CHAPTER ONE – A MOST SPECIAL BIRTHDAY

Jason Lewis was 10 years, 11 months, 364 days, 11 hours, 59 minutes and 55 seconds old when he heard the tapping on his window. Leaping from the bed he was supposed to be sleeping in, he ran to his window and unlatched it. Immediately a tawny owl flew in and perched on his chest of drawers, with a letter in its mouth. A letter that Jason had been waiting for, hoping for and expecting, since he was old enough to learn about what it represented. Sure enough, as he took the letter and passed the owl a few crusts of bread from his dinner, he smiled at the bottle green writing.

Mr Jason S Lewis, 43 Whitmire Drive, York

He considered tearing it open then and there, but decided to wait. His parents would be disappointed if he opened it without them. So, with great effort, he slipped it into his bedside table's top drawer, blew out the single candle he had pre-lit, grinned at the clock which was chirping lightly to tell him that he was finally 11 years old, and went to sleep.

The next morning, he bounded from his bed, snatched up his letter and ran into the kitchen. There sat his mother, spectacles on and paper in hand, in front of his father who was plating up the customary birthday pancakes.

"Happy Birthday darling!" His mother greeted him. His father turned with a smile, laid the plate of pancakes on the table and echoed the statement. Jason had noticed the pile of presents lying in the lounge, but he was far more interested in the letter he clutched. So, with a smile wide enough to make the Cheshire Cat feel uncomfortable, he flashed it at his parents.
"Look, look! My Hogwarts letter came!"

His parents smiled and his father motioned to it with his fork.
"Open it then!"

He was all too happy to oblige, opening the letter so quickly he didn't even bother to save the envelope as he usually did. Eagerly he unfolded it and began to read aloud.

"Dear Mr Lewis, I am delighted to inform you that you have been awarded a place at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all relevant supplies and equipment. Term begins on the 1st of September. We await a response no later than the 25th of July.

Yours, Neville Longbottom, Deputy Headmaster."

His father looked at him proudly, bringing his mother into a tight hug as she wiped a tear from her eye.

"Well, we'd better open up your presents then, and after that I suppose a trip to Diagon Alley is in order!"
Jason's eyes lit up as he remembered the presents, having forgotten all about them in the haze of joy at being accepted to the school his father had attended, the best school in the world to hear him tell it, to study under heroes like Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood and Rubeus Hagrid. He could not wait!

After a standard birthday fare of sweets, spellbooks and magical theory texts (partially to prepare for Hogwarts and partially to satiate the lust for knowledge Jason had displayed since he was a very young child), some robes and similar and a broomstick servicing kit, Jason sat contentedly on the sofa, revelling in the knowledge that he would soon start at a proper school and be able to finally use magic, instead of just sitting and learning about history and customs and all of the stuff that he'd understood since he was 6 and read the school's syllabus. It was only when he watched his mother pull out her wand and vanish the wrapping paper that he finally twigged.

"A WAND! I can have a wand now can't I mother! Have you made me one, please say you've made me one!" He shouted, jumping to his feet and startling Minerva, the family cat (he'd been far more in favour of Snuggles when they had bought her, but for some unknown reason his father had insisted on Minerva).

His mother gave him a knowing smile, and exchanged a meaningful glance with her husband. He feigned ignorance for a second, but as Jason jumped up and down he couldn't bear to tease him so badly. He grinned, and pulled from his jacket his own wand. With a small flick, a box, the perfect size for a wand, zoomed from downstairs and landed on Jason's lap.

He tore the wrapping paper off immediately, revealing a box labelled "Lewis Wands – Quality and Custom Perfection since 2001". His smile widened even more as he lifted the lid. In it was a bunch of sawdust and a small slip of paper reading "You didn't think it would be that easy did you?". He looked up at his parents, confused, and became even more confused when they burst into laughter.

"If you want your wand, you'll have to practice your aura sight, like we've been telling you!" His mother said with undisguised glee. His father nodded and then, they both cracked, apparating away.

Jason sighed, knowing that they wouldn't be back for a while. Most likely they had an errand to run and had decided that the perfect way to keep him occupied was this treasure hunt. He screwed up his face, ignoring the needling pains in his eyes as he desperately attempted to pour his relatively untrained magic into his sight, and breathed out calmly as he felt the pains stop and his eyelids open. All around him was colour, blues showing enchanted objects, reds showing spell residue, a big yellow splat where his parents had apparated, leaving even more residue, and somewhere around, blurred and hidden amongst other colours, was a blue-green that denoted an unbound wand. He just had to find the blue-green patch, and he would have his wand. He began to sweep his eyes around the room, methodically searching across the entire area, and when he was satisfied he hadn't seen the telltale colour, he screwed up his eyes again.

This time, the pain was less, as he was simply turning off his ability to see enchanted objects, but the dull ache still irritated him. Now, when he opened his eyes, the room was a lot more sparse, with only a few areas of red and the one yellow patch. He still couldn't see the blue-green, so he began to move through the house.

Eventually, after searching every room as well as he could, and with the beginnings of both a headache and a sulk brewing, he slumped onto his bed, looking up at the ceiling and willing away the colours from his vision. When his head touched the pillow however, he felt a strange pull, right behind his bellybutton, and recognised the sensation of a portkey. He was thrown through space and landed rather unceremoniously in a heap. Grumbling, he stood up, and was surprised to see himself in the garden of his best friend, Adrian Fortescue. In front of him, assembled, was a crowd of friends, family, and friends' family.

"SURPRISE!" The group shouted, and he felt his cheeks begin to burn. Before he could shrink away in embarrassment at the sulky expression he had undoubtedly arrived wearing, his mother patted him on the shoulder and handed him another wand box. This one felt heavier than the last, but more significant was the warmth he felt as it touched his palm. He tore the lid off, and gasped at the sight.

The wand inside was perfect in every way. Exactly 12 inches, made of driftwood, containing a core of Centaur mane, and designed to be perfectly smooth with only a slight protrusion in the form of a ring separating the handle from the rest of the wand and a beautiful grey-black sheen over the entire thing. As he took it in his hand, he felt complete. He knew that with a mother as a wandmaker his wand would be good, but he never imagined that it would feel so good to hold it. She'd told him the year before, as she measured him and detected his magical resonance that it would be driftwood/Centaur mane but the size and design were new to him.

"So, how does it feel?" His best friend asked, drawing his own wand.

His face threatening to shatter from how widely he was smiling, Jason turned to Adrian and simply said "Good."