Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
"Finally!"
Euphemia's butter knife clattered noisily to her plate and she jumped in her seat as her attention was abruptly torn away from cutting into her lunch. Fleamont wordlessly passed over the napkin from his lap while raising his eyebrows at his son expectantly.
James turned from the nearby counter, a victorious grin spread across his face. "My Hogwarts letter! It finally came!" he said as an explanation.
His parents broke into smiles and simultaneously jumped to their feet.
"Oh, how exciting!" his mother said, clasping her hands together as she moved around the table.
James' Dad reached him first and he pulled him into a bear hug, lifting him clean off the floor and swinging him around.
"Careful," Euphemia warned quietly, eyeing her husband warily. Fleamont didn't seem to hear, yet he set James down all the same.
"Excellent! The next Gryffindor is headed to Hogwarts!" he cried with child-like enthusiasm.
James grinned in return. "Home of the fortem et strenuum!"
"That's right, my boy! That's right!"
Euphemia rolled her eyes with a patient smile. "You know, there are three other excellent Houses as well. Who knows, maybe he'll be a Ravenclaw just like his Mum."
Fleamont gasped and pressed a hand to his chest. "Don't insult him! Not on this most auspicious of occasions!" he cried dramatically.
"Just because you were too thick-skulled to get in doesn't mean your son is," she teased, rapping her knuckles on her husband's head as she stepped towards James, scooping him into a hug of her own.
James let out a giggle. Euphemia held him tight against her and started to press kisses against his temple and he wiggled out from her arms, shaking her off.
"We'll be proud of you wherever you end up, James. In fact, we already are proud of you," she said.
"Thanks Mum," he replied sheepishly before his eyes lit up once more. "But I'm going to Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!"
"You'll be brilliant!" Fleamont beamed with pride, resting a hand on his shoulder.
Euphemia turned to hide her amused smile as she returned to the table. "You've got him well and truly brainwashed, haven't you?"
"Not in the slightest! I've just taught him right from wrong so that he can make the right choice for himself. Isn't that right, James?"
"Exactly," he confirmed, bounding to the table himself where his untouched plate of food waited.
"Sure," his Mom replied, thoroughly unconvinced though being accustomed to losing this argument, she wasn't the least bit surprised. "Anyways, we will need to celebrate! How about a nice dinner with some family and friends, what do you say, James? We can have all of your favorite foods and–"
"We can make everything red and gold and–," Fleamont cut in.
Euphemia slapped him in the arm. "-and this isn't about you, Fleamont."
"Of course not!"
James grinned at their familiar back and forth, the corners of his lips stretching even wider when his father sent him a clandestine wink.
"We will certainly have to invite the family. Let's see, your aunts and uncles and cousins will definitely want to congratulate you. Oh! And the Wilshire's next door–"
"Don't forget the Kama's and Macmillan's," Fleamont added, shoving a bite of food into his mouth.
"Yes, yes. Can't forget them."
"Can I invite Jackson and his family? My friend from the park?" James asked eagerly, bouncing in his seat with energy.
His parents shared a quick look before Fleamont swallowed hastily and leaned forward, a serious expression mounting his visage. "I don't think that's for the best, James. Jackson is a muggle and while there is obviously nothing wrong with that, we can't tell him about Hogwarts or magic. It would be very difficult to keep that secret from him at a party celebrating you going off to Hogwarts. Does that make sense?"
James pursed his lips. "Yeah, I guess so," he mumbled, averting his gaze.
"But all of your cousins will come so you'll still have plenty of fun!" his Dad replied, his chipper self returning in an instant.
What he failed to mention was that all of his cousins were in their mid-twenties and later, already graduated from Hogwarts and some beginning to start their own families. While his parents were around the same age as their siblings, all of their brothers and sisters had kids much earlier, so James would certainly be the youngest by far at this dinner party. Again.
