Green meadows, lush hills, flowing rivers, and floating clouds; an owl with an envelope in its beak travels a long distance as it heads for the recipient of the letter.
Soon, this brown barn owl flaps its wings as it looks down on a suburb. ‘Privet Drive’ was the name given to this suburban street which had nearly identical houses. As the owl surveys the street, it locks on the house of the recipient and starts descending.
Entering through the open window on the first floor, it saw a family of four in the dining room eating their breakfast. It cooed to get their attention.
With that, all of them stared at the owl, especially the blue-eyed boy whose eyes looked like they were about to pop out.
“No fucking way!” Sol exclaimed in shock as he saw the letter in the owl’s beak.
“Language!” his mother, Selene slapped his head and reprimanded him.
Sol rubbed his head but had his eyes fixed on the letter. He stood up and took the letter from the owl’s mouth. The Hogwarts crest was on the envelope as well its seal used to close the envelope. On the back, his address was written.
With shaking hands, he looked at his mother who was getting increasingly smug with every passing second.
“Just looking at your expression, it’s a letter from Hogwarts, isn’t it?” she spoke in a knowing tone.
“…it is.”
“Haha!” Selene laughed excitedly, “I told you! They were going to open the school again!”
“But how?” Sol spoke as though he had suffered a blow.
“I told you to trust my connections!”
Amid their exchange, Sol’s younger sister, Faye giggled happily and his father, Tom looked at them quizzically.
He raised his hands and gestured, “So, the problem with the big snake is resolved?”
“Yup!” Selene nodded. “They apparently caught it just on the border of Scotland!”
Sol didn’t say anything and looked up towards where his room was. He then looked at his mother and smiled. Huh, interesting!
“So, Hogwarts is now safe for attending and enrolling?” he asked with an eyebrow raised.
“Yeah!” Selene shrugged, “Since that’s the Basilisk has been caught, what else is there?” She then paused and clapped her hands as though she remembered something, “You know the owl from Molly is going to come soon. They’re sending some photos from their trip to Egypt.”
“I should write a letter to Bill,” he nodded. “He seems really alarmed with all that’s going in Hogwarts!”
Another owl’s call was heard and a rolled-up newspaper flew in through the window and landed near Sol. He picked it up and unfurled it before bursting out laughing.
“What’s wrong?” his mother frowned and his father looked intrigued.
“You really...” Sol paused as he searched for the right words amidst his laughter, “have a way with words.” He set the newspaper or rather, the copy of ‘The Daily Prophet’ on the table which showed her the headline.
Escape from Azkaban! The headline was written in large, bold lettering on the front page with the mugshot of a middle-aged man with disheveled long hair, and a mustache and goatee. He was screaming everywhere like a maniac!
“Absolutely unforgivable!” his mother increased her grip on the newspaper as its edges got crumpled. “That boy would never do something like that; especially to the parents of his godson!”
“Come on, mom!” Sol tried to pacify her, “You already threw a tantrum when he first got captured, claiming that he got framed! Don’t start now!” He did not do a good job of consoling his mother.
However, he immediately recalled a detail he had overlooked, “Wait, who’s his godson now?”
“Why of course it’s Harry!” she spoke in an ‘as-it-should-be’ tone.
“And you thought it wasn’t something you should mention up until now?” he asked.
“Well, you never asked!”
“…fuck!”
“Language!” his mother narrowed her eyes at him. After reprimanding him, she continued, “That’s exactly why Sirius couldn’t have killed the Potters and Pettigrew. Their friendship was well known even to us Ravenclaws!”
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“Mom, no offense, people can and have killed for less.”
“And how do you know that?”
“If you stopped watching your soap operas and actually watched the news, you’d see that people get shanked in bar fights.”
“But their stories are so good!” his mother defended soap operas with a burning passion.
He snapped his head over to his father who was looking at their exchange with interest. They made eye contact and Sol grumbled, “I blame Grandma for making her like this!”
His mother continued her ranting, “Can you believe they said he betrayed the Potters to You-Know-Who and killed Pettigrew along with some Muggles? Absolutely preposterous!”
“Wait, Pettigrew who?”
“Peter Pettigrew, he was also one of Sirius and James’ friends. Whoever killed him was cruel; only left a finger behind!” His mother lamented.
“A finger, you say?” his eyes narrowed, hiding the twinkle in them.
“Hmm,” she made a sound of agreement. “As much as I’m angry, I really do hope someone clears his name.”
Sol turned around, no longer listening to his mother’s murmurs. As he was going up to his room, he heard his mother shout again, "Sol, come look!"
