Chapter 1 -"The Discovery"
The Smith's of number 57 Dale Street, Long Beach, NY, were having a hard time getting by. Consisting of a single mother and 15 year old daughter, they resided in a tiny little cottage in Long Beach, a suburb on New York City.
Aileen Smith, the mother, was a thin, English born woman with striking blue eyes and long light blonde hair that would be beautiful if it wasn't so matted, and she would be beautiful, too, if she didn't look so tired all the time. The reason for her exhaustion lit deep in the heart of the neighborhood bank. Money wise, the Smith's were struggling. Mrs. Smith worked 2 full time jobs and a part time job on the weekends just to get by.
Charlotte, the daughter, resembled her mother very much so; the only difference was that she had a pair of vibrant violet eyes. But she, too, looked listless. She worked 2 part time jobs on top of attending her sophomore year of high school. On the weekdays, she worked from 3 to 8 flipping burgers at the local Burger Mania, and on the weekends from 9 to 6 at the rec center scrubbing toilets and emptying garbage cans.
All and all, it wasn't a picture perfect life for them. They had moved times since Mr. Smith's death of cancer 6 months before. They were finally getting used to calling this place home, when Charlotte received a letter, a letter that changed her life forever.
"Mom! Mom? I'm home!" called Charisma, opening the front door of their modest little cottage. She stepped inside and dropped her book bag on the ground. She studied her surroundings, looking for a sign of her mother's presence. She didn't see one. Glancing at her wristwatch, she saw it was 8:30 at night. She was exhausted from a long day of school and then work at the Burger Mania. She really felt like going straight to bed, but had tons of homework to do. She picked up her bag.
She headed from the living room that led into I tiny hallway to the kitchen. In the corner was a circular table the size of a coffee table with 3 wooden chairs around it. She pulled one out and sat down. She sighed happily. It felt good to sit down. 5 hours straight of working the grill made her legs feel as if they were still moving.
Her stomach gave a familiar grunt. She hadn't eaten much that day, and suddenly realized how hungry she was. She got up, somewhat reluctantly and crossed the room, and stood in front of an ancient looking refrigerator. She opened the door and groaning, viewing the contents inside.
There was a carton of milk and a single package of, what looked to be, moldy bread. "Oh well," she thought out loud. "Its not the first time I've gone hungry," she grumbled, looked deeply thwarted. She grabbed her bag once again and set out across the living room to a door that said DO NOT ENTER, and displayed various band stickers.
Flicking of the light, she set down her things and flopped on her unmade bed. She was so tired; she tried to stop herself, but failed, and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
She awoke hours later. It was still dark. Someone had removed her glasses and tucked her in. The illuminated alarm clock on her night table told her it was 4:30 in the morning.
"I might as well get up now," she thought. "I have to go to school in a few hours anyway." She got up and got dressed in blue jeans and a yellow tee shirt.
She was about to open her book bag to finish her homework, when a strange tapping noise from behind startled her. She whipped around and.
"AAAHHH!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. There was a huge bird tapping on the window with its beak. She flew out of the room, across the living room to her mother's bedroom door. She knocked on the door furiously. A disgruntled looking woman in plaid flannel pajamas answered the door.
"What in bloody hell is the matter with you?" she asked, looking furious and startled at the same time. "There's a bird.Its trying to get in my room. It's the size of an elephant, or something." She said, talking fast and nervously. Mrs. Smith's face screwed up into a weird worried look with a mix of realization on her face.
"Where is it?" she demanded, in an angry, and yet worried tone. Charlotte looked at her mother curiously and then led her to the room. When Mrs. Smith looked upon the bird, which Charlotte now realized was on owl, she looked as if her worst fear was confirmed. She ran to the window and unlocked it. Charlotte let out a frightened squeal and lunged toward her, knocking her out of the way.
"Are you crazy?" she shrieked. "That. that.THING could KILL us!" Then she did something that brought an absolute feeling of bewilderment to Charlotte's face. She smiled and stared to laugh. Charlotte looked at her mother as if she had some contagious disease.
"That's it Mom, you've finally snapped!" Charlotte stammered, backing away. "All these months of working long hours have finally caught up to you!"
Mrs. Smith stopped laughing and smiled. "Look dear, I have something to tell you," she said, now grinning. She walked toward the window.
"Its OK, I know," she said recognizing Charlotte's apprehensive look. Finally, she slid the window up and the brown owl flew in the window and on to Charlotte's desk. Charlotte was looking terrified as she nervously twittled her fingers. She realized that the bird was carrying something that looked to be like an envelope.
