Disclaimer: I own nothing; just frolicking in the world of HP.
As the bright sun began pouring through her window, Alice awoke face down on her desk, her neck feeling sore from the awkward position. "I've got to stop doing that," she thought admonishingly, rubbing her shoulder with one hand. Tapping the mouse, her laptop screen flicked back to life and she immediately went to her email inbox.
Clicking to open a new message from Thomas Mylton Jr., her agent at Mylton & Sons Publishing Company, she smiled at its contents.
Dear Dr. McNally,
Good news, your book, Hinting at Magic: 20th Century Conspiracies and Possible Explanations, has successfully made it through the printing stage and should be on fine bookstore shelves everywhere in London by next week.
If possible, please call me right after my early lunch hour (12:30 pm) to discuss the closing details of our pleasant transaction.
Cheers,
Thomas Mylton Jr.
Senior Editor, Mylton & Sons Publishing Co.
"Finally," she thought, a wave of accomplishment went over her. It had been a long process of finding and then dealing with a publisher, and more specifically a non-academic one.
Shutting down her laptop, she sat up straight and started to breathe in and exhale slowly, clearing her mind before pursuing the day ahead. Meditating had become a daily ritual since high school. She often felt a need to clear her mind as a precaution, although not a medically proven one, to prevent her from becoming like her mother, who fell mentally ill when Alice was a child. Her mom had an overactive imagination and began seeing impossible things later in life. Doctors first diagnosed her with anxiety disorder and gave her anti-depressants. Unfortunately, what she saw didn't stop. Alice was only seven when she found her mother lying unconscious in the bathroom, having overdosed on medication. Unfortunately, the doctors were unable to revive her. Alice was in shock for some time and had stopped speaking for the better part of a year. Her father took the loss of his beloved wife hard and found it difficult to stay in London where he was reminded constantly of her. He uprooted them both to the United States, transferring to the Los Angeles office of the financial firm he worked for, and they started a completely new life. He would later remarry and have two children. Alice would earn her undergraduate degree at Berkeley and complete her doctorate at Oxford.
Thoughts of relocating to Britain weighed heavily on Alice's mind during her teenage years. Every time her father and the family took a trip to London to visit relatives, she would have vivid dreams that verged on reality. They always involved an older man with kind blue eyes and a long white beard. Their meetings took place in great libraries and lecture halls where they would discuss life and loss, regrets and triumphs. He listened to her and gave encouragement, teaching her a new way to intellectually approach the world. Alice felt it was him who encouraged her to question reality and believe in her convictions. It was also after their first meeting that she started to speak again. While Alice never knew his true name she knew he was her grandfather on her mother's side. Her mother once told her that she never knew her father, that he was only known to her mother but one night. Was this only Alice's imagination of what her grandfather was like? During the dreams she never asked him directly, perhaps afraid of the answer; afraid that she was losing her mind like her mother had before she died. While this worried her, she still gladly welcomed the dreams and eagerly awaited her next visit to London so she could tell her grandfather of the previous year's happenings. The dreams stopped, however, the last summer before she started Berkeley. She somehow knew it would be their last meeting; she could sense it in his parting words.
After moments of meditating, she felt calm and refreshed. Alice proceeded to get ready for a day out; the sunshine was inviting, especially after a nasty spell of rain. Pulling her hair into a clip, she packed her bag with her mini netbook computer and a book entitled, How the Mind Works, which she recently purchased. She unconsciously grabbed her prized possession, the seven year old Daily Prophet newspaper, along with some cut-out tabloid articles, placing them securely between the pages of her book in her bag. Putting on a pair of oversized black sunglasses, she prepared to make her way to Charing Cross Road. According to tabloid articles, unusual activity had taken place there more than a few times.