A/N: Sorry about the format, but I have a Mac and this is the best format that I can get it into. Btw, if you haven't noticed, this is gonna be a story you have to stick with. I appreciate reviews and I'll probably post more chapters until my inspiration starts to wane. After that, only if people show that they are interested. Chapter title from Lovin' Spoonful, baby! Gotta love them oldies :)
Do You Believe In Magic
The next morning, Anne's dad came in to wake her up for school, as usual. She stumbled, bleary-eyed, through her morning rituals and grabbed a glass of juice before crawling into the car. Just as her dad started pulling out of the driveway, she remembered the letter. "Wait!" she exclaimed and scrambled out and ran back up to her room. She grabbed the letter from her desk drawer and ran down to the mailbox. She looked at the inadequate address again, shrugged, and threw it into the mailbox. She flipped up the red mailbox flag and climbed back into the car beside her dad.
"What was that?' he inquired as she fastened her seatbelt.
"Uh, just a letter we had to write as part of a school assignment." Anne hastily came up with a story. "We got pen pals that we're supposed to write to..."
"That sounds like fun. Where is yours from?" Mr. Harrison asked good-naturedly.
Anne inwardly groaned at having to lie. She wasn't too good at making stories up and she didn't like doing it, especially not to her father. "She's from England," that was true...
"What's her name?"
"Uh, something McGonagall..." she didn't really think a girl her age would be named Minerva - even if it was England.
"That sounds very Scottish. You don't remember her first name?" Her dad asked as he pulled up to the school.
"No, I don't remember. Thanks, Dad. I'll see you later." Anne kissed him and quickly got out of the car, sighing in relief as he drove away.
The day passed along like any other. Homeroom and math with one teacher, social studies with another, lunch and recess, then science with yet another teacher, language arts with another, then back to the original classroom for announcements and whatnot. She left when the "walkers" were dismissed, preferring to take the 35-minute trek home than ride on the crowded bus for an hour. She liked the walk home because it gave her time to be alone and to think of whatever she wanted to. She didn't have to think about school, or family, or anything at all for that matter.
The last few weeks of school passed in the usual flurry of activity and without any incident. Anne waited for any sign that her letter either made its destination or got returned. It didn't find its way back to her mailbox, but she also hadn't gotten a reply and it had been about five weeks. She supposed it had either been lost in the mail or just thrown out. The summer break began and Anne found herself spending a lot of time at home with just her cat for company. Her mom was working while her dad taught summer courses and Will worked as a lifeguard at a nearby pool. She couldn't say that her cat, Mittens, was bad company. She could say anything she wanted to and Mittens would listen and not judge her. The only other thing she was doing was taking care of some of her neighbors' pets. She loved animals and got along well with them, so people would often ask her to look after their animals while they were gone for a little while.
It was on another hot, humid summer day in small-town, USA when Anne noticed something strange outside the family room window. She turned off the TV and sat very still, looking intently out the window. Yes! She wasn't just seeing things... an owl, of all creatures was settling on the banister of her back porch! This was remarkable... An owl out in broad daylight, and it was a snowy owl, too. Those definitely weren't native to this area... Anne remembered the news story about an owl the evening she got her letter, and for some reason her heart skipped a beat.
"Poor thing is probably sick..." she thought as she got up and walked to the door. "Either that or it's escaped from a sanctuary or something nearby." Anne slowly opened the door and stepped quietly onto the back porch. She stood as still as possible and studied the owl. It studied her back with it's round, amber-colored eyes. Anne wondered at the owl's behavior. Wild animals didn't just perch on a banister and wait for a human to catch them. What startled her most though, was that the owl seemed to have what looked unmistakably like a letter in its beak. Anne's breath caught in her throat as she took a hesitant step toward the creature. It just blinked slowly at her, but otherwise didn't move. Anne took another step toward the bird, but didn't want to risk getting too close. She put her arm up as a perch for the owl, at the same time feeling rather foolish. She was just thinking to herself that it would never understand what she was doing, when the creature gracefully settled itself on her arm. Anne gave a small gasp of surprised delight. Gently, she reached for the letter in the owl's beak. It was addressed to her!