With his parents continuing to plan their party, James let his mind travel forward in time. In just a few short weeks, he would be a Gryffindor, surrounded by other kids his age, their blood flowing with magic and unboundless energy just like his. The adventures they would have, the pranks they would pull, the magic he would learn (even if he could already do all of the spells they taught in the first-year). It would be perfect.
He would have friends to laugh with. To make memories with. To explore, to watch out for, to do whatever it is that kids and young wizards do. A knot of worry edged into his stomach as he realized he wasn't entirely sure what young wizards do. He could play grounders and tag and football like the muggle kids from town, and he could play Quidditch like his older cousins, but how did first-years fill their time? What if he was an outsider, the weirdo whose closest confidants were his wealthy and posh parents? The loner who spoke Latin fluently and had already mastered the year's coursework? What if no one could match his energy? His itching need for adventure?
Don't be absurd, he told himself firmly.
This was Hogwarts, where witches and wizards from all over the country came to learn together. He would surely find his second family, just like he imagined.
It was Hogwarts, the place where his entire family went before him.
It would be perfect.
He was going to Hogwarts.
Dear Mr. Sirius Black,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Finally, he thought to himself.
With the official proof of his departure date now in writing, the calendar that has been counting down to the first of September all summer makes a whole lot more sense.
Sirius crawled onto his desk to shut the window as the owl shrunk into a distant speck on the horizon, a grin lighting up his features. He rose to his feet, balancing precariously on the single clean corner of his desk which was otherwise laden with scraps of who-knows-what and he pounded his fist with a whoop of laughter. He jumped from the surface, his two fists thrust in the air like a star, and landed with a thud where he continued to pound the floor with his feet as he jumped excitedly, shouting, "Yes, yes, yes!" with every bound.
"Silence that racket this instant!" his mother screeched from somewhere within the house. How she was always able to make it sound like she was bending over him no matter which room she was in was beyond Sirius's creative capabilities. Nonetheless, he instantly stopped his jumping, though his grin only widened.
He tore open his bedroom door and flung himself towards Regulus' room, shoving in on his partially open door unannounced. Regulus looked up from his desk at his arrival, but before a word could escape him, Sirius announced gleefully, "I got my Hogwarts letter!"
Regulus furrowed his brow, his thin lips turning down at the edges. "I forgot that was coming so soon," he said.
"So soon?" Sirius parroted, incredulousness spilling into his voice. "It couldn't have come soon enough!"
Regulus's frown deepened and he turned away from his brother, hunching over his book instead.
Sirius's excitement collapsed in on itself, the adrenaline fading with his still heaving chest. "What's wrong?"
When Regulus failed to respond save for aggressively turning the page of his book, Sirius cautiously stepped forward. Sirius laid a hand on his shoulder and leaned so that his head was positioned sideways, just in his field of view, trying to crack a smile on his stoic brother's face. "Reg," he whined. "Talk to me!"
Regulus reared backwards, narrowly missing Sirius's own head and throwing off his hand. He shoved his chair out from under him, jumping to his feet with a burst of irate energy that surprised them both.
"What did you expect!? That I'd be thrilled you were officially leaving? That I'd be so excited for you to go and get to live on your own? Did you think I'd be happy that you were leaving me?" he shouted, tears already streaming onto his pristinely pressed shirt.
"Regulus, you knew that this was coming. Everyone gets the letter when–"
"Of course I knew it was coming! I'm not an idiot! But that doesn't mean I have to like it."
"Okay, okay," Sirius said loudly over him, his palms out to calm the air in the room before they both got a scolding. "Sorry. Of course you knew."
Sirius sighed and tugged at the top of his stifling collar as he ambled slowly towards his brother's bed. He sank into the mattress in one corner and asked, "What are you scared of?"
Regulus scoffed. "I'm not scared."
"Then what?"
