Chapter 1
The Letter
One of the most cherished memories River Duncan had is that of her parents sitting her and her twin brother Archer down at the dinner table to tell them their father is a wizard.
Of course, River had laughed. Her father, a wizard? Even as an eight-year-old with an imaginative mind, she hadn't believed them until her father pulled a fancy stick from his pocket and produced red sparks from the tip.
Ever since that day, River and Archer carried a secret with them that made them giggle. The other kids at primary school never understood what amused them so much, and dubbed them the 'weird twins.' River hadn't really cared about the title because she had something special they didn't have, and she hoped it would stay that way.
So, when their eleventh birthday rolled around on January 21st, their parents told them that they should await a letter that summer, accepting them into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
"You know, staring out your window won't make our letters come faster," Archer said on a warm summer afternoon, seated on River's bed with a book on Herbology in his lap, borrowed (stolen) from their father's study.
"Mum and Dad won't say how they'll arrive," River said, staring at the mailbox at the end of their driveway.
"I doubt that a mailman would deliver letters containing information about a magical school," Archer said. "Muggles don't know about magic for a reason."
River rolled her eyes.
Archer had always been the more rational of the two. While River preferred to live in the moment and let things happen as they did, Archer tended to stick to the side and let his sister deal with issues.
"Either way, I don't think they'll arrive in the middle of the day," Archer continued.
"Can you let me breathe for a moment?" River said. "I'm just excited, is that too much for you to handle?"
"Riv, you are always too much for me to handle, don't you worry about that."
River huffed and slid down from the window sill, flopping onto her bed and staring at the pink wall to which her bed is pushed against. There's a collection of drawings pinned up, old ones she made in primary school and newer ones drawn with the fancy set of drawing pencils her grandparents had gifted her for her birthday.
The door to River's room opened, and their younger brother Frank walked in. With an angry look on his face, he sat down on River's bed.
"What soured your grapes?" Archer muttered, not needing to look up from his book to know Frank was not pleased.
"I want to go to Hogwarts, too."
"Next year, Frankie," River said. She kicked her legs impatiently. "I want the letters to arrive today."
"Like I said, I doubt they'd show up in the middle of the day," Archer said.
"And I don't want to wait until next year to go to Hogwarts. I want to go this year."
"You haven't even finished primary school yet."
"Does that matter?"
"It should, I don't think you'd be able to take a potions class without any understanding of mathematics."
"You sound like a nerd."
River tuned out the conversation, sitting back up on her knees to stare out the window again. Their neighbor's kids were outside, bouncing a ball back and forth between one another. An open window across the street showed a mother with her newborn baby.
That evening, after dinner, River bid goodnight to her brothers and retreated to her bedroom with dreams of two letters arriving on their doorstep the next morning.
"River and Archer! Breakfast!"
River groaned, rolling around in her bed and peeling open her eyes. She never closed the curtains last night, so sunlight spilled into her room.
Somebody slammed their fist against her door.
"Riv! Hurry up, Mum made bacon sandwiches!"
River could never say no to her mother's bacon sandwiches. She's had them at her friends' houses when she would visit, but nothing could beat her mother's bacon sandwiches.
She threw up her hair in a quick ponytail before going downstairs, already aware that the coming day would be warm and humid. She loved her long hair, reaching to her mid-back, but sometimes it was a pain. It being black didn't help much, absorbing way too much heat.
River slid into her seat, reaching for a bacon sandwich immediately. Frank was already halfway done with his, and Archer was attempting to clean his glasses.
It was halfway through breakfast that Frank looked up and stared out the window, gasping.
"Mum!"
Frank pointed at the window, and River turned around, jaw falling open. At the window, two owls sat, looking curiously into the house with big eyes. Immediately, Mr. Duncan got to his feet to open the window and let the owls in.
"Owls?" Archer said, watching the two owls circle the dining room before settling in front of him and River.
River's owl was a beautiful black color, big yellow eyes looking at her as it held out its claw. Tied around it was a singular letter.
"Go ahead," Mr. Duncan said, smiling. "Open the letters."
"Are these the acceptance letters?" River asked, nervously untying the string and taking the letter from the black owl. Archer did the same to his, a brown owl.
