WARNING: This contains references to religion, specifically Roman Catholic. I am not trying to be preachy, just trying to show what could happen if there was a muggle-born in a religious family. Nor am I trying "down" the religion. This is just a story. I am NOT trying to suggest ANYTHING. I have tried very hard not to be offensive, but still, if you think this will bother you, then hit the back button. No flames, please.
And sorry to all of you who were hoping for an update of The Problem With Fireworks. This just popped into my head... well no it didn't, it's actually been bugging me for quite some time. I was going to wait until I finished the other, but my muse wouldn't let me. Never fear, though... I hope to have the other done by Tuesday!
You always hear about Hogwarts, and the muggle-borns who go there, but you never really hear about how they got there, what convinced them that magic was real.
And you most certainly never hear about the muggle-borns who stay home, who never get to experience magic at all, who don't go to Hogwarts or any other magic school.
I am one of those people.
This is my story.
It all started...well happened... the summer before I was set to start secondary school. My parents were in a flurry trying to make sure that I had everything I needed; books, uniform, rosary, bible.
That's right, rosary and bible. I was going to a Catholic school. My parents were Roman Catholic, and so was I. I can't say I was really excited to be going to St. Francis Preparatory School, especially since none of my friends from primary school were going there. Most of them were going to the public school. Even my best friend, Hermione Granger (I always thought that she was smart enough to go to a more prestigious school, but whatever the reason, she wasn't).
Then, one Sunday afternoon, just after we got home from church, we received a letter. This was odd enough itself, because obviously, there was not post on Sunday. Even more oddly, it was addressed to me. I opened it, and was extremely perplexed at what I read.
Cassandra Butler,
It is my pleasure to tell you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Magic does, in fact, exist. A representative will be arriving at your house shortly for a quick demonstration, and will be able to answer any questions that you may have. The school train will leave from King's Cross Station at 11:00 September the first. I hope to see you there!
Cordially,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Needless to say, I was rather shocked. My father asked what it was, so I showed him. He looked very confused for a moment, and then a bit angry. He crumpled the letter and threw it in the waste bin. I heard him muttering something about bloody teenage pranks or something. He seemed to think it was the neighbor's son, John, playing tricks again. John's family wasn't very religious, and John seemed to find it amusing that we were. That seemed to be then end of it, and I went up to my room to change out of my church clothes.
I don't know that I ever would have given the letter much of a second thought if it hadn't been that about five minutes later something else incredibly out of the ordinary happened.
There was a loud bang from downstairs, followed by a small scream from my mother and a rather unusual "Bloody Hell!" from my father (this was unusual because my father rarely swore in any way).
I dashed downstairs to see what the matter was. There was a man, dressed very oddly (it looked almost like he was wearing a dress), standing in our living room, and not only that, but he was on the coffee table!
"Oh dear," he said, jumping off the table, "I'm terribly sorry. It's a bit difficult to apparate accurately having never been here before." I hadn't the faintest idea what he meant, although, I had a suspicion that John had not, in fact, sent me that letter.
"Who are you, and what the bloody hell are you doing in my house?" my father demanded.
"My name is Roy Stevens, Department of Student Affairs, Ministry of Magic, and I am here in regards to the letter your daughter received informing you of her acceptance in to Hogwarts," he said, rather matter-of-factly. By this time I had made it into the living room, and was standing, unnoticed, next to my mother.
"You mean the letter was real?" I asked, awestruck. "You mean I can learn magic?" Suddenly, a lot of things began to make sense. Like the time I fell out of the tree, and my Aunt Sara swore she saw me bounce instead of break my leg. Or the time I really didn't want to eat my broccoli, but mum told me I had to if I wanted dessert, but when I went to it had all disappeared. Or the time I held my breath for 15 minutes because I fell in my cousin's pool and didn't know how to swim. I began to wonder whether that might have been somehow connected.
"Yes my dear," Roy said, "it was real. You are a witch, and as such, can learn magic and enter a whole new world that most muggles- that is, non magic folk- spend their entire lives dreaming about."
"Wow," I said. I was giddy; I mean, what ten year old wouldn't be excited if somebody came and told them all of their greatest fantasies could come true? "Daddy," I said excitedly, "can I go? Please? I promise I'll be a good girl."
I had missed the look in my father's eyes. He was furious.
"Absolutely not!" He fairly shouted this. He turned to Roy with all the motions of a man gone almost insane. My mother, who had still not said anything, paled. "How dare you come into my home, uninvited, and tell my daughter that she is evil," he seethed. Roy looked vaguely concerned. I was confused; how had he told me I was evil?
"Magic is not real, witches are not real. The only thing that comes close to what you describe is satanic!" I had never seen my father this enraged before. I had also, until this point, never realized just how seriously he took our religion.
Roy looked very sad. "I'm sorry you feel that way sir," he said. He reached into one of his deep pockets and drew out a long, thin piece of wood. He pointed it at each one of us in turn and muttered something. Obliv- something.
I don't remember much of what happened after that. I don't think that I was supposed to remember anything at all.
All I know was that the next day, when Hermione called and told me that she was going to a special school where she was going to learn magic, I told her that she was evil and that I wasn't her friend anymore. It wasn't that I believed she was evil, because I didn't. I was jealous. Jealous that she got to live in a world that I would be forced to spend the rest of my life dreaming about.
So, what do you think?