"Mummy, what lives in the Shrieking Shack?" The four year old looked up at his mother. In the distance, howls and roars could be heard, though they were far away and mercifully not that loud. Penelope paused, about to turn out the light. Instead, she sat down on the edge of the bed, thinking.
The house on the edge of the town had been quiet for many years, run-down and dilapidated. Its windows were boarded up, and no door had ever been found. Three years ago, something changed. The house was no longer silent. It was no longer the mundane place it used to be. Some said angry spirits lived there, others said it was a place of torture. It terrified all.
Penelope pursed her lips, making her son giggle. Suddenly, she stretched her arms out and roared.
"Monsters! Werewolves! Evil ghosts! Ready to eat you up!"
The four year old ducked under the covers, hiding. Slowly, he poked his head up.
"Really?" He asked, wide-eyed. Penelope nodded.
"Goodnight, you." She whispered.
"Goodnight, mummy." Came the reply.
"Nox." Murmured Penelope, and the light went out.
That night, Penelope listened to the wails and screams from the Shrieking Shack. Not for the first time, she wondered what lived there that made even the bravest men fall to their knees.
To:
Mr and Mrs Thompson
23 Sunrise Ave,
London
Dear Mother and Father,
The first month of school has been okay. I'm still friends with Anna and Lisa, and I've made friends with two more people. They're both Gryffindors, too, and in my year. Shirley and Mary. According to Professor McGonagall, I'm getting quite good at Transfiguration, which is supposed to be really difficult. I'm okay at everything else. Not much else has happened.
There's an old house which I go to turn into a werewolf. It's accessible by this really small tunnel which is long and gives me back aches. There's another werewolf at school too. His name's Remus Lupin. I feel sorry for him, having a name like that and being a werewolf. He seems nice but he hangs around Potter and Black (who are idiots) so he's probably only pretending.
None of my friends have guessed anything fishy is going on yet.
I hope you are both fine and managing without me. How's the dog? Still scared half to death?
Hoping all is well,
Love from,
Jill.