Memoirs of an Unlikely Ravenclaw

Chapter Two: The Old Chalet

Just as suddenly, the world stopped its mad revolution, and Great Gram pulled me gently by the hand out of the fireplace. As I began to brush disgustedly at the soot on my jeans and T-Shirt ("Muggle clothes for blending into the Muggle World!" my mother had explained cheerfully, after I had asked her what I should wear for the trip), my first thought, albeit extremely ironic, was We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto--something that reaffirmed my belief that Michael had to be rid of his habit of watching that movie at least once everyday, as soon as possible. Hopefully, there would be no Muggle television at this 'Old Chalet' place for him to torture me with.

Picking one last clump of cinders out of the thick, disorderly fringe that fell onto my forehead, I looked up and suddenly forgot my disgruntlement as I noticed our new surroundings, and a wave of curiosity swept over me.

The fireplace we had stepped out of seemed to be made out of a combination of wood and stone, as were the walls; I was distinctly reminded of the stone cabins regularly displayed on the North Canadian Vacation brochures in the post office near our old house.

I felt a pang of nostalgia at this last sentiment; I had already begun to miss the old house. Sure, it had been rather small and cramped, but I still enjoyed living there; it had been mine and my parents' home for almost eleven years, and for six (and a half) years we had shared it with Michael. This was definitely going to be a new experience; I just hoped that I'd still be able to cope, what with Wizarding School to pile on top of living in a new country.

I wiped at my suddenly watering eyes; there must have been some dust in the air. Though, now that I looked more closely, there was no refuse to be seen in the room in which we had arrived. It must have been a tea parlor or a drawing room of some sort, at one point. There was a regal-looking canapé made of solid, carved walnut and covered with original needlepoint tapestry whose legs ended in pied de sabots, placed behind a rather long Italian, carved walnut tea table that sat in the middle of te room; to the left of the canapé were two bergeres painted and gilded in gold and draped with an ivory and silvery-blue striped upholstery. The furniture was arranged to form a sort of three-quarter circle that ringed the fireplace. To the right of the magnificent canapé was a large winged back chair, clad in a modest and rather pale pastel floral pattern, stretched across beautifully carved walnut.

Everything in this room made it look as though we had stepped back in time into Louis XIV or Louis XV or whichever French Louis's parlor...except for some notable differences that surely Louis wouldn't have tolerated.

For one, the furniture was beautiful, but it was completely and utterly mismatched. It looked as though the owner of this house had snuck into said French ruler's home one night and had made off with whatever furniture they could get, regardless of size, shape or colour. That, coupled with the multicoloured braided rugs placed haphazardly around the room, created numerous horrible clashes of styles and patterns everywhere. Basically, it looked like an extremely old-fashioned furniture kaleidoscope--which may have been why I loved it.

It just looked so friendly and homey! You know that spooky, cold feeling of total impersonality you get when you walk into a house, with rooms that match perfectly in everything, from their silverware and dishes rightown to the trim on the walls? Well this was one attribute that, judging by the state of this room, was probably absent at the Old Chalet. Everything in here was mismatched and arranged so haphazardly that it gave a warm feeling of cluttered welcome, a sense of distinct coziness, and an all-around homey ambiance.

Great Gram threw her long and rectangular clutch purse past a large, and what appeared to be homemade, beaded lampshade, nearly knocking it off. It landed on a bergeres (the one that sported a hand-knit and rather crooked afghan in garish rainbow-hued wool that clashed horribly with its silvery-blue stripes). I noticed that the end table upon which sat the previously affronted vase was loaded down in its lower shelves and compartments, with a variety of wizarding (or rather witching) magazines. They all seemed to sport ridiculously alliterated headings, such as 'Witch's World', 'Stimulating Stitchery for the Modern Day Sorceress' and even 'Easy Embroidery for Elderly Enchantresses'. I was just about to ask Great Gram about one whose cover was sub-headed with 'Lascivious Lacery for Luring Lingerie' when I heard her heave a great sigh, and turned to see what was wrong.

"What's a matter, Gram?" I asked, noticing the abnormal brightness of her eyes and her rather watery smile.

Great Gram looked past me, and around the room for a moment, as if to take everything in. A benign smile suddenly lit her face. Her gaze returned to my own curious stare, and she sighed again, but happily this time, then closed the small distance between us and gathered me up in a crushing hug--the strength of which any professional wrestler would surely have envied. Then she looked into my near-asphyxiated face and smiled again.

"Ah, Mave, my dear...it's good to be home."

