Well, that was a surprise.
I was currently in the local library, walking between the shelves and brushing my hand against the spines, to keep my thoughts clear and calm. It had early on become my place of serenity, where I can make any difficult decisions and contemplate to get a clearer picture of the surrounding events.
This time, the reason was the acceptance letter.
I was quite certain that the letter was not a prank from any of the kid in the orphanage, I would have heard some signs of snickering or mumbling, but nothing had come to my attention. But most importantly, the letter was much too well executed, from letter formatting to impeccable penmanship. I had only seen this kind of calligraphy a few times, and if I was not mistaken, the text was written with a quill.
No, this letter was much too elaborate to be a kids prank. I also considered that the letter might have been a schedule zero appointment from the psych ward, but even that seemed highly unlikely. I think I would have noticed some scouting on behalf of the orphanage staff. This explanation still seemed much more plausible, but I think it was grasping at straws.
Hmm….
It might just be that someone truly believed themselves to be a wizard and was trying to recruit me after seeing me at my second home at the library. I don’t recall seeing any suspicious people, but I guess you can never know…
After all, I don’t have any wizard powers. I should know. Or at least there is nothing I have ever done that was special. Never have I ever happened across an unexplainable phenomenon, least of all caused by me!
No, I am perfectly satisfied reading books in the library. I don’t need excitement in my life by adventuring in the city with some delusional person. It could be contagious!
I made a friendly request to keep note of any suspicious person snooping around the library. For a helpful explanation, I said that I heard from a few kids at the orphanage that someone wanted to steal books. I guess that should keep the librarian motivated.
I do feel bad lying about the situation to her, but I justified that it was far safer for adults to confront an off-the-rails-person, compared to a kid, who’s incidentally the target, me. To be honest, I did feel a sinful complacence at my clever solution with the least risk for myself. Everything should be fine now, right?
In the evening, on my way home, I was much more relaxed, having solved my problem. But I guess somewhere in my mind a worry was creeping that, just maybe, this wasn’t the end. It felt ominous, as I consider myself to be quite a rational person. There have been a few times when I have found myself afraid of something, but with a rational approach and reading about them in the library, I have managed to crush my fears every time.
This time, however, something was different. The surface of my mind had been soothed, but something was not tight. I could feel it. Every step I took closer to the orphanage, I felt an uncertainty creeping in to my deterministic world. It was not supposed to be like this!
I slowed down my walking as the fears begin surfacing again, but it didn’t help. I could feel it. Just like stopping the reading of a book didn’t free you from return data, stopping now would not allow my old life back. There was an unavoidable event, like finishing a book. Unlike finishing a book, however, my fears were not waiting for me.
I continued walking to the front gate of the orphanage, where I paused to pull myself together. This was it, the end of the line for me. A step inside, and I felt like I would never be the same. Something would change in me, irrevocably.
Since unavoidability is not possible, let me see what is taking away my future. After a few moments, I opened the gate, fortune favors the bold. …Although I am not very bold, so I guess this was deserved.
There, standing before the doors, was headmistress Matilda in company with a peculiarly dressed person, with the most peculiar looking pointy hat I had ever seen. It wasn’t the first time I had seen a person wearing a robe, but they definitely were out of the norm. Matilda and the stranger seemed to be talking, but as I walked the path through the inner courtyard, they took a notice of me in a way I could feel in my soul. Oh, why couldn’t my fears have been wrong….
“Paige, why are you so petrified? Come on here and introduce yourself to Miss McGonagall. She is here to present quite an opportunity for you.”
I tried to muster a friendly smile for greetings, but the result was something along the lines of a terrified grimace, with a quick bow and eyes glued to the shoes, as if a book would appear if I stared enough. Nevertheless, I made an introduction.
“Good evening, Miss McGonagall. My name is Page Reed. “
“Good evening, Mr. Reed.” She answered, in a brisk voice, as if a librarian's patience run dry trying to empty the library for the second time.
I reflexively made myself more presentable, fixed my posture, and stared straight in the abyss of the eyes of doom. To my surprise, the eyes didn’t seem particularly evil, I would even describe them as friendly. Strict, but friendly.