"I just…," Regulus trailed off and his gaze happened to lock onto Sirius's. Looking at his older brother, all of the fight fizzled out of him. His shoulders slumped and he slowly collapsed against the mattress next to him, though he fell instantly to his back, staring up at the dark canopy of his bed. He felt Sirius lay down next to him and Regulus clasped his hands across his stomach as he spoke, focusing intently on the detail in the curtails above him. "I can't imagine this place without you. How am I going to get through my lessons? And I don't know if I can deal with our parents like you can."
Sirius let out a short bark of laughter, drawing Regulus' gaze towards him for a brief moment. Grinning, Sirius propped himself up on one elbow and responded, "I hate to break it to you, but I don't think anyone can deal with our parents quite like me. And that's probably a good thing. Reg… they hate me. They do!-" he insisted when Regulus tried to intervene "-But they love you. You are their shining, golden child that I keep on trying to taint with my terrible ideas. If I'm not here, and you just keep on playing by their rules like you always do, you'll be fine."
It was hard not to keep a note of bitterness out of his voice, so Sirius quickly flopped onto his back once more so that Regulus couldn't see the flash of annoyance that crossed his face.
"I don't want to play by their rules," Regulus whispered, almost fearfully.
Sirius felt his eyebrows raise and he smirked, pleased with himself. "It's good to hear you finally say that."
"But I have to."
"You don't have to," Sirius sighed. "But for now, it is safer unless you're willing to take a whole lot of flack that has usually fallen to me."
Regulus pursed his lips, considering his options.
"Just… stay safe, alright? I say do what you have to to stay sane in this haunted mansion, and then when you get to Hogwarts, we'll break all their rules together."
A bloom of hope alighted in Regulus's chest and he looked sideways at Sirius. "Promise?" he asked, hating how young and naive he sounded, like a child begging for reassurance.
Sirius grinned, looking at his brother. "I promise."
Regulus grinned in return, though quickly regretting it as Sirius rolled over and managed to half attack-half hug him and laughter rose up from the bed. When they had finished wrestling over the mattress, their pressed clothing wrinkled to madness and hair sticking up at all ends, they found themselves sitting on the floor, their backs pressed against the bed frame.
"We'll always be brothers, Reg," Sirius said softly, out of breath. "And I'll always be here for you. No matter what or where or why."
"You're going to be great at Hogwarts," Regulus replied.
"Of course I will be! I come from the most noble house of Black!" Sirius teased back, feigning offense at him even suggesting anything otherwise.
"Don't have too much fun without me, though."
"I'll save all the real fun for when you get there."
"Good."
"And you'll be okay here, Reg. I'll write to you so much that you'll wish I would stop."
"I'm going to write to you more."
"I'll write every day."
"I'll write every hour!" Regulus said eagerly.
"I don't think your owl would appreciate that."
"I'll get more owls!"
Sirius laughed and slung an arm around his brother. "I don't think your mother would appreciate that," he amended.
"No, she probably wouldn't," Regulus confirmed somberly.
Sirius squeezed his shoulder in reassurance.
Though his mind and heart were already far away, on a scarlet-red train traveling far away from this house.
He was going to Hogwarts.
Dear Mr. Remus Lupin,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
We are aware of your lycanthropy, though we do not see why this should hinder your education, so long as the appropriate precautions are carefully followed. We would love to discuss our thoughts about these safety measures before the term begins and kindly ask to stop by your home sometime in the coming weeks, whenever is most convenient for you.
Term begins on 1 September. We humbly await your owl with the best time to meet.
Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall
Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress
Remus scanned the words three times in quick succession, the ink blurring together as tears hastily jumped into his eyes.
It couldn't be.
Long gone were the days that he had allowed himself to daydream about Platform 9 ¾, the Sorting Ceremony, the first day of school. With a guarded heart, he had sternly convinced himself that those rights of passage were out of the picture for a monster like him. Yet now, a glimmer of hope was breaking through the clouds, a sliver of brightness amongst a stormy future.
He raised a trembling hand to his mouth, feeling his lips silently read the words once more, though he had practically memorized the few short sentences by now. He sunk into the nearby kitchen chair, his elbow banging loudly into the table, sending a jolt of pain up his arm that he did not feel.
