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2 - Your Hogwarts Letter (and how you got it)


*Supreme Mugwump
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How did you get your Hogwarts Letter?

We know it's an exciting thing for a 1st Year student to finally get their letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And we'd like to hear your story of how your student finally got his or her letter. Please post below, telling us as little or as much as you would like.

Be sure to stay in character! That means speaking from the 3rd Person/Past Tense perspective. (read more about how to role-play writing here)

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Guest Willem Van Aller

Perched comfortably against the windowsill of his bedroom, Willem's eyes wavered between one of his favorite comic book editions propped against his folded knees and the scenery found outside of his window. This was a typical boy for the young wizard, a mix of reading and people watching. He was always fascinated with the outside world, especially after discovering years back that his father was a wizard and his older brother attends a wizarding school. At the prime age of eleven, Willem eagerly awaited his own acceptance letter into Hogwarts. Even though there was no guarantee he'd get one, this did not deter the boy's optimism.

 

Yet, he still could not help but wonder and question if he'd get a letter nonetheless.

 

Through his own means, Willem pestered his father and brother with a plethora of questions to allow him to gain a better understanding of his chances of receiving a letter. While he had friends at his muggle school, the thought of attending a magical school was far better. He didn't know how well he'd be able to adjust or his ability to make new friends, but the opportunity was one he couldn't prevent his thoughts from considering. Eventually, however, his father assured him that there was nothing he, or even Willem, could do to persuade the school's administrators on their ultimate decision.

 

With his thoughts distracted, Willem didn't hear his father's call for him until the elder wizard appeared within his bedroom. Craning his neck to face him, Willem's eyes lit up when he saw the envelope his father waved excitedly through the air. "Is that..." he trailed on, tossing his comic book to the ground as he jumped onto his feet. An action he knew he'd later regret. "Is that my letter?" He didn't even wait for a response before he grabbed the letter from his dad's grasp, and tore the envelope open. His eyes scanned the first few sentences entailed on the letter as he glanced up at his father with a large, childish grin plastered onto his face.

 

"Hogwarts accepted me!"

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Riley Costello

Riley seldom liked mornings. Summers at his mum's were a dream, for this very reason, as nobody seemed to mind much when he slept in, and he didn't have school or other household responsibilities weighing on his conscience. 

 

This summer looked a little different, though.

 

His letter was due to arrive any day now. Rumours were flying that others in the area had started receiving theirs, and Riley had since taken to waking up in time to see the morning post arrive. The days seemed to tick by, one after another, with neither hide nor hair of the highly anticipated envelope. 

 

"What if it doesn't come?" he asked his mum on multiple occasions, along with, "I'll be at dad's next week. You think they'll know to send it there?" Though she never spoke of it, Riley could see the worry etched onto her features. He couldn't help but worry too. It'd be just his luck to turn out a squib, and he didn't think there was necessarily anything wrong with that, but learning magic sounded way more enjoyable than anything his muggle school had to offer. Merlin forbid he have to suffer another seven years of muggle maths. Gross. 

 

But on his final morning before departing back to Kent, fortune finally decided to favour him. The sight of talons in his periphery, followed by a plop as the wax-sealed envelope fell onto his omelet. Riley's eyes glistened with joy and breakfast soon became a distant memory as he bounded up the marble staircase to share his news with anyone (or anything) that would listen.

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Bunny Bloom

Over the glass-top table Bunny spied on her brothers. One leaned in to whisper in the other’s ear, his hand covering his mouth so she couldn’t try and read his lips. She pressed her lips into a hard line and narrowed her eyes at them. “If you don’t tell me what you’re whispering about I’ll tell mum you’re up to something,” Bunny threatened. This earned her an irritated scowl multiplied by two. In another family maybe their mean looks would have worked, but all three of them knew that if she were to go and complain, that Mother would thwart whatever their plans were. Bunny smirked. 

 

Blaine slumped his back against his chair and Bentley slammed his hands onto the table. “You’re such a brat, Bunny,” he hissed at her, “If you tell mom then we won’t give you the thing we stole from you.” 

 

“What thing?” She asked, suddenly perked up in her seat. “What did you  take from me?” Bentley and Blaine’s faces twisted into wicked grins. Bentley sat slowly back into his seat, and Blaine shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll just tell mum and she will make you give it back.” 

 

Both boys exchanged a silent conversation between them. “If you want it back you have to earn it.” To this Bunny rolled her eyes. As annoying as they were, they were very confident that she couldn’t just go to their parents. That worried her. Only she couldn’t let on that she was worried, so instead she kept her expression as bored as she could manage. 

 

“MUM!” She yelled into the manor, top of her lungs, just to see if their smug faces would falter. “MUUUUUUUUM!” 

 

“Stop yelling,” interrupted the sound of their father’s voice. “What in Merlin’s name has you yelling for your mother?” 

 

“The boys took something and they won’t give it back.” She explained, pouting up at her father with large brown eyes. “Make them give it back!” Father, Bunny thought, is so much easier to convince than Mother. She went the extra step and grabbed his cloak’s sleeve with sad cruppy eyes to really sell it. 

 

“Boys,” he said in his serious-no-nonsense-dad voice, “return what you’ve stolen, or I’ll take your brooms and you won’t be getting them back before you return to school.” Bennet Bloom did not wait to see if his sons would return their sister’s items. 

 

The twins glowered at Bunny, because they had been bested, but this was just the start. She, no doubt, just started yet another war between them. They lived in a never-ending cycle of friends to enemies. Blaine, with as much vitriol as he could muster, threw a letter onto the table. It slid across the surface and stopped midway across the glass. Bunny jumped up immediately to snatch the letter away before either of them could make a jump to grab it back. 

