The Letter
Part One
by Dadgrid
"Time for bed, ladies."
"Oh, Daddy, please, just a little more, we don't have school tomorrow, pleaassse, can we stay on, do some more..."
The man smiled, shook his head, and reached around the girls on his lap to log off and shut the computer down. The glow faded. "If you don't get to bed now you'll both be cranky tomorrow. We won't have fun. Off you go, now."
The older girl protested. "But we didn't find out what's going to happen in the next book. We looked all over the Internet and I'm more confused. You said we'd find out."
Her father said "I didn't say we'd find out, Amanda, what I said was we'd look at what others are saying. According to all this, and depending who you believe, then Dumbledore's going to die, the Weasley twins are going to die, Ron's going to die, Hermione's going to die, Draco Malfoy's going to die, and even a couple of people said Harry's going to die. And, we found out Voldemort is Harry's father, Hermione is Harry's sister, Dumbledore is Harry's uncle and Voldemort's brother!" The man pretended to run out of breath.
"But Daddy!" the younger sister said. "That's silly! You can't have Harry Potter die! There's going to be seven books! She can't kill all those people! They can't kill Harry!!" They couldn't publish any more books!"
Her father smiled a little: "Well, the book after that could be Dobby and the Lost Hogwarts' Socks or something, how about that?"
Two pairs of eyes rolled. "Daddy!!."
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Father made a rich breakfast the next morning: his special porridge (toasted in butter before cooking), sausages, his own bread with his mother's marmalade, and orange juice he squeezed himself. Sarah, the eight-year-old, called it "Daddy's special breakfast." Both sisters thought it a treat, but Amanda ate quickly and went upstairs. When her father went up later, he found her sitting at the computer. "Daddy," she said, "Do you really have friends in America you talk to about Harry?" "
Sure I do," he answered, "A lot of them. One of them's a schoolteacher in Michigan, two are lawyers in California and Florida, and another one in Texas. All kinds of people love Harry. But let's not sit at the computer on a fine day like this. We'll use it tonight. Now go outside."
"Dad, will you play Hogwarts with us after lunch? I'm going to be Professor BeBe and you and Sarah are my class. Will you?"
"Okay. What's the class today?" "Potions!"
Sure enough, Amanda and Sarah's father was reading in the garden when a brisk voice called "Excuse me. Excuse me." When he looked up, a petite blonde figure (small for a girl who had just turned eleven) stood before him, dressed in a maroon robe with gold scrollwork down the front. Apparently some Hogwarts professors' robes resembled Queen Amidala Halloween costumes.
"Class is about to start, Dadgrid. Please come so we can start. You can't be late." The girls' father wanted to read, but he remembered his promise and followed his teacher into the kitchen. Sarah was already there, standing over a bowl filled with a pungent mixture. Father's smile was gone. "Girls, that's all my cooking herbs! Those are expensive, and look at the dish soap! You must clean this up!"
The girls' smiles were gone too, now. "Daddy, we just wanted to make a potion. We want to play with you, don't be angry."
"You have to ask me for what you can use. Please don't do this again. Sarah, get a mop." They cleaned up in silence.
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The potions class was mostly forgotten the next morning when Sarah came into the kitchen carrying a letter. "Amanda, you have a letter, a fancy letter. Open it!"
"Sarah, how could there be a letter? It's Sunday, there's no post today."
"Here it is, Dad, look." Sarah handed Amanda the letter. Father looked over their shoulders. The large envelope was parchment, addressed in flowing script with green ink:
Amanda Fayer
The Top Bunk
9 Rosemont Road...
"Open it! Open it! Sarah almost snatched the letter from her older sister in her haste to get it open. The letter took twice as long to open with all the fumbling. Everyone was quiet until Amanda spoke:
"Dad, this is strange. It says I'm admitted to Hogwarts. Who sent me this?"
Her father, looking amused, said, "I see what it says, honey. Does this mean you can tidy up your room with your wand?"
Amanda scowled: "Daddy, I'm serious! Who sent this?"
"I don't know, sweetie," answered her father, "but they did a good job, didn't they? It's parchment, just like Hogwarts, and green ink, just like in the book. Who do you think sent it? One of your friends, for a joke?"
Amanda thought for a moment, then brightened. "It's my friend Fiona's birthday in two weeks! Maybe she's going to have a Harry Potter party, and she'll ring me later to tell me when it is!"
