It was an odd establishment. Enormously tall bookshelves stretched impossibly vertically to the high ceiling. On every single one were books – not a single slot was empty or unoccupied. While some of the titles were large – a few feet – others were no larger than a pamphlet. Strewn in disorderly piles were even more books. Some of them had pages ripped out and missing, as if in anger or agony. Spots of a red liquid – not blood, Amee hoped – tainted some of the tattered papers. Try as she might, Amme couldn't see where the shelves ended. It was as if they never did.
She remembered what she was here for. She stepped forward, clearing her throat politely. Instantly, an official looking man appeared. He wore long gray robes and had a wild look in his eyes. He was young, only twenty or so, perfectly round glasses sitting precariously on the bumpy bridge of his nose.
"Yes?" He peered down at Amee curiously.
She stuttered out, "I'm-I'm h-here to check ou-out a title, sir."
"Oh, yes," chuckled the man quietly, "They always are." He stiffened. "Name?"
"My name?"
The man blinked, as if surprised by her question. "How else would I know which book you wish to check out?"
"You-you could ask me, sir."
"No, no," chided the man, "That's quite ineffective."
Amee shrugged. "Yes, yes. I was being silly. Amee Fieldmouse is my name."
The man's eye brows raised appraisingly. "Ah, yes." He examined. "A good read, Miss Fieldmouse." He turned sharply and began walking down the center aisle of bookshelves. His boots clicked and crunched across papers and tile, caring not for the endless numbers of book papers that littered the floor. Amee, not knowing what else to do, trotted behind him, swiveling her head to look and see if she could find the end of this massive library. She felt something land in her palm – a pamphlet-sized book. As the man was paying no attention to her, muttering words indistinctly about this wizard or that, she read the title.
Infant Girl: A short story. Intrigued, she thumbed it open. Suddenly and before she could even read a single word on the first page, it was snatched from her hands.
"Let's choose our reading material wisely, Miss Fieldmouse," warned the librarian man, "Nasty business if we don't."
Amee didn't know how to answer his command, so instead she just nodded blankly. The man spun left onto an aisle, crouching a few feet down and selecting a fat, velvet-bound hardcover book of a dark, mossy green. The title read: Farlost School: The Girl Who Wasn't and Nothing More. The librarian licked his index finger once, quickly, and flipped to a page squarely in the middle of the book.
"Ah, here it is," he announced, "You're looking for a list of schools. How old are you, Miss Fieldmouse?"
"Twelve and a half," Amee admitted.
The librarian gave a slick, short laugh. "And here your adventure begins, my dear."
She wanted to know what he meant, but something in his face warned her not to ask. She'd find out eventually, the lines between his eyebrows told her. He picked up another book, placing the first back into its place. This one was indigo-colored leather with gold, swirly engravings on the front. Solemnly, he handed it to her. She quickly skimmed the Table of Contents on the first page. It was odd….but the book didn't have a title.
Schools A-Z…..4-200
Introduction ….. 1-3
Welcome, Amee Fieldmouse
She angrily flipped to H. There it was: the listing for the greatest wizardry school in the world: Hogwarts. The information was simple, as all of them were. Every single school accepted their students at eleven. All of them.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Admittance age: eleven
Send owl for information to: H. Warts, Undisclosed Location
"But I'm twelve!" Amee lamented absently.
"Yes, you are," said the librarian in answer, eyeing his customer carefully, "Perhaps check the F's?"
She did as told, knowing that what she'd find there was another school which she hadn't gotten into. It would further her sadness, but she thought it unwise to question this librarian. The first entry under a large, fancy-scripted F was a school that, surprisingly, she hadn't heard of before.
Farlost Academy for the Magically Inclined
Admittance age: twelve and a half
-No contact information-
Her eyes flitted guessingly to the librarian for only a second before they returned to the page. When they did, a rather fat envelope rested on the page she had been reading. Could it really have been a mistake? Was Amee really magical after all? She knew that she had been a great disappointment to her parents, a Muggle.
The letter was addressed to her, A. Fieldmouse, All Knowledge Library.
She turned the envelope over, ripping open the blank wax seal and unfolding a crisp sheet of friendly-looking paper. Yet, a cold chill swept through her. The librarian's eyes sparkled through the clearness of his glasses as he waited patiently. Amee read the letter aloud for him.
Dear Miss Fieldmouse,
We are please to announce your regal acceptance to Farlost Academy for the Magically Inclined. If not otherwise enrolled to a magical educational institution (Hogwarts, Dareforth, or Deckwood, etc.) please check YES below.
_ Yes _ No
Amee, in her excitement picked an old, broken quill from the tile floor where it had been laying abandoned. She scratched with its last bit of ink on the "yes" option. Why would this letter refer to Hogwarts as a possible school? Everyone had known for years that she would never be a student there.
More words materialized on the paper, erasing the previous ones.
½ year students will require:
5 Uniforms (can be obtained at select shops in 'fitted style'.)
1 wand
1 juvenile griffin, or, if desired, owl. (griffin only for Avianics students)
1 magical journal
A copy of Avianics: Book 1by Arnold Captry (if studying Avianics)
A copy of Spells Year 1(all students)
NOTE: A magical assessment will take place upon arrival. Wands MUST be individual. Basic School Supplies also must be obtained. No brooms, rats, cats, toads, or other materials and companions.)
School year beginning: August 2. Ticket enclosed for travel.
Well, thought Amee to herself, what a dreadfully long and wonderfully exciting letter. Her parents would be immensely proud. She wasn't a muggle, after all!
"Are you certain of your path now, Miss Fieldmouse?" asked the librarian. Amee refolded the letter and closed the book, handing it to him.
"Why haven't I heard of Farlost before?" she wondered aloud.
The librarian folded his hands. "It's a very special place, Miss Fieldmouse. Only a select few go there. It isn't like Hogwarts – no, they think that griffins are terribly wild creatures."
"They aren't?" mused Amee, shocked. All her life, she'd heard that they were unimaginably untamable animals. It wasn't a lie, was it? Maybe she ought to rethink her plans. After all, she was admitted to a magical school after being told that she was a Muggle.
"Not for the right people." Assured the librarian, winking quickly. Nervously, he pointed to the letter still in her hand. "Shouldn't you be at Diagon Alley by now? It is September thirtieth."
"Oh, no!" lamented the girl. "How will I get the supplies! The Hogwarts students will have already cleared the shops-"
"Not for your supplies." Stopped the librarian, snapping his fingers. She wasn't at the library anymore. She was at home – a stately, small home with cheery yellow curtains over the windows and charming wood floors. She looked down into her hands – in her curled fist was still the letter.
"Mom!" she cried, rushing upstairs, "I'm not a muggle! I'm not!"