The Exchange Student

The letter in the girl’s hand was worn and kind of rumpled. It looked as though it had been taken out and gazed at many times, before being quickly tucked away again. There were a few stains on it, tears and dirt. The girl clutched the letter tightly. It was a lifeline to her. She was so scared! She had never been away from home before. She had never imagined being here, on the Hogwarts train. It was a shock and a surprise, getting the letter.

“Dear Heather Revlis, you have been personally invited to attend Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry…”

The first line had shocked her almost as much as finding the letter on her pillow when she had come home from school one day.

“We realize that the extraordinary circumstances that have kept you from the magical world up to this point were not your fault…”

The extraordinary circumstances… That was a very polite way of putting it. The truth was painful and sad. Heather’s mother had been hospitalized for several years. No one knew what had befallen her. June Revlis’ illness baffled the doctors. Heather had remained at home to care for her two brothers and two sisters, all of them younger. Her father had worked hard to pay the medical bills and put food on the table, but he had to work very long hours, and when he wasn’t at work he was in the hospital at his wife’s side.

“Because of your age, we have decided to advance you to the level of your peers. You will have to take extra classes and work very hard…”

Heather nodded to herself as she read this line. Her age… She was sixteen now. It was very late to start her education. But how could she have begun any earlier? Heather had been needed at home. Her father was a Muggle. Her mother, well that was another matter.

June Revlis was a Seer. A true Seer. She would have dreams about the future and they would come true. Sometimes she had spoken with the dead. But that was the extent of her power. June Revlis was not a witch. A wand in her hand was as dead as if a Muggle held it. But June had a prediction, just a little one, about her daughter while she was still a young girl. She had written it down. Heather had never been supposed to see it. But when her mother was in the hospital, Heather had cleaned out the attic, and in a little box in the corner, covered with dust, there was a book. It was a journal.

“I feel that you would be unhappy to be Sorted with the first years…”

In the journal were pages and pages of predictions. They varied in length and importance. One said, “It will be sunny on my tenth birthday.” Heather had examined the date. It had been written when her mother was six. Next to each was a mark that said if it had come true yet or not. Heather learned it had indeed been sunny on her mother’s tenth birthday. It seemed this book had been in use since her mother was a very small child.

“So you may report directly to my office after you arrive on the train....”

Near the beginning, when June was about seven, was a prediction that had caught Heather’s eye. It was written in a child’s hand, but the words were very grown up and adult. It said, “My firstborn child will be a girl, and the power in her will reach back to the dawn of the age of magic…” There was no mark to prove this one had come true.

“If you decide to accept this invitation, hold this letter at exactly 8:00 a.m. exactly three months from today. It will transport you to a train station, where you will board the train at platform nine and three-quarters. Someone will be there to meet you.”

The journal was a thin book, but as she turned the pages, it seemed to grow. On the inside cover, was written a note: ‘To a young girl named Junie, magic does not mean everything, and you are a wonderful person. Always write down your thoughts! They may save the world one day! Your dear friend, Albus.’

Heather looked at the last line on her letter.

“Signed with all the best, Albus Dumbledore.”