“I trust you have received the acceptance letter, to the school?” she inquired, with a more friendly tone.
“Yes, yes I have, but I have a few questions.” I responded. A polite way to hint at the absurdity of the situation itself. I mean, what did she-
“Good. Let’s go inside. Dear Matilda, could you provide us a private place for a quick conversation.” McGonagall interrupted me, only to invite herself in with such confidence that I was left flabbergasted. Finally, I quickly stumbled inside to follow McGonagall, who seemed to live her life in a far faster speed setting.
Matilda led us to her office space, where McGonagall quickly closed the door after me. Immediately after, took a strange small stick out of her robes and waved it in the air, while simultaneously muttering.
I knew it, it must have been a crazy person! It was a mistake to let Matilda leave. Perhaps I could sneak out of here while she is preoccupied…
Alas, it seemed McGonagall noticed my terrified form and quickly blocked the way.
“Now, now, It’s alright. Let’s talk after a cup of hot chocolate.” She said, as she grabbed two mugs from inside her robe.
Needless to say, I wasn’t the slightest more relieved, but I did take the offered mug, and took a sip after a stern, compelling look.
The taste was the most perfect hot chocolate I had ever tasted. But it was so much more. It felt like a warm wave was travelling through my throat and stomach, relaxing everything it touched. Like I was suddenly laying in a bed of books, mind clear again from the oppressing fears. It was magical.
“Wow, that was something” I stated aloud, something I incredibly rarely do. I don’t like to speak spontaneously, but just then I could not help myself. Now that I got a good look at her, apart from her outfit, she did not look so crazy anymore. She looked to be in her forties, with a little tired expression, maybe overwork. Her dark hair was put in a bun hidden by the peculiar pointy hat, but seemed too well taken care of for a crazy person.
“Feel ready now? I know you seemed to be in disbelief of the letter, so let me reiterate: You have been accepted as a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And yes, magic is real and yes, you are a wizard.”
At this point in time, she took her wand a waved it a file cabinet which contained all our health records. Immediately, the cabinet began to shrink and shift until it became a pig.
To say I was flabbergasted would be an understatement. That is not happening, and this is not real. I was seriously considering if had a car accident when I walked home and was currently hallucinating in a hospital bed.
After a few increasingly stronger slaps on my cheek, I came to the realization that I would rather live in this delusional fantasy, than cause more self-inflicted pain.
I went closer to the pig, looking at it from different perspectives, just to make sure it was not a trick of light. But no, there it was, oinking occasionally, observing its new life as a file-cabinet-turned-pig. It found McGonagall’s robe to be of heightened interest, trying to bite at it with a small success. After the first bite and a wand wave, it seemed the pig could not open its mouth anymore, so it settled for exploring its environment with a small shuffle.
I awakened from my stupor to clarify: “But I don’t know any magic.”
“It doesn’t matter. That’s why you are going to Hogwarts.”
I mean, that does make sense, but I still suspect my ability to be even capable of doing magic.
“I trust this is a lot to take all in, so I will leave you to internalize it over the night. Tomorrow at 9 am, I’ll come and take you to get all your school supplies and answer all your good questions. ”
“Farewell, mister Reed. And next time, remember to call me professor.”
Subsequently, “the professor” tapped the pig, which quickly reverted into the file cabinet, and vanished in front of my eyes. The whole experience was so mystifying and fast that I could only try to poke and grasp at the place she vanished.
She is right, in that I needed time to accept this. I went to the file cabinet just to make sure the health records were still there, and sighed of relief after I found my own. I would not trust important documents to be taken care of by a pig.
After a few minutes of pulling myself together, I left the office to notify Matilda, that the guest had left, and I would go and get school supplies the day after with her. She seemed quite perplexed how she had left, but she quickly concluded that she was just getting absent-minded due to years getting by.
I walked with even steps to the common room and went straight to my bunk, to just lay there in my bed.
