New Chapter! ENJOY!


Chapter Nine: Hopeless

Jamie Murray

When the book fell to the floor, it opened to a page of the first chapter in which a poem was written. I read the passage, the whimsical style of the book, bringing a small smile to my face:

"There was a book lying near Alice on the table, and while she sat watching the White King (for she was still a little anxious about him, and had the ink all ready to throw over him, in case he fainted again), she turned over the leaves, to find some part that she could read, '-for it's all in some language I don't know,' she said to herself.

It was like this.

YKCOWREBBAJ

sevot yhtils eht dna ,gillirb sawT`

ebaw eht ni elbmig dna eryg diD

,sevogorob eht erew ysmim llA

.ebargtuo shtar emom eht dnA

She puzzled over this for some time, but at last a bright thought struck her. `Why, it's a Looking-glass book, of course! And if I hold it up to a glass, the words will all go the right way again."

This was the poem that Alice read.

JABBERWOCKY.

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

`Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

The frumious Bandersnatch!'

He took his vorpal sword in hand:

Long time the manxome foe he sought—

So rested he by the Tumtum tree,

And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,

The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,

Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,

And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through

The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!

He left it dead, and with its head

He went galumphing back.

`And has thou slain the Jabberwock?

Come to my arms, my beamish boy!

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!

He chortled in his joy.

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe."

I grinned at the book. I loved that poem since the day my teacher at my boarding school assigned us a poetry contest. We had to pick a poem, memorize it, and recite it in front of the class. I had chosen the Jabberwocky as my poem. It had such amusing words that gave me the opportunity to escape from all the misery at my boarding school and immerse myself in the whimsical world of Lewis Carroll's Wonderland.

The passage was interesting too. First Alice couldn't read the poem because it was backwards but when she held it up to a glass mirror, the poem revealed itself. It reminded me of the Hotel Denouement and how it could only be viewed properly when one looked at its reflection in the pond. The book seemed almost too appropriate for our location. Why would Monty Kensicle tell Melissa to give it to me? Was he trying to tell me something? But what? What could it mean? Surely, the Jabberwocky poem didn't mean anything. It was only a whimsical tale of a man who slays the Jabberwocky.

I walked over to stand at the window, still holding the book, and gazed outside. The sun had almost completely disappeared below the horizon, casting an eerie glow on the hotel. I looked down at the pond, trying to find some meaning in what I had read. But there was nothing but the reflection of the hotel and a few ducks.

I looked at the book again and turned a few pages. I remembered how in the story, the mirror had also served as a way for Alice to see Wonderland. I looked back at the pond. Was I supposed to see something within the pond? I wish I could go down there to get a better look. Maybe something was hidden in the pond. It couldn't be Wonderland of course. That place didn't exist. But what? And even if there was some kind of secret world below its surface, how would it be possible? Ponds weren't that deep.

I thought of the V.F.D. headquarters and wondered why the last safe place seemed so…easy to destroy. The headquarters was hidden in a mountain while another one seems a little unlike V.F.D. I mean, if their enemies were people who started fires, why would one of their safe places be a hotel that anyone could find and burn down if they wanted to. If the Hotel Denouement was so secret then why was Ernest one of the managers? He was a villain and even if he could fool other people, he certainly couldn't make his brother think he was a goody-good. And if Frank knew he was a villain, why would he let him work here? It's no wonder why all the other villains found out the location of the last safe place…or did they? But if Hotel Denouement wasn't the last same place than what was?

I looked down at the pond again where I could see the reflection of the hotel. The sign of the hotel was reflected into the pond the right way: HOTEL DENOUEMENT

It seemed like an odd way to design a hotel. I suppose anyone who wasn't well-informed would think it was just a decoration to attract tourists. But what if it wasn't? What if it was a…a…distraction—a decoy? Or maybe the building was the decoy? What if there really was some kind of secret headquarters at the bottom of the pond? Because…because…this building isn't really the Hotel Denouement, therefore, it isn't the last safe place.

"The last safe place is at the bottom of the pond," I whispered aloud, my eyes widening as everything seemed to click. I had a strong feeling that I was right as I said it, as if a part of me knew it all along.


