When I woke up this morning, I never expected anything out of the ordinary. I expected to get up, stumble downstairs in to the kitchen, fill up my favorite bowl with my favorite cereal, open the fridge, realize the milks gone bad (not that it had, I just don't trust dairy), and watch my morning cartoons before my older brother woke up and kicked me out of the livingroom so he could watch the news to see the score of some stupid sports game or some other meaningless and boring thing like that. That is what I expected. Not a weird letter. Not a letter sealed with wax with green script, okay, what the hell. But thats what I got. A letter.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, Firts Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, Internationall Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss Knight,

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 nessasary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerley,

Minerva McGonangall

Deputy Headmistress

"Is there something wrong?" The mailman asked me when I opened the letter.

"Uh, no. Thank you, Mr. Lyle. Have a good day." I said in bewilderment. He shrugged and made his way down the street to battle with the Fitch's dog, Mona. This letter had to be some sick joke, not that it would suprise me any. I mean, it's not like I'm extremely popular at my school. I have friends and all, they're just not the close kind. You know, the kids that you talk to in class because you're seated next them all year because that alphabet commands it so. It's not their fault I'm socially inept. It's not their fault their last name also happens to start with a "K."

I went back in to my joke of a house, only two shades of white different than anyone else on my block. Yeah, I know, I didn't realize there were different shades of white before I moved here either. My brother was already downstairs on the couch stuffing his face with doritos.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked, the sound of concern tip toeing around the edge of his voice.

"Nothing." I said in monotone. Still stuck in a state of disbeleif. I couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't a joke, even though it seemed to be the only explination. Why would anyone go through so much trouble to bother me? I am invisible at school. I'm nice to everyone, no one really hates me... So why so much effort? I went back upstairs, second door on the left to my irradically decorated bedroom. The walls were black, my favorite color (the oposite of my mundanely colored house), my bedding was pink, with matching pillows. Posters of my favorite bands covered my walls. Next to my twin sized bed there was a side table with a single drawer, that was covered in stickers (My favorite of which being a Peta sticker that had a little chick on it that proclaimed "I am not a nugget!" Not that I'm a vegetarian, I just thought it was funny). Arcross my room was an anchient desktop computer that I spent my weekend nights talking to people halfway across the world. I walked to my bed and sat down. I sat there staring at the strange letter written on heavy paper with green ink, until finally I opened the single drawer on my nightstand and tossed it next to my sketchbook. My little secrets.

It wasn't until a week later that I remembered the peculiar letter, when on a cloudy Tuesday morning, I met Mr. Lyle at the door again, right before he put the mail through the slot.

"Hello Mr. Lyle." I said to him, standing in the door way.

"Why hello, Margaux. You're looking better than the last time I saw you." He said refering to the morning of the strange letter.

"Oh, yeah, I was sick. Just getting over it, infact." I fibbed.

"Well, that's good. I got another letter for you." He said as he handed me the days mail. Sitting in my hands was another strange letter, on heavy parchment type paper, written in green ink, folded neatly in to a heavy parchement evelope, sealed with wax. I stared at it.

"You feeling okay?" Mr. Lyle asked me as the color drained from my face.

"I- I got one of these last week. It's really weird, it's something about some stupid magic school or something."

"Sounds neat." He said.

"No." I shook my head furiously. "Why would someone play this type of joke on me? I've never done anything to anyone." Mr Lyle shrugged.

"Maybe it's not a joke." I looked up from the letter to see a twinkle in Mr. Lyle's eyes. It wasn't until that moment that I took in Mr. Lyle's appearance; Never before had I really thought about how he always wore two white socks of different lengths, how his hair had always seemed entirely bizzare. White as snow, quite long for a man of his age, always out of control, Like a Lion's mane. Is cheery demenor, never wavering. It wasn't until then that I noticed is other worldly charisma, or his enchanted smile.

"What do you mean?" I asked, and that's when he told me. He told me everything...