Chapter 1: My First Letter
While the other girls are playing their games and running around and talking with each other in the yard of Rutledge Orphanage, I sit under a tree, slightly away from them all, with a manga open in my lap. I can't seem to focus on reading today, though, as I stare unseeingly across the yard, towards the building and through it. I don't see any of it. I don't want to see any of it.
This is how I've spent most of my days since first arriving at Rutledge Orphanage, five years ago. I remember that day, even though I don't remember anything before it. I don't remember my parents. I don't remember how they died. I don't remember when exactly they died. I don't remember any family or friends I might have had before my parents died. I don't remember anything before sitting on my bed, in between the beds of two other girls, on the second floor of this large, grey brick building. What I know about the time that exsisted before that day, I know only from what I've been told.
My parents are dead. I have no other family – or at least, if I did, it was none that was willing to take me in. My birthday was December 21. I was six years old when I arrived at Rutledge Orphanage, five years ago. My name is Callan Oshiro.
And that's it. That's all I know.
I sigh, turning my unseeing gaze down to my manga. I don't think I miss my parents. How can I miss something that I've never even known? But I do wish that I had a real family. I've seen families outside the orpahange. A couple with a little kid in between them; a mother pushing a stroller; a father playing catch with his son. I seem to be the only one in the orphanage who wants, more than anything, to leave. To be adopted by someone good and kind. Someone who will love me as their own. I don't think anyone should have to grow up in a place as cold and knowingly temporary as an orphanage. But all the other girls here don't seem to care. They're normal. They have friends, they like to play. I'm not like them.
"Miss Oshiro."
I quickly look up, surprised at the sound of my last name. One of the sisters who runs Rutledge is suddenly standing before me. It's odd to see them so far outside. If they come outside at all, it's just to do a head count and make sure everyone is still within the fenced in confined of the yard. The only time they actually walk outside is when we everyone's walking down the street to church on Sundays. I hate Sundays.
Now, though, Sister Mary Anne is standing in front of me and is holding out a letter to me. "This came for you this morning," she tells me. "I apologize, I forgot to give it to you after this morning's lesson."
I don't say anything, too surprised and confused for any words to come to mind, as I slowly reach up to take the letter. She waits for a moment, but then I think she understands that my mind's too blank with shock to remember my manners, so she simply smiles and returns to the building as I blink stupidly at the letter in my hand. I've never gotten a letter before.
It's not very common to get letters here. Only one girl gets letters; Elizabeth, who actually has family that loves her. But they can barely afford to take care of themselves, much less an extra child. They send her letters every once in a while. The last letter she got said that they have to move to London for the husband's job, so then she'll get to see them and visit with them even if they still won't be able to take her out of the orphanage.
I'm jealous of her too.
But now, for the first time that I can remember, I have a letter of my own. I turn it over to see a wax seal with a distantly familiar crest stamped into it. I look around at the other girls, all of them seeming oblivious to me, wondering if this is some sort of a joke. The sisters told me years ago that I have no other family. Anyone who may have been left to take care of me after my parents died must have either died themselves or not wanted to claim me.
I look back down at the letter and break open the wax seal with my thumb nail, opening the enveleope. Inside are two piece of strange, thick paper. The kind I've never seen before. Curious, I take them out and unfold the papers to read the first page.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc. Chf. Warlock
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Miss Oshiro,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
I stop myself before turning to the second page, my eyes widening as I remember how familiar this all looks. Not just the crest, but the entire letter too. I slowly pick the discarded envelope off my manga and lift it and the papers in my other hand up so that I can look at the pages.
My mom was a manga writer and artist. No one told me this, I figured it out myself, when I noticed that the author of one of my manga had my last name, when I was eight years old. It's a series, but I only have the first volume. And that's the one I've brought down and outside to read while all the other girls play.
I look down, at the front cover, and see that in the background of the cover image is the same crest that was on the wax seal of the envelope.
And on that crest, "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
I glance back and forth between the broken wax seal, the heading of the first letter, and the cover of my mom's manga, trying to figure it out. This…it can't be possible.
I look up at all the other girls, wandering and playing in the yard. Is this some sort of joke? It has to be. It's too strange. But who could have pulled such a joke off? Nobody else reads my manga. I've never told anyone about the dreams I have at night, of witches and wizards and magic.
I set the envelope back on top of my manga, in my lap, and put the first piece of paper behind the second so that I could read the second sheet.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
UNIFORM
First year students will require:
Three sets of plain work robes (black)
One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.
COURSE BOOKS
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)
By Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic
By Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory
By Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration
By Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi
By Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions
By Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
By Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection
By Quentin Trimble
OTHER EQUIPMENT
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl or a cat or a toad
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS
ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK
Your sincerely,
Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus
Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions
I shake my head decidedly. It has to be a joke. Some strange, elaborate hoax. As Sister Janice calls us all in for supper, I put the letter and its envelope in between two random pages of my manga, stand up, and hurry inside with the others. That night, I drop that manga into the trunk that sits at the foot of my bed, the letter still inside of it. The next morning, I start a new manga – one of my favorites that I have practically memorized – and I soon forget about the letter.