Klaus Baudelaire

"You must have thousands of questions, Baudelaires," said the man as we stood at the edge of the pond. "And just think—right here is where they can be answered."

"Who are you?" Violet asked.

"I'm Dewey Denouement," Dewey Denouement replied. "The third triplet. Haven't you heard of me?"

"No," I said. "We thought there were only Frank and Ernest."

"Frank and Ernest get all the attention," Dewey said. "They get to walk around the hotel managing everything, while I just hide in the shadows and wind the clock." He sighed heavily, and glowered at the pond. "That's what I don't like about V.F.D.," he said. "All the smoke and mirrors."

"Smoke?" Sunny asked.

"'Smoke and mirrors,'" Klaus explained, "means 'trickery used to cover up the truth.' But what does that have to do with V.F.D.?"

"Before the schism," Dewey said, "V.F.D. was like a public library. Anyone could join us and have access to all of the information we'd acquired. Volunteers all over the globe were reading each other's research, learning of each other's observations, and borrowing each other's books. For a while it seemed as if we might keep the whole world safe, secure, and smart."

"It must have been a wonderful time," Klaus said.

"I scarcely remember it," Dewey said. "I was four years old when the schism began. I was scarcely tall enough to reach my favorite shelf in the family library—the books labeled 020. But one night, just as our parents were hanging balloons for our fifth birthday party, my brothers and I were taken."

"Taken where?" Violet asked. "Taken by whom?" Sunny asked.

"I admire your curiosity," Dewey said. "The woman who took me said that one can remain alive long past the usual date of disintegration if one is unafraid of change, insatiable in intellectual curiosity, interested in big things, and happy in small ways. And she took me to a place high in the mountains, where she said such things would be encouraged."

I opened my commonplace book and began to take furious notes. "The headquarters," I said, "in the Valley of Four Drafts."

"Your parents must have missed you," Violet said.

"They perished that very night," Dewey said, "in a terrible fire. I don't have to tell you how badly I felt when I learned the news."

My siblings and I sighed, and gazed out at the pond. Another fire that had destroyed more lives. The pond was dark except for a few spots where the glow of a few windows was reflected. I knew what it felt like to lose a parent at a young age, of course. "It was not always this way, Baudelaires," Dewey said. "Once there were safe places scattered across the globe, and so orphans like yourselves did not have to wander from place to place, trying to find noble people who could be of assistance. With each generation, the schism gets worse. If justice does not prevail, soon there will be no safe places left, and nobody left to remember how the world ought to be."

"I don't understand," Violet said. "Why weren't we taken, like you?"

"You were," Dewey said. "You were taken into the custody of Count Olaf. And he tried to keep you in his custody, no matter how many noble people intervened."

"But why didn't anyone tell us what was going on?" I asked. "Why did we have to figure things out all by ourselves?"

"I'm afraid that's the wicked way of the world," Dewey said, shaking his head. "Everything's covered in smoke and mirrors, Baudelaires. Since the schism, all the research, all the observations, even all of the books have been scattered all over the globe. It's like the elephant in the poem your father loved. Everyone has their hands on a tiny piece of the truth, but nobody can see the whole thing. Very soon, however, all that will change."

"Thursday," Sunny said.

"Exactly," Dewey said, giving Sunny a smile. "At long last, all of the noble people will be gathered together, along with all the research they've done, all the observations they've made, all the evidence they've collected, and all the books they've read. Just as a library catalog can tell you where a certain book is located, this catalog can tell you the location and behavior of every volunteer and every villain." He pointed at the hotel. "For years," he said, "while noble people wandered the world observing treachery, my comrade and I have been right here gathering all the information together. We've copied every note from every commonplace book from every volunteer and compiled it all into a catalog. Occasionally, when volunteers have been lost or safe places destroyed, we've had to go ourselves to collect the information that has been left behind. We've retrieved Josephine Anwhistle's files from Lake Lachrymose and carefully copied down their contents. We've pasted together the burnt scraps of Madame Lulu's archival library and taken notes on what we've found. We've searched the childhood home of the man with a beard but no hair, and interviewed the math teacher of the woman with hair but no beard. We've memorized important articles within the stacks of newspaper in Paltryville, and we've thrown important items out of the windows of our destroyed headquarters, so they might wind up somewhere safe at sea. We've taken every crime, every theft, every wicked deed, and every incident of rudeness since the schism began, and cataloged them into an entire library of misfortune. Eventually, every crucial secret ends up in my catalog. It's been my life's work. It has not been an easy life, but it has been an informative one."