***

A few hours later, long enough for me to recover from the near-death experience that was Great Gram's embrace, the entire family (Dad, Mum, Mikey, Great Gram and I) had gathered in the 'drawing' room (the room; and what's more, we had successfully recovered our entire luggage from the International Floo Network's Luggage Division. To emphasize the miraculous occurrence that was the achievement of this feat, allow me to elaborate.

In this particular division of the (Canadian) Ministry of Magic, the International Travel Sub-Department, all that the employees do is wait for the conveyor belt, which transports each piece of luggage, to drop off a suitcase or carry-on or whatnot at their station. Whereupon, they throw said piece of luggage into the flames of the operating Floo fire nearest to them; and once in the fire, an enchanted tag, (which had been attached at a previous station) if enchanted properly at all, would yell out the name of the place to which the luggage was destined. The Luggage Division's approximate, yearly rate of successful luggage delivered diminishes steadily every year. This year's was looking out to be no exception: a mere 36.2 percent out of 200, apparently. We, needless to say, got lucky--or so I gathered from my parents' conversation during the moving of our suitcases.

Once the bags had all arrived, Great Gram decided that a tour of the cottage and estates was is order, as all any of us had had the chance to see so far was the parlor and the 'drawing' room...and the bathroom, for that matter. Mikey and I were excited at the prospect of choosing rooms...well I was anyway; Mikey just kind of nodded his head absently when Great Gram asked if we'd like to see the upstairs first.

He was obviously falling asleep on his feet, so Mum made an odd sort of tutting noise, you know, the kind that all mothers do, and picked him up. Mikey immediately rested his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes, his ratted blanket clutched tightly in his fist.

As I watched Mikey drift slowly off to sleep, I began to feel the first stirrings of fatigue behind my own eyes, and their lids suddenly became heavy. I was just about to beg Dad for a piggy-back ride up the stairs when Great Gram interjected.

"Well, shall we go then?" she asked brightly. "I haven't been to the second story of the Chalet in ages! I wonder if it's changed at all! I can't wait to have a proper look..."

Her voice trailed off as she began to ascend the stairs, which I vaguely noticed were clad in rather worn-looking sea green carpeting that appeared to have been marked on every step. Each mark had a different, unique shape, and their causes alternated between stain and burn.

I counted on the way up to keep my self awake. Twenty-three steps (twenty-four if you counted the landing) later, we arrived.

We had walked into the end of a hallway: one that curved round so that I could see it continued, probably fitting the shape of the house, which I had yet to see. The end of it, where it began to curve off, was shadowy in the late sunlight, so I couldn't see where it led. The corridor was lined with wooden doors, spaced at intervals of several feet apart. My weariness was suddenly gone--I itched to run down it and open every single door. I couldn't wait to see what each room held!

Great Gram seemed to sense my intention, because she spoke hastily into the silence. "Come, children; we're all tired. I'll show you to the bedrooms and the shower, so that you can all get cleaned, and then rest up."

She headed down the hall, with me walking steadfastly by her side. I didn't want to miss anything! She stopped at the fourth door to the left of the one we had faced when we came up the stairs. It sported a gold plaque engraved with a lion motif, and was studded with many tiny pretty red stones that I didn't recognize.

"What is that?" I asked curiously, pointing to the red gems.

"The jewels?" Gram asked. I nodded, looking up at her.

"Why, they're rubies, dear," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Haven't you ever seen them?"

My memory snapped into place immediately. "Yeah, like, on television...and I've read about them, too," I said slowly. "I've never actually seen them up close before, though. They're beautiful! Is the plaque yours? Where is it from?"

"It was a gift," Great Gram said absently, running her fingers over the engraving. "From my parents, in celebration of my first year at Hogwarts."

My parents nodded in understanding. Michael's head, on my mother's shoulder, lolled slightly to the side. I wasn't through yet, though.

"'Hogwarts'?" I asked, trying out the word. It sounded like some kind of fungus. "What's 'Hogwarts'?"

Great Gram looked at me, surprised.

"Why, Mav, dear!" she said incredulously. "That's where you'll be going to school, of course! To Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

"It's in Scotland," Mum added encouragingly, as if that fact would illuminate the situation better.

"You mean to say," I began, in a falsely puzzled voice. I had already grasped the notion of this 'Hogwarts' as being a place: I was now moving on to more important things--like revenge. "You mean to say that...that...I'm actually going to Wizarding School?" Now my tone was one of barely suppressed delight and excitement.