"What is it, love?" his mother's soft voice called from somewhere behind him, seemingly a long distance away.
Remus shook his head mutely. He raised his arm, holding the letter above his head.
Hope furrowed her brow and set down the laundry basket she was carrying. She took the letter from his hand, not even glancing at what it said yet, and instead looked down at her son whose head collapsed against his palms as soon as the parchment left his grip, as if the physical connection was the only thing that was keeping him upright.
"Remus? Is everything alright?" Worry was settling further into her now as she began listing what it could be inside her head. It wasn't near the full moon, which was always at the forefront of her mind, and he was doing quite well at school–or, muggle school as he and her husband would say.
"Just read it," came his muffled voice from beneath his hands.
She dropped one hand to his shoulder, rubbing it comfortingly, as she obliged and lifted the parchment to her eyes. Though the rubbing stopped moments later as she took in the first sentence. Her body froze, save for the widening of her eyes. Unlike her son, she read slowly, with purpose, trying to savor each word on her tongue and let the meaning–the beautiful, yet terrifying meaning–take hold.
"Oh my god," she muttered. She placed the letter on the table and walked around the chair, kneeling before Remus. "Oh my god! This is great!" She laughed and peeled back Remus's hands from his face, taking them in her own. "Isn't it? This is what you've always wanted!"
Still he would not look up.
"Remus? What's wrong, love?"
He shook his head, burrowing further against her gaze.
"I'm sure they've thought of everything to keep you safe. This is Dumbledore for Christ's sake! He's one of the first of you wizards that your Dad ever told me about!"
Remus swiped at his eyes with one hand and finally looked up, his watery eyes gleaming with tears and joy. His cheeks were flush and a small smile quirked his lips.
"You're happy? This is good, right?" she asked.
He nodded and sniffed, a grin breaking out across his shocked expression. She laughed again and pulled him out of his chair and into her arms, pressing him against her chest, one hand reaching up to stretch through his hair and she took a deep breath in, trying to memorize the feel of him in her arms. Subconsciously, she was already counting down the days she had left with her Remus home before he would inevitably be sent off to some distant castle. The days she had left before he was truly a part of a different world that she could never fully understand. The days she had left while he was hers, and hers alone.
"I'm so proud of you," she muttered, feeling the tears well up in her own eyes. "But I'm going to miss you so much," she admitted with a laugh.
"I'm going to miss you too," Remus replied, squeezing his eyes shut and pulling his mother a little closer to him.
When they pulled away, Hope rose from her kneeling position and dried her eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan. "Well tonight we will have to celebrate. What do you want for dinner? It can be anything you want and we'll have it after we send your new school that letter. How does that sound?"
Remus smiled as a response, but didn't trust himself to think of any coherent words. His mind was a jumbled mess. A stew of joy, surprise, excitement, nerves, eagerness, with a hint of anxiety that something was mistaken. Something will go wrong and will wake him from this dream.
Hope seemed to understand and mustered up a watery smile to cover her own blend of emotions and made do with an adoring pat on the cheek before she turned away. "Let me know when you decide what you want for dinner and dessert, my little Hogwarts student!" she called over her shoulder.
The independent voice that lived within him cringed at the nickname, though the rest of him glowed with pride. He took the letter back into his hand and ran a thumb gently over his name, careful not to smear the pristine ink.
Hogwarts student…
Her voice echoed in his head.
He was going to be a student at Hogwarts.
He didn't think his smile could get any wider, yet it grew even more as the idea began to set in.
He was going to Hogwarts.
Dear Mr. Peter Pettigrew,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Peter stared blankly at the familiar crest, the same emblem that had been nagging him in his worst nightmares for the past fours years, ever since his eldest brother's letter arrived on the very same doorstep. But now, it was his turn. It was his turn to show them all that he deserved a spot within those walls, including the voice echoing with self-doubt in his own head.