"Thank you," she hoarsely whispered to the owl and it gave a soft hoot in reply. She slowly moved her finger up and stroked it gently on the back of its head. It lowered its lids in pleasure and fluffed its feathers. Anne smiled in awe of what was taking place, then started as the bird flew away on silent wings. She sighed, not realizing she had been holding her breath for so long. Looking again at the letter, she decided that she really needed to sit down, and quickly. Taking a seat on the porch swing, she gently tore open the letter. She unfolded the stiff parchment to see the familiar shimmering, green writing written in neat lines across the page. It read as follows:
Dear Miss Harrison,
I understand that in a country as young as the United States there is a lack of what muggles - non-magical peoples - would call magical folklore. Many witches and wizards left the U.S. to come back to England during the Salem Witch Trials and the population is just now beginning to become prominent. American witches and wizards prefer to try and blend into the population, so they tend to wear muggle clothing as well as hold muggle jobs. They are quite difficult to discern from any other person.
Magic is a learned art, much like singing. You may possess the raw talent to sing, but if one does not refine and practise their skill, they do not become any better at it. Magic is similar, and Hogwarts has been producing some of the finest and most respected witches and wizards for many centuries. Under the guidance of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, the school has grown to include students from all backgrounds and countries. Your ability to do magic was noted some years back, and your excellent academic marks recommend you to become a student at Hogwarts. You should consider it an honor to be singled out as the first American student in over one hundred and fifty years to receive an invitation to attend the most prestigious wizarding school in the world.
Unfortunately, I cannot tell you where Hogwarts is located, other than in England, for it is a secret. It is protected from being discovered by ancient and powerful magic. The proof that magic exists is difficult to explain to muggles. They have come up with so many different ways to do things without the use of a simple spell that they become convinced what they are seeing is an illusion. Let me present to you the evidence we have documented that you possess magic as a starting argument. When you were five, you fell off of a high platform of some sort. You were unharmed, however, because upon landing, you bounced. When you were six, you started to develop considerable skill in what you would call ESP. You could tell what information was contained in a sealed letter, you usually know who is calling you and who it is for before you answer the telephone and you often find yourself finishing sentences, correctly, for not only peers but teachers and elders as well. You also seem to have a strong bond with animals that allows you to communicate unusually well with them. These things are easily waved aside by most muggles, but I urge you to look about you with an open mind in the next few weeks and see if anything happens that you cannot explain other than by magic or the "supernatural."
I look forward to further correspondence with you and hope to receive a letter of confirmation that we will see you at Hogwarts in the forthcoming academic year.
Sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Anne wondered about the last few lines, but found her thoughts being interrupted by the ringing of her telephone. She sighed. She really didn't feel like talking to her dad right now...;)
P.S. Sorry about the short chapter, but I must proceed with caution... Please R&R!!!!
Do You Believe In Magic
The next morning, Anne's dad came in to wake her up for school, as usual. She stumbled, bleary-eyed, through her morning rituals and grabbed a glass of juice before crawling into the car. Just as her dad started pulling out of the driveway, she remembered the letter. "Wait!" she exclaimed and scrambled out and ran back up to her room. She grabbed the letter from her desk drawer and ran down to the mailbox. She looked at the inadequate address again, shrugged, and threw it into the mailbox. She flipped up the red mailbox flag and climbed back into the car beside her dad.
"What was that?' he inquired as she fastened her seatbelt.
"Uh, just a letter we had to write as part of a school assignment." Anne hastily came up with a story. "We got pen pals that we're supposed to write to..."
"That sounds like fun. Where is yours from?" Mr. Harrison asked good-naturedly.
Anne inwardly groaned at having to lie. She wasn't too good at making stories up and she didn't like doing it, especially not to her father. "She's from England," that was true...
"What's her name?"
"Uh, something McGonagall..." she didn't really think a girl her age would be named Minerva - even if it was England.
"That sounds very Scottish. You don't remember her first name?" Her dad asked as he pulled up to the school.
"No, I don't remember. Thanks, Dad. I'll see you later." Anne kissed him and quickly got out of the car, sighing in relief as he drove away.
The day passed along like any other. Homeroom and math with one teacher, social studies with another, lunch and recess, then science with yet another teacher, language arts with another, then back to the original classroom for announcements and whatnot. She left when the "walkers" were dismissed, preferring to take the 35-minute trek home than ride on the crowded bus for an hour. She liked the walk home because it gave her time to be alone and to think of whatever she wanted to. She didn't have to think about school, or family, or anything at all for that matter.
The last few weeks of school passed in the usual flurry of activity and without any incident. Anne waited for any sign that her letter either made its destination or got returned. It didn't find its way back to her mailbox, but she also hadn't gotten a reply and it had been about five weeks. She supposed it had either been lost in the mail or just thrown out. The summer break began and Anne found herself spending a lot of time at home with just her cat for company. Her mom was working while her dad taught summer courses and Will worked as a lifeguard at a nearby pool. She couldn't say that her cat, Mittens, was bad company. She could say anything she wanted to and Mittens would listen and not judge her. The only other thing she was doing was taking care of some of her neighbors' pets. She loved animals and got along well with them, so people would often ask her to look after their animals while they were gone for a little while.
