresh breeze, wood, history, and watermelon. My favorite smell in the world.
The familiar sketches taped on the wall greeted me, and I smiled up and around at them.
I went over to my bed covered in a green sheet and laid down, staring up at the skylight.
The sun had just set, and the pretty blue slowly faded to an orange color and then disappeared beyond sight of the small skylight.
I breathed in that wonderful scent, and rolled to a sitting position and re-read my letter for about the twentieth time.
As my eyes read the words and my brain soaked them in, all I could feel was this feeling of euphoria.
I laid down on my bed again and put the letter on the dresser next to my picture of the Wood Family: My dad, mom, Paul, and me, all smiling and in black and white and in fancy clothes. It was taken only last year.
I was about ready to set my glasses aside and fall into happy slumbers when I heard a soft knock on the door. I knew it was Mother.
"Come in," I said softly, for I felt that such a moment should be quiet. To just savor the happy thoughts I had, and not have them ruined or broken by sounds. But I was happy to see and hear my mom. I knew her knowledge of magic was greater than mine. When she entered the room and gently closed the door behind her, I felt this vast amount of knowledge enter also.
She came and set at the edge of my bed, smiling at me. For a while we were both very silent.
After a while Mom said, "You know, Samantha J., I love you. So much. I will miss you so when you board that Hogwarts train and leave me for nine months. I will write, if I can find an owl, and you be sure to answer. Promise?"
"I promise."
Silence entered my room again, but this time I broke the silence.
"Mom, today has been one of, no, the best day of my life."
Mom smiled in her warm, soft way. She leaned down close to me and gave me a kiss. "I'm sure there will be even better days to come, Sammy."
"I know," I said, already imagining them at Hogwarts.
She gave me a pat on my head and silently left to room with a "good night, Sammy. I love you."
"Goodnight Mom. And I love you too."
And then I fell into wonderful dreams of flying on broomsticks, casting magic spells, and riding unicorns.
Thanks for reading. Also, I love reviews. This is my first fan fiction, so I need 'em!