He nodded to himself, a wide smile brimming beneath his flushed cheeks, as he stood beneath the summer sun on their porch, blissfully unaware of the world. The squeals of joy from the nearby playground he never seemed to partake in, the ticking of bicycle tires whirring by where he could never pedal fast enough, the laughter of the older kids picking on anyone viewed beneath them when their parents were distracted–it all faded like mist in the breeze. His vision was focused on nothing but the letter in his hand and the changing of tides that it would surely bring.
New voices filled his ears. The sound of laughter, yes–but not from older kicks picking on him, but from his entire class laughing at a joke that he had made. The whirring of something was faintly discernible in the background–the sound of him flying past his opponent on the Quidditch pitch, surely the fastest one there. The squeals of joy that erupted from the Great Hall as the Sorting Hall called out Gryffindor, the only House that he could have all to himself, separate from his two older brothers and even his two parents. Gryffindor was where he could make a name for himself. As a Gryffindor, he could be anything he wanted to be. If only he could convince the Sorting Hat that he was courageous. Daring. Chivalrous and fair minded.
He could be anything. Anyone.
That thought alone gleamed brighter than the unbearably hot sun currently baking everyone below it into crisps. It glowed within him as a beacon of golden possibility.
"What's this?"
The parchment was torn unceremoniously from his hands and whipped over his head. Peter blinked rapidly, disoriented from being brought back into reality so harshly. Before him stood his two older brothers, towering over him with the letter held between the two of them. He watched as their eyes widened in genuine surprise.
"Hogwarts sent you a letter, did they? I guess family name does count for something after all," Jack, the taller of the two, said to his brother.
"Hey now. I'm sure Peter will do great at Hogwarts!" Connor replied, feigning a smile and slapping his younger brother on the shoulder. "Won't you, Pete?"
Peter blushed profusely, staring at Jack's shoulder to avoid his having to look into Connor's strained cheerful face. "C–Can I h-have…"
"What was that?" Jack teased, cupping a hand around his ear.
Connor slapped him in the arm and sent him a withering glare.
Peter took a deep breath and met Jack's gaze. "Can I have the letter back, please?"
He rolled his eyes, yet held out the letter between two fingers nonetheless. "Congrats, but don't embarrass us at school." With those kind words of advice, Jack slipped past Peter through the open front door and into the magically cooled hallway.
"Don't worry about him. I'm sure you're going to be great," Connor added with a soft smile before following Jack into the house.
"Yeah…," Peter muttered, though the familiar sense of unease had settled once more into his gut. He turned to follow but stopped as he heard his brothers' voices on the stairs.
"I seriously thought he was a squib," came Jack's mumbling voice.
"Hey, Dumbledore's never wrong. We must have missed something," Connor replied and Peter could hear the unconvinced shrug in his voice.
"Must have missed what?" came a new voice–his mother joining the throng.
"Your little Petsey-pie got some good news. He's standing by the door like a tosser, you should go ask him."
"Oh, be nice, Jack!" she scolded and her footsteps hurried down the stairs.
"I am not a tosser," Peter muttered to himself as he hastily made his way into the house and shut the door behind him, just as his mother rounded the corner.
"Oh Petsey! I'm so happy for you!" she cooed and hugged him tightly after he had shared the news. He hugged her back happily, carefully not to wrinkle the letter during the embrace. "I can't wait to tell your father when he gets back from his errands. He's going to be so proud of you!"
Yet no one mentioned that they weren't surprised. Or that they made the right choice. Or that Hogwarts will be lucky to have him.
But that doesn't matter, he told himself sternly as the dark words began to dim the glowing in his chest.
It doesn't matter.
He was going to Hogwarts.
Dear Miss Lily Evans,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a boarding school for extraordinary individuals to learn to harness and grow their unique powers. We are sure that you are thoroughly confused and have many questions. Please rest assured that a representative from our distinguished school will be visiting within the week to assist you and further explain things in person. Please do not attempt to throw away or burn this letter, for you will find that it will be impossible to do either. It is also of the utmost importance to not share this information with anyone other than your immediate family members, a rule which will also be explained in greater detail by our representative.
Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1 September.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Lily clutched the letter between her two hands, her knuckles turning white with strained effort as if she were afraid it would fly away. She closed the front door and retreated into the home, completely forgetting the rest of the pile of the comparatively inconsequential mail sitting on their doorstep.
Unable to contain the emotion, she began to bounce lightly on her toes as she read the letter once more, an irrepressible grin spreading along with the energy that was slowly building up into something tangible. Laughing giddily, Lily jumped up and down, her knees bending beneath her until she stomped back to the tiled floors of their foyer.
"Keep it down! I can't hear my record!" Petunia shouted, her sharp voice carrying from the stairway.
Petunia.
Lily instantly stopped jumping, her hand with the letter dropping to her side as she cocked her head, considering her options. Sure, her and Petunia had been growing apart lately, ever since Lily had started to spend more time with Severus from down the road. But surely this was something that even Petunia would have to celebrate. Surely, she could put aside her jealousy for the day, especially if Lily was to remind her of all the ways Petunia could be included. They would write daily letters, Lily would visit during the school holidays, Petunia could go to that magical shopping center with her.
Yes, Petunia would love to hear about this.
And Lily had to tell someone soon for fearing of bursting at the seams with all of the excitement filling inside of her.
Making up her mind, Lily raced up the steps, two at a time, her spare hand flying along the banister until she breathlessly came to a stop in front of her sister's door. Grinning madly to herself, she brushed her loose hair behind one ear and knocked.
The music stopped and the door was thrown open.
"What?" Petunia asked, staring down at Lily with one hand still on the door handle as if she would close it at any minute.
"He was right!" Lily squealed.
Petunia's icy facade melted slightly into confusion. "What?" she repeated.
Lily shook her head like she was clearing away cobwebs. "I just got a letter! From an owl! It's an invitation to Hogwarts!" Lily held the letter up against her chest with the crest facing outwards, still bouncing on the balls of her feet.
Petunia's eyes narrowed in on the wax seal and a stone dropped in the pit of her stomach, leaving her chest feeling hollowed out and empty. She swallowed heavily and crossed her arms, blinking a scowl back onto her face. "Wow, congrats. Now you're officially a weirdo."
Lily's ebullient smile slipped slightly. "Mum said not to call me that," she said quietly. "But why aren't you excited? Now we can go to… to–" she searched for the word "-Diagon Alley together! And I'll write to you every day and I can show you–"
Petunia scoffed loudly. "Like I'd want to hear from a weirdo like you."
Lily stopped her bouncing and pressed the letter closer to her body. "What do you mean? I thought–"
"You know what? This is for the best," Petunia laughed to herself. "You can go off to that asylum and leave the rest of us normal people here. We'll be so much safer and happier. I don't even want to go. I don't want to hear about it. So just leave me out of this!"
Before Lily could even begin to comprehend her heated spiel, Petunia had slammed the door in her face, the harsh burst of wind blowing her hair back.
Lily stepped closer to the door, her cheek pressing against the wood. "Tuney, wait! I didn't mean to–"
"Go away!"
"Can't we just talk like–"
"I said leave me ALONE!" The record scratched and soon, music was blaring much louder than before, seeping beneath the crack at the door's base and pulsing up through Lily's bare feet.
Lily pressed her forehead against the door, the vibrations rattling inside her head and a tear slid onto her cheek. She simply couldn't understand what she had ever done wrong to elicit such an endlessly cruel response from her sister. Something had snapped that day when Sev explained why she could do such odd things, that she was magic. The world snapped into place for Lily, all the confusing pieces finally making sense and fitting together like a solved jigsaw, and simultaneously, the promise of an eternal bond between sisters snapped like a lowly twig underfoot when Lily had thought it was stronger than a tree trunk, able to weather any storm.