"You're more than a volunteer," Violet said. "You're a librarian."

"I'm more of a sub-sub-librarian," Dewey said modestly. "That's what your parents used to call me, because my library work has been largely undercover and underground. Every villain in the world would want to destroy all this evidence, so it's been necessary to hide my life's work away."

"But where could you hide something that enormous?" I said. "It would be like hiding an elephant. A catalog that immense would have to be as big as the hotel itself."

"It is," Dewey said, with a sly expression on his face. "In fact, it's exactly as big as the hotel."

Violet and I looked from Dewey to each other, confused.

"!ahA" Sunny said, gesturing to the still water of the pond.

"Exactly," Dewey said. "The truth has been right under everyone's noses, if anyone cared to look past the surface. Volunteers and villains alike know that the last safe place is the Hotel Denouement, but no one has ever questioned why the sign is written backward. They're staying in the TNEMEUONED LETOH, while the real last safe place—the catalog—is hidden safely at the bottom of the pond, in underwater rooms, organized in a mirror image of the hotel itself. Our enemies could burn the entire building to the ground, but the most important secrets would be safe."

"But if the location of the catalog is such an important secret," Violet said, "why are you telling us?"

"Because you should know," Dewey said. "You've wandered the world, observing more villainy and gathering more evidence than most people do in a lifetime. I'm sure the observations and evidence you've gathered in your commonplace book will be valuable contributions to the catalog. Who better than you to keep the world's most important secrets?"

"Actually," I said, "our friend Jane has written down everything that has happened to us in her commonplace book. It will probably be much more useful to you than mine."

"Do you mean Jane Rumary?" Dewey asked. "She's the one who's Count Olaf's latest captive, correct?"

I nodded. "Except she isn't really Jane Rumary," I said, "She's Jamie Murray."

"Murray did you say?" Dewey asked, with wide eyes. "She's alive? Jamie Faith Murray? Well, it should be Murray-Richards but most people are too lazy to say the whole name." He chuckled. "After a while, Henry had to come to terms with people neglecting to use his surname. Fortunately, he didn't mind. When you see your friend next, tell her I knew her parents. Henry and Abigail were good friends of mine just like your parents were. Unfortunately, Abigail's disappearance is the one mystery I'm yet to solve."

Dewey sighed and looked out at the pond. After a moment, he turned to look at each one of us in turn. "After Thursday," he continued, "you won't have to be at sea anymore, Baudelaires." I knew it meant that we would no longer feel lost and confused. Listening to him say those words, made tears well up in my eyes. "I hope you decide to make this your permanent home. I need someone with an inventive imagination who can improve on the aquatic design of the catalog. I need someone with the sort of research skills that can expand the catalog until it is the finest in the world. And, of course, we'll need to eat, and I've heard wonderful things about Sunny's cooking. And I heard Jamie Murray is a wonderful performer and a writer, and we'll need entertainment as well."

"Efcharisto," Sunny said modestly.

"Hal's meals are atrocious, I'm afraid," Dewey said with a rueful smile. "I don't know why he insisted on opening his restaurant in Room 954, when so many other suitable rooms were available. Bad food of any style is unpleasant, but bad Indian food is possibly the worst."

"Hal is a volunteer?" I asked.

"In a manner of speaking," Dewey said, "After the fire that destroyed Heimlich Hospital, my comrade arrived on the scene to catalog any information that might have survived. She found Hal in a very distraught condition. His Library of Records was in shambles, and he had nowhere to live. She offered him a position at the Hotel Denouement, where he might aid us in our research and learn to cook. Unfortunately he's only been good at one of those things."