"Yes, dear!" my mother said, encouraged by my seemingly newfound comprehension.

"That's if you get a letter, though, hon," Dad pointed out from behind Mum. I guess he had snapped out of his stupor long enough to catch a bit of the conversation: any kind of traveling never failed to drain my father of his energy.

"Well, yes, but I'm sure she'll get one," Mum said to him over her shoulder. Then she turned back to me, "Maven, dear, you'll most certainly be going to a Wizarding School, yes. No question about it. In fact, Great Gram will be taking you to see your new Headmaster tomorrow!"

"So, I'll be going to Wizarding School for sure," I said slowly to myself, as if mulling it over. Here, my timing had to be exactly right.

"Mum?" I asked innocently.

"Yes, dear?" she answered. She was stroking Michael's hair, looking rather absent. But most importantly, completely unsuspecting.

"If you knew that I was going to Wizarding School all this time..."

"Yes..." Still utterly oblivious.

"Then why in the NAME of ALL THINGS HOLY did you send me to that UTTERLY HORRIFIC MUGGLE INSTITUTION?!" I yelled angrily, letting all the rage at the horror I had endured at Muggle School for seven years power my voice. The floor shook a little, and one of the ancient, cobwebbed light fixtures fell off the wall and smashed on the floor. This caught her attention.

"Why Maven Morgaine!" my mother said, scandalized. She had already reached well past her normal tolerance rate and was starting to become angry. "Watch your temper, AND your language! Your brother is EXHAUSTED and we're all completely WIPED OUT! Don't you DARE try to spring THIS on me NOW, especially in THAT tone of voice! It's not ONLY about what YOU want! Your father and I decided TOGETHER what was BEST for YOU, and WE ARE THE PARENTS! Are you LISTENING? No matter HOW many TIMES I TELL YOU, it's just NEVER GOOD ENOUGH, is it?! You just GO to your ROOM, MISSY, and THINK about your ACTIONS! RIGHT NOW!"

One thing about my Mum that I forgot: she can have a nasty temper, almost as bad as mine, but it's especially bad when she's tired. I could hear the doors lining the corridor rattling in their frames.

Aw crap.

"GO! NOW!"

I started to protest quietly, all my rage and resentment spent. I didn't have a room; where in the world did she expect me to go? "But I don't--" I began, feeling more and more helpless and frustrated. This was not at all going the way I had planned.

Mum was so angry that her cheeks had begun to burn red with rage. Her eyes, darkened and narrowed to slits, glittered dangerously.

"Take--this--room," she puffed, pointing to the one bearing the lion plaque.

"But it's not--"

"NOW!" Her hand, which had been peacefully stroking Michael's hair a moment ago, was now clenched at her side, and the other was pointing furiously at the door. Michael, still sleeping, was balanced precariously over her chest. The doors rattled again, this time more ominously. Even my Dad looked apprehensive. Great Gram looked mildly amused. Worried as I was for everyone's safety, I had but no choice.

"Fine!" I shouted in a last show of self-justified anger. I flung the door open and stamped savagely into the middle of the room, scowling horribly.

I heard Mum utter a last, infuriated noise outside, and expected her to come in after me and yell some more, but Dad must have subdued her because I felt the door slam sharply behind me, and heard his voice, muttering quietly, as the footsteps faded down the hallway, led by Great Gram's confident and unshaken tread.

Frustrated and still angry, I looked around the room for something to throw myself on violently, or at least just a nice fluffy pillow to beat on, when the contents of the room itself caught my eye. As I stared in surprised and delighted wonder, I felt the last dregs of infuriated resentment slowly drain from my tense body.

The room, which I had thought square at first, was really more...well, muffin-shaped, I guess you could call it. The wall in which the door was placed was straight enough, and the walls on either side of it too, but these angled out more, to form a sort of V-shape, though the base of said V would have been squared off. The back wall was something else entirely: it was bowed, subtly curved like the top of a balloon or part of the arch of a crescent moon.

The walls of the room were an explosively bright red and the motley furniture, coordinated no better than that of the first room I had seen, sported the reoccurring theme of golden lions (many of them similar to the one engraved on the plaque on the door), in the form of statues, busts, trinket chests, and from what I could see, even the lamps and their shades. There was a multitude of brightly coloured banners tacked to the wall, each one in a different (but no less vibrant) shade of scarlet, gold or both. I walked over to the nearest one and read its slogan: 'Go, Go Gryffindor!'. I stared at it, puzzled. What in the world was that supposed to mean? And what was a Gryffindor?

