"Holly, Dave! Please save your games and come down for supper!"
Some part of her mind noted the good-natured call, but right now Dragon Age was more important.
"Hey. Are you gonna side with the Dalish or the werewolves?" her brother mumbled, rolling off of his stomach to get off the bed. His eyes were still glued to his Gameboy. They were both lulled into complacency by the familiar refrain of the pokemon theme coming from his hands and neither of them moved to go to their mother. What was food when there were animals to enslave and darkspawn to light on fire?
Holly snorted.
"I always kill the Dalish and leave the werewolves as they are. They're much more useful that way, and besides- being a beast isn't so bad."
'Plus, watching the sissy elves come at me with their primitive weapons and optimism is hilarious.'
Dave grunted in what Holly decided to take as assent.
"I'm hungry…" Dave moaned halfheartedly.
Holly halfheartedly kicked him in the leg, and met his confused, glazed-over eyes with her own.
"Then it's a good thing Mum just called us for dinner, yeah?"
She took a moment to save, and slowly took to her feet. Dave was still staring at the Gameboy in his hands, and Holly lightly shoved him, before yanking one of his hands away and hauling him down the stairs.
Mum would have made her come back to get him, anyway.
"You coming to my birthday party next week?"
Holly inwardly grimaced. Ugh. A party with tons of other nine-year-olds, too much sugar, and no videogames or books. She'd pass.
"No, sorry, some family is visiting and Mom wants me to spend time with them."
That story held together, right? Yes. And all she'd have to do was make a token mention of how Aunt Shirley always got pink lipstick on her teeth the Monday after the party, and she'd get away scot-free.
Holly smiled apologetically, and while Birthday Girl Amy looked disappointed, she took it in good stride and went back to playing on the swing.
'Why do those girls want me to go to their parties, anyway?'
Mum had always said that Holly looked "sweet as a fudge sundae", but Holly wasn't very interested in being anyone's dessert. She just wanted to be left alone.
After recess, Holly rushed to her desk, eager to get back to her book. She was close to finishing 'The Secret Garden', and couldn't wait. The teacher had made some idiotic rule that she couldn't read while at recess, evidently in hopes that Holly would start to spend some time with other kids her age.
"Holly, we're in class now. I need you to open up your English textbook, not read that."
Holly wanted to glare, but kept a nice and clueless look on her face.
"But, Mrs. Penbrook, I already know what's in the English book. I don't need to read it."
Her teacher's face contorted from a knowing smile to a blank slate, which was odd. Then Mrs. Penbrook nodded blankly and turned back to the rest of the class.
"Everyone, we're starting on page 35, to go through the story that starts there. Nigel, please read the first paragraph out loud."
Oddly enough, Mrs. Penbrook never asked her to put away her free books again, but Holly wasn't going to complain.
A few months after the book incident, Holly was reading a book in her room, dutifully ignoring the sounds of children laughing below her. Dave had brought over some friends from school, and they were making a lot of noise, roughhousing and running from room to room like utter loons.
At least the book was good. This Matilda was so cool, being able to move things with her mind. Holly wanted to do that, to be able to influence the world around her.
Would it hurt to try?
Holly glanced around the room, though she knew no one was in her bedroom with her, and quickly got up to lock the door. It would be unbearably embarrassing to have to explain to her family (or, even worse, one of the troglodytes her brother brought into their home) that she was trying to move things with her mind.
Once the door was locked, and the book properly deposited onto her bed with a bookmark on her last page, Holly took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
When she opened them, she stared at her bookshelf and concentrated.
'Move.' She commanded her books, but nothing happened.
Maybe a little more effort?
'MOVE!' she mentally shouted, and again, nothing.
Holly closed her eyes in frustration. It was a stupid idea, really. But one more try wouldn't hurt. As long as the door was locked and she was quiet, no one would ever know anyway.
Eyes still closed, she tried one more time.
'I want the books to move.' She mentally growled, and tried to exert her will on them.
A loud noise startled her, and Holly stumbled back to her bed, threw up her arms in front of her face and kept her eyes closed.