"And what about Charles?" Violet asked.

"Charles has been searching for you since you left the lumbermill," Dewey said. "He cares for you, Baudelaires, despite the selfish and dreadful behavior of his partner. You've seen your share of wicked people, Baudelaires, but you've seen your share of people as noble as you are."

"I'm not sure we are noble," I said quietly, as I flipped through the pages of Jane's commonplace book. "We caused those accidents at the lumbermill. We're responsible for the destruction of the hospital. We helped start the fire that destroyed Madame Lulu's archival library. We-"

"Enough," Dewey interrupted gently, putting a hand on my shoulder. "You're noble enough, Baudelaires. That's all we can ask for in this world."

I hung my head, leaning against Dewey as tears fell from my eyes. I felt my sisters huddling against me and we all stood silently in the dark. We were all shedding tears, even Dewey could not help letting some escape. I wished Jane were here with us. I always felt a sense of comfort whenever she was around. Nevertheless, as we stood there, I was grateful for his words because they were a blessing and very comforting.

There was the sound of a car approaching and I looked up to see two figures emerging from the taxi and once again I was grateful for this blessing.

"Baudelaires!" called a familiar voice.

"Baudelaires!" called another one.

The people emerging from the taxis wore strange glasses with two huge cones attached to their heads with a mass of tangled rope, coiled up on top of their heads. Despite their strange eyewear, I was able to recognize them at once. I couldn't believe my eyes. I never thought I would see either one of them again.

"Justice Strauss!" Violet cried.

"Jerome Squalor!" I cried.

"J. S.!" Sunny cried.

"I'm so happy to find you," said the judge, removing her Vision Furthering Device so she could dab at her eyes and embrace each of us individually. "I was afraid I'd never see you again. I'll never forgive myself for letting that idiotic banker take you away from me."

"And I'll never forgive myself," said Jerome, "for walking away from you children and letting Count Olaf get away with Jane. I'm afraid I wasn't a very good guardian."

"And I'm afraid I wasn't a guardian at all," Justice Strauss said. "As soon as you were taken away in that automobile, I knew I had done the wrong thing, and when I heard the dreadful news about Dr. Montgomery I began searching for you. Eventually I found other people who were also trying to battle the wicked villains of this world, but I always hoped I would find you myself, if only to say how sorry I was."

"I'm sorry, too," Jerome said. "As soon as I heard about all the troubles that befell you in the Village of Fowl Devotees, I began my own Baudelaire search. Volunteers were leaving me messages everywhere—at least, I thought the messages were addressed tome."

"And I thought they were addressed to me," Justice Strauss said. "There are certainly plenty of people with the initials J. S."

"I began to feel like an impostor," Jerome said.

"You're not impostors," Dewey said. "You're volunteers." He turned to face us. "Both these people have helped us immeasurably," he said. "Justice Strauss has reported the details of your case to the other judges in the High Court. And Jerome Squalor has done some critical research on injustice."

"I was inspired by my wife," Jerome confessed, removing his Vision Furthering Device. "Wherever I looked for you, Baudelaires, I found selfish plots to steal your fortune. I read books on injustice in all the libraries you left behind and eventually wrote a book myself. Odious Lusting After Finance chronicles the history of greedy villains, treacherous girlfriends, bungling bankers, and all the other people responsible for injustice."

"No matter what we do, however," Justice Strauss said, "we can't erase the wrongs we did you, Baudelaires."

"She's right," Jerome Squalor said. "We should have been as noble as you are."

"You're noble enough," Violet said. Sunny and I nodded. The judge and the injustice expert embraced us again. And I found that I wanted to forgive them for their mistakes because they were noble enough and perhaps they should be given another chance.

"I don't mean to break up all this embracing," Dewey said, "but we have work to do, volunteers. As one of the first volunteers said a very long time ago, 'Though boys throw stones at frogs in sport, the frogs do not die in sport, but in earnest.'"

"Speaking of frogs," Justice Strauss said, "I'm afraid to report that we couldn't see a thing from the other side of the pond. These Vision Furthering Devices work well in the daytime, but looking through special sunglasses after sunset makes everything look as dark as a crow flying through a pitch black night—which is precisely what we're looking for."