I moved on to the next banner. This was a colour that was closer to burgundy, with diagonal yellow stripes in the background. Underneath the words was something that looked like a coat of arms that I'd seen in a book once: it was a golden lion, rearing on its hind legs, on a scarlet background. A banner across the lion read 'Gryffindor' in calligraphic lettering. The poster itself said "Courage Is Not the Lack of Fear; It Is Acting In Spite Of It."

I jumped back a bit, rather startled. Even though I came from a wizarding family, this was the first time I'd ever heard a banner speak.

I shook my head a little, as if to clear it, and quickly walked over to banner on the other side of the one that had just spoken to me. Well, actually, this one was more of a poster; it had a picture of what I gathered was some sort of crest: a large 'H' surrounded by an eagle, a badger, a snake, and a lion that looked identical to that on the poster I had just seen. Below the crest, it read 'Hogwarts: Home of the Best' and below that 'Gryffindor: Braver Than the Rest'.

Gryffindor...hmm...the name reminded me of the word 'gryphon' or 'griffin'. Maybe Gryffindor was some kind of famous circus lion? And the other animals on the crest were...other famous animals? That couldn't be right. Somehow, I just couldn't imagine my regal great grandmother being obsessed with circus animals, even at a young age.

Still pondering this mystery, I walked the entire remaining perimeter of the room, reading each of the banners. I soon realized that they formed a sort of border along the wall, dividing the plain red top half of the walls from the bottom half, which was pasted with--you guessed it--wallpaper sporting the increasingly familiar gold-and-scarlet-diamonds -with-lion motif.

Eventually, I made it all the way back to the point where I had entered the room. I read the final poster, the one on the door, and immediately decided that out of all the rest, this was my favorite. The background was the faded picture of the very lion carving on the plaque on the other side of this door--right down to the small rubies--and the text in front of the picture read '"Who Needest Brains When Thou Hast Sheer, Unadulterated, Mindless Bravery?" -Godric Gryffindor, 961-1025'.

Oh! So Gryffindor was an actual person! I thought. Maybe he owned the lion...or maybe it was his favorite animal or something. It must have been a long time ago though; look at the dates! Even Gram's not that old...and what's with all this stuff about 'bravery'...?

I frowned a little, and stepped back over to the large dresser beside the bed. What was it that courage reminded me of...of course! The courage of a lion...ha! I giggled into the empty room. I'd even been thinking about Wizard of Oz when I'd arrived at the Old Chalet...That was it, then. The lion meant courage. But what did that have to do with the 'Godric' person? Maybe he was very brave or something...or at least wanted people to think that...but then I remembered the other three animals on the larger crest. What did that mean?

A clock on its surface suddenly began to chime, a merry, tinkling sound. After the ninth chime, it stopped. I peered at it in puzzlement as I suddenly noticed that there were no numbers at all along the circumference of its gleaming crimson face. Instead, there were various phrases written in gold where the numbers should have been, such as "You're late" and "Time for bed" and "Your room is a pigsty"--which reminded me strongly of Mum. Right now, the slender, golden, hand was pointing to "Wash your hands" and was slowly moving toward "Time for tea".

I leaned in closer to better examine the clock. The hand seemed to be one of many, all placed on top of one another. I assumed that they moved to point at different phrases when necessary, probably two or more at a time. I noticed that there were tiny flecks of some sparkly red substance on the hands, as if they hadn't been able to find any rubies small enough to stud them with.

I was just about to move on to the poster-plastered, yellow closet door, when I heard Great Gram calling, apparently from somewhere downstairs.

"Maven, dear!" she yelled. "It's time for tea!"

Tea? I thought. Since when do we drink tea? Then I suddenly remembered reading somewhere that 'tea' was actually British for 'supper'.

I looked longingly at the closet that was possibly filled with even more exciting magical artifacts than those on the dresser and the walls, just waiting to be investigated. I really wasn't that hungry; maybe I could plead a stomach ache and stay up in Gram's room? The idea was certainly was appealing, but then I remembered the look on my mother's face when she'd confined to this room. I most definitely did not want to see what she'd look like if she had to come up here to get me out again.

I sighed, and reluctantly moved toward the door. Within seconds I was halfway down the stairs and I could smell the aroma of Mum's fresh lasagna wafting out of the kitchen.

