Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, Colin and Dennis Creevey, and the rest of the characters, settings, etc. from the Harry Potter series. I didn't invent and don't own any of them. She also owns the plot from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, which this story will be rigorously based on.

Thanks to Cecelle for pointing me to the 2004 World Book Day chat, where JKR let us know that "special messengers" come explain the whole magic thing to parents of Muggle-born wizards. I've decided to roughly follow Red Hen's concept of this explanation ( I'm guessing that these messengers come from the Muggle Liaison Office at the MoM and not from Hogwarts (Hogwarts certainly doesn't seem to have "special messengers" lurking around, and I don't think McGonagall would have the time to visit all the Muggle-borns' houses herself). Incidentally, Mrs. Branstone is not a character that JKR has ever mentioned, but in this story, she's the mother of Eleanor Branstone, a Hufflepuff in Dennis's year (although I don't think that will become especially important in the story).

Chapter 2: The Excitement

Colin squinted at his excited brother and tried to grasp that he was in his bed, not in Mrs. Twitmyer's house fending off her and her mad flower boxes. And that it was summer, so he couldn't have been using magic anyway. For that matter, the spells he could remember using weren't even real ones. Wingardium petrificotatalus? Natatorium? At least I can't get expelled for using fake spells, he thought.

No, wait, he couldn't have gotten expelled anyway, because it had only been a dream. His mind came into better focus. He was at home, in his and Dennis's bedroom, and Mrs. Twitmyer was a Muggle who didn't have enchanted flower boxes. It was an early August morning, and—only a fortnight left until school started. A thrill of excitement ran through him, and he grinned back at his eleven-year-old brother.

"And just two days 'til we go to Diagon Alley!" Dennis added, practically glowing with enthusiasm.

"Yeah, Dennis! You're right!" Colin's sleepiness was evaporating rapidly. "In just two days, you'll get to buy your wand!"

"And robes, and a pointy hat!"

"And your cauldron!"

"And dragon-hide gloves!"

"And a telescope!"

"Yeah, and—and—" Dennis hopped out of bed and grabbed a yellowish piece of parchment from his desk. "Brass scales! And phials! Colin, what're phials?"

"They're like Muggle test tubes, but much better! You use them to measure ingredients in Potions!"

"Wow…" sighed Dennis. He lay back on his bed with a huge smile on his face. He didn't lie still for long, though. A second later he bounced up again. "And all those books, Colin! They're brilliant!"

"Yeah, they are, Dennis! Like Magical Drafts and Potions! It tells you about all these amazing potions you can make!"

"And then there's the one about the animals, that gives them all ratings, right?"

"That's Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them!"

"And the thousand herbs and fungi, and trans—, transfig—"

"Transfiguration, Dennis! It's brilliant!"

"Yeah, that, and the book of spells!" Dennis took a deep breath. He was so excited that he looked like he'd been exercising all morning, not sitting in bed talking about schoolbooks. "I'm going to get some water, Colin, d'you want some?"

"Yeah, that'd be great, Dennis, thanks!"

As Dennis scampered down the hall, Colin beamed around their tiny, cluttered bedroom. A stack of his own textbooks was perched precariously on the edge of his small desk. Carefully positioned on the other side of the desk were a camera and a long thin box. In the middle, another textbook lay open with a quill and a longish piece of parchment on top of it. Colin had been working there the night before on an essay about shrinking potions, assigned by his most alarming teacher, Professor Snape. But even the thought of Professor Snape couldn't dampen Colin's spirits at the moment. In just two days he would be back in the magical world—just for a visit, true, but in two weeks he would be back for a whole term, back where he belonged.

It was strange how much he felt like he belonged at Hogwarts and in the magical world, considering that, for most of his life, he hadn't even known they existed. He had never understood why odd things had always happened around him—like when one of Mrs. Twitmyer's flower boxes really had exploded right behind him, when she'd been shouting at him after her dog's fur had turned purple. It had probably been Dennis who'd turned the dog's fur purple, but Mrs. Twitmyer had never been able to tell him and Dennis apart anyway.