 

With a red wax seal to keep it shut, there was no mistaking what this letter was. Bunny ripped into it and pulled out the contents. “Look at that,” she sang at her brothers, “I’ll be going to school with you this year.” They were all expecting it, but she felt smug enough to taunt the boys with it. Starting Hogwarts off in a war with her brothers was not ideal, but she would make do. 

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Timothy Park

It wasn’t often that Timothy was allowed to sleep in, it wasn’t a bad thing — his father was usually there every morning to coax him awake and tell him to get ready for the day, those sleepy moments being one of Timothy’s favourite moments every day. It was a little different this morning and instead of his father, the boy woke up to his grandmother’s soft voice and a kiss on his forehead. “Tae-minnie,”/ she whispered,  “it’s time to wake up.” 

 

Timothy blinked his eyes open, a smile growing slowly as he looked up at his grandmother before slowly sitting up. “Halmeoni,” he said, leaning into her hand when she stroked his head gently. “W-what are you doing here?” he asked, rubbing his eyes a little to try and clear the sleep out of them, smiling a little wider when he heard his grandmother laugh. “What?” he asked, a little confused.

 

She tapped his head once more, ”happy birthday aegi,” she said, and Timothy’s eyes grew wider, still taking a moment longer to collect himself and realise what she was saying. His grandmother was already halfway to the door when he did and in seconds the boy was rashing out of bed — his legs tangling in his blankets and making him fall to the ground. ”Careful,” his grandmother said, leaning against the doorframe. ”Don’t rush and we’ll see you downstairs, alright?”

 

“Yes, I’ll be careful, promise,” he said, beaming at his grandmother. The eldery witch stood there for a few more seconds, looking at him before she finally left him to get ready. Timothy spent barely no time getting ready, settling on a pastel purple shirt and a pair of grey pants, still fixing his dark bangs as he made his way downstairs, nearly missing one of the steps because he was running. “I’m fine,” Timothy said with a big smile when he noticed the three pairs of eyes on him. Then before any of them could say anything, he was running once more to give his grandfather a hug and then another to his grandmother. “Thank you for coming today,” he beamed.

 

His grandfather messed his hair a little and then watched with a chuckle as his grandmother fixed it with a fond smile. ”Breakfast and then we can go and have all the fun today, alright?” his father said, placing a kiss on top of Timothy’s head as the group moved to the dining room. 

 

The table had already been set with everything that Timothy loved and the family all took their seats, starting to fill their plates. The room was soon filled with talking and laughter, just as it was on every single one of Timothy’s birthdays and as he often did, he felt like the luckiest boy in the whole world. He knew that he would get to spend time with friends later that day and he was excited about it, but he also loved the chance to spend time with just his family. 

 

Timothy was laughing and smiling, leaning a little against the table as he used his hands while talking, trying to explain something to his grandfather who at least looked very interested in it. He was about to say something more when he felt his father’s hand on his shoulder, he had seen the man leave a few moments ago for the kitchen but hadn’t noticed him return. ”I know we usually save gifts for later,” Nicholas said with a big smile and Timothy turned to look at him with some confusion in his eyes. ”Here, it arrived this morning,” he said as he handed the boy a letter he had been hiding behind his back.

 

“HOGWARTS!” he basically squealed, taking the letter and nearly ripping it open in his excitement. “I’m going to Hogwarts.”

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Acheron Falls

The day had been unbearably hot, even with the shade of Diagon Alley’s shops there to tempt shoppers into getting some relief. Though he’d hoped to spend the day getting into his usual sort of mischief, Acheron Falls had to concede that Mother Nature was a cruel mistress and returned to the flat where he and his family resided.

 

The moment he stepped over the threshold, his listening aid came out and he sighed in relief. Lethe would want to check over it when she returned home, to make sure the charms were holding up, so he dropped it in the little dish that sat just inside the hall. 

 

A tap on his shoulder had Ash turning to look into the face of Korey. “There’s post for you,” she signed, unable to keep the curiosity out of her expression. Ash never got anything in the post.

 

Confused, he followed her to the small kitchen, where all but one of his sisters were already waiting. “What’s this now?” he asked, taking in their eager looks. “My birthday’s not for a while.,” he added.

 

“We wanna see what it is!“ Nyx practically bounced as she signed the words. “Korey says she already knows but won’t tell me.”

 

Ash dragged a chair out from beneath the table and plopped down. “Alright,” he told them. “Let’s have it.”

 

The envelope was near identical to the one Elyse received when it was her time to go to Hogwarts, down to the green ink used to write his name in cursive.  Ash eyed it as if willing it to spill its secrets to him before he flipped the envelope over to the wax crest sealing it shut.

 

He slid a dirty nail beneath the slips of parchment, easing it open as he felt the gazes of his sisters upon him. And there it was. A letter addressed to him. Welcoming him to Hogwarts.

 

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Wren Eisler

Wren Jinx Eisler was eleven.

 

A letter had come by owl when the four Eislers had been eating breakfast and the boy's chest puffed up at the sight of the Hogwarts crest, only to deflate just as quickly as the inked words registered. It was a rejection letter and tears filled his eyes instantly. For all that he didn't want to leave Mama, he also really didn't want to be any different from his brother and sister, both of whom had gotten their letters when they'd turned eleven. He hastily wiped his eyes and tried to shove the letter into the pocket of his tattered rob, only to screech "Give it, Crow!" when Corvo swiped it out from under him. His brother's gleeful crowing about him being a squib, and Dove joining in a beat later was the tipping point and Wren was on his feet again. "You two suck!"

 

The cackles of laughter weren't new; the older two Eislers often laughed at his expense, but this time it was worse because it meant they were glad he wasn't going to Hogwarts with them and that wasn't fair. Screeching, trying to be loud enough to drown their joy at his squib state out, Wren tried to flip the table in his rage. It didn't budge, no matter how hard he tried (the magic his mother employed to prevent that very thing from happening, given the tempers on her three wayward birds keeping it stuck tight where it belonged) and Wren gave up trying, hands clenching into fists at his side as he screwed his eyes shut and screeched louder.

