Not So Merry Christmas

Not So Merry Christmas Chapter One:

A Real Witch of a Sister

I'm tapping my fingers against the steering wheel to the tune of Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds as I drive through the crowded streets of London. I look at the mountain of presents behind me in my rear-view mirror, and smile quietly to myself. There isn't anything quite like the feeling you get when you head home for the holidays.

Don't get me wrong. I love Exeter University. I have so many great friends, my classes in Computer Technology are very interesting, and I'm one of the best tennis players in the school. These are the most wonderful years of my life.

But you know how it is. The best place in the world is, and will always be, your home. Home is where the heart lies.

Besides, it'll be good to see the family again. Mom will burst into tears, of course. She has to be the most emotional person on the Earth. She cries during everything: graduations, movies, weddings, commercials, you name it!

And Dad will start talking about some new plan he has for my car. He's a fantastic mechanic, who just happens to know exactly what items are flammable when draped across a hot engine. He may be brilliant with his paying customers, but I wouldn't trust him on my baby. Let's just say that he has a rather active imagination when it comes to cars, and he'd love to try out some of his ideas on mine.

But I probably won't be able to hear any of his crazy ideas, anyway. The instant I walk through the door, two whirling tornados that go by the names of Kate and Daniel will knock me down and tear me to pieces. You see, I didn't have the lucky fortune of being an only child. No, Mom and Dad had to have more kids. And of course, they had twins.

Katelyn Anne and Daniel Robert were welcomed into the world on March 18^th seven years ago. They have the same laughing faces and brown curly hair, not to mention a shared sense of devilry. All in all they're good kids, but they do have a wild streak a mile wide.

However, they aren't my only siblings. No, there is one other. A sister. She's thirteen and really, there is nothing special to her that meets the eye. She has Dad's pale green eyes and Mom's curly brown hair, same as the rest of us. And she doesn't even act that strange. She isn't as wild as the twins, or as outgoing as I am. Mostly, she's quiet and studious. But if you look closely at her, you can see a wicked sparkle in her eyes. Sometimes I wonder what she acts like at school.

You see, my sister Lindy goes to a boarding school in Scotland. A very special boarding school. I didn't go there. We don't know if the twins will. You only find out if you're accepted when you turn eleven. And people like us never know the letters coming until it gets here.

I'm probably confusing you; so let me clear things up. Lindy goes to Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. My sister is a witch.

Now that you're all conscious again, I'll explain. Two years ago, in the middle of July, a letter appeared on our front stoop. It invited Lindy to a wondrous place, full of mischief and magic. Where young wizards and witches frolicked and studied. Watched over by a kindly old Headmaster and several dedicated teachers, these children were trained as magicians, and became adults within the stone walls of the majestic castle.

At least, that's what the brochure said. It came with the letter.

For a while, we wouldn't believe it, but when a bald-headed man who said he was from the 'Ministry of Magic' came knocking at our door, we accepted it fairly quickly. Lindy was taken to a place called 'Diagon Alley', where she got spell books, parchment, cauldrons, robes, an owl named Augrey, and a magic wand. And then she went off to King's Cross and caught the train to school, and got sorted into a house. I think it's called 'Gryffinroar' or something. Now, she's been there almost three years, and she comes home every holiday with weird nicknames for us, turning pincushions into hedgehogs. It's rather disturbing.

We used to be kind of close. You know--the alliance you're forced to make when your house is invaded by tiny babes in nappies. But now...now everything is different. The things she talks about are like a foreign language to me. And she's forever calling me a 'muggle'. What in the world is a 'muggle'?

Maybe this holiday, we can reconcile. It would be nice to have an ally at home--someone who would understand the dangers of Dad tinkering with my car, who knows how tearful Mom gets, a partner in handling the twins. Yes. That will be my mission this holiday. To become closer with Lindy. A sort of pre-New Year's resolution.

I pull into the garage, happy and smiling. Suddenly, I am so eager to see my family again that I don't even bother with the presents. Racing up the stoop, I fling open the door.

"Andrewwwwwww!!!!!!!!" Two blurry balls of motion zoom into my midriff at full force, knocking the wind out of me.

"Welcome home," says Mom's slightly muffled voice, due to the fact that she already has her face buried in a Kleenex.

I feel a clap on my shoulder. "Good to see you, son. Listen, when you're finished with unpacking, we'll have a look under the hood, okay? Just to check the oil and what not."

A once familiar voice sounds from the living room. "Accio!" A water bottle flies past my face, floating through the air on it's own accord.

Welcome home, indeed.