The mystery didn't get easier. Two days later Fiona's invitation did come: to a dress-up tea party in Victorian costumes. None of Amanda's friends had gotten a letter like hers, either. Amanda wasn't amused anymore; she was mad at who sent her a letter like this for a joke. After all, she had felt an excitement she couldn't totally control: what if she really got a Hogwarts letter? How could somebody tease her like this, even if it was silly to let herself be teased? It was mean. Never mind everybody knows they're just books, good stories, it was all make-believe - but what if it wasn't? What would it be like to shop for her books in Diagon Alley? What does butterbeer taste like? What House would she be in? Who..
By Friday Amanda was driving everybody a little mad. Sarah was sick of Amanda's snappishness and started teasing her about Hogwarts changing its mind, and Amanda's father sat her down and listened but basically told her to get a grip on herself and stop fretting about something so trivial. Amanda argued with him: "But what if it was real, Daddy? Do you remember how I fell off the garage roof and didn't get hurt? You didn't know how I did it, and I didn't either, but what if it was magic? What about when I cried when my flowers died and the next day they were beautiful? Don't you think that's strange?"
Her dad looked worried. "Sweetheart, you're letting this carry you away. You shouldn't have gone up on the garage, and you were very lucky not to get hurt, but I hardly think it was magic. Your flowers weren't really dead, either. We watered them and they came back Amanda, please, you know Harry is just a story. We really like to visit Hogwarts in the books, but we can't live there. Maybe we should take a break from them for a while. We'll pick them up again later."
Amanda burst into tears. "Daddy, you're mean! Who sent me this letter?"
Daddy sighed. "I don't know, honey, but you've got to forget it. Now that's enough. It's over. We aren't going to talk about it anymore."
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Saturday morning everything seemed better. The girls were laughing and joking with Daddy as they cleaned up the breakfast dishes and planned a nature walk for the next day.
For the first time all week, the letter wasn't mentioned. Good, he thought. We won't do anything Harry this weekend, then we can go back to reading the latest book next week. Stupid joke, though, especially after whoever sent it went to so much trouble. He shook water off his hands as he went to answer the phone.
"Hello."
"Good morning, is this David Fayer?"
"Yes, may I ask who's calling?" Sales calls on the weekend now? Ugh.
"My name is Fred Farmer. I'm calling to impose on you by asking if my wife and I could come visit you and your daughter. Am I right that you received an unusual letter a week ago?"
"Yes I did, and I don't mind telling you that it went past being funny. My daughter ended up upset about it, and I don't appreciate how it made her feel. You should know..."
"Mr. Fayer, I did not send it, but I want to talk to you about it. You need to hear what I have to say. I will leave when you ask me to. We are all respectable people, Mr. Fayer, and I ask you to hear me."
David didn't know what to do. Was this some sort of confidence game? How could it be a joke anymore? He sounds like a serious person, but isn't this what con men do, sound serious and respectable? " You can say it over the phone, and quickly."
"Mr. Fayer, I really can't. You will understand. My wife and I would like to see you at two this afternoon; we'll stand outside if you like."
"Oh, very well, I can't stop that. Don't expect to stay long. Good day." Why did I even agree to that? He said nothing to his daughters. They wondered why he looked so uneasy.
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The time until two seemed never to pass. The girls couldn't understand why their dad wouldn't let them go a friend's house, couldn't understand why he checked on them every ten minutes, couldn't understand why he was so fretful. They also couldn't understand why he started glancing out the front window from 1:30 on.
It was only a little after two when a new and spacious-looking car pulled up in front of the house. A middle-aged man in a very sober topcoat and Homburg hat stepped around and opened the door for a lady as respectable looking as a vicar's wife. What's this? The rear door opened and an attractive young woman stepped out also. Is this them, then? The three walked up the path. David stepped away from the window. I won't answer the door right away, he thought. I don't want them to think I'm anxious. The bell rang. One. Two. Three. Four. Five...
"Yes?"
"Mr. Fayer?"
"Yes?"
"May we come in?"
They did look so respectable. "Yes, yes, please."
The man took off his Homburg as he stepped in. "I thank you for agreeing to meet with us, Mr. Fayer. I'm sorry for any unease your family has been through. But first, I must apologize for something else. You see, I've deceived you. My name is not Farmer. I find that we now have to do this for families to see us at all." He drew himself up. "My name is actually Fred Granger, and this is my wife Violet." He turned to the young woman. "And this is our daughter, Hermione."