 

"MAMAAAAAA!! MAKE THEM STOP!"

 

He didn't even hear what the witch said to the other two to make them stop and it was only when his screeching had shifted to hiccuping that Wren finally managed to calm down enough to see that his mother was holding a second letter. "W-wot's-…" He couldn’t even get the words out, and it was only his mother's gentle fingers stroking his hair that soothed him enough to open the page. This letter said he had been accepted into Hogwarts and suddenly the boy was sobbing all over again, arms around his mother's neck as he cried against her.

 

"But I don't wanna leave youuuuu-"

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Forrest Carver

Forrest was almost certain that he was a squib. He hardly produced magic, even accidental as he found himself anxious as the days before his eleventh birthday stretched on. Although, he definitely produced magic behind his own back as he did not even physically see his own magical capabilities. It happened more often when he became more anxious as paintings on the wall fell to the ground, breaking the frame and smashing the glass that sealed it while the invisible house-elves magically cleaned it up without him realizing what he had unconsciously done.

 

So, when Forrest received nothing on his eleventh birthday, he found himself not-so surprised. It was disappointing, of course, and silently, he blamed his muggle mother for his lack of magical capabilities. While he begrudgingly went up to his bedroom at the end of the corridor, Forrest stopped when he saw a white owl that perched on his bed frame while a puddle of water formed on his bedsheets. It had been raining outside as the owl hooted angrily while ruffling its own feathers, sending droplets of water everywhere.

 

“I-is this letter addressed to m-me?” Forrest asked as the owl hooted while shaking its leg that had a letter tied to it. Surprisingly, it was untouched despite the rain as the young Carver managed to pull the string away, sending the white owl flying straight to the opened window. Sure enough, it was the Hogwarts seal as a smile stretched onto his lips. “I AM GOING TO HOGWARTS!” The boy yelled out in delight without the stuttering, surprisingly, as he ran downstairs, nearly tripping over himself from the excitement.

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Siobhan Allen

September First, a day spent huddled on a suddenly unfamiliar platform, with a train from years gone by billowing smoke in the background, had started a countdown. The most important countdown of Siobhan's life, truth be told, one that offered Three hundred and sixty-five chances for the path that she wanted her world to wind through be confirmed as one that was open to her. Three hundred and sixty-five days while she waited for the confirmation that, just like her sister before her, magic had stuttered back to life in this Allen girl's chest; a marvel of genetics and lof luck, the fight for an artform she had dreamed of long before she'd known it to be a reality she might one day be lucky enough to grasp.

 

The letter that Siobhan now knew to wait for did not come quickly.

 

It had ben expected, at first. Shiv knew that Niamh's had only come in the summertime and in the earliest adays of waiting, that knowledge had been enough to keep her contented. She had spent her time instead chronicling ever inexplicable moment of her childhood that she thought might be magic, no matter what logic she'd chased it away with at the time; she had begged her grandparents to show her all the things they could do now that she knew they could do it; she had waited, patiently, until fall had turned to winter and then back to spring.

 

By Summer, by the time Niamh had returned from her first school year at Hogwarts, Siobhan was decidedly impatient, cycling between jealous and a demanding curiosity, pushing her sister away and pulling her close in turn as her own count down ticked closer and closer to zero and Summer bloomed around her. Never had Siobhan hated a season more, right up until she didn't.

 

That day - July twelfth to be exact - had been no different. It was one of the days of sullen pre-teen rage, the kind of day that had sent Shiv to the very edge of their property, book in hand. Even the slick heat of summer, curling through her hair and beading sweat down her back, had not been enough to dissuade her from the outside, and like so many of these days before, Siobhan had been reading without taking anything in, more focused on the world around her than the book in her lap. Or more on herself than the book in her lap, Siobhan just as bitterly jealous of these book characters as she was of her very own sister to even enjoy the story that was unfolding before her.

 

In fact, Siobhan was so entrenched in her own misery that the first screech of an incoming owl was unnoticed. What could not be missed however, was the way that it landed in front of her with a soft hoot, watching intent as Siobhan finally tore her gaze from her book to the thick parchment tied to this owl's leg. She knew what it was - how could she not, given it was the very thing she'd been waiting for so impatiently - but Shiv felt as if she could barely breathe as she bent forward, untying the letter and pulling it towards her as quickly as she could, her breath of relief a shriek.

 

"Niamh!" there was no decrease in volume as Shiv pushed herself to her feet, bounding back towards the house and any earlier bitterness now forgotten, "It came!"

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Guest Bear Pearlman

Bear watched on with just a smidge of jealousy as Fox, his older brother by five years, clambered onto the boards he’d nailed and tied amongst the tree branches and jumped a few times.  The thing was as sturdy as a sleeping dragon, which was the exact opposite of how Bear’s treehouse looked.  He’d managed to get a few planks of wood in place but his grand ideas of a multi-level house amongst the branches, kitted out with blankets and candles and comic books, was looking less like the den of his dreams and more like…well, more like a few sticks and bits of wood stuck up in a tree.

 

“Fox!” Bear called out, perching on one of the thick branches he was using as a base for his build and leaning out to peer into the next tree over.  “Fox, c’mon, man!  Just let me help with yours, pleeeeaaase?”

 

“No,” came the stern reply, for probably the twelfth time.  “No kids are gonna be allowed in here, it’s for me and my friends only.  And if I catch you or Dove up here,” he added, sticking his head through some leaves to shoot Bear a glare, “I’ll force-feed you Mum’s next weird cake.  Build your own.”