Mrs. Smith took it from the bird's beak and patted its head thankfully. It hooted with delight. She opened the envelope and pulled out an old looking piece of parchment and sighed.
She scanned it carefully and quickly. When she was finished, her breath quickened as she closed her eyes for a moment.
Charlotte, who was watching curiously, suddenly felt concerned. "What's wrong? What.what does it say?" She didn't answer; instead she reached into the envelope and pulled out a second piece of parchment. She looked at it for a second as if she wanted to confirm what she already knew, and then held it out for Charlotte.
"It's for you."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Charlotte was completely and utterly confused. She hadn't the slightest idea of what was going on. She looked at the letter and shook her head. Mrs. Smith still held it out.
"But, but, I don't understand." Mrs. Smith looked quite bothered. "Just read it," she said handing her the letter. "I know this all seems strange, not, but you will understand, soon. I promise."
Charlotte's hand shook as she grasped the letter. She unfolded it, revealing a relatively short letter written in bright emerald green writing. She read aloud:
Dear Miss Smith, I am pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As you may know already, Hogwarts is open to students from 11 to 18 years of age and transfers from other Magical school are also accepted. Your case is special. You do not have the previous knowledge that most students attending Hogwarts have at your age. There are ways that you can be caught up with your fellow pupils. So don't worry, and be at King's Cross Station in London on September 1st. The train (found on Platform 9 ¾) leaves at promptly 11 am. Your list of school supplies needed is enclosed, as is your train ticket. I'll see you at Hogwarts! Sincerely, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore
Charlotte had not a wisp of an idea how to react to this. What kind of cruel joke was this? How many people were needed to pull this off? She was angry. "Why did you do this?" she asked through gritted teeth.
Mrs. Smith looked appalled. "Do what? Charlotte this is NOT a joke," she said firmly. Charlotte scoffed. "Oh, you expect me to believe this garbage?" she spat, flailing the letter in the air. "Warthog's School of Witchcraft and.Wizardry?!" she asked with a hint of laughter in her voice. "What, so I'm a WIZARD, now?" she said, chuckling.
Mrs. Smith suddenly looked stern. She took the letter Charlotte and placed it on the table. "No, my dear," she started sitting in the revolving chair by her desk. "You are a witch."
The Smith's of number 57 Dale Street, Long Beach, NY, were having a hard time getting by. Consisting of a single mother and 15 year old daughter, they resided in a tiny little cottage in Long Beach, a suburb on New York City.
Aileen Smith, the mother, was a thin, English born woman with striking blue eyes and long light blonde hair that would be beautiful if it wasn't so matted, and she would be beautiful, too, if she didn't look so tired all the time. The reason for her exhaustion lit deep in the heart of the neighborhood bank. Money wise, the Smith's were struggling. Mrs. Smith worked 2 full time jobs and a part time job on the weekends just to get by.
Charlotte, the daughter, resembled her mother very much so; the only difference was that she had a pair of vibrant violet eyes. But she, too, looked listless. She worked 2 part time jobs on top of attending her sophomore year of high school. On the weekdays, she worked from 3 to 8 flipping burgers at the local Burger Mania, and on the weekends from 9 to 6 at the rec center scrubbing toilets and emptying garbage cans.
All and all, it wasn't a picture perfect life for them. They had moved times since Mr. Smith's death of cancer 6 months before. They were finally getting used to calling this place home, when Charlotte received a letter, a letter that changed her life forever.
"Mom! Mom? I'm home!" called Charisma, opening the front door of their modest little cottage. She stepped inside and dropped her book bag on the ground. She studied her surroundings, looking for a sign of her mother's presence. She didn't see one. Glancing at her wristwatch, she saw it was 8:30 at night. She was exhausted from a long day of school and then work at the Burger Mania. She really felt like going straight to bed, but had tons of homework to do. She picked up her bag.
She headed from the living room that led into I tiny hallway to the kitchen. In the corner was a circular table the size of a coffee table with 3 wooden chairs around it. She pulled one out and sat down. She sighed happily. It felt good to sit down. 5 hours straight of working the grill made her legs feel as if they were still moving.
Her stomach gave a familiar grunt. She hadn't eaten much that day, and suddenly realized how hungry she was. She got up, somewhat reluctantly and crossed the room, and stood in front of an ancient looking refrigerator. She opened the door and groaning, viewing the contents inside.