It was late in the evening, but as I stared at the ceiling, it seemed nothing was the same anymore. Even the hot chocolate could not fix my crumbling sense of reality. I guess I would feel better in the morning.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
The morning was easier. Time does heal all wounds; it is magical in a way. Or perhaps it’s the human mind, which just gives up on stress at some point. Like a book needs a language, a mind needs a coherent framework to work on. Like minds, books can be incomprehensible at times, but eventually, there exists a reasoning.
Whatever the case, magic is real. I still wasn’t quite sure I was cutout to be a wizard, or even more importantly: if I wanted to be one. Do wizards have libraries? Do they use books? So many important questions waiting for professor’s answers. According to the acceptance letter, books were needed, so luckily it seems they are the carrier of information. I do hope the school does have a library nearby. Otherwise, I won’t be going. Period.
And how much does it cost to attend the school? I only had fifty pounds saved, and I heavily suspected that would not be enough to pay for tuition fees. And all the school supplies. Oh, what a list of supplies it was, magic books, wands, and dragon hide gloves. I was very eager for the trip with the Professor and couldn’t wait to see all the magic books. But from the professor’s demeanor, I would guess there exists some grants for school supplies of disadvantaged students.
After breakfast, I quickly checked the time from the old wall clock. Only a few minutes left. I double-checked in my mind if I was all set: I had my most presentable outfit, with the least signs of wear and tear, quite little mind you. I also brought all my little savings, just in case.
At nine o'clock, sharp, I heard knocking, and went nervously to open the door. What a relief, it was Professor McGonagall.
“Good morning, Mr. Reed. I trust you are ready for the first introduction?”
“Good morning, Professor. Yes – I am ready.” I nervously responded. Nervousness, eagerness, fear, anticipation. I was not comfortable with these feelings, such strong and personal emotions. I fear they will cloud my judgement and blur the edge of my cleverness, but nevertheless, I wanted this. A new world was opening up, and I was not going to miss it.
“Very well then. Let’s get going then.” She started walking at a brisk pace, and every so often I needed to scurry to catch up to her. I was quite curious where we were heading, when McGonagall turned to a quiet alleyway just a few blocks away from the orphanage.
The professor seemed to read my puzzlement and gave me a brief explanation.
“We are not walking all the way to Diagon alley, I shall apparate us from here to avoid muggle attention. “
Diagon alley? Apparate? Muggle? With every bit of information, even more questions came to mind.
“Never mind, I shall explain soon.” She seemed resigned, and suddenly yanked my hand to hers. Before I could truly process what happened and protest about my maltreatment, the world shifted. No, that would be an understatement. It was as if the world was folding until it became a kaleidoscope of colors. At that point, I did not pay attention to the sights anymore, as a crushing feeling of getting squeezed was getting stronger and stronger. I could swear I was squeezed into a worm at least twenty feet long. But before I could mourn my fate, a snap, and everything was back to its place.
Or everything should be normal, but I am quite certain my intestines have been reordered. It wasn’t out of my own volition I fell to the ground just heaving to stay alive, it was out of necessity.
“Good work, Mr. Reed. You have not thrown up in your first apparition, which is more than most can say. I hope you shall exhibit more exemplary behavior at school.”
What kind of psychotic school is this?!
After calming down thanks to a few drinks, McGonagall introduced as butter beers, I had a more thorough welcome to the magic world. Due to various reasons, I would learn more in the school, wizard folk had chosen to isolate themselves out to not risk notice. Non-magical people were then called muggles, and hence muggle-born are wizards born in a muggle family. McGonagall determined that I was probably a muggle-born, since even though she knew the wizarding families of Britain quite well, she did not recognize the name Reed. No matter, I had accepted my orphan status long ago.
The wizard population was much smaller than the muggle one, and Diagon alley was the only main magical alley and shopping area in London. One of the most common entrances to Diagon alley was through an entrance behind a wizarding pub called the Leaky Cauldron, where we were. The professor assured I would be able to obtain all my school supplies in the Diagon alley.