I felt a pang of guilt as I reached the landing and walked down the curved hallway, passing the Drawing Room, Front Hall, Parlor, Dining Room, and finally the Pantry, on the way to the kitchen. Lasagna was my favorite, and Mum had made it for me. For some reason, this made me feel extremely guilty--although I couldn't think why...

The look of remorse on my face must have been apparent though, as I entered the Old Chalet's kitchen, because my mother raised her eyebrows and smiled at me wryly as she indicated to a place at the round, wooden table where I was to sit.

I kept my head down, as I still felt terrible, and studied my plate intently as I waited for the food to come. By the time Dad brought the steaming lasagna over to the table, though, I had raised my head high enough for my mother to be able to catch my eye. She made a small flapping motion with her hand and rolled her eyes ceiling-ward indicating that I was forgiven, and that we should just forget about it. I smiled back, relieved and grateful for the silent communication, though I still had no idea what I had just been forgiven for. My father and Great Gram, having both seen the silent apology and forgiveness, both smiled, and Dad announced happily that it was time to dig in.

Dinner that night was rather un-conversational, as everyone was completely exhausted from the long day of Floo Traveling. Gram was the only one who spoke much at all, chattering happily about how much she'd missed England, and how happy we'd all be here, and how much she'd enjoyed living here as a child, in the Old Chalet, etc. I missed most of it, as I was very involved with my delicious lasagna, and the thought of a nice, warm bed to return to at the end of the meal.

Dad interjected occasionally, most times with funny little comments that Mum smiled at, some of which I understood, others which went over my head completely. Mum, who had managed somehow to rouse Mikey from his deep slumber, was making sure that he didn't accidentally fall asleep into his lasagna. I just sat and ate and half-listened, thinking some about all the things I wanted to explore tomorrow, like the Old Chalet and the yard outside, as well as the town or the city of whatever kind of community we were living in now.

After we had finished eating, I reluctantly helped Mum and Dad clear the table after they asked, and followed Mum upstairs as she went to go put Mikey down. Great Gram came with us, walking beside me as we walked up the stairs behind Mum, who was carrying Mikey. He was, of course, asleep, and clutching his ragged blanket, possessively, in one of his small fists. I picked up the end so that it wouldn't trail on the stairs, and so that I wouldn't trip over it.

When we reached the second floor, Mum turned right and walked down the hallway to another doorway. I turned left and walked until I found the door with the lion plaque on it, and opened the door. Suddenly I realized that Great Gram was still beside me; that she hadn't gone with Mum to tuck Mikey in.

Gram followed me into the room, and once inside, she had me stand still in front of her so that she could transfigure my grimy, sooty Muggle clothes into a pair of clean (and red) pajamas.

"Thanks, Gram," I said happily, feeling at least a little bit cleaner now that I was out of my ash-covered jeans and T-shirt. I pulled back the gold and red comforter on the bed and hopped into it. I noticed that it was wedged between the curved part of the wall and the dresser with the clock on it, its headboard up against the diagonal part of the wall. It looked as if the side of the bed that was on the curved wall actually conformed to fit the bow-shape, so it that it formed a rather odd-shaped parallelogram.

I began to pulling the covers up, when suddenly Great Gram stopped me, and did it herself.

Once the comforter was all the up to my chin, and Great Gram had conjured herself a comfy chair to sit in next to my bed, I said, "Don't you think I'm a little old to be tucked in, Gram?"

I was only joking, but she looked at me seriously with her piercing hazel eyes and said, "You're never too old to be tucked in by someone who loves you, Maven Wicks, and don't you ever forget that."

Her intense stare frightened me a little, so I when I said "I won't, Gram," it came out in a small, squeaky voice, that sounded like a mouse caught in a trap.

"You'd best to not," she said solemnly. There was a pause, and then the mood changed abruptly, and all solemnity vanished as she smiled and said, "Well Mave, dearie, are you excited?"

"Excited for what?" I asked, a little disconcerted by her brisk change of tone.

"Why, school of course!" she exclaimed, looking for all the world as though she expected me to know exactly what she was talking about.

"Oh, you mean...Hoag...Hog...the wizarding school?" I asked lamely. I couldn't remember in the least what she had called it before. I looked around for the poster on the wall, the one I remembered had the name written on it.

"Hogwarts, dear!" Great Gram exclaimed before I could locate it. She continued enthusiastically, "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

"So I'm really actually going there?" I asked, remembering something else, something my father had said earlier. "Dad said you needed some kind of letter--"

Just as the last word left my mouth, there was a sharp tap at the window at foot of my bed.

