This fic is a set of short stories written for a contest on . Since the forum is closing I decided to post these shorts here. Each story was written to satisfy contest prompts and I will include those prompts at the beginning of each one.
This is about an original character's first year at Hogwarts, starting with receiving her Hogwarts letter. Her name is Jessica Weaver and I had to keep that information obscured while writing the stories so that forum voters could not figure out who wrote what. Eventually Jessica has several tangles with Headmaster Snape, for you Severus fans.
The sound of splashing water drifted up from the courtyard and into my second story bedroom. Stretching out of a good night's sleep, I closed my eyes again and lay listening to its music as I did every morning when the weather was warm enough to have my window open. The sky was just starting to lighten and the fragrance of the jasmine trellised against the house floated in with the murmurs from the fountain.
"Hoo-hoo" My eyes flew open - was that a mourning dove? I loved birds and this could be a break from my usual routine - a real treat!
"Hoo-hoo" But the call was too loud for a dove. I crept out of my bed and sidled up to the window. There was an addition to the top of the fountain - and it was too large to be a dove, either. I strained to see in the half light as a head swivelled toward me and I caught sight of the large yellow eyes.
"It's an owl!"
"An owl?" I startled as my father, also an early riser, spoke behind me from the doorway. Excited, I ran to him and tugged on his arm.
"Come and see, Dad!" He let me pull him forward, but we had only made one step when there was a swoosh of wings beating against the air and the scrabble of talons on the metal window frame. Another flurry of feathers and it was on my bed! We both froze. The owl was rather large and its outstretched wings nearly spanned the entire mattress. It folded them quietly and looked down at its leg, to which was attached a small pouch. "Isn't that odd behavior for an owl? And what is that . . . " I looked up at my father, the next question dying on my lips.
His face was quite still and may have been pale - it was hard to tell in the dim light. He pulled me to him and put an arm around my shoulder - but not to shield me from the bird. He seemed only to want me close. The owl held out its leg. We just stood there. It hopped to the edge of the bed and offered its leg again. My father took a tentative step toward it, knelt by the bed and, with shaking hands, opened the bird's pouch and removed a letter.
"Can you wait while I explain?" My father seemed to be talking to the bird. I laughed.
"There's no way he understands you, Dad!" I said, delighted anyway.
"Hoo-hoo," said the owl and hopped back up on the windowsill.
"Let's get some breakfast, Jess." He took my shoulders and pointed me toward the door. "I have to explain to you about Hogwarts."
"Hog what?" I said as we walked down the hall.
In the light over the dining room table, I could see that my father was pale. As I poured milk over my Cheerios, he opened the envelope and glanced over the two pages it had contained. He looked up at me and tried to smile.
"You know I always tell you how special your mother was?" I nodded. "Well, you're special too." I felt the heat rise in my face and looked down.
"I know, Dad, you tell me that a lot." He smiled a real smile now, and reached across the table and took my hand.
"Always remember that, sweetie." He folded the letter, slipped it back in the envelope. "Your mother was special to me–to us–but she was also special because she was different. In the same way that you are different. You've noticed those different things, haven't you?"
"You mean like when I was able get that cat out of the tree at Christie's house?" He nodded. "And the time I somehow ended up with purple hair?"
"Yes, just like that. You can do those things because your mother could do those things. She could do those things because . . . because she was a witch." This was turning out to be a strange morning. I laughed harder than when my father spoke to the owl.
"Yeah, good joke, Dad! I'm a witch." My father stopped smiling. At the look on his face, I stopped laughing.
"After your mother died, I moved you here to California hoping her people would not notice you were gone. Hoping that you hadn't inherited her talents and we could be a regular family."
"Her people?"
"The people from her world are witches and wizards, Honey. In the past few years I've come to realize that you did inherit her talents. And now this letter . . . this letter confirms that you have. I'm out of my depth here. I have no way to help you learn about that part of yourself. When your mother was your age, she went to live at their school; a school called Hogwarts." He slid the envelope toward me. The address was written in green ink. " This letter is inviting you to attend your mother's old school so that you can learn how to use those powers you have inherited." I looked around the room and up at the chandelier.
"You must have a camcorder hidden around here somewhere. Ha, ha–funny joke, Dad." But something in his eyes - pain? - cut my laughter short.
"You just saw that this letter was delivered by an owl. Do you think that is normal? If we go up to your room, that owl will still be there because I asked him to wait. Does that sound like what a regular owl would do?"
"Why did you ask it to wait?" I whispered.
"So we could write back and tell them you will be at Hogwarts on September 1st." My father's eyes were moist. Suddenly, tears sprung into my own.
"You mean I have to go away? I have to leave you alone?"
"Yes, sweetie, you do. It's the only way you can learn what you need to learn."
"But I don't want . . . "
"You don't want to learn about your mother? She loved you as much as I do." I picked up the envelope with the green writing and pulled out my letter.