 

“I’m trying,” Bear muttered, looking back down at his progress.  Maybe if he moved some of those pieces over and got a hammer to nail them to the branches there, or got Dad to attach them with magic, he’d have a better platform to--

 

“BEAR!  BEAR, IT CAME!  THE LETTER CAME!”  The shout came from below, his twin sister’s familiar voice drifting up through the trees as she ran into the woods behind their house.

 

“Oh my God,” Bear gasped to himself, immediately abandoning his treehouse and dropping expertly down through the branches to land on the soft, mossy ground beneath.  “I’M HERE!” he yelled out, turning a moment later when Dove came bursting through the trees, his letter held aloft, grinning wildly. 

 

Bear snatched it excitedly, eyes skimming over the address.

 

Bear Pearlman

The Half-Built Treehouse

 

Damn, even Hogwarts knew his treehouse wasn’t as good as Fox’s.  That no longer mattered, though; Bear tore open the letter and quickly read it through, punching the air even though they’d all known he’d get it--he’d displayed magic since he was five.  Waiting for it all summer had been difficult though; Dove, a squib like their mother and eldest brother, had picked her secondary school ages ago and she’d been collecting bits of uniform and making herself a bookbag ready for the September term.  Everyone had been crazy excited to see her in her navy blazer, Bear included, but now it was his turn to finally get excited about his own adventure.

 

“FOX!” he bellowed backward, into the trees.  “MY LETTER CAME!”

 

“YEAH, I HEARD!” the call came back at once.  “DOVE SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF SOME BOWTRUCKLES!”  There was a thump as he, too, dropped to the ground and came out of the trees to find them.  “You’d better go show it to Mum and Dad.  Dovey, did my letter come too?”

 

“Yeah, it’s in the kitchen.”

 

Fox left them to it, heading into the higgledy-piggledy building they called home and Bear stuck his own letter into his back pocket, turning to his sister with a smirk.

 

“Wanna come steal Fox’s treehouse?”

 

After all, he was heading to school soon; he needed to make the most out of this summer while he still could.

 

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Theodosia Thibeaux

Breakfast was a largely silent affair in the Thibeaux household.  Larkside Manor was the sort of imposing structure that gave itself over to feats of ceremony easily, and Theodosia had grown up, if not entirely here, than in another place like it; she was still a child, but she’d given herself fairly easily over to the approach of maturity, and she was sat with prim and proper etiquette, ankles crossed beneath the table and elbows safely tucked into her sides, as she ate porridge with a silver spoon and listened to the clinking and silence around her.

 

This morning was different in only one way.  A Hogwarts letter sat on a small silver tray by her elbow, permitted to be opened once she had finished her foot.

 

Hogwarts.  Teddy tried not to look too annoyed as she turned her gaze on the letter; it was probably a fine school.  If she still lived in France, she would have been attending Beauxbatons, a prestigious academy by all accounts, but… Hogwarts was probably fine, too.  Out of the corner of her eye, Teddy glanced at her stepfather, who was eating his own breakfast fully hidden behind a Prophet.  It was all his fault she was here; him and his stupid English manor house.  But it wouldn’t do any good getting annoyed about that now.

 

“Oui, Maman,” Teddy said, turning a polite smile to her mother, the answer to a rare question which had shattered the customary silence.  Her brother kicked her beneath the table, and Teddy kicked him back twice as hard, without letting her expression above the table.  “I am sure I will do well at Hogwarts.  Will you take me to get my things next week?”  She assumed the answer would be no; tasks such as that were pawned off on their maid, but Teddy didn’t mind that.  She wondered if Fitz had received his letter today, too, all the way down in the cottage on the grounds.  She was itching for breakfast to be over so she could run off down the grounds, losing ribbons and dirtying her pretty white shoes, to ask.

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Guest Erzsi Craig

After awkwardly escorting the Ministry official to the door, Erzsebet’s parents rejoined em in the sitting room and a stunned silence descended as the adults digested everything that the man had said about magic and Hogwarts. 

 

Inside, Erzsebet was screaming as ey read over and over the Hogwarts letter, then ey admired the thick parchment and beautiful penmanship that seemed to have been done with quill and ink. Everyone had always remarked that Erzsebet Craig was different, some even called em “special” - both as a compliment and an insult - but Erzsi emself had never had proof of that fact before now. And here it was, in eir hands. Ey were magical. Erzsi felt like ey were vibrating with excitement. 

 

Eir father’s voice drew em out of eir reverie. 

 

I guess we ought to call Nora.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I can’t believe… all these years… I thought she was just having a laugh but…” He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Magic’s real… Nora didn’t make Ilvermorny up… and… Erzsi’s got magic too…

 

Erzsebet glanced at the school supply list and then asked, “Can I get an owl?”

 

Eir parents looked blankly at them.

 

“It says I can get one,” ey explained.

 

Eir mother sighed. “We’ve all got a lot to talk about… I guess we can also talk about… owls.

 

“Cool.” Ey leaned back into the sofa. “Cool. Cool.”

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Guest August Winters

Things were certainly tense. Which, August thought, was rather annoying, given it was her birthday and she was supposed to be enjoying the rewards that came with that, and had more than enough nerves about what mail did or did not come today. But, it was a big deal for all of them, she supposed, and set herself up testing out the new set of gel pens she’d been gifted, trying to decide which one would be best for writing out thank you cards. 

 

She had magic. Her parents had told her, constantly assured her. The incident with the teapot had proven it, beyond a doubt. Except August had worried that it had been a fluke, that it hadn’t been enough, that it had been something completely and utterly logical, and spent nights lying in bed and trying to feel her magic, locate it within her. So the calls of excitement as the owl landed on the open windowsill were a welcome relief; that she could trust herself, that she wouldn’t disappoint anyone. She had magic. The proof of it was in the letter that had just arrived.

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Guest Amelia Ironside

Amelia popped a kiss on Fionn’s chubby cheek as she bounded through the living room, her brother entirely oblivious while he prodded at his tower of miniature animals with the toy wand he’d gotten for his birthday. The unimpressed miniatures barked and growled and oinked and hissed in her wake, almost as if seeking rescue, but the eleven year old had more pressing matters to attend to.

