Alarm clock ringing, a hand fiddling around for the 'off' button to silence the frustrating mechanical object designed to wake humans from their peaceful slumber. The girl yawned widely and stretched her arms and twisted about in her duvet, longing for more sleep. So it was half-past nine in the morning already, who cared? It was Sunday morning! The girl's face could not be seen as it was covered in a tangled mess of jet-black hair.

"Shiera! Come and help me lay the table for breakfast please!"

A kind voice called from the bottom of the stairs. The girl moaned and turned over in her bed, pulling her soft duvet up to her neck.

"Shiera!"

The girl snuggled deeper into her covers, trying to block the sound from her ears.

To her, the next sound resembled a herd of rampaging elephants trampling through a copse of defenceless trees. Alas, it was only her mother clambering up the staircase in a rather pathetic attempt (though Shiera was not so sure it really was an attempt) at keeping quiet.

Footsteps could be heard walking along the hall before the girl's door was thrust open with such immense force that Shiera swore she felt the very air of her room shaking as she lay huddled up in her warm, comfy bed.

"Now, now dear, how long are you going to stay cooped up in your bed today?"

A cheerful voice exclaimed as Shiera's heavenly covers were cruelly ripped away from her. The cold air immediately enveloped the nightdress-clad girl, causing her to pull her knees up to her chest in an effort to stay warm.

Shiera's mother then pulled open the curtains covering the window, letting the bright sunlight flood into her daughter's bedroom. Though her eyes were closed, Shiera squirmed as the blinding light shone into her face. She groaned and held her hand over her eyes.

"Come on, get up lazy bones! Get changed and washed or you'll miss your breakfast!"

The cheery voice laughed as it disappeared along the hallway and down the stairs.

Shiera yawned and rubbed her eyes before eventually gathering the willpower, strength and stamina to haul herself out of bed and drag herself to her wardrobe and then the bathroom.

**********

The kitchen door creaked open as Shiera walked into the room. She was wearing a loose knee-length white summer dress since it looked like it was going to be quite a warm, early July day today. Her midnight black hair hung down to her waist, only slightly less messy than it had been when she had just woken up by her mother.

"Good morning, lazy! Oh dear, your hair…." Her mother sighed as she ran her hand down her daughter's hair, trying to flatten it. "Have you even brushed it yet?"

Shiera scowled and took a few steps away. Her mother then walked across the kitchen and found a hairbrush in one of the baskets next to the cupboard, and brushed Shiera's hair for her.

"Mother…"

She whined, rolling her eyes.  Her mother took no heed of her complaints, and carried on until Shiera's hair was beautifully straight and untangled.

"There we go…nice and straight and neat…you have the most gorgeous hair, you know. Don't you ever go and cut it short. I don't care if it's the latest fashion, because you'll regret it afterwards." Her mother advised as she stroked the thick, long and soft hair.

Shiera looked up at her mother, who didn't look a thing like her. She had light brown, darkish blonde hair and sparkling dark blue eyes, whereas Shiera was quite the opposite: she had pitch-black hair and large dark brown eyes rimmed with long, dark lashes. She was actually quite a pretty girl, yet quiet and rather shy.

When she was younger, her mother had told her she looked just like her father, with dark hair and dark eyes. Shiera often asked about her father, but her mother always pretended not to listen, or changed the topic of conversation, or had only just remembered that she had some shopping to do, or she had to start on making dinner, or come up with any other excuse in the book. Shiera had then given up asking her mother for information, and had left it at that. She wondered why her father left before she was born; didn't he want her? No, he wouldn't do that.

She knew nothing about her father except that apparently she resembled him. Over the years, Shiera made up a story that her father was an avid explorer who discovered mysteries of the Arctic, and that he had found something top secret on one of his journeys. The government found out about this and they were very angry with this, so they were on the hunt for him. Shiera envisioned her father to be a heroic man on the run in the wilderness. He would come back one day; full of stories about his adventures and voyages.

Shiera was eleven years old now, and was beginning to lose faith in this breath-taking tale. Maybe her father did leave her pregnant mother for good. Maybe he didn't want her. Maybe he would never come back. If that was so, Shiera didn't care about him. If he really was looking for them, he would have contacted them by now. They had never moved house, so it wouldn't be difficult to do so.