"Wicked," she hissed under her breath, watching with wide eyes as the last book left on the shelf slowly slumped over. The others were in an awkward pile on the floor, spines bent and-
"Oh!" Holly shrieked, stumbling over to pick her books, picking them up and hugging the first two to her chest. She petted them apologetically and began re-stacking her shelves.
Why had she done that? Books were important. There were much more disposable items around to practice with. Like her brother's friends, or the glittery sandals Aunt Ruthie got her every Christmas.
"Holly! Are you ok?"
Holly leapt over the pile to obey her mother, and opened the door. Her mother stepped in cautiously and eyed the destruction with a quizzical look.
"Honey, why are your books all over the floor?"
Holly blinked a few times, and smiled bashfully. "I was redecorating, and they all fell over while I was moving some things around."
"Oh." Her mother shrugged, and delicately threaded her fingers through Holly's hair. "Well, I'm glad you're all right. You need any help?"
Holly stayed very still, in hopes that if she didn't answer, her mother would continue to play with her hair. She was reasonably sure that this was what heaven felt like.
"Holly?"
No such luck. Holly slowly shook her head, and bumped it into her mother's chest again. Her mother giggled softly, and pushed Holly away.
"I'll be downstairs if you need me, all right?"
Holly just nodded, and went back to re-shelving her books.
Holly stared at the clock on the wall, and willed the minute hand to move. She didn't need much, only five minutes or so, so she could finally leave for summer break. Five minutes was such an insignificant amount of time, but suddenly so very important when it meant that she wouldn't have to come back to school for a few months.
And Dad had said that now that she was eleven, she didn't need a babysitter anymore while they were at work. Now she could play videogames and read all day instead of dealing with some teenage bimbo who insisted that she play outside in the sweltering heat with other smelly children.
This summer was going to be wonderful.
The clock hand jerked over to declare that it was now 3:30, and the little bell rang. The teacher jerked out of her static position at the front of the classroom and stared at it uncomprehendingly.
"I swear we had more time left… Oh! Children! Don't forget to take all your classwork home with you, and leave your books on your desk!"
He was barely heard over the stampede of children rushing out the door to sweet freedom, and Holly grinned as she made her way out the door.
The sound of the doorbell jolted Holly out of her book, leaving her feeling mildly disoriented. She'd been relaxing on the couch and reading all day, so suddenly adjusting her vision to take in the room was slightly headache-inducing.
The doorbell sounded again after a moment, and Holly jumped to her feet as she shoved a bookmark between the pages. She held the book to her stomach with her left hand as she pulled open the door with her right, and was greeted by a stout woman in some strange, somewhat fancy bathrobe.
"Hello, dear!" the woman chirped, smiling widely. "I suppose you would be Holly Vesper?"
Holly nodded once, and clung to the door like it was a life-raft. What was one supposed to do when a stranger came to your doorstep and knew your name?
…Wait. She had an answer for this.
"Mum! Dad!" She called back into the house, hoping that they would take pity on their poor, socially inept child and rush to her aid.
Holly turned back to the lady and smiled in awkward apology. "Yes, I'm Holly. I'm sorry, I don't know your name?"
The woman's smile didn't falter in the slightest.
"I am Pomona Sprout, Miss Vesper. I would like to speak with your parents, if that would be all right."
Holly stood aside and opened the door politely, letting the woman shuffle inside.
"May I take your… coat?" Holly offered, inwardly hoping that she hadn't managed to say anything terrifically stupid.
Ms. Sprout smiled kindly, and shook her head. "No, that won't be necessary."
Just then, her father stepped into the entryway, and surveyed the scene with a critical eye.
"Hello, ma'am. Did I just overhear that you would like to speak with me?"
"So you're saying that my Holly is a witch?" Dad asked, and Holly fought the distinct urge to twitch.
Ms. Sprout chuckled. "Yes, Mr. Vesper, that is exactly what I am saying. We would like to extend Holly the opportunity to study at our school to hone her talents, if you would permit."
Holly wanted to smile, but she also didn't want to get her hopes up. What if her parents said no?
"Holly, what do you think?"
Her father was looking at her with that carefully blank face he used when he didn't want her to know what he was thinking. Usually this was a test of her reasoning skills, and this probably wasn't any different.