As for the issue of finances. The situation was along the lines I had expected: Hogwarts has a special grant for financially disadvantaged students to pay for school supplies and tuition. The reasoning seemed to be due to the mandatory nature of the wizarding school for young wizards. McGonagall continued grumbling about the anarchy of the youth until the conversation finally went back on the rails. The financial grant wasn’t enough for brand-new equipment, but Diagon alley had choices for cheaper, used options.
As for my greatest inquiry, wizarding Britain did not have any open library but according to McGonagall, Hogwarts had one of the greatest magical libraries in the world. All right, that sells it. I’m in!
After my initiation, we left the slowly waking pub to a tile wall, where McGonagall informed me to remember the opening method. Tapping the wand with the correct tile (from the rubbish bin, three up and two across), made the tile wall form a quickly expanding pathway, until probably 10 feet wide. I was so surprised by the sight of tiles rotating to make space from seemingly nothing, that I would have wanted to go through it a second time, if it wasn’t for the sight that waited me.
The weirdest street I had ever seen opened up before me. While the main road seemed normal, the buildings were different. They stood like a ragtag group of personalities forced by situation into getting along with each other and finally becoming friends. I felt like I could read the life story of each building, how incrementally each was modified and extended to finally reach the current state. These were the most organic buildings I had ever seen. Or perhaps organic is not the right word, as they seemed alive almost. I don’t claim to be an architect, but the way the buildings were bulging to take more space and coiling to accommodate each other made me question the structural stability of the buildings. Thankfully, magic exists. The thought of the magic to make these sights possible only raised my expectations for Hogwarts, and learning magic.
The streets were quite sparse at this time, but everyone seemed to be clothed in robes similar to McGonagall. The same pointy hats were the norm, but exceptions did exist. The clothes were colored more vividly compared to the non-magical world. Vivid shades of blue and red could be seen glittering, with dark green as the background. Near the deepest shadows, dark gray silhouettes could be briefly seen, only to disappear in the next moment.
“Hurry up, Mr. Reed. You’ll have time to wonder in your thoughts after the school supplies.”
…Why can no one ever appreciate the beauty of the moment? The moments are fleeting and ever shifting.
“Of course, Professor. I apologize.”
No need to antagonize the professor, the day was only starting, and it would only get better.
“First, we will go to Second hand Robes, we should get all the clothes there. “
The closer I got to see the buildings, the more personal they seemed. Some polite like an old butler welcoming with an uncanny elegance, some distant and cold allowing others in for them to marvel in her brilliance. I could feel it. Just like wizards were mingling, socializing here. So too were the buildings in their own world.
Where first the buildings had wide windows with colorful expensive looking things like crystal bottles, moving lights with sparkling orbits, and boots glittering with soft glowing blue light, the facades got more subdued as we got further in the alley. After just a few minutes’ walk, we came to a quiet corner just off the main path. Barely noticeable there read “Second hand Robes”. No, there were no advertisements for here. Only an old name sign with cracks on and flipped open sign on the wooden door. Well, beggars can’t be choosers.
The inside looked more like a warehouse than any shop I had seen. Rows and rows of full coat racks over 200 hundred feet long. It must be magical, as the interior itself seemed to be enough to hold at least a few buildings long.
“Excuse me, Mr. Williams. I have a Hogwarts student in need of supplies.” McGonagall spoke with a raised voice, that should have been absorbed in this vast hangar, but somehow someone heard her.
“Good morning, Professor. Of course, I’ll be right there. “And just as the voice said, a young man, maybe 25, with a little rugged look came to us from within the racks with rapid steps.
“Aah, good morning, young man. My name is Mr. Williams, and how may I help you today?” He spoke to me, strangely enough, with what seemed to be a little anticipation, maybe judgement.
“Good morning. My name is Paige and I need school supplies. Let me see…” I nervously started searching for the acceptance letter in my pocket, which had the school supply list on its back. Thank God! I found it!
“First, I’ll need three sets of plain black robes, then one black pointed hat, one pair of protective gloves, and finally, one black winter coat. With silver fastenings, those were mandatory.” I waited nervously looking at Williams face, why couldn’t he just ask McGonagall, she should know the equipment in more detail.
