CHAPTER ONE

Oceans Apart

A loud bang sounded somewhere on the floor below. Sara's eyes flew open. A soft, gray light was filtering through the window, illuminating the small, white room. Sara laid there for a moment, but then remembered something, and shot out of bed with a swiftness that could make a hippogriff jealous. She quickly tied her thick brown hair up into a messy knot, threw on a sweater and some galoshes, and paused a minute to glance out her one window at the foggy, New England morning before starting down the farmhouse's thin curvy staircase. The sweet smell of breakfast already hung heavy in the air.

"Late start this mornin', Sara?" Her mother called before Sara even set foot on the main floor. Her mother probably knew she was on her way down before she even put on her galoshes. Alis Cadwell, originally Alis Fraser, was born in Inverness, Scotland in 1949 and was part of a long line of druids, blessed with not only magical abilities but certain sensitivity as well – Alis was able to predict how most things would turn out before they even happened.

"Sorry, Mum," Sara called to the front of the farmhouse while opening the back door. She could feel the warmth of her mother's smile through the old wooden walls as she pulled on a hat and stepped outside onto the soft, dewy grass. It was a little past sunrise, but Sara was supposed to start her chores at least two hours ago. She started off towards the faded brown barn that was barely visible through the thick morning fog.

By the time she reached the barn Sara's sweater was damp and tiny water droplets clung to her eyelashes. There were quiet shuffles coming from inside the door. Sara knew it was her father before even turning the handle. She hadn't inherited much from her mother, except for the fact that she was the only one in the family who exhibited signs of the druid blood, although her gift was not as potent as Alis'. Not yet, anyway, her mother always assured her. Sara pulled the door open, and saw her father finishing up his morning chores, his long dark brown hair was slick with sweat and pulled back into a ponytail, and his clothes were covered in dirt, muck, and who-knows-what-else.

His name was Brant Cadwell. He hailed from a prominent wizarding family back in England, although Sara had never met any of them. She didn't know what happened to her father in the past; he never liked to talk about it and quickly changed the subject whenever she would ask. She wasn't really sure she wanted to know. Whatever it was, it was bad enough that her father had to pick up and move all the way to America.

"Afternoon," he said jokingly, without looking over at Sara. "All that's left to do is to put down a fresh layer of straw in the horse's stalls."

"Yessir," Sara said. He had done all of her chores for her. She was annoyed at herself for sleeping in. Again.

"Oh, and go check on Perry, would'ya? Make sure he's doing fine."

Sara nodded. Perry was a Porlock, a small creature covered in hair that lived about a half a mile into the woods. He was smelly and all around unpleasant. Usually her father went to check on him and bring him food, payment for looking after their herd of winged horses that lived in the safety of the thick undergrowth and rocky formations of the Rhode Island forests. Asking her to check on him was obviously a punishment for her sleeping in so late.

Her father turned around and smiled, his light brown eyes wrinkling at the corners. "That's my girl," he said. He took off his dirty glove and patted her on the head, and right before closing the barn door behind him he called over his shoulder, "Happy Birthday, by the way." She could hear him whistling as he strode back towards the house.

Sara let out a heavy sigh and put on a pair of gloves. Spreading the straw was the easy work. She was dreading heading out to the woods. It rained last night, meaning Perry would be smellier than usual. Reluctantly, she grabbed a small pack full of dried meats and fruits and started off on the small trail behind the barn, accessible only through a door that will only open by a magical hand. Sara's childhood (and no-maj) friend, Natalie, had once tried to open the door out of curiosity, but only discovered a dusty old closet filled with nothing but cobwebs.

Behind the door was a sort of unofficial magical wildlife refuge which harbored everything from jackalopes to wampasus to the occasional unicorn. Sara's father had always had a passion for caring for magical creatures and had wanted to run a sanctuary for them ever since he was young. He couldn't have done it without Alis, however, who was skilled at charms. She had helped him by casting an array of protective spells around the forest behind the farmhouse which caused any wanderer to find themselves hopelessly turned around whenever they wandered too close.

The low shrubs along the path left dark wet marks on Sara's sweatpants as she trudged through the damp leaves. The soggy earth made the air smell sweet. 'Pass the broken tree, turn left at the fifth large rock…' Sara thought to herself. She hadn't been down this trail in years, but her memory hadn't failed her. She reached the porlock's tiny shack in just under ten minutes. She signaled her approach by calling the porlock's name. "Perry!" There was no response from inside the small shack. "Perry, I brought your food." Still, there was no response. The thing was playing games with her, she was sure of it. After all, there was nobody Perry distrusted more than Sara, except maybe her older sister Astor. She sat there waiting while she shook a small pebble out of one of her galoshes, and after the continued silence, she thought enough was enough. She wasn't going to sit out here in the cold and wait for him to come out. She would just put the pack inside.

