I'm tired of being blind; of having no clue how to make the
unimaginable, imaginable. I want to learn the ways of my parents and those
before them; I want to have my life changed. Throughout my entire life
I've been considered an outsider, at gatherings they change frogs to men
and men to ox and I only watch in amazement. A tall man turns a plate into
a basketball, bewildering my mind.
I've waited for the letter ever since I knew of the place. I can remember when I was eight when my brother got the letter, his life changed; he got on the train and lived in what he called a magical land. He came back that summer and told me dozens of stories of games played high in the air on wooden broomsticks, of long corridors, talking portraits, transformations, and ghosts. That summer I dreamt of the place, every night I thought that I to was crossing a large lake like my brother did and entering the large, stormy castle and then of joining hundreds of others, who like me, wanted to learn the stunning art.
My eleventh birthday came and passed and there was no indications that I, like my brother would be getting the letter. Distress sunk in and I realized that I would be a squib, an offspring of magical parents with no magical ability. My mom constantly reminded me that there was still time for me to get the letter and that the school term was still months away, but it was feeling I had, that I was about to lead a life of severe disappointment and hurdles.
Then early that summer, on a morning when the dew still hung close to the ground an owl landed on my windowsill beaconing me to where it was perched. I noticed a large green envelope wedged between it's upper and lower beak. Inquisitively, I picked the letter up as the owl opened it's beak, hooted respectively and flew off into the early morning sun. I flipped it over and then gasped.
It was the Hogwarts emblem. A Griffin, Eagle, Badger and Serpent were positioned beautifully around a large H; it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life, a symbol of hope and of a future. I opened the letter and with a rush of excitement read the letter all the way to end where a loopy signature read Minerva M. McGonagall.
I ran downstairs, where my parents were idly chatting with one another about their jobs and shoved the letter into their faces. They both looked at me and large smiles filled their middle-aged faces. "I'm so happy for you son," my father said, giving me a hearty pat on the back. Tears filled my mother's eyes and she sat speechless.
The weeks that followed were magical. For the first time I visited Diagon Alley and saw the hundreds of small shops selling everything from parchment to "Turn Your Friends into Bats" kits. The lively stands were filled with jolly vendors selling products and the extraordinary bank made my eyes go fanatical. Before I knew it, the days became weeks and the weeks became months and I was packing my trunk into my dad's car, ready to meet the train at Platform 9 ¾ and then with my trunk and trolley I ran through the magical invisible gate and before I knew it, my magical salvation had arrived.
The stories became reality and my wildest dreams came true. I made loyal friends who never left my side and grew up within the safety and confines of this shelter. Under Albus Dumbledore the world was calm and the future looked optimistic. My world became a magical world and I learned to do the unimaginable. To me, fantasy became reality and the reality changed me into something powerful, something beautiful.
I've waited for the letter ever since I knew of the place. I can remember when I was eight when my brother got the letter, his life changed; he got on the train and lived in what he called a magical land. He came back that summer and told me dozens of stories of games played high in the air on wooden broomsticks, of long corridors, talking portraits, transformations, and ghosts. That summer I dreamt of the place, every night I thought that I to was crossing a large lake like my brother did and entering the large, stormy castle and then of joining hundreds of others, who like me, wanted to learn the stunning art.
My eleventh birthday came and passed and there was no indications that I, like my brother would be getting the letter. Distress sunk in and I realized that I would be a squib, an offspring of magical parents with no magical ability. My mom constantly reminded me that there was still time for me to get the letter and that the school term was still months away, but it was feeling I had, that I was about to lead a life of severe disappointment and hurdles.
Then early that summer, on a morning when the dew still hung close to the ground an owl landed on my windowsill beaconing me to where it was perched. I noticed a large green envelope wedged between it's upper and lower beak. Inquisitively, I picked the letter up as the owl opened it's beak, hooted respectively and flew off into the early morning sun. I flipped it over and then gasped.
It was the Hogwarts emblem. A Griffin, Eagle, Badger and Serpent were positioned beautifully around a large H; it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life, a symbol of hope and of a future. I opened the letter and with a rush of excitement read the letter all the way to end where a loopy signature read Minerva M. McGonagall.
I ran downstairs, where my parents were idly chatting with one another about their jobs and shoved the letter into their faces. They both looked at me and large smiles filled their middle-aged faces. "I'm so happy for you son," my father said, giving me a hearty pat on the back. Tears filled my mother's eyes and she sat speechless.
The weeks that followed were magical. For the first time I visited Diagon Alley and saw the hundreds of small shops selling everything from parchment to "Turn Your Friends into Bats" kits. The lively stands were filled with jolly vendors selling products and the extraordinary bank made my eyes go fanatical. Before I knew it, the days became weeks and the weeks became months and I was packing my trunk into my dad's car, ready to meet the train at Platform 9 ¾ and then with my trunk and trolley I ran through the magical invisible gate and before I knew it, my magical salvation had arrived.
The stories became reality and my wildest dreams came true. I made loyal friends who never left my side and grew up within the safety and confines of this shelter. Under Albus Dumbledore the world was calm and the future looked optimistic. My world became a magical world and I learned to do the unimaginable. To me, fantasy became reality and the reality changed me into something powerful, something beautiful.