Chapter 1: Letters from Hogwarts

On the second floor of a Victorian terraced house in London, Padma Patil sat on her bed, reading as usual. In this case, it was a battered and well-thumbed copy of A Brief History of Magic. Her twin sister Parvati lay on her own bed, intently studying her star charts in the latest issue of Witch Weekly. Padma looked up from reading.

"Why do you read that rubbish?" she asked.

"It's not rubbish," Parvati said.

"It is," Padma said, knowing that she was annoying her sister.

Parvati rolled her eyes,

"It takes hundreds of calculations and hours of work to make a single chart," she said. "So there," she added, sticking out her tongue.

Padma snorted through her nose, most definitely not convinced, and turned back to reading her book.

Although they were identical twins, Padma and Parvati were different in many ways. The room that they shared at the front of the house was decorated in a mismatch of their separate tastes.

Padma's half, nearest to the window, was filled full with as many books as possible; they were piled up at the foot of her bed, crammed into bookshelves and there were even copies underneath her bedside lamp. There were pictures that she had drawn and photographs of her family pinned up on the cork board over her bed.

Parvati's half, closest to the door, was filled with trinkets from their father's native India; an elephant tusk carved with moving designs and a snake charmer's flute. She also had a lunarscope that their grandmother had bought her on her bedside table. Her parts of the walls were covered with posters of the Weird Sisters, as well as numerous star charts and horoscope calculations.

"Girls!" their mother's voice cried from downstairs. "Breakfast!"

Padma marked her place in her book and hurried downstairs after Parvati. Her father and grandmother were already seated in the dining room, and tea and toast was on the table. Her father read a copy of the Daily Prophet, running a hand through his thinning hair now and again. He wore his pinstriped robes and his cloak was draped over the back of his chair. From the clinking of china and the sound of a soft female voice singing along to the Witching Hour, it was clear that her mother was in the kitchen.

"Good morning," Padma said brightly.

She sat down beside her sister and began to butter a slice of toast. Her grandmother, who had a thin, stern face and greying hair pulled into a bun, was dressed in a green silk sari this morning. She smiled at Padma briefly before turning to talk to Parvati.

"So, what did your charts say?" she asked.

"I'm meant to have a fairly good month," Parvati explained enthusiastically. "I should get something that I've wanted for a while."

Her grandmother nodded sagely.

"But you know that you should be careful about what these charts say, and make your own if possible," she said, pouring herself tea. "Some of these people can See no further than the end of their own noses!"

Parvati nodded. Her father frowned deeply, peering over his glasses.

"Don't speak so, mother!" he said. "You know fine well how hard I work within the Ministry to banish such prejudices!"

His mother rolled her eyes and sipped on her tea.

"I'm stuck in my ways now, Parmesh," she said. "My opinions are my own."

Padma chortled and sprayed toast crumbs over her plate. Her grandmother was always arguing with everyone about everything.

Her mother entered the room carrying a tray with another pot of tea and several stacks of toast upon it. Surya Patil had an oval face with deep brown eyes and her hair was twisted and fastened at the back of her head with a round clip. She already wore her work robes for St Mungo's; lime green with the emblem of a crossed wand and bone on the chest.

"Good morning," she said, and kissed her husband on the cheek.

"Morning mum," Padma and Parvati said simultaneously. They reached across the table for more toast.

Their father, who worked for the Department for International Magic Co-operation, pushed his glasses back up his nose before folding up the Daily Prophet and sipping on his tea. Padma took it from between the toast and the tea pot, and began to read the front page story on the discovery of an illegal Hippogriff farm. Parvati drained her tea cup.

"Read my leaves for me, grandmother."

"All right, my dear," she said, sounding very pleased, "hand over your cup."

Padma watched over the top of the newspaper. Her grandmother took the willow pattern cup in her long fingers and turned it this way and that, examining the dregs. Parvati sat on the edge of her seat, eager to know what the future held.

"I see great things in this particular cup," her grandmother mused. She pursed her thin lips. "Yes, great things. Things that you will be rewarded for…"

At this point, Padma switched off. Although her grandmother's predictions were often correct - she was always telling them how she came from a long line of Indian Seers - Padma had always thought Divination to be a very imprecise branch of magic. She preferred something with good, solid facts that you could read in a book.

A tawny owl glided in through the open door and settled on a perch by the fireplace, dropping several letters to the floor.

"Post is here," Parvati said.

The owl preened itself and hooted softly before flying back out of the room. Mrs Patil picked the envelopes up from beneath the perch. She flicked through them as she sat back down at her seat,

"A re-subscription letter for the Daily Prophet and two letters for you, girls."

She smiled at them and handed over two identical envelopes with the addresses written on in emerald green ink. Padma turned hers over and found a red wax seal with a very distinct crest pressed into it.

