I stared at the letter, unbelieving. Smooth, loopy handwriting spelled out "James Sirius Black" on the envelope with our address below it, including the curious phrase "The kitchen". I looked around the room in question, wondering irrationally if we were being watched, then glanced over at the recipient, who was watching me eagerly.

"Give it to me, mum! It is for me!" Then a pause, followed by an earnest "Please!"

Ignoring him for the moment, I continued to gaze at the letter, frowning, wondering who on earth from a place called Hogwarts (with raised seal, no less) had written to my child. Finally I said, "Alright, but I'm reading it as soon as you get done!"

He immediately tore the letter from my grasp and, after ripping the envelope apart, pulled out several sheets of thick paper. How it had managed to fit in the confines of the envelope I had no idea. James scanned quickly over the top sheet, then lowered it, appearing confused.

"What is this, mum? Some kind of wierd party invitation?" He handed over the page in question and continued looking through the others as I read it. He looked increasingly confused as he read, but I barely noticed, so caught up I was in reading the page he had handed me.

The heading read: HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore, followed by what appeared to be various impressive-sounding credentials that meant nothing to me. Order of Merlin...what the hell was that?

I shrugged inwardly and read on.

Dear Mr. Black,

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on Monday, 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Below that was scrawled another message in the loopy handwriting from the envelope.

Due to certain extenuating circumstances in your situation, I shall plan on visiting you and your mother personally this evening, the 21st of July at seven o'clock in the evening if that is convenient for you.

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster

I had a fleeting absurd notion to address the invisible watcher in the kitchen to say we'd be home, but I refrained. It had to be some sort of insane joke and probably nobody was going to show up. I looked at the clock- 5:05 pm- and thought I may as well start dinner...after I read the rest of the letter, of course. James, having gone through the remainder of it already, was watching me closely, wondering if I was privy to some information that he wasn't.

"Witchcraft and wizardry? Do you really think there is such a thing?"

I was quiet for a moment, unsure what to say, then shook my head. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I think there is a much more, um, rational explanation behind this...most likely a bad joke." However skeptical I was after all these years, a part of me hoped this Dumbledore person would actually show up to shed some light on the subject. My son and I both had some very unusual quirks by most standards, ones I had accepted somewhat as here to stay, but had never really embraced. It was my husband, long since gone from our lives, who had magical qualities that a place called Hogwarts might be interested in.

"Let me see the others," I said to James, who had turned his attention back to the cover letter, reading it again. The remaining pages contained what appeared to be a summer reading list, with titles strange and obscure involving Dark Arts, History of Magic and Transfiguration, all titles which sounded intriguing. I tried to picture walking into my local WH Smith with this list. Another one was a list of items the student might find useful to bring with him to this place. An owl was actually listed as a preferable item. I pulled a face while perusing at the increasingly outlandish contents (a copper, not gold, cauldron?), thinking James must not be too far off to assume this could be a really fancy party invitation. Somebody had put a lot of thought into this.

The thought of my absent husband brought the usual pang of sadness. I still thought of him often, though he had been missing these past twelve years. Occasionally I would awaken from a dream of him so real that I would spend the next day in dark depression to realize that he wasn't actually with us. My son James was the only thing in my life that mattered to me now. Sirius was never coming back.

Sometimes, when I was feeling particularly melancholy, I imagined that he hadn't been sent to an unknown punishment but had instead deserted me to begin a new life elsewhere, if not in England, maybe on the continent, or even America, where I was from originally. I would try my best to push these thoughts away, knowing they were ridiculous and unproductive. The last memory I had was of a distraught Sirius kissing me passionately before leaving on his motorcycle in a rush, promising to explain everything when he returned, which he never did. I remember being insecure, thinking maybe he was meeting another woman. Then I had read in the London Times that Sirius Black had been arrested for the violent murders of thirteen innocent people.

We were both very young, in hindsight, to get married when we did. Of course, his best friend was already married and wife pregnant when Sirius and I were engaged, and they were no older than we were. But when I looked back, I felt that I had known nothing at that young age and still had so much growing up to do, much as I had felt that I owned the world.

oOoOoOoOoOo

I was twenty-one years old and a graduate student studying in London in May of 1979 when we met. It was a Sunday, an unusually warm day for spring and I had gone over to the boating lake at Regents' Park in London to work on my doctoral thesis. I plopped myself down on a deserted patch of lawn and stretched my body out on the grass, reading over what I had already worked on. Eventually I realized that on a day like this, studying (or revising, as everyone said here) was pretty much a lousy prospect. My mind kept wandering, settling on a young man and woman close by who were joking around with another twenty-something man, very handsome in my estimation. I slid my sunglasses on so I wouldn't be noticed, and watched them for a while. The two guys were clowning around while the woman laughed at their antics. It appeared that handsome (or "guapo" as I called him mentally) was not the one with the woman. He was something to look at...long wavy dark hair and short beard and moustache. He wore a pair of faded tight denims with boots and a t-shirt with a crest emblazoned on it, perhaps from a university. As I watched covertly, I saw him doing the same thing in my direction a few times. I pretended to be concentrating on my work, but kept watching him out of the corner of my eye, noticing him getting bolder about checking me out. He nodded in my direction and said something softly to his friends, who also looked over at me and laughed at him. I heard the other man say, "Okay, it's a deal!"