In spite of himself, David felt a little wave of lightheadedness come over him. He stood, looking vacant; but then his face darkened. "This is quite, enough, I think. Perhaps you'd better go now." He reached for the door.
"Please, Mr. Thayer." It was the young woman who spoke. "I don't blame you, but you must wait. We're here to see you and your daughter. Will you please call her?"
"I will not! I don't know what your game is, but..." he stopped, staring. The young woman had a dark rod in her hand, pointing it right at his throat.
"Just say her name softly. Sonorous."
"Amanda? Sarah?" He jerked in surprise. His words, almost a whisper, seemed to fill every corner of the house without being too loud anywhere. What?
"Daddy?" Feet rushed down the stairs. "What did you do, Daddy? It was like you were right next to me, it was so weird..." They stopped, staring at the visitors.
"Hello," said the young woman with a smile. "Are you Amanda? And are you her sister?" They nodded. "My name is Hermione. Maybe you've heard of me."
Amanda's smile fell a little, and her eyes opened wide. "You're not Hermione, are you? You're kidding, aren't you?" Her little sister Sarah's approach was much more direct.
"If you're Hermione, then do some magic! Let's see your wand!"
Hermione held out the dark rod to Amanda first. "Here it is, would you like to hold it?" Amanda hesitated, then tentatively reached out for it. When she grasped it, the tip glowed for a second. Hermione's eyes went up a little.
"Very good! I can see why you got a letter!" "Would you like to take it a moment? She offered it to Sarah. The younger girl reached out for it like it was a candy cane. This time, a ripple of purple light raced down the length of the wand and flashed a corona around the tip.
Sarah's eye went wide. "It feels all tingly!"
Hermione's eyes were wide too. "Oh, my! I've never seen..." She looked hard at the little girl. "Well. I think it's safe to say when you're eleven..."
"Wait a moment!" David interrupted. The words echoed around the house.
"Oh, sorry! Forgot! Quietus."
"I mean, wait a moment! What are you saying? That this letter is real? Hogwarts is real? Magic is real? How on Earth..."
"I think we'd better sit down." Mrs. Granger spoke for the first time. "This isn't easy to accept, Mr. Fayer, that's why we're here. You need help to accept this. Your world is a very different place than it was a moment ago. We know that. We went through it ourselves."
"I still don't believe it..."
"I know," Mrs. Granger said. "It's almost impossible to accept this quickly. It's too much. You're going to go through denying this is real; you will be angry your world has been turned upside down; you're going to grieve for your old reality. We can help you adjust to it. You must adjust to it."
"Why must I?" David's face was as angry as any frightened man's. "Even if this is true, which I doubt, my daughter doesn't have to go anywhere. She'd be happier without it. Amanda has friends, she's happy at school, she has her sister and me! You want to take her!? Like hell..."
"Mr. Fayer." Hermione spoke now. "We don't mean to bully you. It's just that your daughter is magical. Actually, they both are," she said, looking very seriously at the two girls, who were staring, speechless. "It just is. And it can't be ignored. A person who is magical must be trained. Wild magic will destroy the person who holds it. It would be dangerous for everyone around her." She pulled out her wand again. "I think it's time now for you to hear something. It will explain a lot." She held out the wand and traced a rectangle over and over. "Mr. Fayer, perhaps you would like to face the wall behind you." The wand was leaving a golden trail of light behind it until there was a box of gold light. "Proscenia."
The box expanded, growing larger and larger as it approached David, sweeping through him and past him. It kept expanding until it touched the wall, filling it up. The wall seemed to disappear, leaving a mist of blues and grays and colours that seemed to wander and coalesce until they were looking at a magnificent castle with a large lake in front of it in a beautiful rolling emerald land. How could they have done this, David thought. How could this be a trick? The image blurred and cleared again. Now they were looking into a round room with stone walls. Shelves and bookcases stood against the walls; banners of red, green, blue, yellow, purple and tartan hung behind a large carved desk. A barred door, like a cage, stood set in the wall in one corner. A man not quite young came from behind the desk. Is he coming into my parlour? It's so real... the man sat down.
"Hello and good day to you. I would like to introduce myself. I am Professor Remus Lupin, and I am the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
"If you are seeing me, it is because you have received a rather rude shock today. You have discovered that your child is magical. You are not magical yourself, and you did not even know that magic existed, notwithstanding recent literary events. His face bore a wry expression.