"Why don't you find out?"
River turned around the envelope, looking at the wax seal, imprinted with a lion, a badger, a snake, and an eagle, surrounding a big 'H'. She ripped open the letter immediately, finding two pieces of parchment inside. She took out the first one, which read:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Miss Duncan,
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place 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
A grin broke out on River's face, turning around to beam at her brother.
"You too, right?" she asked, knowing the answer already.
They swapped letters–the only difference was how they were addressed, but they didn't quite care–before River remembered the second parchment. She tugged it from the envelope to read it through:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
Uniform
First-year students will require:
Three sets of plain work robes (black)
One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags.
Set Books
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble
Other Equipment
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set of brass scales
Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST-YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS
Yours sincerely,
Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus
Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions
"It looks like we have a trip to make to Diagon Alley this afternoon," Mr. Duncan said, pride blossoming in his voice,
Frank yelled up a storm when he was told he would stay behind with Mrs. Duncan, screaming and crying that he wanted to "see the magic shops!"
River and Archer hopped into the backseat of their father's car, a 1968 silver Ford Escort, and after a short drive, they stopped in a small side-street. They stepped out and followed Mr. Duncan to a small pub called The Leaky Cauldron.
From the outside, it looked like a gnarly little place, and inside didn't seem any different. It was dark and shabby, with only one witch sitting in a corner, hiding behind a newspaper with one too many empty beer mugs in front of her.
River's attention was pulled away from the witch when her father spoke.
"Tom! How great it is to see you!"
From behind the bar, the old barman waved at Mr. Duncan. There was a smile on his face that only widened when he noticed River and Archer.
"Ah, these are the kids, yeah? Beautiful children you have, Thomas. How's Lexie?"
It was as if Mr. Duncan was greeting an old friend, and River supposed they went to Hogwarts together at some point.
"She's doing great," Mr. Duncan said. "This is River and Archer. They've received their letters this morning."
"Ah!" Tom the barman said joyfully. "Not the first new ones I've seen today! Augusta came through with her grandson this morning, and the Notts said they'd come by sometime today, as well. The Weasley were here a couple of minutes ago, you just missed them–"
As their father continued to speak to the bartender, River and Archer peered around the pub once more before looking at one another and grinning, not quite believing that they were finally going to Hogwarts.
At last, Mr. Duncan rounded up his conversation with Tom the bartender, and led River and Archer through a door and into a small, walled courtyard, with nothing but a few dustbins in the corner and weeds growing through the pavement.
"Pay attention, now," Mr. Duncan said. "You'll have to know how to access Diagon Alley, I won't always be here to help you."
River watched as her father pulled his wand from his jacket, carefully counting the bricks of the wall to their left. He tapped a specific brick, and if River didn't know magic existed, she would have freaked out.
The brick wriggled in its place. In the middle, a hole appeared, growing larger and larger in size until they were looking through a large archway, at a street that twisted and turned out of sight. Lining the streets were little shops. One sold cauldrons (Cauldrons – All Sizes – Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver – Self-Stirring – Collapsible) and another sold owls (Eeylops Owl Emporium – Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown and Snowy). A window display showed several broomsticks on display, but the one being shown off was obviously the newest (The Nimbus 200 – Experience speed you have never felt before).
Mr. Duncan led River and Archer toward a snowy white building, towering over every other shop in the street. Bronze doors stood in the middle of the wall. Beside it stood a short person, if River could even call it that. It had long fingers and toes and a wrinkled face. Mr. Duncan called it a goblin, and greeted it as it bowed to them before the doors opened.
A pair of silver doors opened, two more goblins bowing as they passed through. The doors led to a vast marble hall, occupied by a hundred more goblins on high stools behind a long counter. One was weighing coins on brass scales, another was examining green stones through eyeglasses.
"Good morning," Mr. Duncan said, when they reached the counter at the end of the hall. "I'd like to exchange some Muggle money, please."
"How much?" was the answer the goblin behind the counter gave.
Mr. Duncan reached into his pocket, retrieving his wallet and pulling several ten pound bills. The goblin looked at it, picked it up between nimble, long fingers, and pulled out a pair of eyeglasses to look at the bills.