"Can you pass me the milk please, dear? Thank you."

Shiera finished her cornflakes and then sipped some of the cool, freshly made orange juice from her glass. She then spread some butter on her slice of toast and began to eat that as well. The two ate in silence, it was not an awkward silence, and Shiera was just too tired to think of anything to say.

A clatter could be heard from the hallway leading to the front door from the kitchen, and then something light could be heard falling to the floor.

"That will be the post, can you go get it? There's a dear."

Shiera pushed her chair back and walked over to the front door and picked up the letters. She glanced at them; there were four envelopes. She shuffled through them, reading the backs of the envelopes to see whom they were from. Two were bills, one was from her mother's old school friend, Anna, and the last envelope was the one that interested Shiera the most. It was addressed to her. Who would write to her? She didn't have any close friends, besides, the envelope looked too formal for it to be from a friend. Yet it was addressed to her, plain as plain can be, no doubt about it.

Miss. S. Taylor,

The First Room Upstairs on the Left,

21 Oak Tree Close,

Eastleigh,

Southampton

Shiera walked slowly into the kitchen, placing the other three letters in front of her mother, and then sitting back down in her own seat, still gazing at the letter. How did it get here without a stamp? And how did this person know which room she slept in?

"What have you got there, love?"

"A…a…a…letter…for me…" Shiera stuttered as she read the address over and over, much to the puzzlement of her mother.

"Well? Open it then, see who it's from!" Her mother laughed as she saw Shiera all tense and surprised for no obvious reason.

Shiera took a deep breath and turned the envelope made of pale yellow parchment around, on the back was a dark purple, wax seal. On it was the design of four animals: a lion, some sort of hawk, a badger and a snake all surrounding an elaborately decorated, large letter 'H'.  She slowly tore open the top fold of the envelope, and then pulled out the thick parchment within it. She gently unfolded it and read it.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Armando Dippet

Dear Miss Taylor,

            We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

            Term begins on 1st September 1943. We await your owl by no later than 31st July 1943.

Yours sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Deputy Headmaster     

Among that, there was a separate piece of parchment also in the envelope, which contained lists of equipment needed.

Shiera had frozen, only her eyes moved as they scanned through the letter several more times. Was this some kind of joke, prank or hoax? Magic wasn't real; it only existed in fairytales for little children.

"What is it, Shiera?"

Shiera slowly handed the letter over to her mother across the kitchen table. When she sat back down, she stared unblinkingly into space, hundreds of thoughts spinning around in her head. Was this real? Was it a dream? Was this just a prank? But it seemed too real…

After a tense silence, Shiera's mother broke the stillness.

"This is not a prank." Her mother declared in a deadly serious voice, a voice that Shiera had not heard often. Her mother was always so happy, cheerful, carefree…

"What? But, how can this be so?" Shiera whispered nervously as she watched her mother scan through the letter again.

Her mother took a deep breath and then sighed, laying the parchment flat on the table. She leant back and closed her eyes for a moment as she let her head fall back onto the chair. She took another deep breath and then opened her eyes and looked straight at Shiera.

"Come here, poppet."

Shiera stood up and walked over to her mother. Something life-changing was going to happen in the next few moments, and she was nervous and afraid.

Her mother held Shiera's hands in hers and looked directly at her.

"This is not a prank, Shiera. This is real. Magic is real. Witches and wizards are real. They have ways of staying hidden so that we do not intrude their lives." She said seriously.

"But-" 

"Shh…I know this because…because…your father was one. Your father was a wizard, Shiera." She carried on, ignoring her daughter's interruption. "This is hard for me, so please do not ask anymore of your father. You do not need to know anymore of him than what I have told you. It is for your own good."

Shiera's face blanched. She didn't know what to think or how she should feel. Only two words came out of her mouth:

"Yes, mother."

Her mother then gave her a small smile and pulled her into a warm hug. Shiera was still confused and surprised at all of this.

"May I be excused, please?" She asked quietly. She needed to go up to her room and think through all of this clearly. 

"Of course, dear," came the understanding reply.

Shiera picked up the two pieces of parchment and the envelope, and then ran up the stairs and into her bedroom; falling onto the bed she had laid upon less than an hour ago, back when she had no cares or worries.

Things had changed. For the good, or for the bad, she didn't know. All she knew was that things were never going to be the same again.