"The magical world has been through a period of great turmoil. We suffered a war which only recently ended. The events of that war and the people who took part in it, especially the life of our greatest hero, have become known in the non-magical world. What you did not know before now was these 'stories' were in fact history. Our world was almost destroyed. We went through great hardship and suffered great loss. Now our world has been reborn."
"We still do not understand all of what happened. One of the things
that has happened that we do not understand is that there are many more magical
children. After seeing our numbers dwindle all through the years of war and
struggle, we are seeing more magical children than ever before. I will speak
more of this later."
"As a parent of a magical child, you may feel stricken. How did this happen to my child? Is magic a blessing or a curse? Am I going to lose my child? "
"But magic is not a disease. It is a talent, a gift, and your child will become a witch or wizard with great power. It will change your child, there's no denying it. But it's unavoidable."
"You see, magic must be trained. I can't emphasize it enough. Magic is such a strong force that it will overcome and destroy any soul that can't control it. Those magical persons who are never trained often become insane from the forces within them they don't understand. Others become evil and lash out. Dark forces sometimes recruit these unfortunates and twist them to their ends as expendable pawns. It is a grim fate."
"So, I hope you see why it is essential your child join us at Hogwarts. Here he or she will be educated and given the skills your child needs to be a witch or wizard in control of her own life. Your child will be well looked after and find friends of her own kind. And your child will return to you for holidays and for the summer. You will visit Hogwarts and be welcome here as a parent of one of our students."
"You are being visited now by a Hogwarts family with non-magical parents. They have volunteered to help other parents like you adjust and to accept the reality of what has happened. They can tell you what it's like. They've been there. Talk to them."
"There have been changes at Hogwarts since the war. Because we have more students, and because of the great events of our recent past, there are now two new Houses, the first such changes in a thousand years."
"Dumbledore House has been established in memory of Professor Albus Dumbledore, late Headmaster of this school, and a great hero of the war. If your child is light of heart and clear of mind, you may belong here."
"McGonagall House is named for Professor Minerva McGonagall, another hero of our war and late assistant Headmistress. If your child takes responsibility seriously, and if he or she has a talent for Transfiguration, this house might become home."
"And for those of you who have been introduced to our world through what you thought was fiction, let me answer a few questions, though not too many. Harry Potter is alive and well, and when you come to Hogwarts, you will meet him, although he does not teach here. You will find many things and have many experiences that you did not read about in the books, simply because what you have read was a true story, not an encyclopedia." A smile crossed Lupin's face. "And you will learn to ride a broomstick."
The scene began to fade, slowly. "Good-bye for now. You have much to think about. Remember the family who is visiting you will help you. They will tell you to call them any time. This is the beginning of a life more exciting than anything you ever imagined.. I welcome you to it." The image faded away; the golden box collapsed on itself and was gone.
David just sat there. The children recovered first. "Hermione?" said Amanda, slowly, hesitantly. "Am I going to have to go away?"
"You will go to Hogwarts, dear," Hermione answered. "I know you'll miss your daddy and your sister, but you'll see them on holidays, and you'll be able to send them letters by owl, and pictures of yourself that move, how about that?"
Amanda brightened. "Hermione," she hesitated. "Is Harry your boyfriend?"
That shook Amanda's father out of his abstraction. "Amanda! That's very rude! I'm sorry,..."
Hermione raised her hand. "It's all right, Mr. Fayer. Girls always want to know...." she gave Amanda a mysterious smile, "....but I'm not telling." The Grangers all rose to go. "I'll call in a week or so," said Hermione. "Amanda and I have a trip to Diagon Alley to make, don't we?"
Sarah, always the bold one, jumped in. "Hey! I want to go to Diagon Alley too!"
"Of course you'll go with us!" said Hermione. " And you're going for yourself one day. Just be patient."
"And I have one question!!" Sarah stood with her hands on her hips.
"Of course, Sarah. Go ahead." Hermione took Sarah's hand and looked into her eyes.
"Are Pokemon real too?"
Hermione couldn't help it. Her head went back as she laughed, a tear falling down one eye. "Good Heavens, I hope not! But Hagrid would love it, wouldn't he?"
End of Part One
Author's note: I set this story in Britain for obvious reasons: my characters couldn't have gotten a Hogwarts letter if they lived in the U.S. I hope the language doesn't sound too American, or worse, too artificially British. Hope you enjoy it. Many thanks to my beta-readers Penny, Ebony, and Cassandra.