"What's that, an owl?" I asked, surprised and disbelieving. "We've only been gone for just a day--who'd be writing to us already...oh..." Realization suddenly dawned, as Great Gram walked over to the window to admit the very regal-looking screech owl that had knocked. I smacked myself mentally in the forehead. Of course!

Obviously they would be sending a letter by owl, as soon as I got here. Wasn't that how I got mail so quickly from my cousins? And here I'd been expecting some kind of Special Mail Order Delivery. Gods, I'd become much too muggle-ified than was healthy. I was practically going native! It was a good thing I hadn't said anything that stupid out loud--yet. I would definitely have to watch myself from now on, if I wanted to fit in at my new school.

That is, if I got in.

Suddenly, a terrible thought struck me. Could the envelope made of yellowing parchment that Gram had just taken from the owl be a...rejection letter? Would they even send one? Maven Wicks, we regret to inform you that you are not magical enough to be a real witch. Guess it's back to Muggle School with you. Sorry! Better luck next time. I shuddered involuntarily at the mere thought of having to go back to that horrible place.

"Cold, child?" Great Gram asked, resuming her seat next to my bed. She had apparently just sent the owl on its way, and was holding the envelope in her hand. I noticed that it was even more yellow than I'd thought before, and was addressed to

Ms. M. Wicks

Former Bedroom of Mrs. E. Wicks

The Old Chalet

Cheshire

England

in emerald-green ink.

Cheshire, I thought. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but before I could think more of where I'd heard it before, Great Gram's worried face appeared before my eyes. "Maven, dear, can you hear me? I asked you if you were cold--you're not running a fever, are you?" She pressed a firm, warm hand to my forehead. I shook her off.

"No, I'm fine Gram," I said, a little irritably. "I am, really. I was just thinking..."

"Well," she said, and gave me a reproachful look, "I don't mind you thinking, but you should answer your poor old great grandmother when she asks you something!"

"I'm sorry, Gram," I said contritely. "And you're not old! You're wonderful."

Great Gram steely gaze softened at my words. "Well," she said, preening a bit, "when you're right, you're right, I suppose. Now, what about this letter!"

I looked at it nervously. It seemed cruel and unusual that this piece of old and yellow paper should have the ultimate say in my future happiness--or misery. "Um...maybe we should just leave it for tomorrow...?" I suggested weakly, eyeing the envelope with a growing sense of dread.

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Gram incredulously. "I should think perhaps you are running a slight fever, Maven Wicks, with all this tosh about not opening your letter!

"Now," she said severely, "you get back under those covers and warm up, and we'll see what this letter has to say, shall we?" Her foreboding look vanished as she began to open the envelope, her eyes twinkling with excitement, and her mouth slowly curving into a smile.

She's definitely more excited than I am, I thought, as the knot of anxiety that had formed in my stomach tightened painfully when Great Gram extracted the letter from the envelope.

I felt my eyes squeeze themselves shut just as she began to read aloud. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry--" was as far as she got before I interrupted. "Gram," I said desperately, "would...would it be okay, if I just read it to myself? Please?"

Great Gram looked up at me from the letter, surprised. "Well, if that's what you want dear, I suppose," she said slowly, handing me the yellowed parchment. "It is your letter, after all. It's just..."

I looked up from the letter I was now holding awkwardly in my hand. "What is it, Gram?"

She sighed. "It's just that...well, when I got my letter, my great grandmother read it to me..."

I glanced at the letter again, and then back at my great grandmother, unsure of what to do. Suddenly, an idea struck me. "I know, Gram! I'll read it to you!"

The tears that had been glistening in Great Gram's eyes suddenly vanished and she smiled at me delightedly.

"That's an excellent idea, Mave! Well, go on; what are you waiting for?" She smiled at me, anticipating.

I swallowed nervously and smoothed out the letter on my lap. I cleared my throat, and began to read, all the while thinking, there's no way I'm going; I'll be back in a Muggle School by September. And yet, a small part of me continued to hope against hope...

The letter read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Ms. Wicks,

Here it comes, I thought, as I even stopped reading. Dear Ms. Wicks, we are sorry, but you will not be attending our school this year, or ever--

"Why have you stopped, Maven?" said Gram suddenly, interrupting my internal pity party. "You haven't even gotten to the letter yet!"

I sighed resignedly and continued reading.

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed list of all necessary book and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

My voice trailed off into a whisper. "No way," I said hoarsely.

Gram raised her eyebrows, presumably at my interesting turn of phrase. "'No way' what, child?" she asked.

