I hold a waxen letter in my hand, a bright blood red dab of wax adorning it, my hopes held within. I crack the letter, breaking the seal, and watch as small crimson flakes drift down to the floor, carried by a mysterious breeze. I bite my lip. With quivering fingers I unfold the flap, and see a neat, hand crafted letter beneath. I squint, i've never been strong at reading, and everything has been written in a thin slanting cursive.
"Dear Miss Barwick,I am pleased to announce that you have been accepted into Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry. I look forward to your attendance. In the accompanying letter, you will find money enclosed that will allow you to buy all neccesary books, clothes, and equipment, as well as instructions as to how you shall arrive at the school, and directions on where you shall find the items neccesary to your schooling.
The best of luck to you in your journeys,
Proffessor McGonnagall."
I fold the letter carefully and rip open the next envelope excitedly. Images of dollar notes spilling onto the rough concrete floor flood my mind. I gut the package, and tip it onto the ground. A cascade of gold, silver, and bronze greets me. I look at it, confusion flashing across my face. Surely this must be a fortune? Why would the school give me so much money?
Then I read the next paper. It is a budget of how much I am able to spend where. While reading is not my strong point, maths is, and I soon realise that what I have been given here will barely succeed to cover my costs. Even assuming I buy everything in a second hand state, as suggested, I won't have enough cash to buy more than one set of uniform, and no extra clothes.
Surveying the room, I take stock of my situation. Cracked plaster with runs of rust, bare splintered wooden posts swollen with moisture, rough concrete floor littered with rocks and trash, windows that gape open like a cracked smile. I look at my bed, sad and lonely in the corner, made from a mattress filled with broken springs resembling sharp crags of rocks, and scratchy thin blankets.
This is my home, my life, but it is not my future. I need to leave this life of poverty behind for good. I need more money. I don't want to be seen as the poor homeless kid. I'm done with that.I stand straighter, roll my shoulders back, and pretend that I can't see the scatty clothes strung over my body like a dead skin. I know what I need to do.