There was a carton of milk and a single package of, what looked to be, moldy bread. "Oh well," she thought out loud. "Its not the first time I've gone hungry," she grumbled, looked deeply thwarted. She grabbed her bag once again and set out across the living room to a door that said DO NOT ENTER, and displayed various band stickers.
Flicking of the light, she set down her things and flopped on her unmade bed. She was so tired; she tried to stop herself, but failed, and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
She awoke hours later. It was still dark. Someone had removed her glasses and tucked her in. The illuminated alarm clock on her night table told her it was 4:30 in the morning.
"I might as well get up now," she thought. "I have to go to school in a few hours anyway." She got up and got dressed in blue jeans and a yellow tee shirt.
She was about to open her book bag to finish her homework, when a strange tapping noise from behind startled her. She whipped around and.
"AAAHHH!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. There was a huge bird tapping on the window with its beak. She flew out of the room, across the living room to her mother's bedroom door. She knocked on the door furiously. A disgruntled looking woman in plaid flannel pajamas answered the door.
"What in bloody hell is the matter with you?" she asked, looking furious and startled at the same time. "There's a bird.Its trying to get in my room. It's the size of an elephant, or something." She said, talking fast and nervously. Mrs. Smith's face screwed up into a weird worried look with a mix of realization on her face.
"Where is it?" she demanded, in an angry, and yet worried tone. Charlotte looked at her mother curiously and then led her to the room. When Mrs. Smith looked upon the bird, which Charlotte now realized was on owl, she looked as if her worst fear was confirmed. She ran to the window and unlocked it. Charlotte let out a frightened squeal and lunged toward her, knocking her out of the way.
"Are you crazy?" she shrieked. "That. that.THING could KILL us!" Then she did something that brought an absolute feeling of bewilderment to Charlotte's face. She smiled and stared to laugh. Charlotte looked at her mother as if she had some contagious disease.
"That's it Mom, you've finally snapped!" Charlotte stammered, backing away. "All these months of working long hours have finally caught up to you!"
Mrs. Smith stopped laughing and smiled. "Look dear, I have something to tell you," she said, now grinning. She walked toward the window.
"Its OK, I know," she said recognizing Charlotte's apprehensive look. Finally, she slid the window up and the brown owl flew in the window and on to Charlotte's desk. Charlotte was looking terrified as she nervously twittled her fingers. She realized that the bird was carrying something that looked to be like an envelope.
Mrs. Smith took it from the bird's beak and patted its head thankfully. It hooted with delight. She opened the envelope and pulled out an old looking piece of parchment and sighed.
She scanned it carefully and quickly. When she was finished, her breath quickened as she closed her eyes for a moment.
Charlotte, who was watching curiously, suddenly felt concerned. "What's wrong? What.what does it say?" She didn't answer; instead she reached into the envelope and pulled out a second piece of parchment. She looked at it for a second as if she wanted to confirm what she already knew, and then held it out for Charlotte.
"It's for you."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Charlotte was completely and utterly confused. She hadn't the slightest idea of what was going on. She looked at the letter and shook her head. Mrs. Smith still held it out.
"But, but, I don't understand." Mrs. Smith looked quite bothered. "Just read it," she said handing her the letter. "I know this all seems strange, not, but you will understand, soon. I promise."
Charlotte's hand shook as she grasped the letter. She unfolded it, revealing a relatively short letter written in bright emerald green writing. She read aloud:
Dear Miss Smith, I am pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As you may know already, Hogwarts is open to students from 11 to 18 years of age and transfers from other Magical school are also accepted. Your case is special. You do not have the previous knowledge that most students attending Hogwarts have at your age. There are ways that you can be caught up with your fellow pupils. So don't worry, and be at King's Cross Station in London on September 1st. The train (found on Platform 9 ¾) leaves at promptly 11 am. Your list of school supplies needed is enclosed, as is your train ticket. I'll see you at Hogwarts! Sincerely, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore
Charlotte had not a wisp of an idea how to react to this. What kind of cruel joke was this? How many people were needed to pull this off? She was angry. "Why did you do this?" she asked through gritted teeth.
Mrs. Smith looked appalled. "Do what? Charlotte this is NOT a joke," she said firmly. Charlotte scoffed. "Oh, you expect me to believe this garbage?" she spat, flailing the letter in the air. "Warthog's School of Witchcraft and.Wizardry?!" she asked with a hint of laughter in her voice. "What, so I'm a WIZARD, now?" she said, chuckling.
Mrs. Smith suddenly looked stern. She took the letter Charlotte and placed it on the table. "No, my dear," she started sitting in the revolving chair by her desk. "You are a witch."