"There's no way," I said again, my head feeling as though it was about to fall off. "I'm in. I'm IN!" I shouted it again and again as the meaning finally sunk in.

"I'm IN!" I cried happily.

No more Muggle School.

"I'm IN!"

No more taking that awful bus.

"I'm IN!"

No more Math.

"I'm IN!"

Just then, my mother followed by my father burst into the room. "What's all the yelling?!" Mum hissed angrily, looking from me to Gram to the letter held high in my triumphantly raised hands. "Michael's sleeping for Pete's sake!"

"I'm in!" I said, a bit more quietly, but with just as much joy suffusing my hushed voice.

"You're what?" said Dad.

"In where?" said Mum.

"I got into HOGWARTS!" I yelled, and Mum hissed at me to be quiet again, but this time there was an excited smile on her face as she did so.

She and Dad entered the room, closing the door behind them. "That's wonderful sweetie!" said my Dad, walking over to the bed and kissing me on top of my head. Mum came over and hugged me for a moment, then said, "Oh Maven, we're so proud of you!"

I saw Great Gram smile. "You're mother's right Maven," she said. Then she added, "Not that we had any doubt that you wouldn't get in. We knew you had it in you."

"We just got a letter too," said Dad. I noticed the piece of parchment he was holding in his hand. This one was written on in purple ink.

"About what, dear?" said Gram before I could ask.

"They want us to go down to the Ministry tomorrow and pass the proper F.A.R.T citizenship exam," explained Mum, "though I don't think it's much of a test...it says that it's mainly just handing in your license and passport, redoing your Apparition test and performing a few other practical magical exercises--so that they're certain that you're a properly certified Magic Practitioner."

"A waste of time if you ask me," grumbled Dad under his breath.

"It's called fart?" I said, half-laughing, half-disbelieving.

"F-A-R-T," Mum said, looking at me severely. "It stands for Foreign Aborigine Registration Trial."

"Oh," I said quietly, sniggering behind my hand.

Then suddenly, Mum cried out, "Oh! But if we have to go tomorrow, who'll take her to see Dumbledore?"

"Who?" I said.

"Well," began Dad in a mock-wheedling tone, "we were hoping that your Great Grandmother might..."

"Of course I would!" exclaimed Great Gram fiercely. "Do you really think I'd say no to spending an entire day with my favorite great granddaughter?" She looked scandalized at the mere thought of such a thing.

"Why, the mere thought of such a thing is simply scandalous!" she exclaimed. I couldn't help but let out a small giggle, even though I was still a bit confused.

Mum and Dad smiled too. "Thank you, Grandma," said Mum.

"But Gram," I said, "if you take me to see whoever--you are taking me, right?" I asked. She nodded. "Ok, if we go tomorrow, then when are you going to register? And what about me? Do I have to register too?"

"Don't worry about it, honey," said Dad. "You and Mikey are too young to register. All me and Mom have to do is sign your name on a page."

"And I'm sure that you can come with me to the Ministry after we see Dumbledore," pointed out Great Gram. "That is, of course," she continued, looking at Mum and Dad, "if it's alright with your parents?"

Mum looked a little uncertain. "But who will take care of Mikey?" she asked.

"Oh, don't worry about it, Car," said Dad. "We'll take him with us. I'm sure there's a day care or something at the Ministry or in Diagon Alley where can drop him off! It'll only be for a few hours anyway, so if there's nowhere to leave him, we'll just keep him with us while we do the tests or whatever, and then come back to the Chalet."

Mum looked slightly less worried at this suggestion. "Alright then," she finally said, after a long pause during which she seemed to be thinking everything over. "Fine. Maven will go with Gram, and we'll take Mikey. Okay," she said, talking more to herself than anyone else. It seemed to me as though she were trying to convince herself that everything would be fine. I didn't know what she was so worried about; this was going to be fun!

I flung off my covers and stood to give her a hug. "Don't worry Mommy," I said brightly, wrapping my arms around her neck. "Me and Gram are going to have an awesome time tomorrow!"

Mum gave me a watery smile, which I assumed meant that she felt better. Then she wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tight. "Oh Maven," she sighed, "you have to be a good girl and try and help Mommy and Daddy as much as you can, okay?"

I let go of her, sat back down on the bed, and looked up at her solemnly. "I will," I said, though I wasn't sure exactly what she was talking about--or if I'd even be able to remember.

"Thank you," Mum whispered. Dad said, "You listen to your mother, Maven, and be a good girl for Gram tomorrow."

