I dug my shoulder into the shovel, pushing it deep into the wall of snow while focusing on trying not to slip on the icy walkway. Marie copied my movements with her smaller one, her tiny pink snow boots struggling to grip the ice. "Am I doing it right?" She called to me, making a fist sized indent in the pile. I barely managed to suppress a giggle and nodded a bit over enthusiastically, continuing my work. Marie, obviously not believing that she was being much of a help, stuck her shovel in the ice and sat in a heap beside it, her hood falling off her head. "I hate snow." She muttered, pulling her knees to her chest. I kept up my shoveling, ignoring her pout. "Why can't we live somewhere hotter, like Arizona?" I turned and glared at her, a snowflake landing gently on my nose.

"Because Alaska is the only place dad will ever live."

"So if we leave, he'll stay?" She pondered, not really intent on knowing the answer. It was obvious anyways. Dad was in a deep love with the Alaskan wilderness, he cherished the wildlife, and felt the ever-present snow was his closest family. Nothing could tear him away from this life, not even if we left. He loves mom, but not as much as he loves this place. Mom's practically dirt to him.

"Girls," we both turned and saw the front door cracked open, our mother's head peeping out, her dark brown hair pasted with sweat on to her forehead. "Dinner's nearly ready. Jakob can finish scooping the rest, come in and warm up."

"Coming mommy!" Marie squealed, leaving her shovel and sprinting into the sauna that we call a house. I sighed, dreading having to face the intense heat of our state of the art fireplace. Our house was small, three rooms, one bath, and a kitchen, and the heat circulates quickly in there. The lack of windows also traps the heat in, so unless you want to risk leaving the door open, the temperature is stuck increasing, cooking us like an oven.

I grabbed my shovel and trudged up to the door, leaning it against the wall lined with buckets full of freezing water. For some reason dad says we'll need it someday, but at this point I'm just convinced he's crazy. Spending too much time out in the forest by yourself can do that to you.

Entering the house felt like entering the pits of hell, but I managed to strip out of my snow gear fast enough that I didn't sweat too bad. Wearing only a sports bra and spandex, I turned into the kitchen. Mom smiled at me behind her mask of sweat, pointing to a pile of mail sitting on the table. "You got a letter from some school. Ever heard of Alaskan Public Lamia Academy? I sure haven't. I'll have to ask your father if he has. See if it looks any good!" I grabbed the letter, which lay on top of the gigantic pile, and studied the return address. It was missing the address, all that was there was the school name and a phone number. As odd as that seemed, I was quite interested to see what this school was all about. The closest public school 30 miles away was a sad five room middle school that was in a joint building with the local elementary school, and I wasn't happy about going to the same place as my little sister for three more years. 6th grade is always portrayed as a time to break free and grow up, but having to run in to under 10 year olds every day seems like too much of a hassle for me, now that I'm the mature age of 11.

So I ripped open the letter and gasped as I took in the parchment stationary. It was folded in the shape of a perfect witches hat, and as i slowly undid the beautiful folds a flawless cursive text graced the page. "Mom," I breathed, feeling Marie come running up beside me.

"Let me see!" She whined, reaching for it.

"Marie, honey, let your sister read it first." Mom said sharply, stirring something in a pot with vigor.

But I tuned them both out, too in shock to notice them. In the pristine cursive text, it read:

Dear Ms. Raymie Macinmasin,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at the Alaskan Public Lamia Academy. Please find enclosed are a list of school supplies that you will need for the start of the semester.

Semester begins September 10th, we will be awaiting your call no later than August 10th.

Yours Sincerely

Kathleen Temp

Head of Student Affairs

I stood there staring at the page. It didn't say it was a private school. It almost sounded too good to be true. No sign of being joint with elementary schoolers. Feeling a bit too excited I pulled out the enclosure of school supplies.