After a small, nearly long enough to be uncomfortable, silence, Mr. Williams started to smile. “It is good to take the initiative. You should learn to make your own chances. The grant will get you the supplies, but after school, if you cannot make your own future, you’ll drop like a griffin without wings. The earlier you realize that the better.”
I appreciate the lesson, and all, but I’ll manage. I don’t like to speak if I know it’s bothersome, not because I am afraid of taking the initiative.
“Thank you for the lesson, sir.”
“Alright, let’s get you suited up.”
After 15 minutes of first taking my measurements and trying different clothes, we managed to find all the required garments. The plain robes were quite a bit oversized, where I was about 4 feet 8, the robes were for over 5 foot 2. There existed smaller, but I insisted on saving money in the following years to get more books. Williams and McGonagall seemed impressed, even if a little exasperated.
The Robes were in acceptable condition, even if all of them were colored more like dark gray rather than black. I hoped that won’t bring any trouble my way. We found a hat with a crooked top, but it should suffice. It was also a size too big, but children grow up fast, right? The gloves seemed to be the newest but also the most expensive, since the condition needed to be good for the handling of dangerous fluids. Otherwise, the protection would fail. After realizing the dangers, I quietly accepted the gloves. The oversized winter coat seemed to be the best deal. It had apparently been sold dirt cheap due to some magical infestation problem, but Williams had managed to obtain a potion to solve it.
At the end, I tried my full wizard outfit on to check myself in the mirror. My already smaller stature looked even more comically smaller after a crooked pointy hat that threatened to fall over my eyes, and an over-sized robe, which sleeves nearly went past my hands.
I had always been a little smaller than an average kid, but more than that, I was quite scrawny. I didn’t see that much point in running and playing outside with the other kids when I could be reading in the library.
… I really do hope that no one at school would question that I was some younger brother trying to smuggle himself to Hogwarts.
In the mirror, my pale, pasty skin shone through the contrast of the dark clothes. I tried to put a good posture, but I don’t think it helped much. After all, you can’t save facial features with posture.
I had always been an average, brown eyes, that apparently seemed friendly but bland, hair straight brown, not beautiful brown, just dirt brown. Given the skin quality of someone who spends the vast majority of his time in a library and all the attributes before, it wasn’t a wonder a mirror wasn’t that polite. Nevertheless, I was satisfied that they fit, and I did like the feeling of the robes. Freeing In a way.
After clothes, McGonagall said it was time for me to visit Gringotts. Gringotts was a huge, marbled building in the middle of Diagon alley, and apparently it was run by goblins.
McGonagall had already withdrawn money for the whole first year and would return the remainder to me at the end of the day. However, she did tell me that it was the only bank, so I would better get used to it.
Gringotts was an experience; the giant statues and the ambitious and greedy feeling the massive building gave. Where most buildings seemed to have grown together more or less, with competition and comradery, Gringotts, on the other hand, stood alone. Alone, in solitude. There was little joy the building projected, mostly just brutal efficiency and cruelty. To be fair, what would you expect from a bank?
Inside, I managed to exchange my 50-pound life savings to two galleons. By the way, the wizard money exchange was bonkers. I mean, who in their right mind would use non-constant conversions and not even keep them in base ten. Based on the structure of wizard currency, I am quite doubtful of its future. I mean, someday it’s down to crash and change to a base ten?
Hmm…. Maybe there is some magical reason.
Whatever the case, I can only hope that the market does not crash and take my money away. At least before I have used it all on magical books.
The goblins themselves seemed professional, greedy for more money, and a little disappointed at my small amount of capital, but nevertheless they were all very professional. They felt like some of the army personnel I had seen before on an orphanage field trip to the harbor, professional, but there also existed an edge of violence, force near the surface. Just like a book that is nearly falling from the shelf, it only takes one small push and bad things will happen.
After we exited the bank, McGonagall interrupted my musings.
“Perhaps the most important object in your life is next. What is a wizard without a wand? And what better wand than Ollivanders?”