Authors Note: The main character does not go to Hogwarts in his first year, but in his second year he will! I haven't started that yet... but I will when I'm done with this story.
It was only five thirty, but it was already dark outside as Jack began the short journey home after swim practice that day. The sky was covered with a mosaic of brilliant stars, and dotted with fluffy clouds. A strong breeze picked up, helping Jack fend off the humidity of the June day.
As always, Jack walked slowly, brushing his wet hair out of his eyes to get a better look of the starry night. Although the wind seemed to be push ing a menacing front of storm clouds across the formerly peaceful night. They already covered half the sky.
That's weird, thought Jack. He hadn't noticed those clouds only minutes ago. The wind picked up suddenly, literally throwing Jack to the ground. He grunted as his hands rushed up to protect his face.
Trees were being whipped back and forth, and the once peaceful sky was lit with streaks of lightning, and completely covered with pitch black clouds, as if it was hiding something.
Jack broke into a run when he saw a thick branch break across the street, crushing a mailbox as it fell. It sounded to Jack like the wind was screaming, when something fell directly in front of him.
It was a man, dressed like somebody out of a history book's chapter about the Salem Witch Trials. At first he didn't move at all, making Jack think he was dead. But as lightning illuminated the scene for a split second Jack saw that his hand was reaching for something in his robe (which was as black as the clouds were).
"You!" the man said suddenly. "What's your name?"
"Uh, Mom tells me not to talk to strangers," Jack replied timidly.
"Your mom's smart, but please," the man seemed to be begging. "This is important. I'm dying and the world's about to be torn apart above our heads."
Jack glanced skyward before answering, deciding he could be right he told him his name was Jack.
"Just like Jack the Ripper, nice bloke," the man said. "Mine's George."
"Hello George," Jack reached to shake his hand.
"Hello Jack," George smiled and turned his head. Jack was shocked to see he only had one ear. "Just don't go off and get in any wars, else you'll end up like this," he gestured the side of his head, were his ear should have been.
"What war were you in?" Jack asked curiously.
"The Second Wizarding War," he replied quite seriously. "And now I'm in the Third Wizarding War. I was just hit by sectum sempra and fell off my broom."
"Oh come off it!" grinned Jack. "I really wanna know, 'less that's private."
George didn't seem to hear him, he was still fumbling around for something in his robes. "You know, I'm surprised you haven't heard of me. I'm a bit of a war hero. I fought in the Battle of Hogwarts. No? Still not ringing any bells? I also own Wheezly's Wizard's Wheezes, the joke shop at Diagon Alley. Right, you're American. You wouldn't have heard of Diagon Alley. Sorry, mate."
"Are you hurt? You fell out of the sky!" Jack exclaimed suddenly.
"I can tell you're a bright bloke, you'll be good at arithmancy someday." Jack stared at him blankly. "You really have no idea what I'm talkin' about? Have you by any chance had a mite too much to drink? No, you can't be more than… what?"
"You're talking about nonsense!" Jack said.
"Blimey, you're a muggle!" George said in astonishment. He jumped to his feet with surprising new vigor. He was tall, skinny, ginger, and had a few hundred freckles. With the first step he took he collapsed, clutching his side. When he took his hand away it was covered in blood.
"What's a muggle?" Jack asked.
"Yep, a muggle if I ever did see one. Sorry I haven't got time to explain much. But this is actually very good news!" George's mouth stretched so wide Jack thought it might jump off his face and start shouting about not being a rubber band. "Okay, basics! Adults might tell you magic don't exist but it does, and—"
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Sorry no time for interruptions, I'll write it all down for you so you can remember it later," George removed his hand from his robe and brought out a few sheets of yellowish paper and an old-fashioned feather quill. "Starting again!" As he spoke the quill floated and scribbled on the paper. "Magic exists. Don't let anybody tell you differently. I'm a wizard, and I'll prove it to you in a bit. Awhile ago there was a bad wizard who tried to take over Europe. The good guys won, but American wizards detected the increase in attack magic and accused us of building an army. The situation got worse and worse until a war began.
"I was drafted, just as I was nearing on a breakthrough. I'm an inventor you see? So I took my nearly finished gadget with me, in hopes I could finish it during any breaks. Well I haven't been able to. It's supposed to make muggles—that's non-magical fold like you—into wizards and witches. The piece of junk can transform one person at a time, but then it breaks. Right now its fixed enough to do one.
"I want you to use it—when there is nobody else around—and figure out how to make it work without breaking. You'll know you got it right when everybody in the world starts actin' magical." George must have finally found what he was looking for in his robes because he pulled his hand out, in it was a small glass ball engraved with lightning bolts. He held it out to Jack
"How do I use it?" asked Jack as he took it from the wizard's hand.
"Smash it with your foot—while you're wearing a shoe," he said hastily, with his teeth clenched like there was something he was trying to keep inside his mouth. "Make sure you're alone while you do it! It won't hurt but if somebody interferes the change could go wrong."
"How do I know you're telling the truth?" Jack said with more bravery than he felt.
"Yes about that," With a shaking hand, George reached inside his robe once more and pulled out a long wooden stick. "I gotta give up my position so they find my body." George stood up once more, raised the stick to the sky, and fireworks burst out the end. It was spectacular and frightening. "Believe me?"
"Yeah," Jack said breathlessly.
"Good, now run! They'll be here any second and if they know you've seen me they'll wipe your memory. And take that paper! GO!" he commanded.
Jack obeyed, he bent down to grab the paper and slipped it in his pocket along with the glass ball, then bolted. Three blocks down the road he turned around to get a last look at George. As he looked, two figures descended from the sky, grabbed the limp body and shot off into the sky before Jack could get a proper look at them.
He stood there a few moments, and then ran straight home.
Author's note: Please tell me what you think in a review! Suggestions would also be wonderful. Even constructive criticism should be said. Thanks for reading!