 

There had been a letter. 

For her.

 

To say that Amelia had been impatient over the last six years, painstakingly counting down the months, weeks and days until she could finally practice magic with her own real wand, would have been a grotesque understatement. Much like saying the kitchen she had flounced into was only a little muddy after the hurricane, that was Bartholomew, their old english sheepdog, had swept through.

 

Sat on a countertop, her feet hanging a few inches above the muddy cataclysm that was their kitchen floor, was Ingrid Ironside. She leaned with one arm on the open window beside the sink, talking to their neighbour Orla about the joy’s she had in store with a child on the way.

“Ahh, see?” Ingrid said, a slight smirk on her lips as she cast her gaze from Orla to Amelia. “When you ask them to bath the dog, they can’t hear you, but the second an owl arrives with an interesting letter…” The woman trailed off to their young neighbour’s laughter, Orla rubbing her heavily pregnant belly as she did. 

 

Amelia, for her part, opted for looking a mix of perplexed, innocent and (unintentionally) impatient. While her mother bid farewell to the witch in the window, the eleven year old’s keen eyes were searching for that very interesting letter.

 

“Looking for this?” From the backdoor, Calum Ironside entered, kicking off mud-clad boots, a thick envelope in one hand while the other remained preoccupied with fending off Hurricane Bart. 

 

When described to Orla later that day, Ingrid would say that her young daughter had practically teleported across the room, a far more graceful and efficient detailing of the leg wheeling, mud sliding event that had actually occurred.

 

Still, in the blink of an eye, Amelia had gone from the Living room doorway, leaping to reach the yellowed envelope now held above her father’s head.

“You know, in my Hogwarts letter, it stipulated that all dogs were to be bathed before opening, otherwise the invitation might be taken back…” Calum teased, narrowly avoiding Bart’s muddy paws as he began jumping alongside Amelia.

 

“No it didn’t!” The girl huffed, two hands clutching her father’s outstretched arm, attempting to use her body weight to bring both his hand and the letter down.

 

The struggle was short, Bartholomew’s heavy rear-end whipping around in excitement and forcing both Amelia and Calum to retreat from the doorway, lest they end up knocked over and out.

 

Around the kitchen island, with a muddy dog still running wild, Fionn now on his father’s knee from all the earlier commotion, the Ironsides watched as Amelia finally opened her Hogwarts letter.

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Frankie Featherstone

From her bedroom window the house elves looked like toddling baby garden gnomes as they wandered across the manicured lawn below. Overseeing all of this with an amused grin while she was perched on the window seat beside Corrine, Frankie took no heed of the way the other girl shifted restlessly in her place. “I think they might be looking for you, Francine.” Eyes rolling, the girl pushed off her spot and began hopping across the room, trying to catch under foot the rattling tail of the snake weaved into her carpet as it slithered its way from one thread to the next. “Of course they are. How many times am I going to have to tell you to call me ‘Frankie’?”

 

Before her friend could even really reply the decorative dragon head fixture on the wall rippled to life, its dark scales taking on an almost glittering sheen as the green fire within glowed to new life. Frankie caught sight of it out of the corner of her eye just before her Mother’s voice echoed into the room. “Your Hogwarts letter has arrived, darling. Come and open it before your party.” Corrine brightened in excitement but Frankie missed the movement, too busy twisting with a flourish to finally get her toes on the woven snake’s tail. Triumphant, she spun in place for a moment while it coiled up underfoot and then started a slow trail over towards the dragon. “I don’t see why I need to open it when it’s obvious what it’ll say,” she said, smug. Reaching out once she was close enough, Frankie let her fingers rest on the scales along the statue’s neck - speaking close enough to its ears would ensure her response was carried back to her Mother. Voice light and sweet - “I’ll be down soon!”

 

She hadn’t understood why she would need to receive a letter when it was so obvious that she would be going, but either way, it was finally time for Frankie Featherstone to be heading to Hogwarts.

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Guest Jordan Fellaine

It was like another world, and well to Jordan, that was exactly what summers at her grandmother’s in the seaside village of Aldeburgh were; A whole other world. It was so vastly different to her life the rest of the year, things were brighter. Gone were the harsh edges of her city life, of the early mornings and rattling of trains with their flurry of graffiti coloured windows that carried her to school. Gone were the shrill complaints of her mother and the despondent stare of her mothers friend. Summer was for forgetting all that and even the clouds that clung to the sky couldn’t dampen her mood.

 

She pushed the old push bike faster, speeding through town and the rows of colourful houses. Each one situated so happily that even Jordan had to smile at their existence. It wasn’t long before she skidded the old bicycle to a stop in front of a bright yellow townhouse. It’s over flowing gardens full of even brighter colours filling the small yard, barely contained by the small white picket fence.

 

She let the bicycle lean against the fence, the yellow of its frame a match for the small house’s walls, grabbed the few groceries she had been sent out for and pushed her way through the front door. “Ciao, Nonna!” she called out as she kicked off her shoes, “I’m back! I got everythin’ but tha biscuits, they was outa ‘em.” She made her way into the kitchen and began putting things away when she heard her grandmother call out.

 

“Wha’ was tha’?” She asked, wandering into the small living room only to stop at the sight of someone sitting with her grandmother. She had never seen them before and Jordan was sure she had seen just about everyone in the village, that wasn’t what concerned her though, what concerned her was the look on her grandmother's roughened features and in her soft brown eyes. 

 

“Come bambina, don’t just stand there, you’re not an ornament, come sit down.” There was, as usual, no harshness to her grandmother's voice. It was firm, commanding, but somehow soft at the same time and Jordan often wondered why her mother was nothing like the old woman. Jordan did as she was told, moving to sit by her grandmother, her own mirky brown gaze cautious as she took in the other person.