The goblin verified the bills as authentic, pulling out a large drawer and slipping the bills into an envelope. From there, he grabbed a felt pouch and filled it with a select number of golden, silver, and bronze coins. He noted something down in the large book on his counter, and handed over the pouch.
"Have a lovely day," Mr. Duncan said, receiving a grunt in return.
Their day at Diagon Alley passed by too quickly. River and Archer got fitted for their robes and stopped at a bookstore for their books. At an apothecary that smelled less than pleasant, Mr. Duncan explained the vast amount of potion ingredients to River and Archer, describing their uses and how common they were. They left the apothecary with their bags full of basic potion ingredients, and purchased two pewter cauldrons, scales to weigh potion ingredients, and a collapsible brass telescope. Each received a set of crystal vials ("Stronger than glass, they'll be able to survive a fall or two," Mr. Duncan said) and then they stood in front of a narrow, shabby shop. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC.
Mr. Duncan opened the door, and River stepped inside.
A bell tinkled as the door was opened. The walls were covered by thousands of narrow boxes, piled neatly and up to the ceiling. It was quiet, and River wondered if this is what pure magic felt like. Strong, powerful, intimidating.
A door at the back of the store, behind the counter, swung open, though it made no noise when it collided with the wall. An old man stepped from the shadows behind the doorway, with pale wide eyes and scrawny, silver hair.
"Thomas Duncan," Mr. Ollivander said in a soft voice, smiling at Mr. Duncan. "What a pleasure it is to see you here, though I could have expected so… These are your kids, yes? The twins?"
Mr. Duncan placed his hands on River and Archer's shoulders, nodding proudly.
"Yes, the twins," Mr. Duncan said. "Here for their wands, of course. Received their letters this morning. Couldn't be more proud of them."
Mr. Ollivander nodded, looking at Archer first and then at River.
"Hold out your wand arms, please," Mr. Ollivander said.
River raised her right hand; Archer's left hand shot up excitedly. A tape measure shot from Mr. Ollivander's pocket, another appearing from a drawer behind the counter. As Mr. Ollivander flitted around the shelves and took down boxes, the tape measures measured River and Archie from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and around their heads.
"That will do," Mr. Ollivander said, and the tape measures crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Duncan, I will start with you. Try this wand– Red oak wood, phoenix feather core, 11 and a half inches… quite stiff."
Mr. Ollivander tested the flexibility of the wand before he handed it over to Archer. Archer stood awkwardly with it for a moment before Mr. Duncan nudged his shoulder.
"Give it a wave," Mr. Duncan encouraged. "Go on."
Archer waved the wand, and River watched, amazed, as a collection of pink and purple sparks shot from the tip of it. The sparks didn't burn when they landed on River's skin, nor did they burn the wooden floor of the wand shop.
"Beautiful!" Mr. Ollivander shouted, giving a clap with his hands. "Perfect, Mr. Duncan. Absolutely beautiful. As for your sister…"
River stood straight when she was mentioned, watching as Mr. Ollivander looked at her, pondering something before pulling a box from the wall.
"Let's give this one a try… Oak wood, phoenix feather core. A little springy, ten inches."
Mr. Ollivander handed the wand to River. She had barely touched it, let alone waved it, before Mr. Ollivander snatched it right back.
"Not quite, not quite," Mr. Ollivander muttered. "Here, this one. Willow wood with unicorn hair core, ten and a half inches. Fairly supple."
River accepted the wand. She bit her lip as she waved it around, unsure what to do, but Mr. Ollivander took it back immediately.
"This one, Ms. Duncan. Fir wood, dragon heartstring core, 10 and three-quarter inches–fairly bendy. Give it a wave."
River took the wand, and felt warmth spread through her fingers. She raised it above her head, and when it swished down, a bright golden flame erupted from the tip of the wand. Archer gasped, and Mr. Ollivander laughed brightly.
When both their wands were wrapped in brown paper and tucked into one of the many bags they carried, they each paid seven galleons for their wands and left the shop. River was grinning at her brother.
"Exciting, isn't it?" Mr. Duncan said, smiling at his children. "Now, would you two like an owl, or a cat?"
