July 16, 2007. There was a kind of emotion that day that hadn't ever been present in the Stokes household before: excitement. Raw, unexplainable, unconventional excitement, which flooded the veins, filled the senses, and clouded the mind. Perhaps that was why Emily awoke so early that morning, up before the sun began its slow rise into the sky. Perhaps her body felt the air of excitement and sensed what it couldn't possibly have known. Or, perhaps she had just gotten the amount of sleep needed. Either way, she was awake.

Emily tiptoed out of her room and down the stairs, expertly avoiding the creak that was inevitable on the third step. Her parents were likely still fast asleep, as were any normal people, and she knew better than to wake them.

She crept into her kitchen and was pleased—though, not altogether surprised—to see her brother already seated at the table; he always seemed to be awake at the most random hours of the night. However, what did surprise her was the fact that two large, tattered brown owls stood clutching the edge of her kitchen table, so that six eyes followed her slow steps into the room. She'd never been an owl before, much less two standing in her kitchen. She turned to Brian, her eyes wide with unconcealed disbelief.

"Mom's going to kill you if they make a mess."

Of course, her brain entirely disregarded the fact that the owls were still watching, almost calculating her with their large, amber eyes. And the fact that there were yellowed envelopes clasped to their legs, a detail she had only just noticed, was clearly unimportant. No, all that mattered was that she didn't get in trouble for coaxing the birds into the house. That was clearly the most important thing.

Trust Emily to be sarcastic at a time like this.

Brian looked as though he were about to make a snappy retort back, so she quickly cut him off.

"What are they doing in here?" she asked, approaching the large birds. They made no move in response and simply leaned into her hand as she scratched one's head, much as a cat would do.

"It's probably someone's stupid idea of a joke," Brian said, rolling his eyes and unfurling the letter, silently handing it to his sister to read.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall

Dear Miss Stokes,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all the necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Headmistress

"No…" Emily whispered as the words swam before her eyes. "No way…"

"Exactly. There's no way," replied Brian, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose while glaring at the back of the parchment in her hands, as if it had done him personal wrong. It was a well-known fact that the twins were Harry Potter fanatics, so a trick like this would be far from unusual; in fact, Emily would be lying if she said she hadn't expected something along these lines to occur. However, owls were nearly impossible to find in the suburbs along the Eastern coast of the United States; to have two sit patiently on a kitchen table with scrolls attached to their legs was absurd, bordering insanity.

One owl clicked its beak impatiently, and Emily was shaken from her thoughts. She removed the second scroll from its leg: the same letter, followed by the supply list and ticket for platform 9 ¾. The bird, though released from its burdens, still looked at the kids expectantly.

"What now?" Emily asked them, sounding exhausted, forgetting momentarily that birds could not speak. Her brother let out a strange noise, somewhere between a groan and a laugh.

"They probably want our reply." There was no mistaking the amusement in his voice, as if this all were some kind of extravagant joke. 'And it is,' she reminded herself silently, 'isn't it?'

Nevertheless, she dove into the kitchen drawer, pulling out a spare piece of lined paper and a ball-point pen. A simple "we accept" was scrawled, rolled up, and attached to the owl's outstretched leg. And, without another glance back, they tore off into the sunlight now streaming through the opened window.

"This is insane…" Brian said, shaking his head, his gaze still drawn to the window as they watched the owls fly off. "Completely insane…"

"Insane, yes. But a cool sort of insane," she agreed, immediately heading over to the computer. It was a ritual for her, of sorts, every morning… and afternoon, and evening, for that matter. Any mildly exciting event that took place at any time in her life was spent and shared with her friends online.

She typed the website address she'd known by heart for months and basked in the artificial light of the screen. Her skin was paled, likely from shock and excitement, though she blamed it on the eerie glow of the monitor.

To no one's surprise, Charlotte, one of her better friends, was online. Typing quickly and without hesitation—a skill that had taken merely months of honing to perfect—she sent her friend a message.

"Charr! You'll never guess what just happened!!"

Her response was almost immediate.

"EM!! Something just happened here too! Someone sent me a Hogwarts letter!"

The remaining color in Emily's face drained away as the words on the screen filled her mind. Hogwarts letter. She'd gotten one, too. This was far too unlikely to be a coincidence, and, as she placed her fingers on the keyboard to respond, they were trembling.

"No way… Brian and I got ones, too…"

The response this time took nearly ten minutes, very delayed, and Emily was sure that her friend was in just as much shock.

"Wow… what does this mean?"

"I think… we're witches."

It had taken days, weeks even to accept the fact, and though the Stokes family did not believe Emily and Brian, they were willing to travel to England for a vacation. And then, however grudgingly, they made their way to King's Cross Station on September 1.

"This is so stupid…" the twins' older sister complained, sending a slightly malicious glance at the teens, who were lugging all of their important possessions in overstuffed suitcases. The rest of the family ignored her.

And all too soon—or not soon enough, she still couldn't sort out how she was feeling—they had arrived at the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. Emily glanced at her brother, her eyes screaming her silent fears. What if this was just some sort of joke? What if they were only wasting their time? What if this didn't work?

But, possibly even more nerve-racking: what if it did?

She smiled weakly at her parents, promised to write as soon as she arrived at the castle, then looked back at the solid brick wall ahead of her. A clock was hanging over the top; five minutes until the train was due to leave. It was now or never. Closing her eyes tightly, she leaned against the bricks, feeling both foolish and terrified…

…and fell flat on her face as the bricks gave way. A couple of people around her chuckled as she pulled herself up, brushing the dirt off her jeans and grinning sheepishly. Brian stepped neatly onto the platform a few moments later, laughing at the sight of Emily's red-tinged cheeks.

"Have a nice trip?" he joked, causing Emily to roll her eyes.

"Oh ha-ha," she said sarcastically. "Good one, you should be a comedian. But really, let's go find—"

She had been about to say "a compartment", but was interrupted by a shriek of "EMILY!" and found Charlotte running full-speed towards her—or, as fast as she could while carrying a large suitcase.

"Charr!" Emily squealed, beaming and wrapping her into a quick hug once she had come close enough. "Can you believe it? We're witches!"

A group of boys nearby snickered at this apparently obvious observation, but no one paid them any attention, for the euphoria of being on the platform hadn't evaporated.

"I know!" Charlotte said, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet, her eyes swimming with excitement. She then turned her gaze to the boy standing next to Emily, who had been silently examining the platform. "Hi Brian."

Before Brian could say more than "hi" back, the train's whistle sounded, cutting him off and signaling that they should board. Emily glanced at the two, the grin never leaving her face.

"Shall we, then?" she asked, picking up her suitcase with much difficulty and slinging it over her shoulder.

"We shall," answered Brian, and, side by side, they clambered aboard the scarlet train.