 

“Wha’s goin’ on?” She asked, looking between them. When the other started talking, Jordan was pretty sure the world stopped spinning, or had it spun faster? She couldn’t be sure. Words blurred together as the stranger continued and Jordan’s mind raced as piece by piece things made a little more sense. The strangeness her mother had always accused her of, how doors would slam when she was angry or upset and her mother would yell at her for it though her mother never believed that Jordan hadn’t done it; it had done it on its own. 

 

“Sorry, wha’?” She asked, blinking as her mind caught her name.

“I said,”  the stranger started, slowly, as though speaking to a frightened cat who would turn and bolt out the window at any sudden movement, “you’re a witch, Miss Fellaine, and you have been invited to attend the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the fall.”

 

A letter with a bright red wax seal was placed into her hands and all she could do was blink at it for at least a whole minute before sliding a nail bitten finger under the seal and pulling out the contents. Sure enough, in writing fancier than she had ever seen were the same words the stranger had just spoken. “Can’t go” she sighed when she saw the list of things she was supposed to take “mum’ll throw a fit.” She pushed the letter into her grandmother's lap before pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around herself.

 

“Don’t worry about your mamma” her grandmother stated as she too looked over the letter, “I’ll deal with her, you’re a witch bambina, I always knew you were special.” Jordan could feel moisture cling to her thick lashes at her grandmother's words, words she didn’t believe but appreciated all the same, “thanks nonna” she whispered before shaking her head and clambering back to her feet as gracefully as a newborn giraffe, “I’ll go make ya a cuppa” she stated quickly before fleeing the room. 

 

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Lance Trevisani


The day had been just like any other to the young boy. It was summer which meant that he would be ushered off to some type of summer camp for a few weeks then another one after that. Lance didn’t mind some of them like the quidditch camp he was going to tomorrow, others like etiquette camp he found a complete bore. Of course that was his mother’s idea and no matter how much he complained or talked to his father about it there was no getting out of it. The only good thing he had when going there was some of his friends were made to go as well so he wouldn’t be alone.

 

With parchment in hand and Lance sat out in the garden making a list of pranks that he and his friends could try to pull off this year at the camp, it had become a yearly tradition. At quidditch camp after settling in they would gather after dinner and compare lists and pull the best ideas, or the ones they thought they could get away with, and spend the nights when not with the main group working out the details.

 

The stream of ideas came to a stop when he noticed something in the sky. For a moment he had gotten excited thinking it had been one of his friends writing but as the owl got closer he didn’t recognize it. “Hey there.” he greeted as the masvie owl landed on the table. The owl set the letter down in front of him then gave a gentle nip at his finger after taking one of the treats Lance kept in his pocket. After the owl stretched its massive wings and took off and only when he could no longer see the owl in the sky did he look at the letter. 

 

Lance picked up the letter and flipped it around to see a large wax seal with an H on it. A small grin twisted at his lips knowing full well his mother had been wrong and his father was right. He wouldn’t be going to school in his home country, instead he would be going to Hogwarts. His grin grew wider knowing he was going to have to show her but for now that fun would have to wait, he had other plans to work on for the moment.

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Rory Di Lorenzo

Rory knew she would soon, potentially, be leaving the only home she’d ever known. It was somewhat exciting, but at the same time she felt the pull of sadness. The lush greenery that surrounded her home that she loved, along with the many trees and plants that were placed around her home would still be there even after she left, she knew that, but something still made the small redhead feel sad. Of course she would miss her parents too, in fact she figured they’d be the ones missing her more. There was a of course chance she wouldn't get any letter, and what would that mean for her family? Her grandfather wouldn't be happy, that much she knew. Rory couldn't ponder such things anymore. 

 

Making her way back towards her house after a walk, she welcomed the calm quietness that surrounded her without one of her siblings being annoying. In one hand an apple, which had a bite missing, the other hand swung as she walked. “Proper apple this.” She muttered to herself, she’d miss those too. As she approached her home, she could see her mother and father waiting. “Something for you in the post, Rory.” Her father said in a soft tone, trying to hide his excitement. As she read the letter, those thoughts of sadness were soon replaced by excitement and a touch of unsureness. “Says I’m approved..second page has a whole list of stuff and I’m supposed to respond soon.” She said excitedly, though it was obvious she was trying to hide that part.

 

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Guest Dillon Young

Dillon lounged on the hammock in the Young’s rather large back garden although neatly manicured there was no signs of plants just a rather immense collection of trees.

 

Rome however, would soon be over on one of his assortment of trips although this was most likely to be the best of them. In his hand, Dillon held a copy of a Quidditch book and magazine something he had read back to front and inside out, and upside down several times. Rome was supposed to be joining him for a quick game of Quidditch because himself and Rome didn’t have to worry about Muggles although knowing Rome it would just end up with the quaffle being tossed around between the two.

 

Regardless and although Dillon was excited in regards to anything when it came to Quidditch, he was more excited that his older brother had come over for two full days, and he couldn’t help but glance up at the sky with anticipation.

 

However, it wasn’t an Owl that dropped what he expected into his lap. Rome appeared beside him with his Quidditch broom, perched on the end was Dillon’s Hogwarts letter.

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Hunter Camden

It felt like any other ordinary day out in Surrey. The summer had been rainy as per usual, with lots of rain and humid days. The humid days made it rather difficult to play outside in the parks and in the outdoors, where ten-year-old Hunter Camden preferred to enjoy his time. Since his mother and father were always working at their offices, he had to occupy the afternoons by himself somehow. So he always used his imagination. But his imagination was something that he always actively enjoyed using. Despite the fact that he had to come home early for his birthday party with his mum, dad, and older brother William, from a rather exciting day in his treehouse, he had to say that he was ready to see what the surprise his family had for him at the dinner table would be today. His room was a mess, paintings and canvases askew all over the boy’s desk as he was getting ready.