"How would this affect my other education?" Holly posited. Honestly, she didn't care if she ever went to another boring public school. This was vastly more interesting.
However, she didn't particularly feel like coming off a total idiot around other people.
"Unfortunately, we do not cover the same areas of interest as a regular school. Many of our students like you tend to come to a home-schooling arrangement of sorts, and I would be happy to direct you to an older student for information, should you accept." Ms. Sprout gave her a kind look, and Holly considered that bit of information.
If she could still keep up with her regular studies (and who was she kidding, that stuff was easy and she spent most of her time reading, anyway), then she couldn't see any academic reason for her not to go.
"Where is this school, and what would I need to do to go there?"
Ms. Sprout looked proud, and straightened her shoulders. "Hogwarts is some distance away, though you would be provided transportation there. You would be able to come home over holidays by train through the station in London. You have already met the qualifications for admittance by possessing magical ability, but you would need some supplies before your arrival."
Ms. Sprout reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, which she handed to Holly's father.
"This is a list of materials and general information for Hogwarts and the wizarding world in general. I will be sending an owl in a week's time for your response. If you choose to attend Hogwarts, I will send another owl to set a time to take you to purchase your materials and answer any questions you have."
Ms. Sprout then stood, and Holly followed her to the door.
"Will you be the person to take us for her supplies?" Dad asked, placing a hand on Holly's shoulder.
Ms. Sprout nodded. "Yes, I would, barring any unforeseen circumstances."
She walked out onto the sidewalk, and turned back to wave at them. Holly waved shyly back, and she could swear Ms. Sprout winked.
"I hope to hear from you in a week!" she called, and then she just disappeared.
Holly and her father just stood in the doorway, gaping out into the empty street in utter silence.
"That was awesome." Her father breathed, and Holly nodded her head in agreement.
Holly had to admit, her parents had taken the news very well. They were thrilled that she had such a 'special talent', as Dad kept putting it, and every time she looked over at either of her parents, they were gleaming with pride.
She shouldn't have been surprised. They were supportive, loving people. Anything she wanted to do (within reason, of course, they were her parents, not fairy godparents) she was allowed to. They'd tried to encourage her for years to make friends, to find something she was interested in. They were thrilled that she was such a voracious reader, and bought her books of all kinds. They weren't as thrilled with the videogames, but felt that they helped her imagination and were a reasonably safe way for her to spend her time.
Now, they were pleased as punch. Her father had lovingly stated that now she'd have better luck with friends now that she'd meet some children more like her, and her mother had readily agreed.
It hadn't even taken a day since Ms. Sprout's visit, and she already had her answer. Now when would that thrice-damned owl get here?
Holly checked outside the window every morning and night, just to make sure that Ms. Sprout hadn't sent it early. She didn't really expect that it would be there any earlier, but it didn't stop her from hoping.
Exactly a week later, Holly awoke to a tapping on her window. Even as she groggily rose out of bed, she couldn't tamp down the excitement that rose inside her as she rushed across her bedroom and threw open the window. A tawny owl with piercing yellow eyes sat on her windowsill, and hooted at her. Holly held out an arm, and the owl hopped onto it eagerly.
Holly closed the window to keep the owl from suddenly making a break for it, and gently took the note off its leg. It wasn't very exciting, mostly a reminder of their previous conversation (like anyone would forget they'd been told they had magic) and her options.
Holly, of course, had prepared for this moment all week.
"I have a letter for you all ready." She whispered to the owl, knowing that her brother wouldn't be happy if she made a lot of noise and woke him up this early in the morning. "Would you like a snack first, though?"
The owl hooted again in what she assumed was the affirmative, and Holly quietly made her way over to the tv room with the owl still on her arm.
"We keep a cage of feeder mice for the snake." Holly said, somewhat unsure of why she felt the need to explain her life to an avian, "You eat those too, right?"
The owl hooted softly, and flexed its talons in anticipation while Holly lifted up the lid to the mice cage and grabbed one out by the tail. She looked over to the owl on her arm, who seemed to have eyes only for the rodent in her fingers.
Holly gave the mouse to the owl quickly, and replaced the lid to the mice cage so her new friend didn't get any ideas.
"Well, I'll get you that letter then, yes?"