Disclaimer: (check first chapter)
Chapter 2, An owl and a response
Lying between the sheets in my bed, as it is still to be made, I re-read the letter at least five times before I finally sigh and put it down. Each time I read it, I check one detail or another, always looking for some proof of truth I can confront my father with. But my attempts are in vain, as the letter only seems likely to be true when you don't question its contents; in fact, if you ask yourself if a wand is something real, you end up answering a definite 'No'. However, after this letter arrived, I feel like pouring my heart into this belief that the answer to this question should be a definite 'Yes' instead. And yet, I can't put it into words, into paper, into objects, into logical explanations I can show to other people like my parents so as to make them share my certainty.
My only company right now is Greymalkin. She seems to be the only one to share my mood every time I'm sad or upset with my parents. That is why sometimes I regret the fact that my parents only decided to have a single child. Although I haven't become a spoiled brat like other only children from my school, I believe it had other negative influences on me. There are times when I think a brother or sister – younger, older, or the same age – would have come just in handy. At the very least, they would talk back when I need to vent, which is something my cat doesn't...
She sits under my desk, licking her paws distractedly, as if she had nothing else to do and was quite bored. She seems to notice I'm looking at her and lets out a gracious 'meow', in order to attract my attention further; but my reaction is the opposite. I just keep staring blankly as she stops her cleaning, stretches herself, yawning – the laziness of my cat! – and curls again, as if getting ready to sleep.
I'm supposed to be getting ready to leave, but I ignore the little voice in my head that keeps reminding me of it. I prefer to delay in the slow minutes of the summer morning, to observe the sunshine growing brighter and brighter outside, and to stare at the white ceiling just thinking about whatever I feel like. Today I keep dreaming about the fantasy world presented to me this morning. I can only imagine me, holding a wand, in front of a magic teacher, making a feather float in the air with a simple incantation.
Why can't it be considered as natural as succeeding in a chemistry lab experiment? I believe that magic can be in everyone's hearts; one just has to let it flow in the imagination. Anything can be real, as long as you believe it, and that works with magic too, I guess. You just have to believe in yourself, and then the phrase 'you can't do it' loses all the meaning, my granny told me when I was seven and entered a poetry contest. I won it in the end, but I wouldn't have gone anywhere hadn't it been for her wise advice.
I also remember an episode that happened to me in fifth grade. I was walking out of the last class of the morning when Tina, the horrible sixth grader brat, bumped into me and stuck a chewing gum to my hair. She lost herself in apologies, in her sly, false way, but the truth is, being my hair as bushy and tangled as it is, I would never be able to work it out without cutting it really short. I ran to the girls' bathroom, where I hid for all of lunch break crying, and I wished really hard that this had just been a dream, something I imagined myself. And what is not my surprise when, almost magically, when I tried to take the chewing gum out of my hair, it came out as if it had never really stuck to it.
"Csssssss..." Greymalkin suddenly jumps as if something had threatened her, startling me from my thoughts. I hear something like a bird's chirp outside and its beak knocking on the glass of the window, and I lazily get up to see it. Oddly enough, I see the wise eyes of an owl lurk from below the half-open persienne, urging me to open the window and let the bird in. And so do I. It jumps to my desk and starts hopping around, throwing down the box where I had all my coloured pens.
"Watch out!" I tell the owl in a harsh whisper, careful not to make too much noise. It had been enough the sound of my pens falling on the floor, which could attract my parents to my room, worried with what might have happened. The bird seems to have understood my words; it seems to be calming down, but its beak keeps pecking my hand as if drawing my attention to something. And that something, as I notice right after, is a piece of parchment attached to the owl's paw.
As I remove it, I notice it is blank. But why would a blank parchment arrive to my bedroom through an owl? I search my head for an answer, when all of a sudden, I remember of the previous letter that had arrived through mail. Hurriedly, I pick up the letter from my bed and sit at the desk, re-reading it. "We await your owl by no later than 31 July," it says. I realize that I'm supposed to write an answer in the parchment and send it back through the owl, whatever that may result in. I guess it works as a confirmation that I got the letter and I'll be going to the school.
Although I'm still not sure if my parents allow me to enroll, I see this as my opportunity to anticipate myself. If I manage to send the reply, it will be even more difficult for my parents to stop me from going to this school, to this fantasy world. I look at the blank parchment and I wonder what and how I should write on it. I know that in past times, when paper wasn't used yet, people wrote on parchment with a quill and ink. But I don't have an inkstand, let alone a quill! Finally, as I don't have a better idea and the owl seems to be quite agitated – I fear she will throw down another box of mine – I pick one of my 'uniball' black-coloured pens, and write as carefully as I can. "Dear Mr. Dumbledore," I start, wondering if this is the right way to address a seemingly important headmaster of a magical school, "I am writing in order to inform you that I have received the letter of my acceptance at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
"However, I am having trouble with some things. I do not know, and was not informed of, where I can find all the material and supplies there described as mandatory. I also have no information about the school and where it is located. I hope you'll be able to help me with a solution and/or a brief explanation.
