Here is my first go at having people I don't know read my writing. Hopefully you will enjoy it.
NOTE: DO NOT read this if you have not read ALL the Harry Potter BOOKS.
Trust me. It will ruin it all for you if you read this before you read the books.
Chapter 1
A strange letter came in the mail.
It was strange because it had no postage stamp and also because of the address:
Mrs. Teresa Underhill
The Autumn Room
Number 2 Privet Drive
Little Whinging, England
Ha. My address, room, and name. Some of the craziest stuff about me, besides my family, that is.
My mom is Claire Underhill. She's single. When she moved out of her parents' house for good, she decided to change her last name to Underhill because she is a Lord of the Rings fan (the books, not the movies). Claire adopted me in the U.S. where I had lived until recently. Claire is an artist. She does 3D art, painting, and pencil drawings.
When she got laid off, an old friend in England offered her work. Her "old friend" was actually a guy she went to college with and he manages the building of stuff along roads and in parks to make them look nicer. Since he is really rich, he bought us a house in a pretty nice neighborhood. Actually, it is a really nice neighborhood.
It is impossible not to notice our house. All the other houses have nicely mowed lawns and trimmed bushes to perfection. Not us though. We have planted trees all over our front lawn to make it look like a forest, all dark and mysterious. We have also strung sparkly crystals and wind chimes on strings tied between the trees on our front lawn.
In the back we have a garden with tile mosaics, bridges, and sculptures of stone, metal, and wood. Yes, it very obvious that Claire is an artist.
Inside it gets even better. All the rooms of the house are painted different. The furniture is all oriental, or something that looks artsy and modern.
As you can see, we are the neighbors worst nightmare.
My room is called the Autumn room by Claire and I. It has been painted in a leaf-like pattern the colors of autumn leaves. My furniture is bright colors and lies low to the ground. I have posters, pictures, comics, newspapers, and other junk taped to my whiteboard and piled in certain areas of my room. How this person writing the letter knew my room is called the Autumn room I will never know.
"Claire, I got a letter." I informed Claire.
"That's great Teresa. Who is it from, your new school?" Claire replied.
"There is no postage stamp or return address on it."
"Let me see." Claire took the letter and looked it over, her brown eyes searching for some clue. Claire sighed.
"That's a strange letter. Go ahead and open it."
She handed me the letter. I opened it and unfolded the paper.