"Hogwarts letters!" she and Parvati cried together

Padma felt her heart soar. She'd been dreaming of going to Hogwarts for years. She beamed at her mother and father. Parvati, on the other hand, was screaming hysterically and hugging everyone around the table. As she was in the process of hugging her grandmother around the shoulders for a third time she eagerly asked,

"Do I get a present for getting in?"

"I don't see why not," her father said, glancing over at his wife.

"Maybe an owl," Parvati said, "or a cat or…"

Padma didn't hear the rest of her sister's long list of gift ideas. Instead, she opened the envelope with trembling hands and read and re-read the letter. Looking up, she found her sister dancing around the room with glee, and she couldn't help but smile.

"And what do you want as a reward for getting into Hogwarts?" her grandmother asked kindly.

Padma thought for a while.

"I don't really know," she said. "Maybe a book…"

That was clearly the word that Meera Patil hadn't wanted to hear. Her face grew stormy and Parvati stopped her victorious dance.

"No more books, child!" she cried shrilly. "You have a whole room of them already. You spend too much time upstairs, wrapped up in those dusty old things." She smiled at Padma and her voice was suddenly softer. "Maybe you should get something useful for once, child. A set of dress robes in silk perhaps."

Padma bowed her head, staring resolutely at her plate. Her grandmother had always been like this, for as long as she could remember. She had always favoured Parvati, saying that she would make her relatives in India proud by taking such an interest in their traditions. She never said anything like that about Padma.

"Mother…" her father began.

"No, no," she said sharply. "I will not have this conversation with you again. You know how I feel about this."

Mr Patil fell silent. Padma's heart sank back down. He was always trying to argue that her interest in books was perfectly normal, but her grandmother would never allow him to get a word in edgeways. Mrs Patil would sit quietly and say nothing, but it was clear what she thought. Parvati gave Padma a sympathetic look as she sat back down. Padma smiled half-heartedly.

"I'll clear the dishes," she said.

She piled the dirty plates and cups onto the tray and took them into the kitchen, putting them into the sink. The narrow room had several shelves of cookbooks such a Magical Menus and Charming Cakes over the cooker, and above the pantry door was a clock with five hands covered in silver stars. Mrs Patil bustled into the kitchen, making a cloth clean the plates with a flick of her wand before hugging Padma.

"Don't worry about your grandmother," she reassured her in a whisper. "You know what she's like. She doesn't love you any less than your sister."

Padma nodded, though she severely doubted it.

"I know."

"Good. Now go and say goodbye to your father, he's off to work."

Back in the dining room, her father was pulling on his black cloak and gathering up his briefcase from the floor. He hugged Parvati and Padma in turn before kissing his wife on the cheek. He conjured a fire in the empty grate with his wand.

"I should be back by seven," he said brightly. "If the meeting with my Chinese counterpart doesn't run over, that is."

He took some Floo powder from a small silver box on the mantelpiece and tossed it onto the fire. The flames roared an emerald green and he stooped to step into the fireplace.

"Ministry of Magic," he said clearly. In a flash of green flames he was gone.

Mrs Patil smiled at her daughters.

"You'll have to go to Diagon Alley to get all of your new school things." She went into the hall to get her cloak from the coat rack. "Meera, will you be able to take the girls while I'm at work?"

"Of course," their grandmother said. "We'll have to take the Knight Bus, though. My heart can't take travelling by Floo."

Padma grimaced. The Knight Bus wasn't the most comfortable way to travel in the wizarding world, especially when it suddenly jumped to another location. Parvati looked equally thrilled as she pulled on her jacket.

"We'll go from the back lane," their mother said. "I may as well come with you. I have plenty of time before I have to start at work."

Mrs Patil helped her mother in law with her cloak. Padma's grandmother picked up a large carpet bag and set off towards the kitchen.

"Best go now, before the crowds arrive."

The four of them walked out of the back door and through the small back yard. It was filled full of herbs that Padma's mother used in her home remedies, and the small greenhouse housed several unusual specimens that she kept hidden from their Muggle neighbours with several different charms. Outside the yard was a small alleyway which was empty except for dustbins and a couple of stray cats that were looking for food.

Mrs Patil glanced around, her hand in her robes. She waited a moment to check that none of the curtains were twitching and pulled out her wand, holding it out into the lane.

There was a tremendous BANG and a huge violet triple-decker bus rolled to a stop outside the back gate. It had the words Knight Bus written above the driver's seat in gold. A skinny boy with large protruding ears and pimples stood on a platform at the back of the bus, a ticket machine around his neck and a cap on his head. He only looked about sixteen.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus," he said in a rather squeaky voice. "Jus' stick out your wand hand an' we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike and I will be your conductor this mornin'."