"Thanks in advance,
"Hermione Granger"
I read it once before I attach it back to the owl's paw. It seems quite all right. Maybe it's not the kind of letter one should write in the magical world, but, at least, I wrote it according to my English teacher's 'Rules for a Formal Letter', which we studied this year. That way, it couldn't be bad. Either that or my English teacher was a truly incompetent one.
Knock knock. "Are you ready yet?" I hear my mother's voice call from behind the bedroom's door. I'm still on my pyjamas, but what worries me the most is the owl, which I haven't sent yet. I finally finish attaching the parchment to the bird's paw with a final knot. I open the window, hurriedly, and urge the owl to fly out, but she doesn't cooperate; she keeps pecking on my hand. Suddenly, I realise that maybe she requires some kind of payment.
"Hermione?" my mother repeats from outside, followed by another knock on the door. As I can't find my purse, I try to address the owl, saying in a whisper, "Send this to Mr. Albus Dumbledore, will you?" but she gives no reply, except for a chirp. She stays on the same place, still pecking my hand; she seems to have understood the message, but she needs something in return. Something I do not seem to have.
Another knock on the door, now more violent, startles me, making me realise the pathetic situation I'm involved in. If my mother manages to get inside the room and the owl is still inside, I'll receive some kind of punishment right away. Desperately, I try to draw her attention away. "I'm almost ready, mom," I lie. Thankfully, the immediate response follows, "I meet you downstairs in five minutes." I breathe of relief.
However, the time is limited and I do not see a quick way to get rid of the owl. I feel so desperate I almost regret I let her in on the first place. Aggravating the situation, Greymalkin starts hissing at the intruder, making her hop around the desk feeling threatened. "Shh," I tell my cat, placing a finger upon my lips. She obeys but throws me a superior glance showing that she is not in agreement. Disturbed by the cat's behaviour, the owl bumps into one of my other boxes, and had I not stopped it from falling, it would've made the same noise as the pen box before.
I figure that the only way out of this mess is to give the owl a coin. I look in my bag for my purse, but meanwhile, I find something inside that may suit the occasion better – a pack of bird food. I sigh of relief, grinning. It's a nice coincidence that Ashley asked me to keep it on the way home yesterday and I forgot to give it back to her. Now it proves to be extremely useful.
"Here," I whisper to the owl, opening the pack carefully and dropping some of the food on the desk. It immediately eats it, as if it were hungry, then pecks my hand in a sign of thankfulness, or so I understand it. Hopping to the door's sill, it seems to wave goodbye with its wings before it flies away from my home, hopefully to the destination I ordered it to.
I stop observing the owl as it flies farther and farther when I look at my clock and realize that the five minutes my mother had gave me were close to an end. I open the wardrobe and take out a pair of jeans and a blouse as fast as possible, while I swear to myself I won't let laziness get over me again whenever I'm on time pressure. Tidying the room the best I can so my mother won't be too upset, I run out of the door, combing my hair in a hurry as I rush down the stairs and hiding the brush on my bag.
"I'm here," I announce to my mother as I enter the room where she's sitting on a sofa, watching the news on TV. "Can we go now?"
My mother stands up and turns off the television, which I always deemed too big for our small and modest living room. "Next time pay more attention to the clock," she says, walking past me and to the main entrance, while I follow, "You must get used to it; in High School teachers have zero tolerance as far as being on time is concerned." She emphasizes the 'zero' comment with a gesture of her hand.
I sigh. "What if I don't go to High School?"
My mother ignores this last comment as though she hadn't heard it.
A/N: I hope you liked this chapter, don't forget to review, please! My biggest thanks to all those who already reviewed.
To bey-girl-nicky: Yes, as you can see, I've made more chapters :) I hope you enjoy them!
To Zahri Seb Melitor: Thanks, I hope my story lives up to your expectations. I'll be sure to prove Hermione's parents that the wizarding world exists! [because it does, right? ;)]
To shreve: I'll be sure to answer your question in the next chapter, I think. Or, if not, in chapter 4 for sure!:)
To Wonderlust: Hehe, that's one of the reasons I had the idea for this fic. Thankies for the advice. Chapter 1 is now revised.
To Jule: Ahhh, the evil three! I just pointed one evil three in your ficcy too, so don't complain!:P hehe. I also checked the other mistakes, thanks for the advice.
To GreyLadyBast: Thanks for everything! That's a nice point. I'll be sure to explain it when the time comes.=)
To Artemis-E: It's a fun name, isn't it! THANKS to all of those in the PPC who helped me out with it! Also, I have never worked with this tense before, so it is a bit difficult, but not too much. I just have to pay attention. Sometimes I find a sentence written in the past tense while I am writing and I have to spot it so I can change it. Be sure to warn me if any of them remains unnoticed, hehe!:P