"Justice Strauss is correct," Jerome said sadly. "We couldn't verify the arrival of the crows, or whether their journey was interrupted."

"We couldn't see if even a single crow was trapped," the judge said, "or if the sugar bowl fell into the funnel."

"Funnel?" Dewey repeated.

"Yes," Justice Strauss said. "You told us that if our enemies shot down the crows, they would have fallen onto the birdpaper."

"And if the crows fell onto the birdpaper," Jerome continued, "then the sugar bowl would drop into the laundry room, right?"

Dewey looked from the steaming funnel to the pond with a sly smile. "So it would appear," he said. "Our enemies capturing the sugar bowl would be as troubling as their capture of the Medusoid Mycelium."

"So you already know about the plan to shoot down the crows, and capture the sugar bowl?" Violet said incredulously.

"Yes," Dewey said. "Justice Strauss learned that the harpoon gun had been taken up to the rooftop sunbathing salon. Jerome noticed that birdpaper was dangling out of the window of the sauna in Room 613. And I gave Sunny the lock myself, so she could lock up the laundry in Room 025."

"You know about all the villainous people who are lurking in the hotel?" I said, equally incredulously.

"Yes," Justice Strauss said. "We observed rings on all the wooden furniture, from people refusing to use coasters. Obviously there are many villains staying in the hotel."

"Mycelium?" Sunny asked, with perhaps just a touch more incredulousness than Violet and I.

"Yes," Jerome said. "We've learned that Olaf has managed to acquire a few spores locked tight in a diving helmet."

I looked at the two commonplace books in my hands, and then back at the sub-sub-librarian. "I guess our observations and evidence aren't such valuable contributions after all," Violet said. "All the mysteries we encountered in the hotel had already been solved."

"It doesn't matter, Baudelaires," Jerome said. "Olaf won't dare unleash the Medusoid Mycelium unless he gets his hands on the sugar bowl, and he'll never find it."

"I'm the only one who knows which words will unlock the Vernacularly Fastened Door," Dewey said, ushering us back toward the entrance of the hotel, "and there's not a villainous person on Earth who has done enough reading to guess them before Thursday. By then, all of the volunteers will present the research they've done on Count Olaf and his associates to the prosecution, and all their treachery will finally end."

"Jerome Squalor will be an important witness," Justice Strauss said. "His comprehensive history of injustice will help the High Court reach a verdict."

"Prosecution?" Violet asked.

"Witness?" I asked.

"Verdict?" Sunny said.

The adults exchanged smiles and then turned their gaze on us. "That's what we've been trying to tell you," Dewey said gently. "V.F.D. has researched an entire catalog of Olaf's treachery. On Thursday, Justice Strauss and the other judges of the High Court will hear from each and every one of our volunteers. Count Olaf, Esmé Squalor, and all of the other villainous people gathered here will finally be brought to justice."

"You'll never have to hide from Olaf again," Jerome said, "or worry that anyone will steal your fortune."

"We just have to wait for tomorrow, Baudelaires," Justice Strauss said, "and your troubles will finally be over."

"It's like my comrade always says," Dewey said. "Right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant."

Wrong! The clanging of the clock announced that it was currently one o'clock in the morning. No one said anymore as Dewey took Violet's hand, and Justice Strauss took mine, and Jerome Squalor leaned down and took Sunny's hand, and they led us up the stairs toward the hotel's entrance. They smiled at us, and we smiled back, but I knew by now that our troubles truly weren't about to end and that Count Olaf and all the other villains would be punished by the High Court and that my siblings, Jane, and I would work with Dewey Denouement on his enormous underwater catalog for the rest of our lives, if we only waited for tomorrow. However, this happy moment was cut short as we entered the lobby of the Hotel Denouement and the one loud Wrong/ faded into nothing. A person stood in the center of the lobby, his tall lean body bent into a theatrical pose as if he were waiting for a crowd to applaud, and even in the dim light of the room, I could see the tattoo of an eye on his ankle. I had become so accustomed to Olaf intruding on moments when my siblings and I found happiness that I wasn't surprised to see him. When Count Olaf turned to face us, he gazed upon them with his shiny, shiny eyes, making me wish I had never been born.