He hurriedly went downstairs again and looked at his mother who was looking at one of the pages of the newspaper with a happy smile.
When she saw Sol, her eyes lit up and she beckoned him, "Look, look! The Weasleys are on the Daily Prophet!"
"What? You're joking! What did they do?"
"Not what you're thinking of. Since they were the grand prize winners, they got to go to Egypt. And that's just what the paper says!"
Sol looked at the headline and the photo that came with it. Grand Prize Winners Go To Egypt! The photo of the Weasleys had everyone in it.
Sol's eyes narrowed at one of the things in the photo. The Weasleys smiled happily at the camera whilst wearing desert clothing. Ron's rat, Scabbers squirmed in his hands as Ron lifted the rat towards the camera.
Sol sighed. Another entry in his list of troubles. He stopped looking at the picture and went upstairs with the letter from Hogwarts.
He took the letter from Hogwarts and went up to his room. He opened the wax seal and took the letter out. He crumpled up the envelope and threw it in the trash bin in his room.
The letter just like every year welcomed him into Hogwarts and gave him a list of books to bring.
Sol swept his hand across his face and looked at his owl, Elaine who was grooming herself inside her cage.
This makes sense and no sense at the same time.
“The Law of the World is strong!” he murmured as he looked at Iris, the Basilisk who was the sole reason for the school shutting down in the first place…
…in hindsight, it was him taking Iris which caused all that, but let’s not sweat the small stuff.
“There is no way in hell they can open the school when the Basilisk hasn’t been captured yet,” he shook his head and let go of the letter.
Come to think about it, the more I study, the fewer things make sense. If the Law of the World truly is that strong to compel the Minister of Magic to give the go-ahead to open Hogwarts, shouldn’t it also stop me from casually making new magic? No wait, in the first place, what I do can’t be strictly termed as ‘creation’. It’s more along the lines of modification.
He got up from the bed and sat on his bed before taking out a notebook as well as a pen. Even if he writes using ink and quill in Hogwarts, nothing will beat the convenience of a pen!
He wrote down all the spells and potions he created. After that, he stayed seated at his desk. The more he looked over, the more he could understand.
To begin with, my spells are just a mix-and-match and not something new. Let’s take Frigidus Ignus for example.
He wrote as he kept on thinking. Other than the occasional movements of his pets, only the scratching of pen against paper sounded throughout his room.
It’s just the effect of freezing on the characteristics of fire, both of which have a spell. But my potions are completely new. Then shouldn’t there only be one rule? Either I can create something new or I can’t. Why the selectiveness? Should I think from a storybook perspective? But I’m not an author; how the fuck do I do that?
Sol twirled his pen in his fingers. After a while, he sighed and got up from the desk. He couldn’t find a way and gave up. From the beginning, his creativity leaned on the more practical side, not the literary side.
He opened the door and poked his head out. “Are there any storybooks in our house?” he screamed.
“No! Why?” he heard his mother’s shouting.
“I need it!”
“Then go to the library!”
“Fine!” Sol closed his door with that final response. He wore his outdoor clothes and got out of his room.
He went downstairs and looked at the clock. It was noon. Did he really take that long to think about the Law of the World? He shook his head and went to his father.
“Father,” he called his father who was sitting on the sofa. He was watching TV since it was the weekend. His father looked at him with a questioning look.
“I need some money. I’m going to the library and will probably stay there for a while.”
His father raised his arms and gestured, “How long is a while?”
“Probably 3 or 4?” he estimated.
“What are you going to do there for so long?” his father frowned and gestured.
“What else does one do at a library?” he replied sarcastically.
His father narrowed his eyes at him.
“I’m just gonna read some books, jeez!” he relented.
His father sighed before taking out his wallet, “For lunch, you want some fast food?”
“I’ll probably have some crisps and pop there,” he shook his head, “nothing time-consuming.”
“The library already doesn’t let you eat food inside,” his father was angry, his speedy hand gestures showed it, “Since you need to eat outside, eat your fill!” Then he proceeded to shove 20£ in Sol’s hand.
“Thanks!” he thanked his father who proceeded to watch TV again and yelled to his mother who was in the kitchen, “I’m going to the library!”
“You won’t have lunch?” his mother poked her head out of the kitchen and asked him.
“Nope,” he raised the 20£ note with Queen Elizabeth II’s face on it, “Father already gave me money for lunch!”
“Fine then,” she pouted before heading inside the kitchen. “Don’t stay out too late!”
“I won’t!” he smiled and left the house. Hopefully, the library has fantasy novels!