Lily sniffed and ran a forearm under her eyes. She glanced up at the door and whispered, "I'm sorry," though what she was apologizing for, she still didn't quite know. All she knew was that she was sorry they were growing apart when all she wanted was a sister. She was sorry that it was her with magic in her blood and not both of them. She was sorry that there seemed to be nothing she could do about it. She was sorry that Petunia refused to hear her apologies. She was sorry that this wasn't playing out how she had imagined. She was sorry.
Lily trudged back down the stairs, one step at a time, and moved into the kitchen without thinking, drawn by her Dad's cheerful humming and the smell of her Mum's dark coffee brewing. Instantly, her parents converged on her radiating parental concern after having heard snippets of the shouting match above combined with the sight of her blotchy, tear-stained face. Hastily, yet with many pauses while she collected her words mid-sniffle, Lily replayed her afternoon.
"Let's worry about your sister later," her Dad said, one hand stroking her shoulder comfortingly.
"Yes," her Mom agreed, kneeling beside her. "Let's talk about this school of yours instead!" She braved a smile, though her eyes were glued in place with anxiety.
Lily's eyes lit up and the dark storm cloud floating within her paled. "Isn't it amazing! Sev was right! I am magic!"
Her parents shared a sidelong glance that said they had prepared a speech. "Lily, honey, I'm not sure that–"
"I know you think Sev was making it all up and I know it sounds completely crazy, but how else could you explain some of the things I've accidentally done? And how can you explain this letter?" Lily asked, waving the parchment in their faces.
"Yes, the letter is a bit… odd," her Dad began slowly. "But it hardly proves anything. Even if there was a school for magic in some corner of the country, your father and I do not feel comfortable sending you off without any knowledge about it whatsoever." Her voice began to rise to cover Lily's protests.
"That's why they're sending someone! They'll explain it all to you. They'll prove that magic exists and they'll tell you all about Hogwarts, just like Sev did. Then you'll understand."
Her Mom gave her a patient smile while her Dad barreled on. "I don't want you to get your hopes up, Lily. Besides, I've heard your teacher next year is really great! You'll have plenty of fun here."
"I don't want to learn that boring muggle stuff! I want to learn charms and potions!"
"Lily, it's not real! It can't be!" her Dad insisted frantically.
"Yes it is! I can float midair off the swings! I can slam the door on Tuney without touching it if I'm angry! I grew out my bangs in a day when you cut them too short!"
"How about this?" her Mom cut in carefully, squeezing her husband's arm to shush him into submission. "The letter said someone will be visiting within a week, right?" Lily nodded eagerly. "Let's give it a week then. We'll see if someone shows up and hear what they say and then we can all decide together, okay?"
"Okay, but I just don't want to give her false hope," her Dad insisted as if Lily were not standing right there.
"Just wait and you'll see. After they come and prove it all to you, you'll have to let me go," Lily said, more to herself than anything. Before either of her parents could respond, she bounded out the front door, jumping over the rest of their mail, and sprinted towards the Snape family's house.
Sev would understand. He would share her excitement. Surely someone must be as thrilled as she is to have conclusive proof that she is magic. Sure enough, when she turned the corner, she saw Severus jogging towards her, holding an envelope in his hand.
"Did you get one?" he shouted as they met halfway down the sidewalk.
She waved her letter above her head, grinning madly. "Yes!" she squealed.
"I knew it! I knew you were a witch!" he replied gleefully.
The pair headed off to the nearby park, daydreaming about their future days at Hogwarts together–their classes, their adventures, even just the day-to-day mundane tasks that would never seem droll to Lily. Petunia's jealousy disappeared into the backdrop and her parents' disbelieving concern was nothing in the face of Severus' certainty. Excitement began to refill her body, the summer sun mingling with her joy to send warm tingles down her arms.
With the letter still gripped in her hand, it was official.
She was going to Hogwarts.