Another time, Tank Phipps, one of the school's biggest bullies, had backed Colin and Dennis into a fence, his cronies chuckling behind him. He'd been drinking a fizzy drink, gesturing with it as he described what he was going to do to the two Creeveys. Just as he had pulled his fist back, the drink had erupted straight into his face. Colin and Dennis had run for it while Tank was gasping and choking, his cronies frozen in confusion, apparently unsure how to defend Tank from his own drink.

But exploding flower boxes and spewing drinks had been nothing to what had happened the time Colin's maths teacher had been shouting at him in front of the whole class. First, the piece of chalk in Mr. Haight's hand had exploded, coating him in a layer of chalk dust. Then, while he was coughing and staggering angrily towards Colin, Mr. Haight's stapler had gone mad, snapping and stapling in wild circles around the desk. Then it had pounced on Mr. Haight himself, nearly stapling his hands to the desk before chasing him out of the room.

Neither Colin nor Dennis had ever been able to explain any of these events, and they generally hadn't even enjoyed them. True, Tank's drink had been quite amusing, and Mr. Haight's stapler had stopped a most unpleasant telling-off. But some things had been outright scary, like when the boys' bedroom window had shattered right above their heads (quickly ending one of their rare fights), and most had gotten them in trouble, like when Mrs. Twitmyer's hedge had caught fire.

Then, two years ago, a knock on the door during breakfast had announced a very unusual visitor. She had been wearing a vaguely old-fashioned skirt and blouse over a pair of heavy hiking boots had been carrying an envelope—a very strange envelope it had seemed at the time, odd-coloured, thick, and addressed in green ink. She had winked cheerfully at Colin and Dennis, who were staring open-mouthed at her from the breakfast table. Then she had ushered Dad into the family room and spoken softly and earnestly to him for a longish while. When they came back into the kitchen, Dad was looking rather stunned, but the woman looked just as cheery as ever.

"Er, Colin," Dad had said, "This is Mrs. Branstone. She's from, uh—"

"Agatha Branstone, Colin," the woman had interrupted merrily, extending a hand to shake Colin's. "I'm from the Muggle Liaison Office. You don't know what that means yet, but no matter. I'm here to talk to you about your schooling."

"My what?" Colin had said, blinking at her.

"You have special abilities, Colin," she had continued, beaming at him. "There's a spot for you at a school in Scotland just for children with abilities like yours."

"Huh?" Colin had answered. "I don't have any special abilities. Ma'am."

"Of course you do!" Mrs. Branstone had responded jovially. "Haven't you noticed funny things happening around you when you've been scared or angry?"

As Mrs. Twitmyer's dog's fur had only just gone back to its normal colour, Colin certainly hadn't been able to deny this.

"You mean—" he had paused, dumbfounded. "You mean, I really do make all that stuff happen?"

"Well, maybe not always just you," she had answered, winking at Dennis (causing him a good bit of confusion). "But that's what happens sometimes when young wizards get upset."

"Young—sorry, what?" Colin had stammered.

A good deal of explanation had ensued, eventually ending with Colin opening the odd-looking envelope with trembling fingers, blinking for a while at the funny-looking paper inside, writing shakily, "Yes, I would love to come, thanks very much," signing his name, and watching as Mrs. Branstone tied the paper to the leg of an owl inexplicably perched outside the kitchen window.

Now, a mere two weeks before the start of his third year at Hogwarts, Colin was more excited than ever about going back to school. Showing Dennis everything about Hogwarts would possibly be even more exciting than it had been finding it out himself. Dennis's own Hogwarts letter had arrived by owl nearly four weeks ago, much to the eleven-year-old's relief. Dennis had been quite nervous that he wouldn't be invited to Hogwarts, even though Colin had told him over and over that he was being silly ("Of course you're a wizard, Den! How else d'you think the Twit's hosepipe went mad that time?"). After the letter had arrived, Dennis had carefully put it up on the wall over his desk. Colin had seen him re-reading it at least once every day since then. As he heard Dennis coming back down the hall with the water glasses, Colin grinned across the room at his brother's letter. Yes, he thought, this is going to be an excellent year.