It was on another hot, humid summer day in small-town, USA when Anne noticed something strange outside the family room window. She turned off the TV and sat very still, looking intently out the window. Yes! She wasn't just seeing things... an owl, of all creatures was settling on the banister of her back porch! This was remarkable... An owl out in broad daylight, and it was a snowy owl, too. Those definitely weren't native to this area... Anne remembered the news story about an owl the evening she got her letter, and for some reason her heart skipped a beat.
"Poor thing is probably sick..." she thought as she got up and walked to the door. "Either that or it's escaped from a sanctuary or something nearby." Anne slowly opened the door and stepped quietly onto the back porch. She stood as still as possible and studied the owl. It studied her back with it's round, amber-colored eyes. Anne wondered at the owl's behavior. Wild animals didn't just perch on a banister and wait for a human to catch them. What startled her most though, was that the owl seemed to have what looked unmistakably like a letter in its beak. Anne's breath caught in her throat as she took a hesitant step toward the creature. It just blinked slowly at her, but otherwise didn't move. Anne took another step toward the bird, but didn't want to risk getting too close. She put her arm up as a perch for the owl, at the same time feeling rather foolish. She was just thinking to herself that it would never understand what she was doing, when the creature gracefully settled itself on her arm. Anne gave a small gasp of surprised delight. Gently, she reached for the letter in the owl's beak. It was addressed to her!
"Thank you," she hoarsely whispered to the owl and it gave a soft hoot in reply. She slowly moved her finger up and stroked it gently on the back of its head. It lowered its lids in pleasure and fluffed its feathers. Anne smiled in awe of what was taking place, then started as the bird flew away on silent wings. She sighed, not realizing she had been holding her breath for so long. Looking again at the letter, she decided that she really needed to sit down, and quickly. Taking a seat on the porch swing, she gently tore open the letter. She unfolded the stiff parchment to see the familiar shimmering, green writing written in neat lines across the page. It read as follows:
Dear Miss Harrison,
I understand that in a country as young as the United States there is a lack of what muggles - non-magical peoples - would call magical folklore. Many witches and wizards left the U.S. to come back to England during the Salem Witch Trials and the population is just now beginning to become prominent. American witches and wizards prefer to try and blend into the population, so they tend to wear muggle clothing as well as hold muggle jobs. They are quite difficult to discern from any other person.
Magic is a learned art, much like singing. You may possess the raw talent to sing, but if one does not refine and practise their skill, they do not become any better at it. Magic is similar, and Hogwarts has been producing some of the finest and most respected witches and wizards for many centuries. Under the guidance of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, the school has grown to include students from all backgrounds and countries. Your ability to do magic was noted some years back, and your excellent academic marks recommend you to become a student at Hogwarts. You should consider it an honor to be singled out as the first American student in over one hundred and fifty years to receive an invitation to attend the most prestigious wizarding school in the world.
Unfortunately, I cannot tell you where Hogwarts is located, other than in England, for it is a secret. It is protected from being discovered by ancient and powerful magic. The proof that magic exists is difficult to explain to muggles. They have come up with so many different ways to do things without the use of a simple spell that they become convinced what they are seeing is an illusion. Let me present to you the evidence we have documented that you possess magic as a starting argument. When you were five, you fell off of a high platform of some sort. You were unharmed, however, because upon landing, you bounced. When you were six, you started to develop considerable skill in what you would call ESP. You could tell what information was contained in a sealed letter, you usually know who is calling you and who it is for before you answer the telephone and you often find yourself finishing sentences, correctly, for not only peers but teachers and elders as well. You also seem to have a strong bond with animals that allows you to communicate unusually well with them. These things are easily waved aside by most muggles, but I urge you to look about you with an open mind in the next few weeks and see if anything happens that you cannot explain other than by magic or the "supernatural."
I look forward to further correspondence with you and hope to receive a letter of confirmation that we will see you at Hogwarts in the forthcoming academic year.
Sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Anne wondered about the last few lines, but found her thoughts being interrupted by the ringing of her telephone. She sighed. She really didn't feel like talking to her dad right now...;)
P.S. Sorry about the short chapter, but I must proceed with caution... Please R&R!!!!