"I will, Dad," I said, and in a generous spirit, gave him a hug too.

"Alright," he said, and kissing the top of my head and nodding. Then he released me and patted my back. "Good. Now, you get to bed, because tomorrow you're going to have a big day, okay? Grandma," he continued, his voice now mockingly grave as he turned to look at her, "you'll make sure she gets to bed eventually, won't you?"

"Of course!" said Great Gram severely. "As you said, she has a big day tomorrow!"

Dad smiled then, all trace of seriousness leaving his face, and kissed me goodnight. Mum did the same, and followed him out of the room. I said my goodnights to them as well, but as soon as they had finally left, I said to Great Gram, eagerly, "What do you mean, I have a big day tomorrow?"

"Were going to see the Headmaster tomorrow," said Great Gram in a conspiratorial whisper.

"Oh...Albus Dumbledore," I said, finally realizing what they'd been talking about, as I read his name off the letter.

"The very same," said Gram.

"Why, though?" I asked curiously. "Does everyone have to go see him after they've gotten their letter?"

Great Gram chuckled. "Of course not, silly girl! We're to attend a special appointment...oh, here--I'll read it to you."

I was about to protest that I'd already read everything on it when Gram extracted a second piece of parchment from the envelope that I hadn't noticed. "Ahem," she said, and then:

"Dear Mr. Daniel Wicks, and Madames Edith and Carina Wicks,

"Although it is not often that students from so far away a country, or a landmass, as Canada come to attend our school, under these circumstances I am delighted to know that Maven will be a student at Hogwarts this year.

"I would ask, however, that she visit the school beforehand to acquire a better understanding of the British Boarding School System, as it is to my knowledge that she has only previously attended schools of the Muggle North American System.

"I think it also advisable that I be permitted to assign her a guide at the beginning of term--a second year student in the same house as she--so that she may be familiarized with school rules and regulations and the like, until such time that Maven feels comfortable enough at Hogwarts to dismiss her partner. The final decision in this matter rests with you, of course.

"It may also be worth mentioning here that I would find it most convenient if you and your daughter/great granddaughter came to the school no later than 31 July. I await your owl confirming the date of your visit, and which of you will be accompanying Ms. Wicks.

"Sincerely,

"Albus Dumbledore

"Hogwarts Headmaster."

It took a few moments for me to digest everything the letter had said. "So," I said slowly, "you're taking me to see Dumbledore tomorrow? While Mum and Dad take their fart or whatever... but why? To see the school? And what did he mean by 'British Boarding School System'? Does that mean that I'll be...living there all year? At the school?"

I said these last things rather incredulously, as the only place I'd ever encountered such a notion was in that movie I'd seen where the evil step mother wants to send her rich boyfriend's kid to one. But even that was just an abstract image. The actual, real life concept of living at my school--at any school, even a cool Wizarding one--was a little hard to picture.

"That's exactly right," Great Gram nodded, "and this is why Dumbledore arranged this little meeting. Oh, don't worry, dear" she continued, seeing the look of unease on my face. "Everything will be fine! You'll see! I'll take you by the Floo to see Dumbledore tomorrow, and then afterwards, I'm sure no one object to me taking you over to Diagon Alley for a little treat at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, before I take my F.A.R.T.!" She quickly scribbled something with a quill I hadn't realized she was holding, on the back of Dumbledore's letter. I assumed it was to tell him that she and I were coming tomorrow.

I was still a little apprehensive about all these new revelations, and wanted time to think some things over, so I resisted the urge to ask Great Gram exactly what and where this 'Diagon Alley' place was. Visions of children lying in sleeping bags under chalkboards of a large classroom were dancing in my head. I looked up at her and forced a bright smile. "That sounds great, Gram! So, I guess this is goodnight, then," I added, as she rose from her chair.

"You are correct, as usual, dear," she said, smiling. I beamed with pride at what I took as a compliment.

Gram leant over to give me one final goodnight kiss, and then walked over the door. She stood in the doorway for a moment, looking at me wistfully, before finally waving her wand at the illuminated light fixtures--I hadn't even realized the sun had gone down--and closing the door quietly behind her.

"Goodnight Gram," I said quietly, then, "goodnight Mum, Dad and Mikey," before finally closing my eyes and laying my head on the soft down pillow.

It was not long after the moon rose into the dark sky and cast its pale light into the windows of my new room, that I had fallen fast asleep, my acceptance letter to Hogwarts clutched tightly in my hand.