Her hand paused before grabbing the tiny wooden handle. She listened again for any movement inside. She didn't want to startle the porlock… although he was small he did not lack anything in strength. His arms, though long, were round and built, capable of delivering quite the thrashing. Perry has broken at least four of her father's fingers, and his collarbone twice. Hearing nothing, she tugged lightly on the handle and the door opened, and then she smelt it. A mixture of low tide and body odor made Sara's nostrils sting. Her father said it reminded him of a mountain troll, and Sara thought about how she never wanted to meet another foul-smelling beast. One was enough for her. Inside the small shack was a pile of leaves that must have been a bed, a small trunk, and a stump that must have served as some sort of desk. Arrays of strange tools were leaning up against the rickety walls. A book with a weathered leather cover and chipped gold lettering lay in the center of the dirt floor, taking up most of the space. It looked like Perry had been using it as a table; there were two small candles on top which had dripped wax all over the cover. Sara took the book out in order to fit the pack inside.

She looked at the book. It was quite old and the edges of the pages had been eaten away by rodents. Where did Perry get his hands on this? Surely Sara had never seen it before. Curious, she chipped off the white wax that was stuck to the cover, revealing the letters underneath. When all the wax was gone, she read aloud: "Hogwarts… A History?" What on earth was Hogwarts? Such a strange name, she thought. She opened up the book and the dried leather spine crackled as she gazed upon illustrations of a large castle sitting on a cliff overlooking a glassy-smooth lake. Clouds floated by in the background and small birds could be seen flying amongst the towers. She closed the book at once and decided to take it back with her. She doubted Perry could read. He could find something else to use as a table. She hid the large book underneath her sweater and started off towards the house, hoping desperately she didn't happen across Perry on her way back.

After reaching the farmhouse Sara snuck through the back door and padded silently up the stairs, just as she had done many times before. By now she was a bona-fide stealth expert. She had to be with a mother like Alis. She slowly twists the knob to her bedroom and squeaks through the door, softly shutting it behind her. She stomped off her galoshes. She was free to make as much noise as she wanted now. She had put a spell on her room a few months ago – one she had learned from an old notebook found among her mother's belongings – that blocked all the sound coming from inside.

After moving a white rickety desk chair out of the way, Sara pried up one of the floorboards. Inside was a wooden box where she kept all of her secrets. She had to rearrange some items so that the book would fit, and even had to take out a few items such as a shard of an old crystal ball that once belonged to her mother which shone and sparkled in the light, and a jackalope foot, quite a lucky item. The fact that regular rabbit feet were lucky was a total farce made up by no-majs. She put the jackalope foot in her pocket before brushing her hair and heading downstairs.

Most of the fog had burnt off and a golden stream of sunlight was streaming through the kitchen window. Alis' frizzy strawberry blond hair was glowing as she scrubbed the dishes. Her father and Astor were already sitting at the large, ancient mahogany table, along with her three-year-old twin brothers Elan and Ewan, who were throwing scrambled eggs at each other.

"How was Perry?" Her father asked her, not looking up from the latest issue of Tumbling Turnips! A local humorous newspaper.

"He wasn't there, so I just left the pack inside his hut," Sara called back while scooping up scrambled eggs, roast potatoes, toast, and bacon onto her plate, all of which were cold by then. Sara sat down at the table opposite of her brothers, which were now pulling on each other's ears and noses, further smearing eggs and ketchup over their faces.

"That's well enough." Her father stated, and with that he changed the subject. "Astor, have you gotten your Ilvermorny letter yet?" Astor was headed into her fifth year at Ilvermorny, and was the only one of the children who had attended magical school thus far.

Astor didn't look up from her book on memory charms when she answered. "Owl came last night after dinner."

"So, you've got your list of supplies and everything?"

"Mm," Astor answered while tucking some of her straight ash-blond hair behind her ear.

"Well then," said Brant Cadwell, putting his paper down on the table, "looks like we're going to be heading up to Boston soon. Sara, while we're there, we should look at supplies for you, too. You should be getting your letter next year, after all."