To my amazement and delight, Guapo came walking over and stood towering over me, then said, "Hello...mind if I join you for a minute?"

I looked up at him, taking off my sunglasses, and said, "Yeah, sure!" giving him what I hoped was a winning smile. He sat down beside me, glancing at my notes and minutiae strewn around me.

"What are you studying?"

"Working on my doctoral thesis in musicology...in other words, really boring stuff," I answered with a grin.

"Nah..that sounds interesting! What in particular?" he asked, eyeing a random page and examining it with his head tilted.

"Keith Emerson...my favorite keyboardist," I replied, slightly embarrassed. Most people I mentioned Emo to had no idea who he was.

"Really! How cool. Never was a huge fan of ELP, but I always thought he was an amazing musician. I take it you play the piano?"

I nodded. "Yeah, for years. And yourself?"

He smiled and I thought how attractive he was with his long dark hair and noble features. A long lock of it hung in front of one eye but he didn't bother brushing it out of the way, intent he was on looking at me.

"My mum made me take lessons for a while...then I guess she realized I was a lost cause and had mercy on me. I leave that to the professionals like Emerson...and yourself," he added politely but with a smile. "By the way, my name is Sirius Black. And you?"

The name caught me off guard. I thought for a moment trying to figure it out and said, "Like the star?"

He looked pleased. "Got it in one! Most people think I'm telling them I have no sense of humor," he said with a lopsided grin.

I laughed. "I like it. It's a beautiful name...very unusual. My name is much more mundane...Laura Ketron."

"Well, I think it's very pretty. What kind of name is Ketron?"

I said, "It's a bastardization of a German name, Kettenring. I guess my ancestors got too lazy to spell it the long way after they went over to America," I added, grinning.

"I did pick up on the unusual accent," he said. He stretched himself out on the grass, belly side down and rested his head on his hands. "So where are you from?"

"Just west of here," I said with a grin. "Eastern Tennessee." His position was giving me a great view of his ass, which I tried not to stare at.

"Ah...Elvis-land?"

I corrected him. "Actually, no, the other side of the state. As far as you can get from Memphis and not be in Virginia or North Carolina. And you are from...London?"

Sirius nodded. "Yes. I have a house here but I keep thinking I'd like to move somewhere more quiet." He shrugged. "London's a bit much at times. Be nice to live closer to my mate James and his wife," he added with a nod in their direction. At this, James and said wife looked over at us speculatively. Sirius ignored them and looked back at me with a smile. "So...dating anyone?"

My jaw dropped at the question posed so directly. "Uh, no," I said and couldn't help but smiling. This kind of thing was about as common as a hundred year flood. Hot guys never just dropped out of the sky to immediately ask me out.

"I wouldn't be so, er, blunt, but my friends and I will have to leave soon, and..." He tilted his head in the friends' direction and James, watching us, tapped his wristwatch with a shrug that said "sorry!" Sirius stared after them for a moment, then looked back at me.

"Well, I've interrupted your work enough for now. Guess I'd better be going. We have a really boring meeting to attend this evening, unfortunately." He rolled his eyes at this inconvenience.

"No, not at all. I've enjoyed talking to you!" I smiled at him, wishing he weren't leaving.

He looked at me, then said quickly, "Would you like to have dinner with me?"

I was secretly thrilled but tried to look nonchalant. "Yeah! That would be lovely. When did you have in mind?"

He thought a minute, then said, "Well, I know it's a weeknight, but how about tomorrow?"

Tomorrow! Guapo must be pretty interested.

"Sounds like a good way to start the week," I said, trying to be a touch flirty without overdoing it. "Did you want to meet somewhere?"

Sirius said, "We could meet, or I can pick you up if you'd like. Whatever you would rather do."

I thought fast, knowing the prudent thing would be to meet in a neutral location. But he seemed very nice, so I said, "You can pick me up if you want."

"Brilliant!" he said. "Where do you live?"

I proceeded to give him directions, noticing he wasn't writing any of this down.

"Um...do you need a pen?" I asked timidly, afraid he might forget where to go.

"No, I'll remember," he said with a confident grin. "I look forward to it."

I sat up and stretched. "Me too. It was very nice to meet you, Sirius."

He stood and brushed stray grass off his jeans. "It was nice to meet you, too, Laura." And with a smile that made me melt, he trekked back over to his two friends, who made ready to leave, and they all started to walk away. He waved back at me and I returned it, seeing the woman turn and smile back at me also as they left.

I laid back down, picking up my stuff and putting it away. No use even trying to work now..my head was filled with Sirius Black and the thought of a hot date.