Alaskan Public Lamia Academy

Uniforms:

Students are required

1. Five plain black trousers; pants, skirts, and shorts no shorter than knee length.

2. Five plain white collared shirts, white or black buttons, sleeves no shorter than elbow length.

3. Two plain black hooded work robes

4. Four plain black hooded winter cloaks, white fur lining

5. Pair of winter snow boots, white, black, or brown.

6. Winter gloves and scarves, silver. (Gloves dragon hide or similar)

Course books:

1st level students are required to have a copy of the following

The Standard Book of Spells and Charms

By Lora Hiram

History of Magic and War

By Hermione Weasley

Magical Laws

By Jasper Collins

Transfiguration for Beginners

By Minerva Mcgonagall

One Thousand Herbs and Fungi

By Phyllida Spore

Simple Potions

By Henry Ridges

How to Train Your Dragon: and Many More

By Michelle Yaimery

Basic Defense and History of The Dark Arts

By Hermione Weasley and Tyler Nomand

Foreign Affairs: A Guide to Muggle Relations

By The Salem Witches Institute Class of 2010

NOTE: Digital copies can be purchased. Notify school office for details.

Other Supplies:

These are required within classes

1 Wand

1 Cauldron (Pewter, Standard size 3)

1 Set Brass Scales

1 Set glass or plastic vials

1 Complete set of glass or plastic measuring cups (Standard measurement, Metric will not be accepted)

ALL STUDENTS UNDER THE AGE OF 11 NOT PERMITTED A BROOMSTICK

I stared uncomprehending at the page, my mind racing off in different directions. "Is this a joke?" I asked no one in particular, pushing the letter away from me. Mom ordered Marie to stir for her and grabbed the letter, her eyes leaping down the page as she read. When she finished she peeled out another enclosure, her face blank as she looked it over and handed it to me. She didn't say a word, just pulled out one of the chairs and sat, waiting for me to finish reading.

For Muggleborn Students Only:

Dear Student,

This may come as a shock to you and your family, but you are witch/wizard. Don't be alarmed, this will certainly take some time to believe, but if you think back upon any strange things you've done without any reasonable explanation to how if happened, then you are definitely special. Not mentally special, dear me it seems most are keen to think they've lost their mind once they learn the truth, even though it's been staring them right in the face all their life. At Lamia's, you will be taught how to control and harness your abilities, and use them for the greater good of the wizarding world.

It is crucially important that you come to our school until the completion of your final wizarding exams, or else the President of American Wizards will be notified of your rogue lifestyle and be forced to take action to ensure that our secret is kept safe from Muggles (non magical folk).

I'm sure you're quite distressed about where to acquire your school supplies, but lucky for us, Merlin's Mall is located downtown Anchorage. Simply follow the people dressed for "comic-con" and you'll be able to find it.

Give the office a call to register and you'll be told of where the schools portkeys are located. (And also be told what a portkey is) Any questions you or your parents have will be able to be answered then. I hope this comes as a pleasant shock to you. We look forward to you attending.

Sincerely

Grace Harborforth

Principal

I stared at my hands, unblinking. "I'm a witch?" It came out as a question. Mom took the letter from me, reading it over with a scowl developing on her face.

"Where's the schools number?" I jumped at the malice in her voice but handed her the number, collapsing in a seat beside her.

Her phone was shaking in her hand as she dialed it, pulling it to her ear as it started ringing.

In only a second she was on the phone with someone on the office staff. "Is this-" she put her hand over the mouthpiece, "what's it called again?" I shoved the letterhead towards her, pointing at it."Alaskan Public Lamia Academy?" Pause. "Yes I'm a parent." Pause. "Sixth grade." Long pause. "Sixth grade as in she's 11 and starting middle school." Long pause, her voice raised slightly, "first year, whatever." Pause. "What in the world is a muggle?" Slight pause. "Yes I'm non magical theres no such thing as magic, who are you? If this is a joke I'm not laughing. Whatever you want don't try to contact us again!" Mom made like she was going to hang up, but then the office staff must of said something because she yanked the phone back hard against her ear. "No. I refuse." Finally, she hung up. The phone dropped from her hand and fell to the floor, skidding across the hardwood. She sat ridged in her seat, back as straight as a board, expression blank.

"Don't contact that kid or whoever it is. You hear me?" She wasn't looking at me, but I nodded anyways.

"Is this done yet mommy?" Marie asked worriedly from her spot in the kitchen where a large column of smoke was now snaking its way up to the ceiling. Sighing in defeat, mom took over the cooking from Marie, announcing that we were driving in town to eat tonight.

It seemed as though the letter had slipped her mind.