Evan woke on the morning of his 11th birthday to the soft pitter-patter of rain against his window. Blinking groggily, he turned onto his side, the faint light filtering through the curtains casting the room in a dull gray glow. It wasn’t the sort of morning that inspired much excitement, but birthdays weren’t really exciting anymore. Not without his parents.
He sat up slowly, his feet touching the cold wooden floor. As he got dressed in his usual worn T-shirt and jeans, his eyes drifted over to the relic resting on his nightstand, its faint glow ever-present. Two years had passed since he’d found it in the attic, but the strange connection it formed with him never faded. The visions it sent—the battles, the metallic creatures—had left him with questions he didn’t have answers to, and yet, the relic felt like the one constant in a life that had been turned upside down.
He pulled his jacket tighter as he headed downstairs. Aunt Martha’s house was cold, both in temperature and atmosphere. She wasn’t cruel, but distant. Rules, schedules, and a focus on propriety were her priorities. There were no birthday pancakes waiting for him, no decorations, no presents. It was as if his birthday didn’t matter at all.
Evan passed through the kitchen, grabbing a piece of toast that had been left on a plate for him. He was halfway to the door, planning to wander the yard to clear his head, when something slid through the mail slot and fell with a soft thud onto the floor.
A single, thick envelope lay there, its surface marked with swirling, elegant handwriting. Evan picked it up, his brow furrowing as he read his name:
Evan Holloway
The Smallest Bedroom
Martha Holloway’s House
His fingers trembled slightly as he carefully tore open the envelope. Inside was a letter written on parchment, the words at the top catching his breath:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
Evan’s heart raced as he read on, his eyes widening with every line. The letter invited him to attend Hogwarts, a school for witches and wizards. Magic? A school for wizards? His first reaction was disbelief, his mind racing. He’d heard of Hogwarts—through fantasy books, maybe, or old stories—but surely this couldn’t be real.
“This has to be some kind of joke,” Evan muttered to himself, glancing around as though expecting someone to jump out and yell, “Gotcha!”
But the letter felt real—far too real. The weight of the parchment, the elegance of the writing—it was all too specific. He clutched the letter, his thoughts tangled. Could magic be real? Could he—Evan Holloway, who had lost so much—be a wizard?
He felt a surge of excitement rise in him, a feeling he hadn’t experienced in so long. With a determined breath, he knew he had to tell Aunt Martha. As distant as she was, she was still his guardian, and something as big as this couldn’t be kept secret.
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Later that afternoon, after mustering up the courage, Evan found Aunt Martha in her sitting room, knitting by the window. The room was stiff, like everything else in the house, with furniture that looked more decorative than comfortable. He hesitated at the door, unsure of how to even begin.
“Aunt Martha?” he ventured, stepping into the room. She didn’t look up from her knitting, but he could feel the subtle shift in her posture, signaling she was listening.
“What is it, Evan?” she asked, her voice cool as ever.
“I… I got a letter,” he said, holding out the Hogwarts letter with both hands. His fingers gripped the edges of the parchment tightly, as though he feared it might vanish if he let go. “It’s from a place called Hogwarts. It’s a school—for magic.”
At the word “magic,” Aunt Martha’s hands stilled, the clacking of her knitting needles stopping mid-stitch. Slowly, she turned to look at him, her sharp gray eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“Magic?” she repeated, as though the word were foreign to her. “What nonsense are you talking about?”
“I’m serious,” Evan said, his voice shaking slightly. He took a step forward, his heart hammering in his chest. “It’s real. They—they’ve invited me to attend. There’s a list of supplies I’ll need and everything. I’m a wizard.”
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Aunt Martha’s face hardened, her lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line. “Wizardry is nothing more than childish fantasy, Evan. Who would send such a ridiculous letter?”
Evan felt the weight of disbelief settle in his stomach. He had expected her to be skeptical, but her dismissal was like a door slamming shut. “But it’s right here,” he protested, waving the letter. “It’s official. Look!”
She took the letter from his hands and examined it, her eyes scanning the parchment. As she read, her expression shifted from skepticism to something more complicated—something like doubt. When she finished, she looked at Evan, then back at the letter, her frown deepening.