He hopped off the bus to help Padma's grandmother up. Padma stepped on board. There were a couple of frail looking witches at the back of the bus sitting on a red velvet sofa, one of them who was asleep, and a witch of about twenty sat on a high backed chair reading a copy of Transfiguration Today.

"Where to then, ladies?" Stan asked.

"Three to the Leaky Cauldron and one to St Mungo's," Mrs Patil said.

She handed over a handful of coins and Stan gave her four tickets. He sat down on an armchair beside the wizard driving the bus.

"Take 'er away, Ern."

BANG. Padma was flung back into a wooden chair as they hurtled down a long promenade at a seaside resort. She winced and watched as they passed a pier, then dodged around a couple of trams. Her grandmother, who was settled in a flowery armchair, took some knitting from her carpet bag and set it to work in front of her.

BANG. They were thundering down a narrow country lane. For a moment it seemed as though Ernie was going to crash into a fence. But he changed his mind and pulled back onto the road with a sudden jerk of the steering wheel.

"I hate this," Parvati said. She looked rather green and held her hand over her mouth.

Padma smiled, but was flung forward out of her chair as the Knight Bus stopped unexpectedly. She pushed her long hair out of her face and scrambled to her feet. Stan had disappeared up the stairs and returned with an elderly wizard who held an ear trumpet.

"I said we're at your stop, Mr Vance!" Stan shouted at the top of his voice.

"We're in France?" the wizard asked curiously. "That can't be right! Speak up, boy; I can't hear a word you're saying!"

"It's your stop, Mr Vance!" Stan repeated even louder.

"Why didn't you say that before?" the elderly wizard asked snippily. "Young wizards today!

Stan rolled his eyes. Padma and Parvati giggled behind their hands as he helped Mr Vance off the Knight Bus and then tossed his trunk onto the road. He sat back down beside Ernie, muttering in a disgruntled way.

BANG. The Knight Bus careered down a busy London street. It wound its way between taxis and buses with ease and cut across a cyclist to thunder down a narrower street. The cars parked on either side jumped out of the way as they passed. Padma managed to stop herself from being flung from her seat again as they came to a halt outside a small, grubby looking pub.

"Have a nice day," her mother said.

She hugged Padma and Parvati as their grandmother crammed her knitting back into her bag. Stan helped Meera down from the Knight Bus. Padma and Parvati stood together on the pavement, waving to their mother.

"'Ave a nice day," he said, tipping his hat.

With a final BANG, the Knight Bus disappeared from view.

The three of them entered the Leaky Cauldron. Inside, it was dark and smoky, and there was a low murmur of chatter that rose up to the ceiling. Two old wizards with battered hats sat in one corner discussing their purchases and drinking Firewhiskey. A family sat in another corner, two little wizards arguing over Chocolate Frog cards.

Meera sat down at a round table, Padma and Parvati following suit. The innkeeper came over, cleaning a glass on his apron.

"What can I get you?" he asked.

"A pot of tea and three cups, if you please."

Padma looked around the room. It was dull and grimy, and numerous shabby tapestries hung on the wall, while light came from candles in brackets on the walls. The innkeeper returned with the tea on a tray and her grandmother paid him.

"Are you looking forward to going to Hogwarts?" she asked them.

Padma nodded enthusiastically.

"Mum told me that the library is enormous! I can't wait to see it…"

She trailed off as her grandmother frowned at her.

"You shouldn't be so enveloped in reading," she said curtly. "You should be interested in the traditional arts of your people, such as reading the leaves." She sipped on her tea.

Padma felt tears prick her eyes but she brushed them aside, biting her lower lip to stop it from trembling. Parvati glanced at her and smiled reassuringly. She adjusted her long plait over her shoulder and straightened the ornamental butterfly on it.

"Broaden your horizons, child," her grandmother said.

"Yes grandmother," Padma said quietly.

Meera put down her cup and stood up as a large group of people entered the small pub, talking and laughing loudly. She watched as they disappeared through another door at the back of the room.

"We'll go now," she said. "Wands first, I think. That's one of the most important things you will buy today. Hurry along now!"

They followed the group of witches and wizards through the door. Outside was a small back yard with only a dustbin in it and weeds growing through the cobbles. Meera rummaged around in her back, pulling out a bottle of Butterbeer and several tea bags before she found her wand. She tapped it several times against the wall opposite the door, muttering under her breath. Finding the correct brick, she tapped it three times.

A small hole opened in the brick, becoming larger and larger until it formed an archway, revealing a street that twisted away into the distance. Although she'd been to Diagon Alley many times, Padma couldn't help but gasp in amazement as the sights, smells and sounds washed over her. Meera gripped her granddaughters' shoulders.

"Wands first!" she said briskly.