 

“Hunter, dear! Would you come downstairs? We have someone that wants to have a chat with you!” Right on cue, Hunter thought to himself as he fixed his shirt. “Coming, mum!” Hunter yelled as he walked down the stairs. The staircase in their flat was quaint, but large enough for anyone to be able to make an entrance. Everyone was downstairs for his eleventh birthday, just like Hunter’s father had promised. Even William, his brother, seemed to have an out of character smile on his face. But what Hunter didn’t expect to see was a man with a cloak on in broad daylight.

 

“Mum, dad? What’s going on?” Hunter asked his family, confusion but pride on both his parent’s faces. “Well, this gentleman said that you’ve been offered a scholarship, son. To a boarding school in Scotland.” Parker Camden said, making Hunter even more confused, if that was even possible.  “Ahem, well, yes. That’s more or less what’s been happening. Hunter Anthony Camden, congratulations, I am pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Term begins September 1, and here’s the letter to prove it.” 

 

“Hang on… magic? You’re telling me that I have magic, and that I’m an actual wizard? Like in the stories that mum used to read to me when I was younger?” Hunter asked his parents, looking up at the both of them with amazement. He wondered if this was even real. But the look on both of his parent’s faces confirmed that this was in fact, happening. He couldn’t wait to see the adventure unfold. 

 

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Sacha Basset

With the shadow of Larkside Manor looming over the small cottage settled near the back of it's grounds, Fitz sat on the windowsill, watching as a large bird flew it's way into the open window of the parlour room in the main house, a soft smile growing on his face as he did. He knew what the owl would be delivering. And he knew that once it had delivered the one letter to the main house that it would continue on it's journey down the garden to his window. 

 

Their Hogwarts letters had arrived. 

 

Sacha wondered how excited Teddy would be to rip open the seal and to read the words that were inviting her on the next big adventure. He knew that the girl's parents wouldn't offer any clue to her of whether they were proud or not, but she had already seen his own mother busy at the stove in their small kitchen. Celebratory pancakes would be freshly made in a matter of minutes and there would be more than enough for him and for the girl in Larkside Manor. 

 

Soon enough, just as he was heading out of the front door to check on the sunflowers growing at the side of the house, the owl came swooping towards him, dropping the letter at his feet. The boy bent down to pick it up then straightened up, his eyes trailing towards the backdoor of the manor house a little way up the garden. "Three...two...one..." He counted down slowly until the door swung open and a figure appeared, tearing down the garden, her ribbons flying behind her. He held the letter up and grinned before shouting out to her. "Don't tell me you opened yours without me!" 

 

They'd be sharing this adventure together. And Sacha would do his utmost best to ensure that Teddy enjoyed herself, that was for sure. 

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Daehyun Kim

Owls had been arriving all day. The first one had woken the boys up in the shared dormitory at Hargrove’s Home for Boys, tip-tap-tapping at the window at barely five am, sending all of them into a tumble of noise and shouting as they tried to figure out which of the five boys of eligible age for the Hogwarts letter in its beak was written on the envelope. Dae was late out of his bed, rushing for the window, but by the time he’d gotten past the crowd of excited boys, elbowing his way past shorter Jenkins and Hogart, to get to the front, Danvers already had the letter in his grip, crowing excitedly.

 

Daehyun had slunk back to bed, and hadn’t even stirred when the next letter had arrived barely five minutes after. It also hadn’t been for him.

 

None of the boys went back to sleep that morning, chattering excitedly until first bell rang for the morning chores. Dae certainly hadn't, staring at the ceiling as the dawn broke fully, wishing for that window to tap once more, just once more, just for him.

 

The next letter had arrived during morning classes, deposited neatly on Gibson’s desk by an imposingly large owl, and Dae had hated the smile on Gibson’s face, hated the owl for delivering the letter to the wrong boy. He’d looked down to see that he’d snapped the nib off his quill, inky blackness leaking over what little he’d managed to write down so far, and threw the thing aside before anyone could see, hiding the stain in his fist.

 

He hadn’t paid attention to the rest of his classes. He’d tried, but even on a good day Daehyun needed to focus his every thought on the lesson before him, to keep all the letters straight and the information going in, but today he hadn’t been able to take in any of it. He’d been held back after class by Mr Hargrove, given a stern talking to and made to clean the desk he’d ruined with the broken quill, and by the time he’d gotten outside to the yard, there was a new circle crowding around Khan. Khan with his Hogwarts letter held tightly aloft.

 

Daehyun turned back to the building and headed up the fire escape, until the noise and excitement of the yard was far beyond his hearing. It was quieter up here, peaceful, and Dae laid against the metal staircase staring at the sky, the clouds passing overhead, watching for wings on the horizon.

 

He missed curfew, heard his name called through the window by Hargrove, and wrapped his hoodie tighter around himself, trying to blend into the darkening sky. He’d pay for this tomorrow, he knew, but he couldn’t make himself go back downstairs, back into the dorm with the other boys, who all knew he was waiting for something that might never arrive. It had to arrive. It had to,

 

It was full dark before Dae heard the soft clink of talons alighting on the steel railing, and he rose slowly, as if he might frighten off the small owl with the bent back feathers on her right wing. She wasn’t hurt, not properly, but there was a discomfort to her as she leaned forward to drop the thick letter, Daehyun’s name scrawled on the front. Dae ignored it, holding out an arm for the little owl to hop on to, and with gentle, ink stained fingers, he set to righting her feathers, murmuring to her quietly as he worked.

 

When she was right, when she flew away faster than she had arrived, he picked up the envelope, and smiled. 