Jamie Murray

I sat on the bed now, watching television aimlessly and growing increasingly worried. All I wanted to do was cry more and more. I couldn't escape that helpless feeling that nothing would ever be okay. No matter how many times I tried to convince myself that tomorrow would be brighter, I knew by now it wasn't true. I didn't like sitting and doing nothing productive when Olaf was busy scheming to destroy V.F.D. at his cocktail party. But everything I knew if I wanted to do something, I couldn't accomplish it while in this room. Except I was terrified of going out there knowing that the man with a beard but no hair was released from the storage room.

I decided to take a shower and try to wash away that filthy feeling I had ever since the bearded associate attacked me. It was the same feeling that I had after the bald man tried the same thing. It was worse this time. No matter how hard I scrubbed, I still didn't feel very clean. At last, I gave up and got out of the shower, drying off and getting dressed. I figured I didn't need to wear the bikini anymore but just in case, I kept it on underneath the outfit I put on. I put on the tank top and jeans again since I would not wear those atrocious looking rompers unless Esmé forced me to put them on.

I rummaged through my bag and pulled out the owl figurine. However, as I pulled it out, my hand brushed against something stiff and rough. Curious, I pulled out the object and realized with wide eyes that I had completely forgotten about the letter. The yellow parchment was heavy and the familiar green writing showed it had been addressed to Mount Fraught since that's where I remember getting it. I wasted no more time and hastily opened the envelope. Inside was the letter, which I pulled out with trembling hands. Could this letter be the key to my freedom? Is that why Esmé and Count Olaf hid it from me all this time?

I began to read:

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 Murray,

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 September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

I gasped. My head was spinning with questions. A…what? I was a…witch? No way. It sounded so strange but oddly it somewhat made sense. I thought of all the bizarre things that seemed to always happen to me. Like the time when I seemed to almost teleport from Count Olaf's home to the secret passageway. I remembered how I was somehow able to break free of the straps of that scary bed at Dr. Orwell's office. My Matilda powers, of course. Could it really be magic instead? But I thought magic was only in fantasy novels or movies. Then again, the Baudelaires and I didn't know that hypnosis was possible until Dr. Orwell used it on Klaus. And what about that woman in the gift shop caravan? She acted as if there were more people like me.

Klaus had the Matilda powers too. Did that mean he was a…wizard? Well it must mean something since Esmé and Olaf kept stealing the letters from me. They probably knew about it and didn't want me to know so I wouldn't be able to escape.

The letter also said that they were expecting an owl…I thought of Spirit and all those other owls that had taken part in the delivery of the numerous letters. So I had to reply using an owl. But I didn't have an owl and Spirit was nowhere to be found. I had until July 31. That was several months away since it was still spring but I had no clue what could happen in those months leading up to that due date. Would I even be able to get an owl by then to send it to Hogwarts? Where is Hogwarts? The lady who wrote the letter didn't leave an address.

But that's when I remembered…there was no way I could actually attend this school even if I wanted to and even if I could go, how could I escape from Esmé and Olaf? I suppose if I ran into Monty Kensicle again, I could tell him and ask him to take me. Maybe he would know where it is. But I never took notice of what room he had brought me in, however, knowing him, the room we spoke in probably wasn't his actual room. Besides, how could I leave the Baudelaires behind? And Melissa? And the Quagmires?

Perhaps the letter I wrote in reply would have to be myself turning down the offer. I knew by now that something this wonderful could never really happen for me. And what about Thursday? What if Olaf got away with his plans and he took the Baudelaires and I far away to that island? I'd never see an owl again or have anyway of getting to that school. It was a dream that was too far out of my reach. I sighed, wishing that I never found the letter and gotten my hopes up.

