Chapter 2: A Wizard?

Sunday morning breakfast was old tradition in the Moore family. Ever since Lewis could hold a fork, he had sat down with his parents at precisely nine o'clock to a table filled with eggs, sausage, beans, hash browns, and black pudding. And every Sunday morning, at precisely five past nine, Mr. Moore had inquired of his wife as to which army she was attempting to feed that morning, earning himself either a face full of eggs, or on a particularly lovely morning, a quick kiss.

This Sunday was no exception. Lewis was not foolish enough to miss Sunday breakfast. An extra few minutes of sleep was most definitely not worth his mother worrying that he was ill. She had a habit of prescribing a concoction of tomato juice, prune juice, and seltzer that she insisted fixed all ills. Privately, Lewis was fairly certain that said mixture merely ensured that the person who drank it would expel everything in their body, good or bad.

Present though he may have been, Lewis had not slept very much at all after the excitement of the day before, and he could hardly keep himself awake. He didn't even giggle as his mother dumped an entire bowl of fruit on his father's head, something that caused his mother to start muttering about tomato juice. Nor did he notice the sharp rapping on the front door at precisely half past nine until his father got up to answer it.

Too tired to rouse himself, he told himself that it was just Mr. Wood and his less than charming son Roger, coming by to show off their trophy and busied himself with his food. However, after fifteen minutes had passed and his parents still had not returned, curiosity won out over tiredness and he got up to see who was at the door.

It was most certainly not Roger and his father. As he entered the front hall he saw an older woman. He would have called her elderly, were it not for the impression she gave that she could still give a good whipping. As he looked at her, he began racking his brain, trying to remember if he had any severely overdue library books, for with her tartan skirt, narrow eyeglasses, and prim bun, she looked the picture of an irritable librarian.

Just as he was sneaking off to his room to check under his bed, however, the woman turned to him and beckoned him to join the adults. Timidly, he approached, and as he did so, he noticed the deep confusion and concern on his parents' faces. They seemed almost unable to speak.

The woman took charge of the situation.

"Why don't we retire to your sitting room? I am sure we will all be much more comfortable there, and undoubtedly Lewis will have many questions once everything is explained to him. Amelia, perhaps you might bring us some tea?"

"Why, yes… yes, of course," stuttered Mrs. Moore as she hurried off to the kitchen to do as the librarian suggested.

Lewis had no time, however, to wonder at his mother's confusion (and how the librarian knew her name) as he followed his father and the strange woman into his sitting room and sat down beside his father. A minute later, his mother returned, her trembling hands holding a tray with four steaming mugs of tea. She served all of those present and then squeezed herself beside her son on the sofa, leaving the three Moores facing the stranger.

The librarian, if that was what she was, seemed unperturbed by the seating arrangements. She calmly sipped her tea, almost as if she were collecting her thoughts, returned the cup to its saucer, sighed, and began to speak.

"I suppose it would be cruel to leave you in suspense any longer Lewis. My name is Minerva McGonagall and I am the deputy headmistress at Hogwarts School. I am here today to inform you that you have been admitted to our institution."

"Then I'm not in trouble then?" Lewis asked, the relief shining on his face.

"Not yet at least." The woman, McGonagall, seemed to almost smile for the smallest of moments and then her face resumed its severe expression. "Before you accept or decline your admission, however, there are a few things you should know. Hogwarts is a unique school, a school for students with special abilities. Hogwarts is a school of magic."

Lewis' face fell. "But… I can't do magic," he whispered.

"Have you ever had things happen to you that you can't quite explain, ever made things happen that you didn't understand?"

Memories of his slow descent yesterday, of a bald Mr. Donovan, and of a mysteriously refilling biscuit tin rose to the top of Lewis' mind, and slowly the smile returned to his face.

"I thought as much," said McGonagall, again with that hint of a smile. "The question is not whether or not you are a wizard, for that you very much are, but whether or not you wish to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

With that, McGonagall turned to Lewis' parents, neither of whom had spoken a word since they sat down.

Tom and Amelia Moore looked nothing if not shocked and amazed. They had always known that their son was unique among children, but they had always assumed that it was just his propensity for spending time with adults that set him apart, not anything as large as this. Yet, as they looked that the excitement, the possibility shining on their son's face, the shock slowly faded from theirs. Perhaps, Lewis might find at this mysterious school what he had missed so far. Perhaps here he would truly belong.

"The decision is not ours to make," Tom responded to McGonagall's questioning look. He turned to his son, "Well, Lewis, would you like to go?"

"Yes, yes, very much."

"Then that decides it then," McGonagall said. She pulled a rather large letter out of her pocket. "Here, Lewis, is your official letter of admittance as well as a list of supplies you will need for school. Most of these items you will not be able to find on your own in the muggle – non-magical – world, so, if you have no objections, we will be sending a representative along to take you shopping."

With that, McGonagall and the Moores set to discussing the details of their son's new school. Lewis, however, heard little of this conversation, transfixed as he was by the letter he held in his hands. Wands, spellbooks, toads… It all sounded so unreal, utterly magical…

"Excuse me Mr. Moore," McGonagall

"Um…sorry."

McGonagall continued, "As I was saying, while I am sure that you are very excited about the coming year, it is imperative that you do not discuss Hogwarts or any other aspect of the wizarding world with any of your non-magical friends. No doubt they would have trouble believing you, but in the unlikely event that they did, it would pose a grave threat to the International Statute of Secrecy, and would not bode well for your coming years at Hogwarts. Understood?"

"Oh…yes… of course."

"Very well then," said McGonagall as she stood up to leave, "Enjoy the rest of your summer, Mr. Moore. We'll be sending a representative with you on the 31st of July to get your things, and I shall look forward to seeing you on September the first."

And with that the stately professor walked out the door. Lewis rushed to the window to watch her as she departed, but strangely, she was already gone. Slowly, he turned to his parents, wanting to confirm, wanting to make sure it was real. And when he saw the utter bewilderment in their faces, he knew, and his face became one enormous smile.