It started off as a normal day. Then again, almost all of the important days in one's life do.

I woke up at 6 am to the annoying beep beep beep of my alarm clock. Got dressed, ate breakfast, brushed my teeth, made my lunch and my younger brother's (Cole), fed the animals, and at 7 am, walked with him down our gravel road to the bus stop.

Endured a day of teasing about my tumbleweed of unmanageable blonde hair from Logan and her drones, and by the end of the day I couldn't help but be massively pleased at her desk catching on fire while she was sleeping on it.

Rode the bus, trying to ignore the endless August heat. Spent the entire ride reading Enclave for the thousandth time, wishing I could be whisked away into the book to be a Huntress with Deuce.

Picked up the mail from the box, not bothering to look at what was there. It always seemed to be bills, taxes, and notices for the overdue ones.

Walking back up the road, our small flock of sheep released a hailstorm of baas. We had had them for so many years, all of them were just taken as their way of saying "we want more grain". Perhaps later, when I was in a better mood.

Unlocked the door and into the house. Set the mail down on the countertop. Left Cole downstairs to watch a film while I went upstairs to skulk in my room.

Up the stairs, down to the end of the hallway, through my blue door with bright yellow squares, and flopped, tired, onto my bed. I rolled onto my side, and stared bored at beams of light that managed to leak through the spaces in my curtains onto the hardwood floor.

If light could dance…

I wasn't too startled when it did. Those same rays of sunshine grouped into small piles with details; they became men and women, boys and girls. They held hands, and together, danced a merry jig across the floor.

"Ella!" Cole yelled from downstairs. I jumped from sound of Cole yelling at me from downstairs and light went back to its normal, boring state.

"What?" I shouted in reply.

"There's a letter for you!"

This confused me. Neither Cole nor I ever got mail.

"Who's it from?" I asked.

"Um…Hogwarts?"

"What the…" I muttered and heaved myself off the bed. "I'm coming!" I dashed down the stairs to find Cole sitting at the counter staring at my letter. He shoved it into my face pointing to the strange crest sitting above the wax seal on the envelope.

"Look, see! Hogwarts! Where is it? When did you apply? What is about? Why is called Hogwarts? Can we afford it? Can I come-"

"I don't know!" I snapped at him. "I don't know where this came from and I don't know what this is! Now will you please be quiet?!"

His disappointed little puppy-eyes cast down to the ground in dismay. Perhaps I shouldn't have been so mean. He was only seven years old after all…no, no, he'll be fine.

I looked down at the letter, intrigued by its abnormal seal.

Eh, why not? I thought to myself, and opened the letter.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I read. Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall (Order of Merlin, Second Class, Chf. Witch, International Confed. of Wizards). Dear Miss Hemmings, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl. Yours sincerely, Neville Longbottom, Deputy Headmaster.

"What in the name of….what?" I mumbled under my breath, completely baffled.

A sudden ding, dong of the doorbell made me jump, and run to the answer the front door, letter still clasped firmly in my hand.

Opening the door, a middle-aged man with large ears, hair that was beginning to gray, and who had an air of general awkwardness about him stood in front of me. But yet the biggest surprise to me was his undeniably strange clothes. He was wearing, in fact, a lavender cloak, a navy blue bowler hat, what looked to be black loafers, and a worn leather messenger bag.

"I'm sorry," I began slowly. "Normally I'm more of a polite person, but…what are you wearing?"

He grinned foolishly. "My wife, bless her heart, said this would fit in well with the Muggle community."

I furrowed my brow. There was something wrong, something off about him and this entire situation. Something that made me want to grab some kind of sharp object and say 'get off my property!'

"Oh!" the man exclaimed as he saw the letter that I still clung to. "I told McGonagall we shouldn't have put the letters through the Muggle mail. Now everyone's confused and lost and in denial –"

"Excuse me, but who are you?"

"Oh, I'm Neville Longbottom, Professor of Herbology and Deputy Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Alright, if you're a psychopath, I have to warn you that I own a gun –"

"No! No, I'm not crazy! Just please –"

"No, I'm sorry but if you don't leave right now I'm phoning the police!"

"Just give me one moment!" He shouted through the almost closed door. I paused.

"You've had things happen haven't you? When you're feel angry, or scared? Any powerful emotion, and something strange seems to happen."

I opened the door a crack more than it was. "It's what happens when you have magic, and you don't know how to use it, just like you are right now."

I can't deny that what the man said was more than intriguing to me. I mean, not more than ten minutes ago, the sunlight in my room had clustered together and danced.

"You said you were a professor at this 'school of witchcraft and wizardry', yeah?" I said, the door now fully open. He nodded vigorously.

"Alright then. If you can prove to me right now that there is such thing as magic and you can use it, then you can come right on inside and I will take every word you have to say straight to heart –"

"That's-"

"But if you can't" I continued. "I will be filing a report with the police for stalking, trespassing, assault, and I will possibly chase you away with a rifle."

"Deal," he smiled cheerfully, and pulled a long stick out his messenger bag.

I raised an eyebrow, and held a hand firmly on the door, ready to slam it into his face should he show even more psychotic behavior.

The man, still smiling away, twirled the stick around his head and stream of small gold sparks spurted out, then drifted to the ground like dandelion seeds on a breeze.

I crossed my arms. "Is that it?"

He grinned smugly. "Look down."

I glared and reluctantly looked to grass below me.

From the places the sparks had landed, golden lilies had taken their place, each erupting with waterfalls of cascading gold sparks that disappeared when they reached the dirt.

I felt my jaw drop open, and had nothing left to say except, "I suppose I'll put the kettle on."