I found a blank piece of paper on a desk in one corner of the room and a pen. In my best handwriting, I began to write:

Dear Minerva McGonagall,

My name is Jamie Faith Murray but some people call me Jane. I don't know what to make of this letter or this information. I think you might be mistaken. I'm not a witch. I'm just a ten-year-old girl—An orphan girl since my parents died when I was only a baby. That's all I can really say about myself since I'm still trying to figure out exactly who I am. Even if what you say is true, I won't be able to attend your school. You see, my friends, the Baudelaires and I are currently at the Hotel Denouement in New York. I'm not sure of the location of your school but even if it is nearby, any chance of coming is pretty much impossible.

A number of months ago, my friends and I encountered a man by the name of Count Olaf who has caused us nothing but trouble by doggedly pursuing us from home to home, scheming ways to steal our fortunes that our parents left behind when they died. He's come close nearly every time too, with the four of us barely escaping. In fact, I wasn't so fortunate and now I'm one of his captives. Anyways, we discovered a secret organization so secret that we still barely understand what it is; however, we did discover that it was split by a schism into a firefighting side and a fire starting side. Recently, I made the decision to turn to darkness, which I regret now but if I try to be good again, I'll be alone and my life might be at risk. I'm afraid and trying to find a way out of this mess before Count Olaf destroys everything this organization worked to create. My time is running out and I don't know how long I'll be able to last. If Count Olaf succeeds, he plans to take my friends and I far away to an island so the authorities won't be able to find us. I've been telling myself that there is a way out and that tomorrow will be brighter. But I know it isn't so. I know things will only worsen because I wasn't born yesterday. My life has always been a miserable disaster from the moment that I found out my parents died.

I shouldn't be complaining though. I know there are people currently going through things that are much worse. My friends, the Quagmires, are in dire circumstances since a swarm of eagles is trying to destroy the self-sustaining hot air balloon home they are in. I just hope they make it out alive. As for me, the only people who ever cared about me think I'm a murderer. But I'm not. I'm not evil. Olaf has tried to convince me that I'm destined to become a villain though. I don't know yet what my destiny is, but I always hoped for happiness. I'm yet to find that, however lately I've been doubtful of ever finding it, especially if I find myself stuck on that island with that treacherous man.

Besides, I could never leave my friends. Even if we're not in good terms, I would never go somewhere like Hogwarts without them with me. I'm sure you have people in your life that you care about enough not to abandon them even when you feel as if they've abandoned you. If things go well this Thursday, perhaps I will consider finding my way with the help of one of my friends, Monty Kensicle. But if Thursday fails and the sky fills with smoke, all the innocent people, my friends, and everyone else fighting the fires will all be doomed to fall while evil triumphs. Maybe if Thursday is successful, then we'll be free and there will be peace.

So not only would going to Hogwarts be nearly impossible, I don't want to go. I just don't think I deserve to have such a gift. You should give it to someone who will have a better future and isn't caught up in a world full of despair and misery. I may not be a murderer but I'm not a noble person either. Thank you very much for your offer, but there's just too much happening and I'm sorry to say that I can't go.

Yours sincerely,
Jamie Faith Murray

Jamie Faith Murray

Orphan

I wiped away the tears in my eyes with the backs of my hands as I folded up the piece of paper. I didn't have an envelope so I reused the one they sent to me and wrote the return address as best as I could. All I wrote was the name of the school, and the name of both the Headmaster and the woman who wrote the letter.

As if on cue, there was a tap-tap on my window and when I looked up, an owl was perched on the windowsill. Quickly, I went to open the window and the owl flew to sit on my bed. Carefully, I handed the owl the letter and it flew away, disappearing into the steam from the funnel. I sighed again. It looks like Olaf and Esmé got what they wanted again.


Review!

Should Violet and Sunny be magic too? Well I'm mostly asking about Violet since Sunny isn't even old enough. On one hand, she's the sciency type so magic might not work well with her plus she would be going into her fifth year or fourth year. If she isn't magic though, I might not be able to include her as much in my fic since it mostly follows Jamie's or Klaus's POV. On the other hand, if Violet is magic, she could invent all kinds of magic gizmos like a new and improved Time Turner or something and she would be more involved in the story. So let me know what you think!