 

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Guest Dienne Orellana

Dienne was eleven.  The last year had been a misery of would she, wouldn't she thoughts.  Even today, as the sun crept up the horizon, the thoughts pounded to the forefront of Dienne's mind.  On good days, she was able to push aside the thoughts and focus on her tasks at hand.  But on bad days, and especially a bad night such as this one, the doubts slid in.  She had tossed and turned all night, unsure thoughts causing dreams of living a Squib life to plague her.  Her older brother, who was always bragging about his life at Hogwarts, would increase shoving his blatant, explosive magic in her face as she grew up.  Her little sister, who was already blooming tendrils of magic when she had her tantrums, would eventually boss her about to make a point of her own superiority.  Dienne had shuddered awake before dawn.  

 

Dienne had never been the explosive or emotional sort.  Was that a requirement for magic?  Did magic flock to those who wore their emotions on their sleeves?  To date, she had never made a pan burst in flame or a hundred socks fly into the air.  She just existed.  She went with her father everyone, and saw a lot of magical things, but she never made anything happen on her own.  Now, on the dawn of her eleventh birthday... What if she never would?  What if magic, and the glory of Hogwarts just... wasn't... for her?

 

The dark haired, dark eyed girl stared out of her bedroom window, lost in her thoughts.  If anyone were to peer in, her expressionless face would give away none of her uncertainty.  As the early sun started to shine through her window and light up her hands clutched on the sill, Dienne started to process acceptance of the inevitable.  It was in this period of grief that Dienne saw it:  a barn owl, cresting over the horizon and headed her way, with a letter in its claws.

 

Dienne blinked twice, inhaled shakily, then unlatched her window.  One proud landing later with a polite pet and tip, Dienne held a letter in her hands.  The intricate crest on the seal made the girl's heart flutter for the first time in a long time.  'My... Hogwarts letter,' she thought in quiet awe.

 

A bit later, her Mum knocked on her door and let herself in with grand cheer to wish the girl a Happy Birthday!  Dienne gave her Mum a thankful nod, bringing a subtle light to her eyes and a quirk to the corners of her lips, but otherwise appeared unreadable.  At her windowsill sat the opened letter, read over and over.  Perhaps she would savor the news on her own for just a little while.

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Ashton Nolani

Waiting was excruciating. Ashton felt like he had been waiting for his turn to go to Hogwarts for ages, what with both Sky and Oliver having already been away for years. All he had of that place was letters, fragments of memories and visuals that his brothers tried to convey through written word. It was different than seeing it, different than experiencing it. He knew that from even the difference in the way the older boys talked about it, the way Sky’s eyes had always lit up, how animated he was when he talked about the castle. Sky and Oliver had had so many opportunities since going away- Sky had even gone to Greece with a friend, something Ashton never would have imagined for himself. And now, finally, with his eleventh birthday upon him he finally would get the opportunity to see it all for himself. 

 

He waited, as he always did when he knew a letter was approaching, by the window. He watched endlessly for an owl appearing on the horizon and as the day dragged on his stomach began to drop. What if it didn’t come? What if he didn’t get to go? He didn’t want to spend another year here, just him, his sister, his mother, and his grandfather. He had learned all that he could here and he was ready to experience more. He wanted to make new memories, have new opportunities, learn more things. Maybe finally he could know enough to be closer to equal footing with his brothers, where he had always felt one step behind despite their efforts to include him. 

 

He didn’t want to think about not getting that letter today. 

 

Thankfully, what felt like eons of waiting, was over in a matter of hours on his eleventh birthday. His eyes widened as he saw an unfamiliar owl on the horizon and he took off, sprinting outside to intercept the bird. It landed near him and he took the letter from its beak, offering it a small treat from his pocket and a quick head scratch before it flew off. He opened the letter, his grin widening before he took off back in the house. “It came!” he shouted, excited to tell anyone who would listen. 

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Guest Edie Grimsworth

“Breakfast!” Edie called out, trying to shimmy a fried egg from the pan to a plate. Mornings at her dad’s place always started late, usually closer to lunchtime than her mother would ever allow Edie to start the day back home. But she didn’t mind; it meant that they could stay up even later to play games or strum songs on her dad’s guitar. She smiled at her father as he stumbled out of his bedroom still half-asleep and rubbing the tiredness from his eyes.

 

“Mornin’,” he said through a yawn, raising an arm above his head to stretch.

“It’s almost midday,” Edie corrected him, grinning as she brought the two plates of food to the table. With an elbow, she pushed off the remnants of yesterday’s board game night, sending fake money and miniature dog figures crashing to the ground. “Just as promised,” she said, pushing her dad’s plate toward him, “loser makes the winner breakfast.”

 

“And how glorious victory will taste,” he replied smugly, reaching for honey to pour on his pancakes. The rest of the conversation consisted mostly of her father's boasting of his Dog-opoly tactics, with Edie rolling her eyes bemusedly at his enthusiasm. He had just been about to go into detail of his ingenious last round when a large crash disrupted him mid-sentence. The two Grimsworths looked up from the table, both frozen with a fork hovering above their plates. "What was that?" her father asked aloud, gaze shifting to the window above the sink. 

 

Edie, who usually always had something to say, was unable to reply, joining her dad in staring at the disoriented bird that was now pecking at the glass from the other side of the windowsill. "Is that an owl?" she said finally, slowly getting up from her seat to take a closer look. "We only get these at Mum's place. They're everywhere nowadays." Edie looked over her shoulder, expecting her father to be as confused as she was. However, his expression had remained unchanged. Furrowing her brows, she turned back to peer closer at the bird, which was raising a leg to reveal a string attached to it, connected to which was an envelope. "Are you seeing this, Dad?" 

 

“Guess we’d better call your mother,” Jett mumbled after a long pause, raising his coffee mug to his lips but hesitating to take a sip. When Edie glanced over, he shot her a wink and a grin, but she could have sworn she had caught a glimpse of worry between his eyebrows.

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