PART I
Chapter 1: An Owl for Lily Evans
One sunny Saturday morning in June, eleven year-old Lily Evans awoke when she heard a loud crash outside the bedroom she shared with her older sister. She sat up and groggily turned her head from side to side looking for the source of the commotion. Rubbing the sleep out of her brilliant green eyes, she scanned the room furnished with two twin-sized beds, two matching oak dressers, and a pair of nightstands. There was another loud bang and something large and gray collided with the small window above her sister's empty bed. Startled but still curious, Lily threw back her patchwork quilt and dashed across the room to the bed draped in frilly pink sheets and a lacy comforter that resembled a gigantic doily. She carefully unlocked the window, pushed it open, and peered outside into the small backyard bordered by a picket fence. An unusual hooting sound drew her attention to the ledge under the window where a battered-looking gray owl lay shaking in a mangled heap. He must have flown into the window.
The door flew open and Petunia Evans barged in from the connecting bathroom the girls shared looking utterly enraged. Although she was only fifteen, she looked like a flustered old lady with her hair in curlers, white cream slathered over her entire face, and her thin body wrapped in a fluffy pink robe.
"What are you doing?" she shrieked. "Get your filthy little paws out of my bed!" She grabbed Lily by the collar of her nightshirt and yanked her backwards. Petunia quickly began smoothing the comforter, rearranging the pillows, and ignoring her sister.
Lily heard more hooting and noticed a second darker colored owl circling outside. She tied on a robe, slipped into a pair of slippers, and sped downstairs through the kitchen, and into the backyard. The air was moist and dewy, and the temperature was rather chilly for it being the middle of the summer. Standing on her tiptoes by the side of the house, she could barely see the owl's body sprawled on the ledge at least fifteen feet above her head. He was still quivering and his wing seemed to be sticking up at a very uncomfortable angle.
"Lily, what are you doing outside in your nightclothes?" called her father over the din of a noisy lawn mower he was pushing around the yard. He was a tall, lanky man with dark brown hair that was already beginning to thin.
"Daddy, I think there's a bird up there," said Lily pointing to the roof. "He flew into my window, he's hurt, and-"
"Hold on a minute." Lily's father switched off the lawnmover and turned towards the direction his daughter was pointing, squinting to keep the sun out of his eyes. He was not entirely sure that it was a bird, but he did notice a big gray heap of something on the roof between the first and second floor of the house. "Don't worry, darling. I'll go get the ladder." With that, he jogged off towards the garage.
Concerned that the creature might be seriously injured, Lily stood up on one of the plastic chairs on the Evans' small patio and strained to better observe the bird's condition. It was still shaking terribly and Lily could see that its feathered chest was moving quickly up and down in shallow, labored breaths. The bird's eyes were wide with panic. Lily looked right into them wishing she could do something to relieve its suffering. To her astonishment, as she thought this, the owl began to levitate, as if it were being carried by an invisible stretcher, and floated down to where Lily was standing on the patio chair. Lily held out her arms and something gently handed her the injured bird. She cradled the animal carefully trying not to make its injuries any worse. Just then Lily's father appeared holding a wooden ladder that was supported on the other end by Lily's mother, a beautiful woman from whom Lily had inherited her long dark, red hair and pretty almond-shaped green eyes. Both of them had just seen their daughter summon an owl to her arms with her mind.
"Lily, how did you—ouch!" Mr. Evans screamed. Mrs. Evans had dropped her end of the ladder on her husband's toe and was rushing to the patio. A towel covered in flower print, which she had brought to wrap the bird in, was draped on her shoulder. Speechless, she held it out towards Lily.
Lily bent down—standing on the chair she was slightly taller than her mother—and gently began to transfer the trembling bird from her arms to the towel, but she found that she couldn't let go of the animal. She felt a strange tinkling in her chest and a feeling of warmth spread from her arms and into her fingers. All three Evans watched in surprise as the owl immediately ceased shaking and began to glow a warm orange color. It pulled itself upright, and perched on Lily's forearm appearing to be in perfect health.
Mrs. Evans dropped the towel in surprise and Mr. Evans slowly approached his daughter and wife. "What on earth just happened?" His face was white and his hair looked even thinner than usual.
"I-I don't know," stammered Lily. "I was just thinking about how much I wanted the bird to be OK and he….he…just got better!" Lily had had a few strange things like this happen before. Two summers ago, she somehow managed to save a kitten from being run over by a car while playing in the front yard just by wishing that it would be safe. A few years before that, a bouquet of flowers Lily was particularly fond of continually regenerated itself and stayed fresh for two months before Petunia accidentally thew them out.
"Well, it's be a miracle," Mrs. Evans said cautiously as she examined the owl. "I wonder where he came from. You don't usually see owls flying around the neighborhood like this. What is this?" She picked up a fancy envelope that was tied to the owl's foot with a strand of red ribbon. She untied the yellowed envelope and saw that written in emerald green was the name of the person to which the letter was addressed: Ms. Lily Evans. Although now even more perplexed, she smiled and handed the mysterious note to her daughter.
Lily jumped off the plastic chair and anxiously opened the strange letter. Inside was a fancy piece of stationary that appeared to be some kind of parchment. Still completely in shock, Lily read the contents of the letter aloud to her parents:
Dear Ms. Evans
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, information, and equipment you will need for first year.
Term will begin September 1. Please inform us as to whether you will accept your spot in the class no later than July 31. Your response may be sent via owl.
Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster
Mr. and Mrs. Evans stood speechless for a few moments unsure of what to make of what had just happened. Their daughter had just received an invitation some kind of wizard school that appeared to teach magic. If she had not just mysteriously levitated and healed an injured owl, the Evans might have just assumed that the whole thing was some kind of bizarre joke. But both of them had an odd feeling that there was something more to all of this.
"Well," said Lily smartly folding up the letter and storing it safely in her robe's front pocket, "can I go then? The gray owl hooted hopefully and turned its head towards the darker owl flying overhead.