“This must be some kind of elaborate hoax,” she said, though her voice was quieter now. “There’s no such thing as magic. Not in this world.”
Evan’s hope began to dim, but before he could respond, a loud tap tap tap echoed through the room. Both he and Aunt Martha turned to see a small, brown owl perched on the windowsill, a second letter clutched in its beak.
Aunt Martha’s eyes widened in surprise. She didn’t say a word as she rose to open the window. The owl flapped in, dropping the letter on the table before flying back out into the gray sky. Evan snatched up the new letter, his heart pounding in his chest as he read the words aloud:
"Dear Mr. Holloway,
We are pleased to confirm your acceptance into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please be at Platform 9¾ at King’s Cross Station on September 1st to board the Hogwarts Express.
Enclosed is a list of supplies you will need for your first year."
Evan stared at the letter in disbelief, his pulse racing. It was real. Magic was real. And he was going to Hogwarts.
Aunt Martha, now visibly shaken, sank back into her chair. She looked as though the very foundation of her world had shifted under her feet. “Platform 9¾?” she muttered, her tone incredulous. “This is madness.”
“I have to go,” Evan said, his voice more firm now. The second letter had given him confidence. “They sent another letter. I’m really going to Hogwarts.”
For a long moment, Aunt Martha sat in silence, her knuckles white as she gripped the armrests of her chair. Finally, she sighed, a long, weary sound. “I… don’t understand any of this,” she admitted, shaking her head. “But if this is real… if what these letters say is true… then I suppose we’ll have to figure out how to get you to that platform.”
Evan felt a rush of relief wash over him. He hadn’t expected her to fully accept the idea of magic—she was far too rigid for that—but the fact that she was willing to help him get to the train meant more than he could express.
“Thank you,” he whispered, barely able to contain his excitement.
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As the days passed, the reality of the situation began to sink in. Aunt Martha, though still unsure about the whole thing, arranged for them to travel to King’s Cross Station on the day of departure. Evan spent the days leading up to it pouring over the list of supplies from Hogwarts: robes, spell books, a wand. It all felt like a dream—like he had been plucked from his cold, gray life and dropped into a world of color and wonder.
But even as he prepared for his new adventure, there was still the unsettling feeling of being watched. The yellow car, the shadowy figure—none of it made sense. Every time he ventured outside, he caught glimpses of something lurking at the edge of the woods. He could feel eyes on him, even though he couldn’t see who—or what—was watching.
The night before he was set to leave for Hogwarts, the feeling became impossible to ignore.
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The rain had returned that evening, pounding against the windows as Evan lay in bed, his mind racing with thoughts of Hogwarts. But then, there it was again—the soft tap tap of footsteps outside his window.
Evan jumped out of bed, rushing to the window, his heart pounding. He squinted through the rain, searching the yard. At first, all he could see was darkness and sheets of rain, but then he saw it: a dark, hooded figure standing at the edge of the yard, its face hidden in shadow.
A chill ran down his spine. The figure wasn’t moving, but Evan could feel its presence, like it was watching him—waiting.
Suddenly, there was a loud crash, and the yellow Camaro from days earlier roared into view, skidding to a halt between Evan’s house and the hooded figure. In the blink of an eye, the car shifted, transforming into the same tall, mechanical figure that Evan had never seen before.
The hooded figure darted forward, but the yellow figure—Bumblebee—moved faster. The two clashed, the sound of metal against metal ringing out in the storm. The fight was fierce and quick, with Bumblebee moving in a blur, striking the dark-hooded figure with precise, powerful blows.
Within moments, the dark figure was knocked backward, disappearing into the trees.
Bumblebee stood still for a moment, his eyes—bright blue and alive—glancing up toward Evan’s window. Their gazes met, and for the first time, Evan felt a strange sense of understanding. This figure had been watching him… protecting him.
Before Evan could say anything, Bumblebee transformed back into the Camaro and disappeared into the night, leaving nothing behind but the fading sound of tires on wet pavement.
Evan stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t understand what had just happened, but one thing was clear—he was being watched, and something bigger than just Hogwarts was coming.
As he lay back in bed, staring at the ceiling, the letter from Hogwarts still tucked under his pillow, he couldn’t help but feel that this was just the beginning.
Magic was real, but so was something far more dangerous......